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pirateprincessblog · 6 months ago

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outlaw

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you wish there would be a time you could call your life boring again. before all the mess, before the town fell apart, before your father disowned you. before jeong yunho. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeong yunho x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 11.1k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: wild west theme, cowboy!yunho, bartender!reader 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: praising, claiming, dacryphilia, marking, size kink, oral, unprotected sex, outdoor sex

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: violence, weapons, alcohol consumption, murder, slight gore, attempted SA 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: django performance might be the reason why i switched from hongjoong to yunho after four years of being loyal. NOT PROOFREAD I AM IMPATIENT I HAD TO POST IT BEFORE GOING TO BED! <3

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"another one, sweetheart."

i'm not your sweetheart, you wanted to mutter. but you bit your tongue, remembering that your father is somewhere in the room. so you have no other choice but to approach the loud, messy table, and pour the greasy dirty man another glass of whatever alcohol you had in hand. it didn't matter anymore, as long as it filled his stomach.

"that's a good girl," he roars with laughter, heavy hand landing on your bottom and making you jolt.

your eyes seek your father, silently asking for help. but no help comes. instead, he points to a different table that demands attention, and leaves the saloon. you stand still, voices muffling around you. your neatly put bun is now falling apart, strands loose on your face and sticking due to sweat, your clothes are heavy on you, and your hands will soon start shaking if you don't take a break from all the work. from early mornings, to even earlier ones the next day, you are destined to be a servant on your own father's property. you wonder if this will last forever. pouring alcohol, dodging flying chairs and tables, taking the harassment so you can survive for another month.

if this really is your future, then what is the point of living? will he marry you off to one of these men? or will he keep you as his servant until the end of his days? you remember the day everything changed for you. you had just come back from the city, finishing the school day. barely a teen, hand in hand with your best friends. your father sat you in the empty saloon, putting his hands on your shoulders.

"you're quitting school."

just a month after you buried your mother, he told you that. there was nobody to help him, he had to fire his staff, and laid his trust into you. the business was crazy that week. who wouldn't want to come and see the owner's little daughter serving alcohol? those men congratulated your father on your birth, watched you play on the street, went to your mother's funeral and wailed with you, came to the saloon to see you struggle with bottles and glasses, only later to have their filthy hands all over you as soon as you turned eighteen. it doesn't stop, no matter how many times you ask. the pleading only makes them do it more, those sick bastards. and each one of them have a wife waiting at home, and a child comforting her.

"hey, bitch, over here!"

monday was a peaceful day. no work, not at the saloon at least. but a basket full of dirty old clothes awaits by the door, waiting to be washed. it is a cold autumn morning, the sun very low in the sky and not warming at all. you drag your feet across the field, hands red from the weight of the basket and the frost. your dress catches onto various branches and bushes, but you do not look back. you need to be done before noon, so you can make lunch for your father.

reaching the river, you drop the basket on the dying grass. a few flowers are still scattered here and there, fighting their way through the cold morning dew. as you scrub your father's shirt on the washboard, you notice just how old those clothes have gotten. you both need new ones, you cannot be walking around looking like the poorest people in town, while owning a saloon. but your father sees no value in those things. talking to him is like talking to a wall that might hit you if you say something it doesn't like. so you keep your mouth shut.

the used, thin washboard suddenly snaps under your hands, a piece of wood jamming into your skin and making you yelp. your skin being almost frozen from being in cold water, and then getting pierced, makes you finally break down. you hug your knees to your chest, and bury your head into the muddy dress. you're cold, in pain, and you miss your mother. your friends. the life you had, and the life you were supposed to have.

sometimes, you selfishly blamed your mother for dying. if she was still here, you could've had a life just like your friends. finding a job in the big city, a man too, a decent one. not this.

you hide your hands in the ruffles of your worn out dress, seeking warmth. you cannot go back home without washing the rest of the clothes, and the sun is rising faster than you want it to. noon will come by soon, and you will have two tasks unfinished. your father won't be pleased.

a distant neigh and galloping have your attention, your head curiously turning to see who it could be. your heart almost sinks when you see the speed the horses are headed at towards you, but with legs and bum frozen on the ground, you cannot move. all you can do is close your eyes in defeat, hoping for the best.

the gallop stops, now switching to a trot. you open your eyes, and see two shiny horses in front of you. the two men riding them dismount, one of them standing next to his horse and taking the leash from the other one. the taller man adjusts his hat, gaze fixed on the floor, and fastens his holster. you gulp, seeing the shiny revolver resting on his hip. then, he raises his head to finally look at you. you almost forget the potential danger of the situation once you look at his brown eyes. he is tall. very tall. and absolutely gorgeous. you look away, suddenly aware of how you look. heavens, what a perfect timing.

"oh, it's just a doe." he says, voice soft and sweet. he tilts his head, trying to get you to look at him. when you don't, he takes a step closer to you, careful not to scare you away. "came for a morning refreshment?"

you don't respond. instead, you look at the man behind him. he stands still, leashes in his hands. his clothes are a bit more rugged than the ones on the man in front of you, but it fits his image very well. then, your eyes betray you end lay on the man in front of you again. he wears a brown leather jacket with fringes, dark blue jeans, and matching brown boots. his brown hat sits perfectly on his head, giving him a mysterious look. he notices you staring, and only chuckles softly. he reaches into his saddlebag, retrieving something wrapped in a white cloth.

"hungry?"

this time, your stomach is the one that betrays you. it decides to grumble as soon as you shake your head no, making the man chuckle again.

"go on, you can have it. you look like you need it."

he holds it out for you to take, closing the distance further. you step back, remembering your father's words.

"no speaking to other men outside of the saloon. if i see you do that, i will personally declare you a whore. nobody will want to marry you, and you'll be alone for the rest of your life."

charming. the man doesn't give up, as he steps further towards you. you step back again, hunger, fear and curiosity fighting inside of you and making you sick to your stomach.

"it's alright. it's just food, i don't mean you any harm."

but he doesn't know what words ring inside your head. taking another step back, your heart almost stops once again. you have stepped into the shallow river, your body losing balance following. the handsome cowboy drops the item on the floor, and firmly grabs your waist and pulls you back to stand on the grass. you instinctively grab onto his shoulders for support, and he pulls your body into his. you breathe out when your chest collides with his, overwhelmed by the situation.

"clumsy girl," he teases.

you can't make yourself move, not only because you don't want to, but because his grip is firm on your waist. he safely moves you away from the water and removes one hand from your body, only to move the loose strands of hair from your face.

"wyatt," he calls.

the other man steps towards the two of you, not uttering a word.

"you go on. i'll catch up with you."

without protest, he gets on his horse, nods towards his companion, then gallops away. you are left alone with the ridiculously handsome cowboy, now feeling a bit warmer than a few moments ago. the man finally lets go of you, picking up the cloth from the ground. a distant thunder surprises you, and you look over at the scattered clothes. the black clouds over the mountains are covering the blue sky quite fast, and it just seems at this moment that everything is working against you.

you hurriedly collect the remaining dirty clothes, crouching down and brushing it against the half of the washboard as best as you can. your hand is in pain, still dripping red, but your father's consequences are more painful. you'd rather have a hundred more splinters ripping your skin than your father slapping you across the face like he is used to.

the man lets you finish, turning his attention to the horse. in the corner of your eye, you see him caressing the horse's mane. the animal leans into his hand, enjoying the comfort of his warm and caring touch. he looks so tough, yet his actions are a complete opposite.

"if you're done staring, you can join me."

caught red handed, and red cheeked, you turn around to see him sat under the nearby tree, opening the white cloth. he sets it on the ground near him, and folds his arms across his chest. you pick up the now clean clothes, the broken washboard forgotten and floating somewhere further down the field. you sit next to him, the food serving as an imaginary border. he takes his hat off, putting it over his face and rests his head against the tree.

"if you're embarrassed to eat in front of me. now i won't look. eat. please."

and you do. you take a bite of the biscuit, enjoying it like it's your first one ever. you take the chance now that he doesn't see anything to properly look around. his horse is gorgeous, white with brown legs and head. you then look at its owner, still chewing on the biscuit. the more you look at him, the more your stomach feels all fuzzy. is this what it feels like to be attracted to a man? are you finally experiencing a crush?

you should really get home.

thunder grumbles again, causing the horse to become restless.

"shh, you're good." the cowboy says soothingly, not moving from his spot. and the horse listens.

it soothes you too, because you lean against the tree like him, and silently eat. your breathing matches his, and for a moment, you think that he has fallen asleep. until you start feeling drops of rain on your head. you don't say anything. you don't really need to, because the man interrupts his short break by standing up and putting his hand out for you to take. you take it, your hand melting into his as he helps you up. his touch is secure, and gentle. nobody has ever held you this way, and you are afraid you might get used to it. he leads you to his horse, throwing his spare jacket your way.

"i'll take you home."

"no!"

the cowboy scrunches his eyebrows, and abruptly turns towards you. his hand doesn't leave yours, no matter how hard you pull. "she speaks." he says, as if he made an important discovery.

you shake your head frantically, repeating yourself. "no, you can't."

"why?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"because."

"that's not a valid answer, sunshine."

if your stomach wasn't turning from the difficult situation you have found yourself in, it would turn from the simple nickname coming from his mouth. you aren't quite sure whether you're feeling nervous because of your father, or because of the handsome stranger. you remember that he is just a stranger, no matter in how much awe he has you. if you get on his horse, he could take you anywhere. but if you don't get on his horse, he could simply tie you up and take you with him anyway.

fuck.

"i like to walk." you blurt out, grabbing the basket of clothes and holding it in front of you, as if shielding yourself from him.

"lies."

"please, just leave me alone. thank you for the food, and for, well, not letting me fall into the water, but-"

"does he beat you every day?"

he says it with a tone so serious it has your blood going cold in your veins. his gaze becomes stone cold, dark, and it pierces right through you. seeing your distressed face, he steps towards you again, moving your hair away from your neck. the bruise you thought you so cleverly hid now uncovered in front of him. funny how a potentially dangerous stranger shows more interest in it than the town.

"or only when you do something wrong?"

"i don't see how that's any of your business."

"it isn't. however, if you want it to stop, you might have to make it my business."

you wish for nothing more than for it to stop. but exactly how does this man plan to make it his business? talk to your father? teach him a lesson? or the worst?

"i'll tell you what. i'll bring you just to the hill so nobody sees us, and you think about what i said until then."

you nod, defeated. you really need to get home as quick as possible and get started on the lunch. the cowboy helps you up on the horse, then climbs behind you. this is the closest you've ever been to a man, and if you weren't sneakily reading those short romance stories in the back of the discarded newspaper, you would think that you are becoming ill by how hot your cheeks feel. when he grabs the leash, also helping you hold the basket in the process, you take your time to admire his hands. pretty pale fingers, slightly muddy from maybe hours or days of riding. he smells of whiskey, vanilla and a hint of tobacco. you allow yourself a moment of weakness, closing your eyes and inhaling the scent. it doesn't help the way his warm chest and torso are pressed against your back, rubbing against you with each horses gallop.

when you open your eyes, you are disappointed to see the hill. it means that the short little adventure with the mystery cowboy has come to an end, and that you might never see him again. it's all up to you. and you hate that.

he helps you down, then fixes the ruffles of your dress that were slightly turned upwards from riding while you are occupied with the clothes in the basket.

"well?" he finally says, seeing that you have no intention of speaking first.

"i'll be fine." you lie.

you almost miss the way he bites the inside of his cheek from disappointment. almost. he nods, understandingly, and approaches you. for the last time, maybe. he takes your hand in his, thumb rubbing over the place where your splinter is. "take care of that. wouldn't want such pretty hands to be in pain or have a scar."

he kisses the back of it, eyes not once leaving yours. you almost shiver, from the cold and from his touch.

"thank you for your company, dove. we must part ways now, but i do hope i see you again one day. you are too pretty to forget."

he takes his hat off to say his goodbye, then climbs back on his horse. with a sweet smile and a nod, he gallops away. you stand there and watch, heart swelling with sadness. you watch and watch, until he becomes just a small little dot in the distance.

weeks pass, and your life dynamic does not change. you still serve drunk perverts, avoid sexual offers, cook, and freeze yourself by the river. only now, you wake up earlier than usual, and keep looking at your surroundings in hopes of seeing a familiar brown hat. but you never see it. it's been almost two months, and not a single sign from him. maybe for the best. he did look like bad news. very handsome bad news.

you currently sit in a dark corner in the saloon, reading last weeks newspaper for the romance update on the last page. the appearance of the main character morphs into the cowboy in your head. no longer short, blonde haired with blue eyes and bulk figure, but dark haired with a short mullet, with brown eyes and a slender figure. you didn't even catch his name, yet you shamelessly daydream about him.

the doors of the saloon aggressively swing, startling you and breaking your bubble. you turn the newspaper upside down, hiding your little secret. a young man, known as denver, stands at the entrance, face pure horror. your father approaches him, putting his hands on his shoulders to calm him down.

"what's wrong, boy?"

denver barely gets his sentence out, before countless gallops are heard outside, accompanied with various screams. "he's here."

"who is?"

"the stallion."

you have never seen your father scared. and that scared you even more. he took a step back, abandoning the young man. the saloon became a mess, everyone pushing each other on the way to the exit, but suddenly coming to a halt. you stand up, taking your place behind the bar. the people are stepping back, slowly, still facing towards the doors. they separate in two groups, making way for the intruder. and when your eyes land on the intruder, you swear your heart could jump right on the bar in front of you.

your cowboy, your mystery man, the man you prayed you'd see again, stands in your saloon. drenched in blood and dust, sweaty, and with a revolver in his hand. the look on his face when he sees you tells you that you weren't meant to see him in this state. but he doesn't say anything. instead, he approaches the bar, along with his companions. they are all a mess, but not as much as him.

"good day, darling."

your stomach twists again, and you have to fight the urge to smile. you can't smile, not when everyone around you is terrified. you clear your throat, collecting any stray thoughts before speaking. "good day, sir."

"two rooms. and two bottles of whiskey waiting for me tonight." he says, a sweet smile on his lips.

"uh, yes-"

"there are no rooms available for you." your father interrupts, making his way to the bar.

the cowboy raises his eyebrow, then looks at your father. "oh?"

"yes. so i'm afraid you'll have to call it a day here."

the young man chuckles, eyes returning to your face. he throws a roll of money on the counter, then pushes is towards your father with his stained revolver. "don't be afraid, we won't."

you feel caged by his gaze, afraid to even move. why are you here, you wanted to ask. and why do you look like that. his clothes might look different, but the look on his face when he looks at you stays the same. in the corner of your eye, you notice someone trying to exit sneakily. but the cowboy also seems to catch it, because he points his trusted weapon toward the ceiling and-

"argh!" the woman screams, pure fear painted on her face.

"nobody leaves, until i get two fucking rooms and two bottles of whiskey. have i made myself clear?" he slams the revolver on the counter, causing you to jolt and step back. "now, if your pretty little daughter said that i can have them, just why the fuck are you meddling?"

defeated, your father takes the money, then nods your way. "show them."

alone?, you wanted to ask. but your tongue feels swollen, and your jaw heavy. you don't say anything. instead, you look at the fearsome cowboy, then proceed upstairs. the three of them follow, not uttering a word. you reach the rooms, opening the doors for them to see. the cowboy nods towards the room, sending them a signal to go in. when the two finally close the door, the dark haired man wastes no time in softly pinning you against the wall, just between the two doors.

"there, there. are you that scared of me, sunshine?"

you swear your eyes couldn't get any wider, and you hate it. you must look like a freak to him. but if you do, he doesn't show any disgust. he removes your hair from your neck once again, letting it fall down your back. his knuckles caress the now yellow spot on the neck, the bruise slowly healing.

his eyes shift from the bruise to your eyes, his gaze softening. "not excited to see me?"

you gulp, figuring which words to use. you are, and you are not. you don't even know.

"that's okay."

his other hand find its spot on the back of your head, slightly tilting it so that the injured side of the neck is more exposed. you feel his warm breath against your skin, growing hotter and closer. you finally let out a noise, it being a whimper rather than a proper word or sentence. soft lips graze your skin, before his tongue delicately swipes across your bruise. your stomach has never felt fuzzier, and your head is in the clouds. all those butterflies you felt while reading the newspaper have now turned into a volcano, waiting to erupt any second. the cowboy continues giving attention to your now sensitive neck, having you tremble in his arms.

he notices, putting his other hand on your waist and pushing you further into the wall, silently ordering you to stay still. he leans his own body into you, warm sensation enveloping you and causing you to moan into his ear.

realizing your horrible mistake, your hands quickly find their way to his firm chest, in an attempt to push him away. but instead, your fingers grip the fabric of his ruined leather jacket, and your head falls completely in his control. his hand massages your scalp, all while his tongue never leaves you. he switches from tender kisses, to kitten licks, and if he doesn't stop soon, you might just drip all over the floor and his shoes.

as if he heard you, he delivers one final kiss, before he pulls away. "i'll see you downstairs at dinner. thank you for the room, dove. and for the lunch."

hearing the door slam shut, you can finally breathe normally. you are left to tremble against the wall, your neck and underwear wet, all because of him. you rush to one of the empty rooms, at the end of the hallway. you lock it, then toss yourself on the bed. you waste no time in flipping your dress over, your fingers finding the soft folds between your legs. you gasp, more at the state of it than the feeling. you are soaked, your fingers almost slipping from your folds.

you spend a worrying amount of time trying to please yourself somehow, but the buildup is just growing and growing, not giving any signs of erupting soon. no matter how much you picture your handsome cowboy, just a few doors away.

and you don't even know his name.

"did he touch you?"

"what?!"

"i'm serious. did he do anything to you?"

"father-" since when do you care? "he didn't!"

he continues to follow you while you serve the guests, asking questions and demanding to know the truth. "did he say anything?"

"like?"

"anything."

"he asked for a prostitute and i said i'm available tonight."

smack.

nobody turns, already used to your father's free will. you bite the inside of your now stinging hot cheek, wishing for nothing more than to hit him with the bottle of gin you had in your hand.

"fucking slut. just like your mother. give me that." he yanks the tray from your hands, causing two glasses to fall and shatter. "pick that up, and go to the stables."

"but it's dinner time-"

"judith will help me. go. now."

not only do you end up not eating yourself, but you don't see the man whose lips you're still feeling on you. maybe that's why your father told you to leave, just so you don't see him. is it possible that he knows today isn't the first time you see the cowboy?

you search for his horse, the one you thought was the prettiest one you've seen. but it's not in the stable.

"it got shot. he had to put her down." slowly getting used to sudden intrusions, you turn around. one of his companions sit on a block of hay.

"oh." is all you manage to say.

"a shame, really. especially because she was a present from his wife."

"what?" you turn around, the bucket of carrots falling from your hands.

"ah, he didn't tell you? why would he. he wouldn't be able to get into your pants if you knew he was married. haven't you noticed something shiny on his finger?"

no, no you haven't. because you were so mesmerized by his face and behavior you didn't question whether he has someone waiting for him at home. besides, a married man wouldn't... touch you the way he did?

"ah, poor thing. you thought he had a thing for you? you don't compare to his wife. he's an outlaw after all, our yunho. his wife is a perfect match for him, almost a female version of him. did you know that the bounty on her head is higher than his?"

you feel like you could throw up. from multiple reasons. you let a married man touch you. hell, you touched yourself to a married man. not just an ordinary man, but an outlaw? what if his wife finds out? is she really that dangerous? will you be next on her victim list? not able to contain the emotions any longer, you run to the corner, bending over the blocks of hay and puking on the floor.

"ah, there, there. i'm quite surprised, that was the calmest reaction yet. other women tend to jump at his throat immediately."

other women? the ground sways under your feet, threatening to crumble and swallow you.

"since you're not in a state to speak, i'll answer all the questions in your head. have a seat, please."

you finally take a good look at the man once you sit down, seeing him stand up in front of you. he's no less handsome than the cowboy, yunho, and he is older. but the somewhat evil smirk on his face is off putting. you hold the now empty bucket in your lap, carrots laying on the ground for the horses to feast on. just in case you feel sick again.

"see, while yunho does love his dear wife, she can be a bit of a handful for him. too... dominant for him, one could say. so he seeks submissiveness in other women, just like you. women who are the opposite to lori, women who are, well, nothing. much like you."

his words shoot at your heart, and you know he is right. it just feels disappointing to hear it out loud. were you really a nothing?

"he sleeps with them and whatever, and kindly robs them while they sleep from exhaustion. the rest of us do the same with others, not to worry. it's rude to exclude, don't you think? you know, you should really pay more attention to that notice board next to your house. my head is the third one from the left, right under the mighty stallion."

"why would you tell me this? what's in it for you?"

"my, you speak! what's in it for me? nothing, if i'm being honest. i just happen to be aware of the treatment your father gives you, and i guess the years are starting to catch up to me. i think i feel pity."

"you're going to ask for something in return, aren't you?"

"clever girl, you are." he crouches in front of you, cupping your cheek and caressing it with his thumb. "give me what you wanted to give yunho."

"i didn't want to-"

"you think i'm dumb? like you? i know that if he had only asked you, you would've jumped in his bed right away. therefore, i tell you, give me what i ask."

"no."

the older man scoffs, then stands up again. his hand remains on your cheek, but his thumb stops caressing it. he removes it, only to bring it back with a slap. losing balance, you fall on the ground. the man doesn't give you any time to process what just happened, grabbing you by your shoulders and throwing you on the pile of hay. you open your mouth, letting out a scream that gets cut off by his lips on your mouth. they feel greasy, reeking of onion and beef, not remotely close to yunho's.

your hands are trapped above your head, his hand holding it in place while his other one struggles with the layers of your dress and apron. you kick, as fast and hard as you can, but you only manage to piss him off. he pulls away, only to spit in your face.

"i bet you wouldn't give yunho a hard time like this. why do all women have to be so difficult? all i want to do is make you feel good, baby."

tears stream down your face, words stuck in your throat. even though nothing is blocking your mouth anymore, you don't speak.

"you know, if you just let me... i'd get rid of your father for good. i could take you with me, i'd make you feel good any time you ask. i could-"

his words are left hanging in the air, and you feel hot liquid splash over your face. the shooting noise catches up to you right after the man's body falls on you, lifeless. you finally scream, lungs hurting from the amount of it. your hands fly to your face, wiping off the liquid and staring at it. red drips down your hands, onto your neck, pure terror filling your body as you realize you have someone's remains all over you. short and fast breaths leave your mouth, chest compressed under his heavy figure. it is not until another figure pulls him off you, and puts his hand over your mouth with hushing noises.

"it's alright, love." you recognize the voice as wyatt's, who then helps you up. "hey, you're fine."

you're not. you do not know who to trust. then again, when you don't trust your own father, why bother?

"let's get you washed."

after splashing your face with cold water and wiping it with his handkerchief, wyatt helps you to the back entrance of the saloon, then goes back to the stables. probably to finish the business.

you find yourself laying in the guest bed again, only this time, the sheets aren't wet from arousal, but from tears. you spend at least two hours, eyes fixed on the wooden ceiling . you feel dirty, still feeling his dirty hands all over you. your fingers hesitantly touch your face, afraid that you'll stain them red again. your dress and apron still have droplets of now brown liquid. is this what yunho does? is that why he looked the way he did when he entered the saloon? only the blood on his clothes was still red, still very fresh.

if what the dead man said was true, then you best stay out of the cowboy's way. and just like that, your secret little romance story has turned into a horror one.

the next few days, you don't see yunho much. you see the prostitutes coming down from the top floor, sometimes two or three of them at a time. and you are disgusted. you only see him at breakfast, from afar, and he doesn't show much interest in approaching you. his companions surround him, making the frown on his face bigger every day. were they discussing the strategy of robbing the town? was there something in their way?

for a split second, the man catches your gaze. his eyes soften, and you swear you could see a faint smile on his lips. but you couldn't return it. not when you know the intentions behind it. the soft look is replaced by confusion, which grows even bigger when you only spare him an ice cold glance and move on with your work.

saturday evening, the saloon is full. it is foggy, reeks of cigarettes and alcohol, and is loud. you don't see him or his crew yet, and you are thankful for it. at least one evening of peace. so far.

"it's kind of disappointing, you know? i mean, the sex is amazing. well, you know. you had him yesterday. but it's so sad that the town fears him and wants him dead. wouldn't mind having a piece of that every day. my body is burning, and it's been two days, but i still want more."

"i know, right? what a shame. i wish he'd stick around longer. i don't know about you, but i love that thrill of knowing that he's an outlaw. a wanted man, a gorgeous wanted man, having his way with me? i don't think anything will top that. i mean, did you see his-"

"another drink?" you interrupt, not able to listen anymore.

they giggle among each other before handing you the downed glasses. the saloon quiets down when they hear thuds coming from the stairs. you regret looking up, eyes immediately locking with familiar brown ones. everyone seems to watch their step, ready to get up and free a table if yunho desires it. oh, the amount of power he holds. that isn't supposed to make you feel some type of way. you're supposed to hate him.

but how, when he approaches you so politely, tucking that loose piece of hair that's been bothering you all evening behind your ear. such a simple gesture, which awakes the oceans in you, and probably means nothing to him. just a foreplay, before he finally cages you and fulfills his plans.

slowly, but surely, the music goes on. the people are relaxed once they see yunho doesn't have any thirst for blood tonight.

"gin."

"right away."

the night goes on, with you tending to everyone. and the cowboy follows you with his eyes, so much that the two women at the bar near him start throwing themselves at him just to get his attention.

"say, when are we going to have fun again?"

"yeah, stallion. did you forget us already?"

yunho chuckles, seeing you approach the other side of the bar and mouth their words with a mocking face. you hear him, raising your head enough to look at him. caught red handed, you only awkwardly press your lips in a thin line, continuing to wash the dirty glasses.

"you were never really ones to remember," yunho simply says, bringing the glass to his lips and downing the drink in one go.

he stands up, not sparing the women a glance even after they audibly gasp and start murmuring among each other. he approaches your father, saying something into his ear, then looks at you once again before disappearing upstairs.

"here," a clean washcloth lands on the bar counter by the end of the night.

"what?"

"that cowboy, stallion. he needs a bath."

"so? he can get his own washcloths. why do i need to- oh."

"yeah, oh. we haven't had a single man in a while, so there was no need for edith. now you can go fill her position."

great.

you knock on the door, and use the other hand to fix your hair before you hear him say come in. you do as told, two washcloths secure in your hand as you go deeper in the room. it takes everything in you to stand still not collapse from the sight. his clothes are carelessly dumped on the floor, and he lays still in the wooden basin filled with water. the place is steamy, the fireplace keeping the winter cold away. yunho has his arms hanging from the basin, and his head resting against the edge. the steam has caused his hair to stick to his face, which was shiny. droplets of sweat roll down his neck and into the water, and you think that is the most beautiful sight you've ever seen.

he is so manly, so handsome, and so...

"you gonna stand there and watch while i slowly cook myself into a stew here?"

he is fresh shaven, that is the first thing you notice when you approach him. he lazily opens his eyes, the hot water having relaxed his muscles a bit more than he wanted to. "right, sorry."

you wet one washcloth, then wrap it around a bar of soap. you haven't done this since... ever. yes, you helped wash your sick cousin. but she was sick, and it was different. this? having a whole man naked right in front of you, and you were supposed to touch him?

"go on. i don't bite. not unless you want to."

"i really don't." you murmur, finally pressing the soap against his hot skin.

you exhale, your heart threatening to escape from your chest and jump into the basin with the cowboy. a thin layer of fabric is all that is in the way of you finally feeling him the way you wanted. a fabric that could so easily just slip from your fingers, and you accidentally touch him. and he likes it. and he acts on it. and-

"i see you breaking your back down there. every day. with your father, with all those perverts, with all those jealous women. you deserve better. my offer still stands, you know?"

"i'm fine," you say, just like last time.

"give yourself some time to think."

the next half hour is quiet. peaceful sounds of the wood cracking, water dripping, and yunho's calm breathing. his eyes are locked on you, and you are sweating as much as him, only for different reasons. you fear that he can read your mind, figure out just how naughty the images in your head are getting. but when it gets to a certain point, you are reminded of that night, and you stop. that bastard has stolen your first kiss, and almost stole your first time. if anything, you are thankful that yunho has brought wyatt with him.

"uh... can you sit up straight?"

yunho raises an eyebrow, amused. you clear your throat when he doesn't move, looking around before finally figuring it out.

"could you sit up straight, sir? please?"

"right away, darling."

he does as asked, exposing his back to you. heavens, you want to- you want to- you don't even know what you want. there he sits, a whole meal right in front of you, and all you can do is breathe heavily and act all clumsy. you rub the soap on his back, gently massaging him and feeling every line on his body.

"you missed a spot."

"huh?"

"right here." his warm hand takes your wrist, guiding you towards his chest once again. your hand rests over his beating heart, and if you weren't so foolishly focused on seeing what the missed spot was, you would've seen the look on his face that is yelling to kiss him.

"oh, sorry."

he doesn't get angry. instead, he chuckles fondly. you are so delicate and innocent, it hurts him. too mesmerized by your focused face, he doesn't notice that your hand is traveling to his stomach. he jolts, hand clasping your wrist so tight that it has you whimper. you seem to have found a sensitive spot, not only to the body, but to the mind and heart. the look on his face shifts from a soft to an angry one, and you take it as your cue to step back.

"that's all. you can go." he mutters, looking away from you.

"but-"

"i'll finish up. go."

coming back to the stables, it takes a lot of energy. you first go during the day, with jongho. he knew, wyatt told him. the rest only knew that wyatt and the man got into a fight and wyatt had to shoot him. jongho is understanding, kind, and doesn't seem to share any of the qualities that the dead man had given them. not only is he not interested in doing any harm to the town and its people, but he is rather helpful.

yunho, again, is nowhere to be seen. you hesitate to ask. you don't know what you did wrong, but you pray that the night isn't your last encounter with him.

you stand in front of the stables, memories flooding your brain once you see the hay blocks. they have been rearranged, some destroyed, possibly by jongho or wyatt. the horses are sitting together in the corner, enjoying the warmth of each other during the first snowy day.

"i can't do it."

"that's alright. i won't force you. i just don't want one sick man to keep haunting you even when he's no longer here."

"i need time."

jongho only smiles reassuringly, patting your shoulder. he's nice, why doesn't your stomach toss and turn when you see him the way it does when you see yunho?

"i still wonder what he told you about yunho. your behaviour towards him isn't at all like he described it."

"what, he spoke to you about me?"

wyatt subtly kicks his knee from the side, ordering him to stop. but jongho feels rather mischievous today, and is growing annoyed of his leader. they were supposed to move on days ago, not behave like tourists.

"you first. i want to know why you despise him. well, except obvious reasons." the young man turns around, pointing at their companions scattered in the main street, keeping people away and scared.

you sit on the bench in front of the stable, running your hands through your already messy hair before finding the right words to say. "is he married?"

the two men look at each other, their faces not giving you much of an answer. they are extremely good at masking their emotions. wyatt sighs, sitting down to your right. "yes. and no."

"what do you mean? yes or no?"

"well, it's complicated." jongho says, sitting to your left.

"it's also not our story to tell," wyatt adds, looking over at jongho with a warning look, "yunho is the one that should be telling you."

you scoff, making both men look at you in confusion. "does it matter? he'll just sleep with me, you all will do your part of the job, and then you'll leave. i should do it as soon as possible, for both of our sakes. i imagine you can't wait to leave this town, just like we can't wait for you to leave."

"listen, if yunho wanted to harm you, he would. we never stay in one place longer than three days. we've been here far longer, as you can see. i don't know the reason yet, but i know he doesn't mean any harm. did he have a change of heart? doubt it. will he continue his crimes? i don't doubt that. is there something holding him here? yes, yes there is. i might have a guess, but-"

"jongho. shut the fuck up."

"i wasn't going to tell her, wyatt, relax."

the two men bicker over you, random words and sentences traveling to your ears and overstimulating your brain. you start feeling dizzy, suddenly overwhelmed by everything. you stand up and march down the street, leaving the two men to feel bad on the bench.

the next time you go to the stables, it is night again. and it is because your father throws a glass at you. it hits the wall right next to you, breaking, shards flying into your skin. you have nowhere to go, yunho's companions basically running the town by now. you don't need one of them to get a hold of you again. you sit on the new pile of hay, far in the corner. sobbing, pulling at your hair, cursing yourself.

how wise would it be to actually take his offer? would you be able to survive on your own? or would every single man in town finally be happy that you're all alone, unprotected, and out of someone's cage.

it hurts to even think about it, and it causes you to sob even more. your chest hurts, and after what seems like hours of crying, you aren't sure if it's from physical or emotional pain.

the animals seem to feel sorry for you, because soon enough two horses find their comfort in the hay right next to you, shielding your figure from the outside world. you can't help but laugh at the bigger one, his head pushing into your lap and demanding attention.

"aren't you cute?"

your fingers gently caress its neck, lulling it to sleep. it seems like the whole stable was affected, because soon enough they all start laying down one by one, calling it an early night and pulling you to sleep with them. funny how you got way more peace and affection from animals than your own family.

"moonshine."

click. click. click.

"come on, girl."

the warm surface you were laying on moves, following the mouth clicking noises and leaving your head to rest on the hay. you're still asleep, not aware that someone else has joined you in the stable. but the other person isn't aware that you're there either.

"there's my good girl," the man pets the black stallion, which lives up to its name and stands under the moonlight, in its full glory and shine. "aren't you beautiful?"

your eyes peel open, the voice slowly waking you up. you hear crunching, and a bucket rattling. when you finally open your eyes, you see the outline of the familiar figure at the entrance. it is not yet morning, that you figure out by the darkness that has swallowed the place. the only light being the gas lantern hanging from the saloons entrance, you don't see much. but you recognize that hat and figure anywhere.

"i wish you could speak, my pretty moonshine. you'd tell me why blood was spilled, and why my pretty girl won't lay her eyes on me anymore."

his...? his pretty girl? you don't move a muscle, hoping to hear more. the mare only points its head towards the bucket, demanding more food. yunho chuckles, reaching for another apple.

"do you think i scared her away? i made sure she knows i don't mean any harm to her. did someone fill her pretty head with something?"

the mare lets out a noise, as if wanting to confirm. yunho exhales, then sets the bucket aside. he goes further into the stable, walking just past you and grabs the saddle from the corner. going back, his boot gets caught in your dress, and causes him to halt. you shut your eyes, pretending to still sleep.

"heavens." he exhales.

you feel him get closer to you, and almost betray yourself when you feel his knuckles caress your face.

"darling?"

his voice is usually low and pleasant, but hearing him whisper is just something else. why does he have to be so perfect, yet so dangerous?

you stretch, pretending to not notice him yet. finally opening your eyes, you fake a gasp. you lean back into the hay, trying to keep a distance from him. he crouches in front of you, fixing his hat. you can't get over how well it suits him.

"had a good nap?"

"well, yes. had." you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

"that's no place to sleep, dove."

"it's the only place that gives me comfort right now."

he nods, understandingly. he offers you his hand to take, and you only look at him, puzzled.

"i'll take you to a place that will give you more comfort."

"i'm not sure-"

"that wasn't a question." the tone is serious, but the wink he gives you after it relaxes you.

the cowboy stands up, making his way to his mare. you stand up, dusting off your dress and following him. he puts the saddle on the horse, securing it, then offers you his hand again. this time you take it, not yet sure what he had in mind.

"go on, climb her."

"uh... she's quite... bigger than the last one. or any other one i rode on."

"yeah, moonshine is quite something. she's gentle though, nothing to worry about. go on, don't be shy."

with a bit of struggle, and a little push from yunho, you finally sit comfortably on the tall mare. she indeed shines under the moon, black fur reflecting beautifully in the dark night. yunho climbs behind you, taking the leash in his hands and guiding the mare down the street.

"is she fast?"

"she can be. want to see?"

"i don't know. i might scream."

he chuckles. he maintains the pace, gracefully trotting down the quiet sleepy town. you see some of his companions keeping watch, each nodding their heads your way as you pass them. your gaze falls on his hands, searching for the shiny item that was mentioned that night. but you don't see it. was it really a lie? or did yunho somehow know, and took it off? is the wife even real?

"hold on tight." he whispers into your ear, hot breath brushing your neck and cheek.

you grab onto his thighs, instinctively, right before you pass the last house and yunho whips the leash against the mare. it neighs, puts its two front legs up in the air and almost throws you on the grown. you gasp, but manage to collect yourself once the animal returns to its position and starts galloping. it feels like you're flying, and you're enjoying it more than you're scared of it. your hair flies into his face probably, but he doesn't say anything.

you pass hills, past the river where you first saw the man, and into the mountains. you don't remember the last time you went this far outside of town. not only because you weren't allowed, but you had no time or way. it's not as if you had a horse of your own.

his thighs are firm under your hands, nothing but pure muscle. and it suddenly drives you crazy, the way you feel his torso pressed against your back, arms holding the leash and keeping you from falling off along the way, his breath against your ear.

"you alright?"

"yes!"

"how do you feel? scared?"

"this is so much fun! it's scary and fun!"

his laugh is loud over the wind, chest vibrating behind you. the mare slows its pace when arriving on the steep mountain trails, carefully navigating to the top. once there, it comes to a halt. it is not very high, but high enough too overlook the fields, the river, and the distant town. yunho dismounts, then helps you down.

"cold?" he asks, noticing your trembling frame.

"a bit."

this time, he doesn't throw the spare jacket at you like the first time you met. he takes off his own, helping you put it on. it's warm, smells like him, and it's making you so dizzy you might just fall off the cliff. taking a good look at him, you decide that even if he is dangerous, his handsomeness makes up for it. he wears a brown waistcoat, accentuating his thin waist and broad shoulders. heavens, he is so dashing.

you stand still, waiting for his next plan. he pulls a blanket out of the saddlebag, along with the familiar white cloth, and sets it on the ground. the mare continues it's path further up, taking a spot near a boulder, as if used to the situation already. which brings you back to the questions in your head; did he bring other women here?

"sit down, peach. make yourself comfortable."

and you do, right next to him. you both sit still for a few moments, looking at the faint light in the distance. yunho then fidgets with something in the pocket of his jeans, before holding it out for you to take. in his open palm lays a ring, the very ring you've heard about and had your head spinning for days.

"hmph," he laughs through his nose, "figured that was the issue."

"there is no issue. you have a wife. end of story."

"take it."

"no."

"take it."

"i don't want to."

yunho sighs, then closes his hand again. he sits still for a few moments, as if thinking. and then-

"why would you do that?!"

you stand up, watching the shiny piece of jewelry fall from the cliff.

"if you listened and took it, you would've seen how worthless it is."

"i don't need your wedding ring, yunho."

his eyebrows are knit together, and you suddenly realize your mistake.

"you know my name."

"yeah."

"how?"

and you tell him. every detail of it, including the wife story. he listens carefully, face not giving any emotion. typical. by the time you finish, you are laying down and looking up at the shiny sky, tears streaming down your face. yunho is propped up on his elbow, laying on the side and listening. his fingers catch a fresh tear, brushing your cheek in the process. you are left completely baffled when he puts the very same fingers on his lips, tongue peeking out to lick the salty liquid.

"you poor thing." he coos, bringing his hand back to you. he removes the hair from your neck, then smiles with satisfaction once he sees your healed skin. "that's good. seems my medical techniques worked."

you scoff, putting your hair back over your neck with embarrassment. "so, uh... your wife?"

"a psycho."

"oh."

"she stabbed me. almost bled out to death if it weren't for jongho."

he says it so casually, as if it isn't a big deal. "you're still married though, right? that's why you had the ring."

"not quite. we weren't really married. it was just play pretend, so she could have half of everything i was bringing back. once i stopped, the bitch jumped me with a knife. barely made it out alive."

"then... why did you keep it?"

"to keep women away from me. well, those i didn't want."

"but you sleep with them. you use them anyway."

he frowns at the accusation. "no, no i don't. i only rob. i sleep only with prostitues, sometimes. what my companions do is none of my business. we have a deal, and i do not ask about what they do. just like they don't ask about me or what i do."

so, not all of it is true. but then again, can you really trust him?

"i'm so sorry, dove. if i knew that sick bastard would go behind my back, even after threatening them not to touch you-"

"it's fine. nothing happened." you try, seeing him get angrier with every second he spends imagining the situation you were in.

"he stole your first kiss."

"well, yes. but, what's done is done. it was barely a kiss, really. more like mouth to mouth breathing. it was like inhaling a whole onion." you say with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. but yunho doesn't laugh. instead, he unbuttons his waistcoat, then his shirt.

"what- what are you doing?"

"well, since you showed me your bruises, and told me your story, it would only be fair that i showed you mine."

you remember the night you washed him, when you went to touch his stomach and he told you to leave. kneeling in front of him, you finally get to see why. a scar decorates his lower torso, just above the jeans and the v-line. you breathe in, ready to do something you would only in your dreams.

you lean in, hands trembling against the blanket and fingers scrunching it from the nervous state you're in. yunho shivers, feeling your lips press against his scar. you don't stop there, inspired by his own actions. you allow your tongue to graze it, and when you get another gasp from him, you take it as a sign to keep going. his hand finds its place under your chin, raising your head to that you can look at him. and he snaps.

he grabs you by your waist, pulling you up so that you sit in his lap. you don't fight back, you're enjoying it. over the layers of the dress, you feel something poking you, and it makes your cheeks heat up.

"stop looking at me like that." he whispers, lips inches away from yours.

"like what?"

"with those big eyes. like you want me to ravish you right here."

"maybe i do."

"you're saying risky things, sugar."

seeing that he doesn't intend on making the first move, you do. you close the distance, pressing your lips against his. you don't know what you're doing, but try your best. luckily, he gives in, humming into your lips and kissing you properly. his hands on your waist scrunch the fabric of your dress as he contains himself from just pushing you below him and having you his way. he needs to take it slow. you're not like others.

"relax your jaw." he mumbles, and when you do, he allows his tongue to touch your lips, as if asking for permission to enter. and you grant it, parting your lips and unsurely letting your tongue join his.

he massages your muscle with his own skilled one, rubbing it just right and making your thighs rub and seek pleasure. he kisses you slow, and deep, each stroke of his tongue more passionate than the previous one. he feels you get annoyed by something, and is forced to stop.

"what is it?"

"as much as i love your hat, it's in the way."

the man chuckles below you, immediately removing the hat and putting it on your head. "there."

"how do i look?" you adjust it, getting used to the new item.

"like a feast."

with a swift move, yunho pulls your body closer to his face, so that it is between your legs. his hands shuffle through the layers of fabric, finally finding the undergarment and pushing it aside. "what are you doing? i'm going to squish you!"

"sit."

"what?!"

"sit."

you hover above him, not yet listening. this time, he is the one to get annoyed, and puts his hands on your bottom. he slams you against his face, tongue immediately licking a stripe up your already slick folds. you gasp, hand flying to his shoulders for support.

"rock your hips, sunshine. make yourself feel good."

you do as told, rocking your hips back and forth on his tongue, soft moans and gasps leaving your mouth. you tremble in his hands, the newfound pleasure too much for you to handle. "i can't- yunho, it's too much-"

the man only sends you a mischievous look, before taking the situation into his own hands. his plush lips close around your clit, sucking it, while the tip of his tongue teases the tip of your clit. you let out a long and loud moan, body shuddering from the surge of intense pleasure.

"fuuuck-" you whine, hips hopelessly grinding against his tongue.

deciding it's enough, yunho flips you underneath him with a swift motion. "do you want to do this?"

"yes, please."

"then, i'll have to prepare you. since you asked so nicely."

he flips your dress over, exposing your wet bottom to the cool air. you shiver again, his jacket not helping much with the cold.

"this is going to hurt a little. i promise i'll be gentle."

you nod, then go back to abusing the poor blanket underneath you. you bite into it, feeling his long digits intrude your tight walls. it is unpleasant, but not that painful.

"that's a good girl. you're so wet for me, look how easily you're taking me."

he starts pumping in and out, squelching noises having you completely lose your mind and almost drool on the blanket. his fingers are long, very long. how will you survive his-?

"this good, darling?"

"yes."

"yes, what?"

"yes, sir." you moan out, hips moving along with his hand in hopes of more pleasure.

he doesn't speed up. being soft and slow seems to be his way of doing it, and it is a pace you are enjoying very much. it's not fast, like you do it. you do it to get rid of it. he does it for actual pleasure. when he removes his fingers, you can't help but whine at the loss of contact. he turns you around so that you lay on your back, facing him. his hair is a mess, much like yours, and he smiles lazily at you.

"my needy girl." he coos, pressing a kiss to your lips. "can i claim you, sweet thing?"

"what?"

"do you wish to be mine?"

do you? or is it just the horny speaking instead of you? either way, you might end up regretting. so you simply say:

"yes, sir."

"say my name, darling." he pulls himself out of his jeans, the tip of his cock running circles on your sensitive clit.

"yunho."

he hums, slipping his tip past your folds. "again."

"yunho," you gasp, feeling him inch by inch splitting you in half.

"again."

"yunho-"

"more."

"yunho," thrust, "yunho," thrust, "yunho!"

he gets lost in the feeling of your tight warm walls, hips snapping deep inside of you and driving you crazy. you get wetter by the second, even more when you see him so dizzy. it's nice to know that you have him in a chokehold as much as he has you.

"does it hurt?"

"no," you reply.

"that's because you're so perfectly made for me. look at you, you fit in the palm of my hand."

that's not true, obviously. but the way he says it makes you really feel that you could fit, and that you could stay protected there. his hips collide with yours, and your eyes roll back.

"such a pretty pussy," he growls, pace getting sloppier and slower. "wish i could do this all night long."

"me too," you moan.

his hands rip your dress apart, exposing your chest. his lips waste no time in attaching to your skin, leaving bite marks all over it, until reaching the tense nipples. he takes one in his mouth, tongue swirling around it, while his other hand plays with the other. your fingers find comfort in pulling his hair, subconsciously pushing his head into you further.

"my sweet peach," he coos, cock sliding in and out so easily, "my pretty girl."

"so sweet"

"even your moans are so beautiful"

"use me for your pleasure, darling"

you find yourself moving your hips along with his, only in a faster pace. you need to finally feel that orgasm. you feel something build up in the bottom of your stomach, and you're not sure what to do.

"yunho..."

"yes, my love?"

"i don't know how to- how to orgasm."

"you'll feel it. don't think about it. just relax, and let your body do it. let me do it."

you feel the buildup, then you lose it. again, and again, until you whine about it. yunho turns you around again, so that you are sitting on his lap. you feel him deep in your stomach, almost pulsating.

"let's try this."

he helps you up and down, rolls your hips, until he finds what works for you. you hover above him, hopelessly biting into his neck to contain your inappropriate noises. his hips snap into yours with a fast pace, finally hitting the spot you didn't know existed. the buildup starts again, this time not stopping. and when pleasure washes you over, you can't help but pull at yunho's hair mercilessly, moaning into his ear and letting yourself completely go. he helps you ride it out, waves of intense pleasure washing over you as yunho helps himself get closer.

"fuck, darling." he growls, pulling out of you.

"wait, what about you?"

"i'll just- i don't know."

his hand wraps around his cock, which is ready to unleash any moment. the man almost audibly gasps when he sees you kneel in front of him, innocently opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. just how did you know?

"are you sure?"

"positive."

"absolutely sure?"

"yunho?"

"yes?"

"please cum in my mouth."

and it's all it takes. yunho jerks himself on your tongue, or at least tries to. some of it ends up on your face, but you so carefully try to collect every single drop he gives you. you don't miss the way his head falls back, eyes rolling and low moans escaping his pretty lips. coming down from his high with one last pump and moan, he finally looks at you. the texture on your tongue is not the most pleasant one, but you decide to impress him further, and swallow it. he scoffs in disbelief, running a hand through his hair.

"you are just perfect, aren't you?"

in the morning, the ride back is much more comfortable. you still wear his hat, proudly, and his jacket. he can't help but kiss your shoulder as you ride, having it difficult enough to keep his hands off you. if only he could hold you in his pocket all day.

upon entering the town, you notice the people, your people, standing and waiting. would now be the right time to tell yunho you accept his offer?

he helps you dismount, before taking the revolver in his hand.

"what's this? a rebellion?" he says, mockingly.

"does she know?" your father asks, pointing at you.

you scrunch your eyebrows, looking between the two men. something shines in your fathers hand, and you realize he also holds a revolver.

"there is nothing to know." yunho replies, approaching him and standing in front of you. "you keep your mouth shut."

"oh, but there is. see, my little daughter, if you want to whore around, you could've picked anyone from the town. not your own mother's killer."

blood runs cold in your veins. the sun suddenly doesn't shine as bright anymore, and the man in front of you morphs into someone else. he turns around towards you, shaking his head. "no..."

"he shot her."

"you shot my father!"

"he deserved it!"

"no, the fuck he didn't!"

you step back, tears burning your eyes. did you really give yourself to the man who took your mother away from you? who also took your father away from you?

"listen-" yunho tries, hands reaching to touch you.

"don't touch me."

"he came here to finish the business. but he didn't count that he would fall for the daughter. what a clash of interests."

he doesn't deny it. and it only infuriates you more. so he did have an evil plan after all.

"you came for me, didn't you?" your father presses further, raising his revolver.

"no, i didn't." yunho replies, face changing from a guilty and sorry one to a neutral. "i came for her."

he grabs you by your shoulders, putting his hand over your mouth. you toss, scream, and whatnot, but what are you compared to his grip?

"i assume you won't care much if i took her away. but it would mean much to me. tit for tat."

"you are to never step foot into this town again. not you, not your companions."

yunho nods. and your father puts his weapon away. and it crashes your heart. you know you don't mean much to him, but to give you to an outlaw so easily?

"i came for what i wanted, not to worry. you won't see me ever again."

and just like that, you find yourself tied up and tossed over the black mare.

why did you ever wish for a life other than the one you had?

"you're all mine now, sunshine."

feedback greatly appreciated! <3

2K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 9 days ago

Text

Fix You

John Price/female reader 11k words - AO3 - story is set in Through Me (The Flood) but is an AU and can be read as a standalone. Tags: 18+ major character death, heavy angst, loss of a loved one. Grief. Overconsumption of alcohol. Explicit sexual content. Emotional hurt/comfort. Complicated feelings. Angry sex. Caretaking. Trauma. Tenderness. Reader is a widow.

John Price knocks on your door in the late afternoon.

When the doorbell rings, you slip the baby into her bouncer and rub Orion’s hair affectionately at the table where he’s scribbling away with some crayons.

You’re not expecting anyone, but you guess it could be Cami. Though she usually just waltzes through the front door after using her key.

But it’s not.

It’s John.

You’re silent in front of him, eyes wide. He’s holding a bag, a black duffel, still dressed for work, for battle, face pinched in despair. Your heart lurches. “What is it?” He peeks over your shoulder to where the kids are, preoccupied, happy.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“No,” you tell him sharply. “No, I- what is it? Where is he? How bad is it?” His eyes soften, and he whispers your name. You barely notice when he reaches over to close the front door, too busy cycling through every worse case scenario. He eyes the chairs on the porch.

“Let’s sit down.”

“No.” You’re going to be sick. “Just tell me. Say it.” There’s a long moment where your life plays out in front of you. The stretch of before, and after. John takes a deep breath.

“He’s gone.” Gone. Gone as in, missing? Gone as in, on a different mission? What does gone mean? Your confusion must be blatant, because he reaches for your shoulder. “He’s dead. I’m so sorry.” You jerk away and laugh. That’s all you can do. Laugh. Laugh at the absurdity. Simon's not dead. He can't be. That makes no sense.

“No, he’s not, he can’t be. I literally just talked to him, like three days ago. He said you guys were wrapping up, that you were done.” He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, he’s-“

“Stop. Don’t- don’t say that. He’s coming home. You’re all supposed to be home next week, he promised, he-“ Your mind is fighting something your heart already knows. “It’s not true.”

“We ran into a situation, there was-“

“Stop!” You back away, bumping into the railing. You’re shivering, sobbing, unable to catch your breath.

“C’mon,” he says gently, trying to guide you towards the chair, but you don’t budge. You can’t. If you don’t move from this spot, you don’t have to accept it. If you don’t move from this spot, you don’t have to move forward. You don’t have to live a life without him. You don’t have to walk inside and tell your son his father is dead. Your daughter won’t have to grow up without ever knowing him.

“Please.” Your voice cracks, and you stare up at him. “Please, it’s a mistake, it must be. It has to be. He can’t- He promised, he promised.”

“I know.” You shake your head.

“Please.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I couldn’t save him, I-“ His voice breaks, and then you do, sobbing so loud you’re sure it can be heard over the hills. A scream is building up inside you, burning and itching to get out, and he tugs you forward, cradles a hand around the back of your head and pushes your nose to his chest.

When it finally breaks free, it echoes directly over John’s heart.

You’ll never understand how people can say funeral services are beautiful.

They’re not.

They’re agonizing. Devastating. The last screw in the finality of your new reality.

It’s only you, the kids and his team. That’s all he had.

“You’re everything mama. I love you so much.”

Orion’s barely old enough to understand. He asks when he’ll see his dad again, and your answer is traumatizing for your child, at best. Daddy’s not coming home, you tell him. Daddy’s going somewhere else now, somewhere better.

He’s dead.

You black out during the entire thing. There are words being said, by a priest, by Johnny, by John, flowers being thrown. Cami stands at your side, holding your daughter, the child who will grow up never knowing her father. Barely five months old. Occasionally you look over at her, blissfully asleep, and you feel envy. Envy of your own child, who will never know this loss. Who will never feel the pain of losing Simon Riley.

Someone asks you if you want to do the honors of dumping the first shovelful of dirt onto his coffin.

You laugh out loud.

What a ridiculous custom.

Johnny and Kyle exchange a look of concern, you ignore them. You know what they think.

“Let’s get you home.” John’s eyes linger on your face, their sapphire and gunmetal shine holding you captive for a second as you grapple with what he’s said. If you were more present, more aware in this moment, you’d probably say they were akin to the palest hydrangeas, the color of the shrubs growing in your own front yard.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, you’re not in any state at all, you’re just here, standing at the edge of the cemetery, staring at a mound of fresh dirt.

The dirt covering your husband.

Orion hugs your legs, trying to force his way between your knees. You’ve long tuned out the sound of his wails, unable to give him more, give him anything except your relentless grief.

You should be stronger, for them. Should handle this better.

There are a lot of things you should have done. Should have told him you loved him more. Should have been the one to hold his hand as he died. Should have made sure he wasn’t scared and alone at the end.

The gaping wound in your heart tears wider, and your knees buckle.

John wraps his arm around your shoulders, steadying you, shifting your weight into him, keeping you upright. Cami watches, gaze glossed over with tears, baby in her arms. Your baby. You and Simon’s baby. Orion cries louder.

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, to no one, to the wind-

But it’s John who answers. “You can.”

There are voices in the kitchen.

It’s late now, long after sunset, the day you buried your husband almost over. More and more of him slips away. You get farther and farther away from the last time you saw him, spoke to him, heard his voice with every second.

It aches, so you close your eyes instead and tuck the blanket under your chin, curled up with your nose in the couch cushion.

The kids are asleep. You’re hoping you’ll follow. Soon.

“-want us to stay?” It’s Kyle. He’s trying to keep his voice down but you’re only in the other room, on the couch, staring at the wall.

“No,” John assures him. “You guys go home. I’ll be here.”

“You sure? The kids… if she’s not feeling up to it, or needs help…” Cami’s voice is wet, still heavy with sadness.

“I’m here. I promised him.” There’s a long pause, and he clears his throat. “I’ve got her.”

You can’t dwell on them for too long, exhaustion of the day finally dragging you down, slowing your breathing and cutting off your consciousness, giving you a reprieve from the grief by sealing you away from it in your sleep.

“Mama?” Orion’s little voice calls for you in the dark, and you jerk awake. The baby is crying. Someone is knocking on the door.

“Hey little man,” your throat is raw, your voice not your own. His little eyebrows crease together.

He looks so much like him.

You glance around. You’re no longer on the couch but tucked away in bed, slippers placed neatly on the carpet, phone plugged into the charger. Odd, considering you fell asleep on the couch.

“You hungry?” He nods as you sit up and wipe the sleep from your eyes. “Alright, let’s have breakfast then. What do you think sounds good?”

“Waffles?” “Okay. Go wash up while I go get Nix.” And figure out who’s at the door.

“John.” His hands are in his pockets, beanie folded up on his forehead, and you don’t miss the way he evaluates you, crying, wriggling baby in your arms, still in your pajamas, Orion hollering about breakfast in the background.

“I wanted to come by and check on you guys.” Right. Of course. Come check on the widow. What if she can’t get herself out of bed? What if she’s too sad to take care of her kids? He grimaces and clears his throat. “You’re uh… you’re wet.” He inclines his head towards Nix, who is mouthing at your chest over your t-shirt. Shit.

“Oh, crap. Uh, come in. We were about to have breakfast. Well, not just about. Ry wanted waffles and I was about to start them,” you’re babbling down the hall, glancing at Orion in his booster seat at the counter, banging around a bowl and spoon like a little king waiting impatiently for his meal.

“’cle John!” He claps, and John smiles.

“I’ll start them for you while…” He trails off and you smile awkwardly.

“Thanks.”

Phoenix is an easy baby. She latches easily, eats easily, goes down to sleep easily. She’s a breeze compared to Orion at this age.

Small blessings, you guess.

Simon said it was you earned it, after Ry. You deserved it.

What did you do to deserve this?

“Mama sad.” Orion whispers, his mournful little voice the first thing you hear when you shuffle out of your room. Nix went down after a change and a burp. Easy.

“She misses your daddy,” John answers, “like us.”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip so hard it stings at the sound of his voice, dejected, depressed, palm finding the wall to stay upright.

The world tilts, falling out beneath you. For a second, you can see him. Standing on the other side of the counter, black sweatpants low on his hips, pouring some milk in Orion’s little orange cup, Nix cradled against him, stretched across his forearm. Simon laughs, licks his finger, and rubs something off the corner of Orion’s mouth.

You want to scream.

It’s a memory. Nothing else.

“.. okay?” John’s standing in front of you, head tilted, cupping your elbow. “You alright?” You raise your eyebrows, and he rolls his lips inward. “Sorry, course. You just… you looked a little sickly there for a minute.”

“Mama!” Orion yells, rocking back and forth to see you on either side of where John blocks the hallway. “Waffles!” You slide your hands down your shirt, Simon’s shirt.

“You made waffles?”

“Pre-mixed batter isn’t so hard. The lad was hungry.” Guilt simmers in the pit of your stomach, pinches your cheeks inward. “Hey, it’s okay. He was fine, jus’ a little impatient.” You nod, and he jerks his head back to the kitchen. “C’mon, I made you some too. And there’s fresh coffee.”

“Did you put me in bed last night?” You’re wiping down the countertop, some movie enrapturing your toddler in the background. He hesitates, and then nods.

“You were falling off the couch. Didn’t want you to brain yourself on the coffee table.” Your fingers curl around the mug, still warm to the touch, shoulders bunching beneath your ears before you forcibly relax them.

“Well, thanks.” I guess. An uncomfortable silence settles between you, questions evaporating on the tip of your tongue.

“I was going to head into town today for some groceries, can I get you anything?”

“Formula.” You blurt. “I can’t… we’ll need formula.” You don’t want to explain to him how it’s too much now, to breastfeed. How you won’t be able to handle it on top of everything else. How you think your milk will probably dry up anyway, bowing and breaking with the waves of your despair.

“What are you thinking about for dinner?” He scratches at the underside of his chin. The beard is overgrown, something you haven’t seen on him in a while, and there are dark circles under his eyes.

He’s grieving too. You know it.

You just can’t find it in you to care.

Something is weighing on John. Something is tied around his ankles, tethered to the sea floor, waiting to drag him beneath the surface. You see it. There’s guilt in the lines of his face, tension between his brows.

You wonder if there is blood on his hands.

“Why are you here, John?” You don’t intend to ask, but the words have a mind of their own and slip free.

“Wanted to stop by.” His voice is tight, rough like yours this morning. “Check in, see if you needed anything.” There are a million things you want to say, but words fail you. You don’t know how to tell him he should just leave, because nothing will ever be okay. You’ll always need something.

Simon.

Your husband.

The father of your kids. The man whose shirts are hung up in the closet. His paperback book still sitting open on his nightstand. His toothbrush still in the cup by the sink.

The agony you’ve managed to lock away for a few brief moments breaks free again, and you clap your hand over your mouth to muffle the heaving sob. John looks past you to where Orion still sits in front of the screen, mesmerized, and then takes you by the elbow to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, settling on the closed lid of the toilet, still choking on the lump in the back of your throat. “I told you, I can’t do this, I can’t. I can’t be without him, I don’t know how to be without him, I can’t-“

“Hey,” He’s crouched down, evening the height difference, looking at you with an expression so serious it quells your spiral for a fleeting moment. “You can do this. You have two beautiful kids who need you to do it for ‘em.” He hands you a square of toilet paper, and you wipe your nose.

“I want him back, John, I- I need him back.” You tuck your hands between your thighs, suddenly freezing, cold from the inside out.

“I know,” he murmurs gently, “I know you do.”

“There’s a lasagna in the fridge. Cami left it last night.” He’s tugging on his jacket, your handwritten grocery list from the fridge tucked in his pocket.

“Oh.” She’s texted you multiple times today, and all have gone unanswered. You don’t know what to say. “That was nice of her.”

“I’ll be back in a few hours after I take care of a few things and do the grocery run. You’ll be alright?” He’s treating you like glass. Like you’re a bomb primed to explode, big red letters counting down to an inevitable explosion. You manage to nod.

“Yeah.” The smile you give him is painfully fake, and you know he clocks it. “I’m going to hang out with the kids. Cuddle on the couch.” His smile is more genuine, but small.

“I’ll help you with dinner later.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind.” He turns to leave, but you call his name before he hits the door.

“John?” His eyes meet yours. Blue. Crystalline like the sapphire on your finger. You clear your throat. “Thank you.”

He nods.

John finds you catatonic on the couch one morning. Nix in her day crib, the one that’s a permanent fixture in the living room, and Orion perched in front of an old Disney movie for the hundredth time this week.

You’re failing. Failing your kids, failing as a mother, failing to keep yourself patched together.

You thought you’d be stronger if it ever happened. You promised him you would be, but the promises have turned meaningless, your integrity torn to pieces.

You can’t remember the last time you showered or brushed your teeth. You’re sure you smell.

At least the kids are clean. Dressed. Fed. You’re not a complete disaster, you guess.

Still, when John appears in your line of sight, brows knitted together with worry, you’re caught off guard.

“Oh.” You blink, his frown deepens.

“I was calling your name. Were you somewhere else sweet?” Sweet.

“Sorry, I was… lost in thought.” He takes you in from head to toe, you in all your grimy glory.

“How about you take a break?” Irritation ignites, and you grit your teeth.

“I’m fine,” you snap. “I don’t need help.” His arms cross his chest.

“It’s not a request. You’ve been wearing those sweatpants for four days. Get up, and get in the shower, or I’ll put you in myself.”

“Fuck off.” You hiss, and his eyes widen, surprised. How many people have surprised John Price? Close to none, you imagine.

“That’s enough.” He hauls you off the couch by your forearms just as Orion glances your way, little brain no doubt trying to understand the situation. “Be right back, bud.” John soothes him, and you seethe at how easily your son, Simon’s, nods and returns to his movie.

He’s gentle somehow, dragging you to the bathroom, but still forceful as he holds you by the elbow and reaches into the shower to turn the tap on.

The little fight that was inside you is gone. You wilt. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to the floor, fingers knotted together.

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not.” You’re sniffling, crying for the hundredth time in the last few days, and he rubs your upper arm.

“Nothing is going to be okay for a while,” he murmurs, “forever, even. But you’re not alone, okay?”

“Okay.”

The rest of the week goes too fast. You’re getting farther and farther away from it, from the moments when Simon was still alive in this world, when he still existed.

Desperate to slow it down, you don’t sleep. You sit in the kitchen and scroll through your phone, replaying the same videos over and over again, tears dripping down your cheeks. Grief is an emotion, but it’s a physical ailment too. It rots in your stomach and starves you. It aches between your ribs, so viscerally it’s like there is a knife twisted there, scraping against your bones, sawing between your muscle.

You take care of the kids in a daze. Feed and change Nix on autopilot. You give in to Orion’s every wish without a second thought, and he has waffles every morning. Chicken nuggets every night. Ice cream sundaes with too much chocolate syrup and a mountain of whipped cream. As much screen time as his little heart desires. You let him sleep in your bed, curled up in your arms, his little fist clinging to the neck of whichever shirt of Simon’s you’re wearing.

He can’t sleep in his own. He wakes up crying.

Cami comes over and stocks your fridge and freezer. She refills your tea canister. She vacuums the entire house. She feeds and changes the baby. You watch, listlessly, and when she’s finished, she squeezes your hand with a promise to be over again in a few days. You don’t have the words to thank her, so you don’t try. You want to believe she knows anyway.

John is the steady presence. He’s here, doing the dishes, making sure the three of you are eating, helping with the kids. He watches you shrewdly, careful.

A ticking time bomb.

One he’s afraid to set off.

It doesn’t matter how much they try to lessen the burden of living. How much they try to support you. They can’t change anything. They can’t stem the bleeding of your broken heart.

Seven days after Simon’s funeral, you crack the bottle, the one you had shipped from the states, stupid expensive Kentucky bourbon, caramel colored gasoline.

The baby is asleep. Orion is exhausted from his day with Gaz and Cami.

You’re alone on the front porch, curled up in a blanket, the hood of Simon’s sweatshirt pulled over your head. The only light you have is the green glow of the baby monitor. Otherwise, it’s just you, the moon, and the stars.

The hoodie still smells like him. So do the pillows. His t-shirts. His side of the closet. It’s a blessing. It’s agony.

You drink directly from the bottle, though you should use a glass. Simon would chastise you for not using a glass. He would tell you to sniff it from the rim of a tumbler, and then laugh when your nose wrinkled.

You should use a glass, but you don’t. It’s easier to take big sips this way.

Truck tires crunch on gravel, and then the broad figure of John Price stands at the foot of the porch. “Hey.” You raise the bottle, expecting him to laugh. He doesn’t. The stairs creak beneath his feet.

“What do you have there?”

“Bourbon.”

“Kentucky?”

“The one and only.” You take another swig, baring your teeth when it burns. You shake it. “Want some?”

“Think you’ve had enough for both of us.” Ass. You bristle, anger boiling in your blood, but you’re too drunk to stay on track and unleash it.

“Why are you here?” It’s the same question you asked earlier this week, but you still don’t understand. He holds your gaze for a long time. The only thing you find there is devastation.

“I promised him.”

“You promised him what?” He rubs the back of his neck.

“This isn’t a good time for this conversation, let’s go inside-“ You don’t budge. You can’t.

“You promised him what, John.”

“I was there,” his voice is hoarse, and there’s a heaviness to it, an agony the two of you share. “And he knew. He knew we wouldn’t get him back in time, no matter how fast we landed a bird.” You can’t see, vision blotted out by your tears. You want to put your hands over your ears. You want to know everything single thing. The two sides battle, and your cheeks grow wet like your face is upturned in a downpour. “He made me promise to take care of you. To take care of the kids. Grabbed me by the front of my vest and asked me to swear. So I did. I swore. I swore and I’m not going back on my word to him. I never will.”

“You were with him.” You’re not sure you want to know, but you have to. You have to know every piece of him, even this. Even the end.

“Yes. I was with him at the end. He wasn’t alone.” You clutch the bottle against your chest, so tight you’re afraid it might break, shatter the glass into your fingers. It would hurt less than this.

“Was he scared?”

“No. He was only thinking about you. You and the kids. He wanted to make sure you were going to be okay, that was all he cared about. He dug the pocket square out of his vest and held it over his heart.” The sob breaks free and destroys the dam holding everything together. Your body shakes with it, the ugly noises coming from within you, the pain of losing the love of your life.

“You were supposed to keep him safe.” Your voice raises, the alcohol tainting your ability to be rational or stay quiet.

“I know-“

“Mama?” You jolt, turning to ice, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. John swears under his breath.

“Orion,” you croak. He’s stricken, holding his sippy cup, wide eyes focused on your face. “It’s okay, everything’s okay.” You try to reassure him, but his panic only increases, and you fail in the moment, unable to offer him comfort. John steps between the two of you and crouches.

“Hey bud.” He points at the sippy cup. “Need some milk in there?” Your son nods, trying to peek around him to see you. “How about,” John scoops him up, “we get you some more milk and get you back in bed okay?”

“I want mama.” His voice trembles. You feel sick and close your eyes, but the next thing you know there are little arms wrapping around your neck in a hug, your boy’s hair under your nose. You look up at John, his eyes red and his face tormented.

“Say goodnight and she’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”

“I love you, little man,” you kiss him once, twice, before rubbing his back. “Let Uncle John get you some milk and put you back to bed, okay? I’ll be in soon.” Their voices disappear down the hall, and you twist the cap on the bottle.

Down the hatch.

“He looks like him.” Orion is rolling around in the living room, playing with his magnatiles while Nix is on her back, feet in the air, kicking at the play arch. John hums, stroking a hand over his beard. He’s finally trimmed, looking more like himself and less like a mountain man.

It’s a strange feeling, to see him and notice it looks better. Good, even.

“He does.”

“Guess we’re lucky, in that way. Having these little pieces of him.” Orion has his eyes, his shoulders too. They have the same smile, even some of the same mannerisms, and it hurts so much to think about how it will fade over time, how Orion will no longer be able to mimic his father. John steers your mind away.

“Can I help you with dinner?” “No, I’m okay. But… if you want to stay, you can.” He should, but you don’t say it out loud. You don’t admit to him or even yourself that you’ve become reliant on him, his consistency, the steadfast force in your lives. Weeks have passed, and he hasn’t given up, no matter how hard you fight and fall apart. No matter how destructive you, the maelstrom at the center of your family’s life.

“We all lost-“

“You didn’t lose anything!” You’re screaming, finger jabbed in his chest, pushing him backward. He lets you. He doesn’t flinch. “He was mine! He was mine, not yours. He was ours. Our son’s. Our daughter’s. He belonged to us.” You’re barely breathing, suffocating underneath your grief, fingers going numb. He reaches, but you step away, swaying on your feet. You whimper. “F-fuck.”

“Come here.” It’s not a request, not the gentle coaxing you’re used to from him. It’s a command from a captain. When you don’t, he strikes, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you into his chest, hand at the back of your neck. “Breathe.” He rocks you side to side slowly, head down, rumble in his diaphragm soothing against your ear. “C’mon, you can do it. Big breaths.”

“I can’t.” It’s the same thing you’ve been saying over and over again. You can’t do it, you can’t do this, you can’t you can’t you can’t you-

“Yes, you can, you can. Try. I’m right here, I won’t let you fail. I promise.”

“John said you needed a break.”

“John doesn’t make decisions for me.” You snap, and Cami winces, triggering a tidal wave of guilt. “I’m sorry Cam. I… I’m having a hard time.” She rubs your shoulder.

“I know. It’s okay. You’re not going to offend me or push me away. I just want to help.” You sigh. “Let me take them for the night. You can catch up on some trash tv. Read a book. Take a bath.” She whittles you down, and you finally concede.

Except being alone is bad for you. It’s bad for your mind. It’s bad for your heart.

Hours later, John finds you in a pile of Simon’s clothes. You’re curled up, nose buried in cotton, skin swollen under your eyes. “Oh, sweet.”

“Go away.” You don’t even lift your head.

“No.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“That may be but I’m not leaving you here by yourself like this.” There’s an empty bottle of wine buried in this pile somewhere, and he plucks it free by the neck. “Didn’t save any for me?” It’s supposed to be a joke. It falls flat.

“I didn’t want… I didn’t want to have to think.” “I know.” He pulls you into a sitting position, palm cupping your cheek. “It’s okay.”

“I can help,” he motions to the kitchen. “I know how good you are with rice.” His smile turns mischievous, bright blue irises sparkling in the low afternoon sun, and you glower.

“I’m not that bad.”

The sink gets clogged one afternoon.

You try to diagnose it yourself, scrolling through google results on how to DIY it, try standing on your own. You’ll have to get used to it; you guess. Being a widow and all.

The attempts last about thirty minutes. Just in time for your front door to swing open, little feet hauling down the hallway, your son breathless and excited to tell you all about his trip to the park with John and Gaz. John follows right behind, trying to remind him about Phoenix’s naptime.

He pulls up short at the sight of you next to the sink, a pile of tools in the bowl.

“I uh… it’s clogged.” His lips twitch into a half smile. “I tried to fix it; I thought I should try. You know since…” You still have a wrench in your hand, but Orion is tugging at your shirt.

“Here,” he takes the wrench, touch casual as two fingers of his wrap around yours. It’s innocent. It’s nothing. But here he is, fixing your problems. Selflessly again, helping you out.

You’re not sure where you’d be right now if he wasn’t around-

At the thought, guilt so violent almost makes you double over.

Cami and Gaz host a spaghetti dinner, and you leave the house for the first time in weeks, months even. Time is a thief.

There’s laughter coming from the living room when you open the door, Orion sprinting from your side to where his uncles and aunt are hanging out. When you cross the threshold, Nix cooing in your arms and a loaf of banana bread in your free hand, the voices screech to a stop.

“Hi.” Your enthusiasm is lacking, but you’re trying. You really are, even though this is all you can give. Cami smiles excitedly as John stands and crosses the room.

“Let me help you with that.” He grabs the bread, warm hand briefly settling in the middle of your back before it disappears, taking the baby bag off your shoulder. You breathe him in, cigar smoke and pine. It’s calming, somehow. Familiar. “You okay?” He knows how hard this is. Knows how you tossed the decision back and forth, unsure, uncomfortable. You did it for Orion, in the end. You can’t deprive him of his community, so you nod silently.

Cami pulls you into her arms, putting her finger in Nix’s fist and pressing her cheek to yours. “I’m so glad you came.” You manage a weak smile.

“Me too, I… it’s good to see you. And everyone. Ry was really excited.” You look past her to where Soap has him in his arms, moaning and groaning about how they’re nearly the same size.

You take a deep breath.

You can do this.

They tiptoe around you all night. It should bother you, but it doesn’t. You’re not ready for anything else. For stories, for meaningful conversation. Everyone keeps it light. They veer away from work. They treat you with kid gloves.

It’s fine, but it’s exhausting, trying to keep yourself under control. Trying to quiet the ringing in your ears, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

You almost manage it. But then someone slips up.

“- an’ that piece o’ shite. Simon was so pissed; I thought he was going to rearrange his face before he let him go.” Gaz laughs, you freeze. “He won in the end though, didn’t he? Always did, until-“

“Soap.” John cuts, and the table goes dead silent, as if they forgot. There’s a warm hand on your knee, but it’s not enough. Cami is shaking her head, blinking at him in horror, and Gaz glares. You stare down at a pile of peas.

“’m sorry,” Johnny whispers, stricken. “’m so sorry. I miss ‘im too, it helps… to talk about ‘im, ye know? I-“

“That’s enough.” John’s command is scathing.

You throw a quick excuse me over your shoulder as you make your way to the bathroom by the kitchen.

You try to breathe deep, but the oxygen doesn’t come as fast as you need it. You’re falling down the dern, despair filled hole that plagues your every waking hour. The reality you try to shove away, the fact that you’re here and he’s not.

Knuckles rap against the door. You undo the lock to come face to face with John, who steps inside and closes it behind him. You keep your gaze fixed on the floor, chest heaving. “Shhh,” he murmurs, pulling you close, “it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry.” He wipes the tears from your cheeks, tipping your face up.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Soap is oblivious sometimes.”

“It’s not up to me to tell people how to grieve.” He wraps you in a hug.

“It’s not, but he should treat you with respect.” You nod, drifting, trying to burn the words from your brain. You’re holding onto him. Clutching at his shirt, and he rubs a hand up and down your spine. It’s good. Warm, and comforting. You sink deeper, let him hold you, seeking solace. The strength you find in John.

You rest your cheek against his chest. “I’m so tired. I want to go home.” You whisper, and he smooths a hand over the back of your head.

“Okay. I’ll take you.” There’s another knock on the door, and you grimace.

It’s Cami. She has the baby on her hip, tears in her eyes. “I’m so-“

“It’s okay. Really. I’m just tired.” You’re lying, but you don’t have the heart to tell her the truth. She knows anyway. You never should have come. “I think I’m gonna head home.”

“I figured. I packed some food to go, and Gaz has Orion at the door.” Your best friend, always so kind, so thoughtful.

“Thanks, Cami. I love you.”

“I love you too. Text me when you get home, okay?” She passes Nix into your arms, following her with a hug, and you press your face to her shoulder before pulling away.

“I will.”

It’s been three days since the dinner, despondency settling back into your routine like it never left.

The kids help, John too. They keep you focused. They keep you alive.

“An’ cookie!” John smiles. It’s the lips quirked to the side one, the gleam in his eye one, combined with his standard issue work hair and beard, thick cable knit sweater stretched across the firm weight of his shoulders. It’s navy. Complements his eyes.

A flicker of heat burns in your stomach, between your legs, taking you by surprise.

You’re staring. You’re staring and he looks away from Orion, meeting your eyes, a question forming in them until you clear your throat and glance away, focusing on the baby in your arms and the last of her bottle before trying to get Orion prepared for the end of his night.

“Come on little man, finish your dessert so we can get your pajamas on.”

“U’cle John help me.” His arms cross against his chest, and you give him a reproachful look.

“What do we say when we want to ask someone to help?”

“Please.”

“Yes, please. Good job.”

“Please ‘cle John?” John glances your way, hesitant, and you shrug.

“Sure, bud. Once you’re finished.”

The kitchen gets the final wipe down when John slinks out of Orion’s room, clicking the door shut softly behind him.

“Nix go down?”

“Easily. She’s never fussy. Sleeps like a dream. Thanks for helping with him.” There is a glass on the coffee table, and a bottle of wine. You meant to have some earlier but got distracted. “I was going to have a glass of wine and watch something, want to stay and hang out for a bit?” You love your kids, but only having a baby and a toddler to talk to all the time can get old fast, no matter how much you love them.

His fingers brush yours when he takes the second glass from your hand, and you swallow. Your throat is suddenly dry, and you shiver.

The movie is two hours long, but forty-five minutes and two glasses of wine in, your head starts to feel heavy, and your eyelids grow lazy.

“- want to go to bed?”

“No,” you sigh. Your head is quiet, and you’re curled up against something warm, drifting in the sweet space between sleep and waking, low volume of the tv murmuring in the background. “Gonna stay here.” The blanket is tucked around your shoulders, and you snuggle deeper, sagging into the cushions. You’re almost there, just on the cusp when you jerk. “Baby monitor.” You mumble, and a whisper traces an arc from your temple to jawline, touch so featherlight it’s hard to know if it was ever there at all.

“Sleep, dove. I’ll be here.”

“We were going to have another baby you know. He wanted another one so badly. Kept trying to knock me up every time he was home.” The ice rattles in your glass, and you cast a long look at the half empty bottle between the two chairs you’re in on the porch.

“He told me.”

“He did?”

“Mmm. Kept talkin’ about how you turned him into a caveman all the time.” You laugh. It’s real. A real laugh, something unbidden, releasing from your chest. John raises his eyebrows, and smiles.

“That’s how it was. He was always like that.” The stars are really bright tonight. They have been, ever since you buried him. You’re not sure if there’s less light pollution lately or if you’re just paying attention more. Sometimes you want to believe it’s something else entirely. If it’s a piece of him making them glow for you. Lighting up your sky. Wrapping you in a blanket of midnights, little collections of constellations in his arms. “They’re named after the stars, you know. The babies.”

“I know.” He sips his whiskey. “Orion the giant hunter, son of Poseidon, and Phoenix, rising from ash to be reborn.”

“Yeah.” You’re crying, again, and you wipe the tears away as quickly as you can.

“They’re beautiful names.” You don’t answer. There’s nothing to say, so the two of you sit there, side by side on the porch in silence until you break it.

“I’m angry at him. I’m so mad, he broke his promises. He broke all his promises and left me here. He left me.”

“He didn’t do it on purpose. He loved you so much.” You twist the ring on your left finger. It’s looser now, your inability to stomach most things starting to show. You wouldn’t have even noticed, or cared, unless John said something. ‘I promised I’d take care of you. That includes not letting you turn into a beanstalk.’

“He didn’t keep his promise.” There is the crux of it. All the promises made, only one kept. ‘Til death. Except he’s gone, and you’re still here.

Turning into a ghost.

“Can you hang out with the kids for a little bit tonight?” His brow pulls together, pinching in the middle, lines of his forehead wrinkling just bit, just enough to remind you of his age.

“Sure, everything okay?” Your eyes find your feet.

“I want to go to the cemetery.” His mouth opens, and whatever was going to come out of it disappears with his nod.

“Alright.”

You’re sick.

That’s the only way you can explain this, laying here on top of the plot, bottle of Kentucky bourbon in your hand. You’ve dumped some on the ground at the base of his stone, a toast of some kind, a sad, hopeless connection sitting one sided.

This is a special kind of agony. It’s the kind that wears you down. It makes you ill. It has you wishing you could dig up his coffin and crawl inside it. Sick. Rotting from the inside out.

“John’s kept his promise to you,” you manage another large swig, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “He’s always around. Helps with the kids a lot. Keeps us afloat. I guess he takes his pledges pretty seriously.” Another swig. This one leaks from the side of your lips. “I hate you, you know that? If you weren’t dead, I’d kill you myself. You weren’t supposed to leave us here. You were always supposed to come home. You promised.” You dig into the earth, dirt and grass compacting under your fingernails.

The night is dark and starless.

Figures.

You’d do anything to change this. Anything. You can’t carry it. You can’t bear it. It’s too heavy. Too much. For one moment, you’d like to not feel it, to not know the crushing weight of your grief. It follows your every waking minute. It follows you in your dreams.

When people die, there are always these fantastical stories floating around about their loved ones seeing a bird, or a cloud, or a rainbow. Some overwhelmingly positive sign leading them to believe the deceased is at peace.

It’s all bullshit.

There are no signs. There is no peace.

There’s only you, and the dead man you love in the ground.

It’s late when you make it home.

You probably shouldn’t have driven. It’s a short ride to and from the little graveyard on the hill, but you’re ashamed to have done it.

You know better.

“Didn’t hear you come in.” Your keys clang against the counter, forgotten as you turn to face him. The lie gives you pause. He knew you had come in. Simon never missed the sing of a door hinge, the latch of a window. You know they operate. How they function.

Still, you let it go. You don’t have the mental capacity to call him out.

He’s closer than you expected. Close enough you can smell him. It’s always the same, cigars and pine. Fresh needles fallen on the forest floor. He reminds you of it too in a way. The woods. Something about him, the way he fits into his sweater, the rough heels of his hands, like he’s felled a thousand trees and could go for a thousand more.

He’s got amber gold on the rocks in his hand, more whiskey. The ice has diluted it a bit, a thin watery film sitting on the bottom of the glass. You wrap your fingers around the rim and tip it to your lips. It burns. The clock ticks, the two of you breathe in and out. In and out.

“I can’t carry this.” You blurt, setting the glass down a little too hard. “I know you think I can… but I can’t. I’m drowning.”

“No one expects you to right now…” He’s talking, reassuring, supporting you, but there’s nothing except for his eyes. They’re the color of the ocean, the one you swam in the weekend Simon put the ring on your finger.

Your ears are ringing. Your blood is hot, the alcohol rewiring your brain until it conjures wild ideas about an escape. Maybe you don’t have to carry it, for a minute. Maybe you can close your eyes and share it with someone. Share it with him. Just for a minute.

“John.” You whisper, still focused on his eyes.

“What is it?” You twist your fingers in his sweater, dirt from under your fingernails getting caught in the wool, and he tenses, confused. “Hey, maybe-“ No maybes. You swing onto your toes and drag him downward, pressing your mouth to his in a rush. He grunts, but the kiss lingers until he pulls away. “You’re drunk.”

“Yes.” You can’t place the look he gives you, mind too far gone. If you were sober, you’d say it was significant. He cups your cheek.

“Let’s sit down and-“

“No. John. Please. Help me carry it. Please.” Electricity crackles in the air, his hand sliding to your neck where he holds it firm with two fingers.

“We can’t. Shouldn’t. It’s just the grief, it’s-“

“Please.” You raise yourself back onto your toes, and though he’s dead still, he doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t stop you as you kiss the corner of his mouth, beard brushing against your chin, and he doesn’t stop you when you find his lips again, parting your own, holding onto his shoulders.

He groans, hands drifting to your hips and digging into them, gripping you so tight, a pendulum swinging, pushing you away, pulling you back, until he gives in.

You’re kissing captain Price, for fucks sake. Your husband’s boss, his friend. One of the most important men in his life.

The betrayal burns.

This is wrong. So wrong, but there’s a wild piece of you that wants it. Likes it. The pieces that have taken solace in John have now turned to something else, something stronger, more vibrant.

It’s wrong. So wrong.

But in this moment, there’s nothing else but you and him and this decision. There’s no room for the other things that plague you.

It’s rough. You’re rough. He’s rough. You pin him against the kitchen counter, fumbling with his belt and zipper, sandpapered pads of his thumbs under your shirt and rolling over your nipples. You’re clumsy, disorientated, only saved when he spins you around and folds you over the cool surface. “Alright.” He murmurs like it’s just now kicked in what you’re doing, what’s happening in this moment, this sacrilege now staining you both. He kicks your feet wide, and rips your leggings to your ankles, tracing a line back up your thigh to shove his hand inside your panties and through your folds to push his finger inside you.

“Ah, John-” You hiss, arching your back, greedy for more, desperate for something, waiting and wanting, willingly going with him as he drags you to the floor, pushes you to your knees and bends you over, too big hand between your shoulder blades.

He fills you in a single stroke and you cry out, slapping a palm over your mouth to cover your scream, stifling the moans that follow. It’s a stretch, one that burns, too much and too soon, but this isn’t meant to be slow. It’s not a treasure, a sentimental unfolding of passion. It’s grief. It’s loss. It’s nothing like love. “Christ.” He grits, pinching your ass. “You’re bloody tight, sweet.” You can’t respond, your free hand digs against the hard wood, scrambling for something to hold onto as he shoves his cock against your cervix. You’re going to come unreasonably fast, already clamping down around him, tightening with the curl of your toes. “Be nice and quiet for me now, angel.” He pulls you up by your chest, mouth hot at your ear as he reaches for your clit, pinching the swollen nub and then smacking it with an open palm, your shriek barely muffled by your hand. He’s speaking, but you’re not quite catching it, too distracted by the blinding light on the outside of your vision, sparks blooming into fireworks. “Oh dove, you’re coming,” his mouth is on your cheek, kissing, nipping, and you turn to steel, vibrating with the strength of your orgasm, pathetic whines ghosting over his neck as your head tips back. He coos, brushes a hand over your forehead. It’s comforting, sick comfort for a sick girl. “Good girl, Shh, I know, I know it’s a lot.” The peak crashes, and you twitch, pulsing around him, fingernails digging into his forearm.

He comes all over you. Puts you back on all fours and curses under his breath, holding you steady, gripping your ass cheek so hard it will be tender tomorrow. The ocean rushes in your ears and you start to drift away, post orgasm, post fuck, sweaty and sated as he paints you.

“Fuck honey-“

I’ve got a lot of cum for you, honey

Tell daddy what you’re doing, honey

Can’t get over how good you taste, honey

Feel how bad I want to be inside you, honey?

The tip of the knife jams between your ribs. It penetrates your heart. It shreds organ and bone until the injury is so catastrophic, the only fix is death.

The noise you make is more animal than human.

Honey, honey, honey-

You flinch and crawl away panicked. He’s calling your name but you’re deaf to it, drowning in Simon’s voice.

Simon, your husband, who was the last man inside you. Simon who called you honey, and sweetheart, and mama. Simon, who’s body is cold in the ground. Who’s ring is on your finger.

Honey, honey, honey-

You stumble to your feet and make it to the sink just before the whiskey and bourbon comes shooting out of your mouth.

Sick.

“Promise me-“

“Shut up Simon. That’s an order.” He’s got her embroidered pocket square in his fingers, stained in blood, crimson dotting out the constellations. The radio crackles, but it only confirms what they both know.

Simon has minutes. They need at least twenty.

He shakes his head. John presses harder on his abdomen, pointedly ignoring the river of red spilling out beneath his palms. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much human bodies bleed. It’s not like he’s usually sticking around to watch.

“John.” Simon’s free hand latches onto the strap of John’s vest and jerks it roughly, pulling him closer. “You swear to me, right now. Do it.”

“I won’t. There’s still time. Stop talking, you need the oxygen.” His lips crack into a smile, gaze already starting to fall away, and then snaps to, refocusing.

“Tell her I love her. And that I’m sorry.”

“You’ll tell her yourself, Lieutenant.” He shakes his head, fist tightening over that little square, dragging to his heart, the organ beneath the vest that’s beating too slowly.

“John. Swear it. Promise me you’ll take care of her. You’ll take care of them.” There’s blood trickling down his jaw now, flowing from his lips. “She’s strong, but it’s gonna be hard. She’ll need you. The kids will need you. Nix is only a baby, she can’t-“ he coughs, shudders, and then his brow furrows with determination. “They can’t grow up without a dad.” John’s stomach, already an open pit, now rips into a black hole.

“You’re their dad, Simon. You are.” His voice cracks.

“Swear.”

“No.”

“Swear to me!” Simon shouts in his face, blood spraying on his cheeks. Gaz is yelling at them from twenty-five yards away, but it doesn’t matter. There’s not enough time.

They stare at each for seconds that are really eternity. They’ve been together in this hell, in this job, for so long. Suffered and slogged and killed together for so long. Simon isn’t just his team member, he’s a part of his life.

A rabid fucking dog brutalized and beaten down, now a husband, a father, a leader in his own right.

John pushes away the memory of the day he met Orion. The pride on Simon’s face. The pure joy.

He would never deny him.

They hold on to each other’s forearms. It’s goodbye.

“I swear it, Simon. I will take care of them. I promise. On my life.”

“And you’ll tell her I love her.”

“I will.”

He should have stopped you.

Looking back, it’s hard to believe it happened, but it’s not hard to remember. Not hard to remember how you felt, scorching velvet plush around his cock, not hard to remember the sounds you make when you come, how your pussy twitches. Not hard to remember how beautiful you were in his arms, shaking and crying, holding tight to him as he fucked you as deep as he could.

And it’s hard to forget the horror on your face. The way you crawled away like a wounded animal. The hoarse sobbing that came after the vomit in the sink. The way your knees gave out. The way you told him to get the fuck out.

Help me carry it.

It’s survivor’s guilt. It must be. Or trauma bonding. He’s been here for you, for the kids. He’s held you and wiped your tears and scooped you off the floor.

Because it’s his duty.

Right?

He can’t deny there’s something wrong with him, though. There’s something wrong with the way he barked at Soap during dinner, something wrong with the way he let you curl up beside him with your head on his stomach the night you fell asleep on the couch. He just sat there, stroked your cheek, rested his hand on his shoulder.

The guilt builds. It’s compounding, and fueling the anger, the rage directed at himself.

How dare he? How dare he betray Simon like this? How dare he try to take something that’s never been his?

He walks it like a tightrope. It’s his duty. It’s a betrayal.

Duty. Deceit. Duty. Betrayal. An oath. A line crossed, again and again.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do except crush and pulverize this thing trying to bloom. He rips out it by the roots.

Though he knows as well as any, determined things always find a way.

You don’t even look at him, and it gets under his skin. It feels wrong. Everything is wrong.

“Orion is almost ready.” You say over your shoulder, already moving away from him and down the hall, running but you’re not being chased. He’s supposed to take the lad fishing today. Orion has been looking forward to it all week, and you, quite frankly, don’t have the energy.

He catches you by the elbow and you jerk away, lips pressed together and eyes down. “Look at me.” You shake your head, glisten of tears catching in the early morning light streaming through the windows. He says your name, as softly as he can manage, and you tremble.

“I can’t do this right now.”

“Do what? Talk to me?” He’s pushing, and maybe he shouldn’t.

“Yes.” You hiss, venom twisting your face into a mask he’s never seen before. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to talk about what we did.” Your voice cracks on the last word, and it hurts in a way he didn’t expect. He wants to agree. He wants to wipe your face and tug you into his chest. He wants to bury the guilt ripping through him and turn around. Walk out the door.

He’ll do none of it. He’s a man of his word, above all else.

“When you’re ready then.” He nods as if it’s nonnegotiable, and then saved from a rebuttal when Orion runs full speed from his room. You turn on your heel and storm away.

Fine.

He’s at your door the next night for dinner.

You stand in the frame, arms crossed, anger etched into your face. “I don’t need your help tonight.”

“You going to make me a liar then?” He snaps, patience thin. The anger dissipates, and it’s replaced by that same despondent, dead look in your eyes that’s been making him sick since the day he came to the door. “Make me go back on my word to him?”

“John.” You whisper his name with shaking hands.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” There’s acid on the tip of his tongue. It’s stringent, bitter like the soap his mum washed his mouth out with. He doesn’t know why, but it stings. You look up at him, eyes so wide, so sad, so lost, he has to hold himself back from dragging you into his arms. “It didn’t mean anything, dove. It was just us. Just between us. Just grief.”

“Just grief.” You parrot, tears dripping from the corners of your eyes and down your temples. He brushes them away, and you surprise him by leaning into it. You smile weakly. “We’re having pasta bake.”

A few days later, and there are loads of laundry on your couch when he walks in. You throw him a desperate look, piles separated into toddler clothes, baby clothes and your own. They’re mountains, nearly at your chest when standing.

“Get a little behind?”

“I’ve been a little tired, I guess.”

“Can I help?” “Sure, want to fold onesies?” You laugh a little bit, enough to crack your lips into a small smile. He likes it. Likes your smile. It reminds him of the one you used to give Simon, the way it would break across your face, sunshine in a patch of clouds. He’d nuzzle your cheek, your neck, holding Orion on his hip with one arm, and you with another.

He stills, holding a small yellow piece of clothing.

Your husband. Simon was your husband.

And he’s the interloper.

Swear to me-

I swear it-

I will take care of them.

His ears ring with the bells of remorse, the song of at the beginning of a procession.

“John? You alright?” He’s been staring at you this entire time, but not seeing you, just seeing the past, seeing Simon, seeing everything that came before these moments where he’s being torn in two. He nods, not trusting his voice, his words.

“Will you be here for dinner tonight?” He usually is. It kills two birds with one stone. He makes sure you’re functioning; he makes sure you’re eating. It’s never been a question of you caring for the kids. The worry has been about you caring for yourself.

He can’t stomach sitting down for a meal with you and Orion today, so he lies. “I have to get home and get some work done.” You’re surprised, and then disappointed. He sees it so clearly and chooses not to dwell on it.

He can’t stay. He needs to work this out of his system.

You’re sad tonight.

Some days are really bad days, and then some of them are awful, like these. The ones where you move from bed to the couch, feeding and changing and dressing the kids on autopilot. He calls them your sad days, because he doesn’t want to call it what it is. Depressed days, despair days, you’ve given up days.

Some of the days are better, but these are the worst. It gets ugly at night, when the anxiety and fear becomes too much, when the loss crashes down too quickly.

The house is quiet, and you’re curled up in the middle of the bed under a heap of blankets, staring at the wall. You don’t acknowledge him when he opens the door or slips inside, you say nothing when he sits on the side of the bed. He lays a hand on your shoulder. You don’t react.

“Did you eat today?”

“A little.” He strokes your cheek, backs of his fingers gliding over soft skin, trying to rouse you a bit more, and you sigh.

“Kids go down alright?”

“Fine. Orion is upset he can’t sleep in our,” your face twists, “my bed anymore. But I placated him with too much ice cream.” You manage a smile then, and he matches it.

“That’s good. Nothing he won’t do for some chocolate yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your voice is small. “John?”

“What is it?”

“Do you think it will ever go away?” He smooths some baby hairs back from your forehead.

“I don’t know, angel. Eventually it will hurt less, I imagine. But the loss will always be there.” Your cheeks glisten in the dark, sliver of light shining through the crack in the door from the hallway.

“I’m glad you were with him.” He bites the inside of his cheek so hard he bleeds.

“I am too.” Your fingers curl around his.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” The ache in his heart is back, doubling the beat, blood churning all the way to his toes. “Will you stay?” He shouldn’t, but he folds himself alongside where you’re under the blankets and tucks your head into his neck.

“Yes, dove. I’ll stay.”

The next time it happens is filled with rage.

You’re a wild animal, a wolf starved, teeth bared and snapping, claws out.

But you beg him for it. You plead. You demand.

It’s just us. Just grief. Take it from me. Why should I be the only one carrying this?

It’s wrong as he takes you on the bathroom floor, cold tile under his knees, warmth of your thighs bracketed at his waist. You dig your nails into his back hard enough to break skin, and he pins them back, his forehead knocked against yours, sharing breath. Sharing grief.

He breaks you down eventually, pushing his cock so deep you wail, holding you firm with a hand on your hip. He doesn’t want this, doesn’t want to betray him, doesn’t want to take his place in a home that could never be his.

Still. He can’t stop. He can’t help himself. He lives for your cries, the way you tighten around him when you come, how your eyes turn into bright stars at your peak.

It angers him. He’s always been a man of control.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes, fuck, t’s not… it’s just-“ He snatches your jaw, and you look away.

“Look at me sweet. Look at me and tell this is just grief.” You can’t. You don’t. Instead, he shoves his hand between your legs and rubs your clit until you come.

When it’s over, you cry.

“Is this it?” He stares at Simon’s headstone. “Is this what you meant? Is this what I promised you?” Dead men don’t answer to anyone, ghosts don’t provide explanations. John replays those last moments in his mind, burning Simon’s face into his memory so he never forgets, so he never gets confused. He’s in another man’s place, a father and a husband’s place.

It’s been days since he’s seen you. Cami visits in his stead, which is good for you, better. You need a friend now, not him. Not whatever this is. Not whatever he’s done to you or vice versa.

He claps a hand on top of the stone, the same way he’d do it to Simon’s shoulder.

“I promised on my life, but I didn’t promise this.”

You haven’t seen or heard from John in nearly a month.

It didn’t bother you at first since they were gone for work, but when Gaz opened the front door to greet you two weeks ago, you were surprised.

They’re back and he didn’t reach out.

Why?

You miss him. It’s a shameful revelation, and a surprising one.

So much for the mourning widow.

“Mama, i’cream?” Orion is huddled between your legs, tugging on your jeans while you bounce Phoenix, trying to get her to settle before bed.

“No ice cream tonight baby.” His eyes well with tears, and the guilt hits you. Be strong. Don’t give in, you’re spoiling him too much.

“Let’s go get in bed and I’ll read to you, okay?”

“No! I’cream!” Your face crumples.

“Orion, please. I already said no. Now can you help mama and go get in your bed?” He flings his hands at your thighs, little face twisted up with rage.

Normally, you’re well equipped for the tantrums. It’s part of having a toddler, but tonight, it’s breaking your back. Wearing you down. You’re about to walk away, create some space, take a deep breath when the doorbell rings.

Literally saved by the bell.

Orion’s already running down the hall, bouncing on his toes as you open the door to see John on the other side. Weary. Weathered. “U’cle John!”

“Hey, bud.” He locks eyes with you, standing on the threshold, meeting your eyes unflinchingly. “Need some help?” You swallow.

“Come in, you’re letting all the heat out.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Your mouth is on his, or his on yours, you’re not sure how it started. All you know is his arms are warm, and strong, and a safety net at the bottom of your life now, waiting outstretched for when you lose your balance on the tightrope.

“I know.” He does that thing where he cradles your face, stares into your eyes like he’s seeing an entire universe, one he’s never been to, a planet undiscovered, stars recently born and exploded across a night sky. “I know sweet, but- I can’t-“ It’s why he stayed away, he confessed earlier. Why he disappeared. It wasn’t fair, he knew that.

The guilt is crushing him. It’s crushing you.

“What’re we doing then?” It’s not right, whatever this is.

But his body pressed against yours, his arms holding you tight, it’s impossible to run from. Hard to hide.

It’s not just grief anymore. A hydra with a head cut off, two more born again from the wound. It's a flower blooming in a forest of ash, life finding a through the gash of a wildfire. A small, tiny, flame, desperate to burn.

“Just kiss me,” you breathe, mouths now millimeters away from one another. His chest heaves beneath your fingertips. “Just kiss me, John.”

“Daddy.” Orion pats his hand on the stone, little fingers digging into the engraving.

Husband. Father.

Your thumb finds the sapphire, rubbing the stone it in practiced circles, and Phoenix coos beside you, half buried beneath the wool of John’s jacket. “Ready to go home, little man?” You’re crouched behind him, holding him, kissing his cheek. This is a weekly tradition, the visit, and even in the dead of winter when it’s too cold for the kids, you never miss it.

Your commitment never wavers, your gold band a mirror to the one buried beneath your feet, an eternal tie to your husband.

‘Til Death.

You will never not be Simon’s wife, the mother of his children, his moon. You will never marry again. You will never have another child.

But that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for a sunrise, a dawn, a new promise. An oath to John, though never formal or official in the eyes of the law, but true all the same.

The sun. The stars. The moon.

“Alright, we ready?” You press another kiss to your son’s face before scooping him up, taking one last look before nuzzling Orion’s face. “See you next week, Si.”

John lingers for a moment, a hand curled over the stone, fingers flexing into a squeeze. His eyes are distant, a world away, tangled up in the past for a long moment.

“Hey,” you call softly, extending a hand. “let’s go home.”

#peaches writes #price x reader #fix you by Coldplay #john price #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #through me (the flood)#captain price x reader

817 notes · View notes

youreverydayfangirl · 5 months ago

Text

Death By A Thousand Cuts

pairing: lando norris x fretwell! reader

summary: y/n y/ln has always been in love with lando, or in which lando brushed y/n off until its too late

warning: angsty tbh, attempted sa, roofie, swearing

a/n: i like this one tbh, also this takes places over a couple years tbh

Y/n wasn't entirely sure when it happened, whether it was love at first sight or something more gradual, all she knew was she was entirely and irrevocably in love with Lando Norris.

Y/n first met Lando when she was 10 and he was 11. To him she was his best mates little sister. He found her childish and annoying. She found him kind and attractive, although she barely saw him because he was always off karting.

The moment that solidified her crush on the boy was when their families went on their first family vacation together. They had booked a holiday house at the beach for a week during summer. Both families had made there way done the beach.

Max and Lando were playing catch on the beach, chatting about random things, there parents were busy gossiping and sunbaking and Flo and Y/n were swimming in the ocean.

"Y/n sweetie, don't swim out too far please." Her mother called out to her and she nodded back.

"I'm gonna give this to my mom so I don't lose it." Flo said, gesturing to the bracelet her grandmother had given her for her birthday. Y/n nodded in response and watched as Flo ran back ashore, heading over to her mom.

Y/n watched everyone, feeling peaceful. Lando was currently watching Max strike out with a girl who was definitely to old for him and Flo was talking to their parents.

Suddenly she was dragged underwater, getting completely disoriented. Her lungs screamed for air, a burning sensation spreading through her chest. She tried to swim to the top, splashing above the water for a split second before being pulled back down.

Her legs were powerless no matter how hard she tried to kick. Her vision was spotty, she struggled to fight off the black spots dancing in her vision when she felt herself being pulled up above the water and dragged onto the beach.

She fell to her hands and knees and began coughing up salt water, someone holding her hair behind her head. She looked up to see Lando looking down at her worried and annoyed.

"Are you crazy? He asked the girl. Before she could answer her parents came over to her wrapping her around in a towel and fussing over her. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks at how she had embarrassed herself but also at the fact that Lando had come to save her.

Y/n looked at the diy grave she had made. Her pet hamster had died and she was holding a full funeral. The Norris' had come aswell, paying there respects.

"I'm sorry about fluffy Y/n." Lando said, moving to stand next to her. She looked up sending him a small, sad smile and he held out a bouquet of flowers for her. They were scrappy, definitely picked from his moms garden which he would get in trouble for later but the thought counted. She gave him large smile and took them from him before wrapping her arms around him.

"Thanks Lan." She said.

"Its alright to cry you know, you don't have to be strong." He said, whispering into the top of her head before planting a kiss on it.

She began crying into the boys chest and he let her until she felt better.

By the time she was 14 Y/n felt so out of place in their little group. Flo, Max and Lando had all become quite close due to their closeness in age and interests. She didn't feel out of place in the social sense, it was more out of place in life. The boys had karting, Flo had riding but what exactly did Y/n have. She had no clue what she wanted to be, a doctor? A journalist? Something in fashion? She just had no clue.

She felt a nudge in her side and turned to look at Lando whos eyes were trained to the TV. He looked at her, "Are you okay?" He whispered to her. She nodded. "Y/n, tell me the truth." She sighed, Lando could always see straight through her.

"No. Yes. I don't know. Its just, I feel so out of place, all of you guys know what you wanna do and I - I just don't know." Lando snorted and Y/ns eyes shot to him.

"What? What's wrong?" She asked, suddenly feeling very self conscious. Lando felt bad seeing the panicked look on her face.

"Sorry, Its just you shouldn't be worried over something like that. Whatever you end up doing is going to be amazing just like you, don't stress Y/n." He said, sincerity in his tone.

She smiled, thankful that he couldn't see how red her face had gotten and turned to face the tv.

Once she had turned 15 two things were pretty obvious. Y/n was head over heels in love with Lando Norris and Lando wasn't interested, shutting her affections down a million times with the excuse of her being Max's little sister.

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

2015

yourusername has posted

liked by yourbsfusername, maxfretwell and 234 others

yourusername summer 2015 so far

tagged: yourbsfusername, maxfretwell, landonorris, flonorris

maxfretwelll get off instagram your a baby

yourbsfusername LITERALLY SO FUN

→ yourusername I KNOWWWWW

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

Y/n found herself drunkenly dancing with Y/bsf, the girls opting to go to a party instead of staying in. She started dancing with the random guy when she felt herself get pulled away. "Hey." She stuttered out, not coping well with how much she had already had to drink.

"What the fuck are you doing here Y/n."

Lando.

Still, she defiantly crossed her arms, glaring at him. "I'm having fun, what are you the fun police."

Lando faltered at the attitude he got, before glaring at her. "Your too young to be drinking, and your definitely too young to be at Thomas Bakers party." She just rolled her eyes, "I'm sixteen, not a baby anymore."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not." She said again.

"You sure are acting like one right now, now come on." He said grabbing at her wrist but she refused to move. "Where are we going." She asked him, not wanting to move.

"Home, Max is literally going to kill me." Lando responded, trying to grab at the girl but she refused to budge.

"Y/n."

"Lando." She said back to him, "You know I'm not going to move." She stated, Lando raising his eyebrows at this, as if it were a challenge.

"Really?" Lando asked, challenging her right back, she faltered for a second before nodding firmly. He smirked a little, before grabbing at her waist and tossing her over his shoulder.

"Lando? What the fuck! Put me down." She said, people at the party watching but being to drunk to properly care.

"Nope, your going home Y/n." The girl sighed defeatedly, letting it happen. Lando walked over to his car, putting the girl down and helping her into his front seat.

He hopped in and began to drive back to her house. Y/n looked at the window, resting her head against the glass. Once they got home, Y/n saw a familiar figure standing on the front porch. "Really? You had to call Max?"

"Goodnight Y/n." He said, she rolled her eyes, about to exit the car before she decided to plant a cheeky kiss on his cheek before hopping out of the car.

"Y/n get inside now." Max said sternly.

"But I-"

"Inside." He raised his voice, not shouting but Y/n could tell he was mad. She went inside and watched from her bedroom window as Max and Lando talked about something before Lando drove off. She sighed and fell back on her bed, just wanting the day to be over.

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

2016

yourusername has posted

liked by yourbsfusername, maxfretwell and 321 others

tagged: yourbsfusername, maxfretwell, landonorris, flonorris

yourbsfusername oh heyyyy

→ yourusername heyyy

flonorris I LOVE YOU AND I MISS YOUUU

→ yourusername I MISS YOUUU

maxfretwell cringe tbh

→ yourusername loser tbh

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

"Maxiieee." Y/n stumbled out of the kitchen onto the back porch looking around for her older brother. They host was a mutual friend of theirs which is why they had both been invited. The girl was about the fall down the porch steps when an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back firmly onto the porch.

"Woah, be careful there little Max." She heard that familiar voice say. She turned around to face him still slightly dazed and confused, a pout on her lips when his words registered in her head. "Landoo." She drunkenly whined, "I told you to stop calling me that, 'm no little. "

The boy laughed, smiling down at her "Yes you are little max," he teased, smiling before noticing the faint tear tracks on her face. Landos body language changed, worry seeping into his gaze. "Y/n whats wrong?" He asked, brushing her hair out of her face so he could see her more clearly.

"Tom." She said shakily, ready to burst into tears. Lando tensed at the mention of the girls boyfriend , a million different things running through his mind, if she was hurt, if he had hurt her. Lando began checking her up and down, making sure she wasn't injured, once he was certain that she was alright he looked back at her.

"What did he do love?" The nickname slipped out, Lando hadn't meant to say it, it just felt so natural. Luckily for him, she didn't catch onto what he said, her brain to scattered to pick up on it.

"He cheated on me. I walked in on him and some chick." She wailed out, throwing herself into Landos arms, a gesture that Lando was not against. Lando wrapped his arms around her waist, rubbing small circles on her back.

"Oh dove, its gonna be okay." Lando rested his head on her hers, squeezing her tightly before pulling away. "I'm gonna take you to the car, can you wait there for me and Max to come out." He spoke softly, waiting for a nod before heading towards the car. Once he walked her to the car he instructed her to wait there while he went back inside to look for Max.

Max came out of the party, far less drunk than the other two and immediately went to his sister, forcing her to look up at him. "Are you okay." He asked her, Y/n just nodded and quietly mumbled something about wanting to go home.

On the car ride back, with Max driving, Lando opted to sit in the back seat next to Y/n who nearly fell asleep on his shoulder. The drive back was silent, no one feeling up to making conversation. When the car stopped Lando looked down at the girl sleeping on his shoulder, "Feeling better?" He croaked out, Y/n turned to look up at him. She paused for a second, absorbing the moment when she felt bile rise up her throat. She paused, trying to undo her seatbelt, before opening the doer landing on the grass, puking. "Ah shit moms gonna kill me." Max groaned while a pair of hands grabbed her hair in a makeshift pony tail, rubbing her back. "Lets get you inside." Lando said, helping the girl up.

When they got to her room, Lando grabbed her a change of clothes passing them to her. "Put these on, I'll be right back."

Lando came back up the stairs, opening the door to Y/ns room. "Look I need you to - oh shit." Lando said, closing his eyes tightly. The drunk girl turned around to look at him, clad in her bra and underwear. "Landoo, can you please help mee get these offf." She said, still clearly drunk. Lando swallowed hard, cursing whatever God was out there. "You can't get it off yourself." The girl shook her head.

He swallowed, putting the things in his hands down before moving the girl towards him. He ran his fingers up her back, definitely slower than he should have, goosebumps forming on her back at the touch. He reached her bra and unbuttoned it slowly, eyes looking at all of her bare skin. He shook his head spinning around. "Now put you shirt on." She did without a fuss.

He then took her to the bathroom, stating that she would regret not taking it off in the morning and while that was true, he really just wanted more time to hang around the girl.

He grabbed a cotton pad and makeup cleaner, instructing her to sit on the bench as he walked between her legs. He gently wiped her makeup off, Y/n looking up at him, admiring his features. "Your pretty you know that." She mumbled, not entirely meaning to say it out loud.

"Oh am I." Lando said teasingly, a grin making its way across his face. "Mhm." She nodded, Lando wiped the last bit of mascara off before looking down into her eyes. The pair stayed their, Y/n could have sworn he leaned in slightly but the jingle of the front door was heard, Max having returned from dropping his girlfriend off. Lando pulled away quickly, throwing the cotton pad in the bin. "Done." He mumbled, ready to walk out the room and never return.

Y/n followed him out of her conjoining bathroom into her room. "Goodnight Y/n." He said, making his way to her bedroom door as she climbed into bed. "Goodnight Lan." She said, the duvet pulled up to her chin at this point. Lando paused at the door to looked at her, "And Y/n?" She hummed in response, "Next time pick someone who isn't a complete dick okay." He continued before closing his door gently.

Y/n felt her hear shatter all over again, it was just a reminder that no matter how much she wanted to, Y/n and Lando were never going to be together.

The next day when Y/n went to pick up her stuff from Toms she noticed a huge black eye but Tom refused to tell her how it got there.

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

2017

yourusername has posted

liked by yourbsfusername, maxfretwell and 678 others

yourusername officially the big 17

tagged: landonorris, yourbsfusername, maxfretwell, flo_norris_showjumping

landonorris happy birthday little max

→ yourusername your the worst

yourbsfusername besties legal nowww

→ yourusername yayayaya

→ maxfretwell nononono

maxfretwell happy birthday little sis

→ yourusername thanks loser

flo_norris_showjumping YAYYY

→ yourusername YAYAYYAYAYAY

friend1 happy birthday

→ yourusername thank you

friend2 hope you had a fun birthday

→ yourusername i did thanks

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

Y/n sat watching the fire. Her family and Landos were having a bonfire and celebrating Y/ns seventeenth and Lando who was doing really well in his Formula 3 season.

She felt the bench she was sitting on dip and looked to see Lando sitting next to her. "So the big seventeen huh?"

Y/n sent him a warm smile, "Yeah actually, its funny though cause I don't feel older even though I am." She said.

"That's what happens, any big plans for the future." He asked her, staring at the fire. Y/n glanced at him confused for a bit, Lando never really was willing to have proper conversations with her if he could escape it.

"Um yeah actually. I signed a campaign with Louis Vuitton so next month I'm flying out to Paris." She said excitedly, a fond smile crossed Landos face.

"Thats great Y/n, I'm really happy for you." He said, giving her a small nudge which she giggled at.

"How are you holding up Lan." He rolled his eyes slightly at the nickname, it had been something that she had never stopped calling him, despite his protests against him.

"Um alright, everything is going so well at the moment, but I'm kinda scared I guess, like I'm worried its all gonna go wrong and I'm gonna fuck everything up." He said, slightly shaky, Y/n turned to look at him and that was the first time she truly saw him, she could see how broken and scared he was. She smiled.

"The last thing your gonna do is fuck this up Lando, this is your dream, this is what your good at. I know you well enough to know that your not gonna fuck it up." She said, seriously and wholeheartedly which mad Lando believe her.

It was silent for a moment and then Lando spoke up, "Thank you."

"Always Lan."

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

2018

yourusername has posted

liked by landonorris, yourbsfusername and 25, 678 others

yourusername sometimes you need a little break

tagged: landonorris, maxfretwell, flo_norris_showjumping

landonorris no pic creds????

→ yourusername SORRY guys ill just repost this because lando needs creds

→ user1 HELP SHES SO FUNNY

yourbsfusername miss you so much

→ yourusername I MISS YOU MOREE

flo_norris_showjumping y/ns everything and landos just there

→ yourusername don't speak to loudly hell hear you

→ landonorris HEY rude much

user2 whos the man

→ user3 Lando hes y/ns brothers best

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

It had been nearly a year since Y/n had last seen Lando, things had gotten busy with her modeling. The families had decided to go on a beach vacation together, forcing Y/n and Lando to spend the next two weeks together.

Flo had decided that the four of them should go clubbing together, a group catch up or something like that. After not seeing her brother and one of her best friends for so long it was necessary.

"Drink up Y/n." Flo said, passing a shot to her. Y/n downed the shot quickly scrunching her nose slightly.

"Slow down there sis." Max said whilst Lando bit back a grin, snorting slightly.

A while later Max had left the booth to go dance with his girlfriend whilst Flo had wondered off to get more shots. "Hey Lan." Y/n said giggling drunkly, Lando smiled back at her.

"You might wanna slow down on the drinks there Little max." Lando said, acting nonchalant but eyeing the drink in her hand.

"Oh come off it Lan, were here to have fun." She said raising her eyebrows slightly before downing the whole drink in front of him, acting as if it were a competition.

His face changed, into awe and an expression that she couldn't quite place. She smiled slightly before getting more serious, "Lan I-"

"Oh my god Lando?" They both turned to face the girl standing on the outside of the booth, Lando scooting away from her as if he had been burned.

"Alyssa what are you doing here?" Lando asked, shock taking over his face. Alyssa. Y/n felt the bile come up her throat, the burning hot jealousy. The pair started talking but she tuned out what they were saying until Lando turned to face her. She quickly fixed her expression into a smile when he faced her.

"Do you mind if I?" He paused, she shook her head. "No go ahead." She said, moving to leave the booth.

"Y/n you don't have to leave." She smiled, falsely and it was something Lando saw right through.

"Its fine really I just need to go to the toilet." She said, moving to leave again.

"Y/n, wait what were you going to ask me?" He asked her, she smiled at him, heart fluttering at the fact he was paying attention.

"Oh um- just if you wanted another drink." She said, lying through her teeth.

"I'm alright thanks." He said before turning to face Alyssa. Y/n headed straight to the bar, her plan to go to the toilets long forgotten.

"Two shots please." She asked, leaning against the bar.

"Rough night?" Y/n turned to look at a man standing next to her, he wasn't ugly in any sense, but definitely wasn't her type, he wasn't Lando.

She just smiled, muttering something under her breathe before turning back to the counter praying for the bar tender to hurry up.

"What's your name gorgeous." The guy asked, stepping closer, obviously not being very happy with the way he was being ignored. Before she could answer the bar tender came back and she quickly downed the two shots.

"Can I buy you a drink?" The guy asked, clearly annoyed at this point from the lack of response. She turned to him, about to tell him to fuck off when her eyes locked on something, Lando and the blonde. He was smiling at her, looking at her in a way Y/n could only dream of being looked at. She turned back around to face the man, unaware of the eyes that had clocked her and the guy. "Sure." She said with a forced smile and a shaky voice.

Once she had gotten a drink from the bar tender she moved with the guy onto the dance floor. As she danced Y/n noticed a pair of eyes staring daggers at the guy behind him, Lando. She decided to test the waters a little, grinding up against him. Her eyes clocked the way Landos grip tightened around his glass, knuckles going white. She smiled a little and drank the last of her drink. As she took a sip she noticed that she had begun to feel hazy, out of place.

She pulled away from the guy, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom." She slurred out, shaking the black spots from her vision.

She stumbled into the corridor when she felt someone's hand grab her and pin her against the wall. "What are you doing? Stop." She got out, trying to fight the urge to slip unconscious.

"Don't act like you didn't want it slut. The way you were acting, Grinding against me." Her wrapped his hand around her throat and placed sloppy, drunken kissed down it.

"Stop get off me." She said, to weak to push him off. He didn't.

She kept muttering at him to get off when someone ripped him off of her. She sunk to the floor, trying to pick up on her surrounds.

"Lando get off him you've already done enough damage." She heard someone say. Lando. Her eyes locked in on the head of curly brunette hair, punching the guy over and over again, rage present on his face.

"Lando." She called out to him, he stopped instantly throwing the guy down. Two hands came to cup her cheeks. "Y/n hey. Can you hear me." He asked her softly to which she nodded.

"Were going home alright, woah hey stake awake for me love." He said, grabbing onto her as she fought off the spots.

"Your okay." He muttered, more to reassure himself than her.

"Flo hey." Lando said, grabbing onto his sister who was dancing. The girl spun around, face dropping at the barely conscious girl Lando was gripping onto like a lifeline. "I need you to find Max now okay? I'm bringing her to the car."

She nodded and walked off, "I'm just gonna have one word with the bar tender okay? Then we can go home."

He walked over to the bar, "Hey were you the prick who served her." Lando asked one of the bar tenders who spun around to face her.

"I uh-"

"I suggest you keep a better eye out, my girlfriend got drugged because of you." Lando spat out, anger filling him. The bar tender nodded shakily, unsure of what else to do. Lando exchange a couple more heated words before heading over to the car.

His phone rung in his back pocket. "Hey Flo whats up?"

"I can't find Max, do you just wanna take Y/n back to the hotel and we can uber back." Flo said, worried for her friend.

"Okay sure." Lando said before chucking the phone in the back seat. Once he was sure that Y/n had gotten in the car safely he started driving back to the Hotel and Y/n blacked out.

"Y/n" Lando asked softly. "Y/n." He called out more loudly this time, no response. Shit, he muttered to himself, changing the route he was headed.

After sending a quick text to Flo, he sped up taking her to the hospital. When he carried her to the hospital a nurse immediately came over. "My girlfriend was drugged." Was all he could seem to say.

Y/n woke up to a beeping sound, the light was very bright when she opened her eyes. The nurse turned around to look at the girl, "Oh great your up, your boyfriend was very worried about you."

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows in confusion now picking up on the sleeping boy beside her. Once she had finished talking with the nurse she turned to look at the boy beside her.

"Lando." She said nudging him with no response. "Lan." She called out more and the boy shot up awake confused, he quickly got out of his daze when he saw the girl who was staring back at him.

"Y/n." He said, standing up and cupping her face. He stayed there for a moment, but then realised what was happening, where he was and stepped back awkwardly.

"Where's Flo and Max?" Y/n asked, trying to break the awkward tension.

"Oh, um back at the hotel, they needed to sober up and everything." Lando said.

"Oh right. And you stayed because?"

"I wanted to." He said quickly, much to his embarrassment.

"Right." She said, nodding slowly, causing a flush to run through his body.

"How are you?" He asked, clearing his throat, worry taking over his face.

"I'm fine." She said, brushing him off.

"Do you want to-"

"No Lando I'm fine." She said more sternly, causing an awkward tension to rise up in the room. After a moment she spoke up again, wanting to keep a lighthearted conversation with him since they barely talked.

"So girlfriend hey?"

"Fuck off."

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

2019

yourusername has posted

liked by landonorris, yourbsfusername and 283, 686 others

yourusername couldn't be prouder of you landonorris i knew you could do it ✨🧡

tagged: landonorris

landonorris 🧡🧡

→ yourusername GO LANDO

→ user1 HELP shes too cute

maxfretwell Lando gets posted 3 times and i don't get 1 measly slide

→ yourusername sucks to suck

→ landonorris im juts better🤷

yourbsfusername GO ORANGE

→ yourusername actually its papaya

→ yourusername better fruit anyways

mclaren our fav papaya girl

→ yourusername my favourite papaya team

user2 EVERYONE SHUT UP!!! new y/lando lore just dropped

→ user3 no frfr they have to be a couple now just look at them

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

Y/n could hear the click of cameras following her as she headed towards the Mclaren garage. She had come to the Bahrain Grand Prix after missing Landos first due to scheduling conflicts.

"Y/n, its good to see you here." She heard a voice say and turned around to see her brother.

"Maxie." She screamed excitedly, jumping to wrap her arms around him, making him stumble back slightly.

"Easy there, how are you dove?" He asked his sister, pulling back to take her in.

"Pretty good, just exhausted." She said, rotating herself so could lean back against him and watch the track.

"Does Lando know your here?" He asked his sister, noting the familiar hue that still spread across her cheeks at the mention of the boy.

"No, I thought I'd surprise him." She responded, taking in the surroundings. Everything was so much bigger, a vast contrast to what she was used to watching Lando race at. She smiled slightly thinking about how far he had come.

"Hes gonna be really happy to see you, I'm really happy too see you." Y/n smiled up at her brother before looking at her watch.

"I'm gonna go surprise him now before things get to hectic." She said, patting her brothers arm before the siblings split off.

Y/ns eyes went everywhere, taking in her surroundings as she walked into the McLaren garage, eyes finding Lando instantly who was staring at something on his phone. She walked over to him, covering his eyes as she reached him.

"Guess who?" She whispered in the boys ear and he spun around immediately to face her.

"Y/n." He said excitedly, a huge smile spreading across his face as he took her in. Once he felt like he had fully looked over at her to make sure she was really there he pulled her into a tight huge. "What are you doing here?"

"Mf, thought I'd surprise you," She said her voice muffled in his chest, "I'm sorry I missed your first race."

Lando shook his head, "I don't care, as long as your hear now." He said, placing a small kiss on her head.

"Let the girl breathe Lando." Y/n heard someone with a thick accent say and the pair both turned to face Lando teammate, Carlos Sainz. "Carlos, pleasure to meet you." He said, sticking out his hand.

"Y/n." She said, shaking his hand, Landos arm draped protectively around her shoulders. A flicker of recognition crossed Carlos' face.

"Ah, So your the famous Y/n I've hear so much about."

"That would be me, all good things I hope." She said smiling.

"I don't think he could ever say bad things." Carlos said, giving Lando a pointed look. A confused look crossed her face for a second before she went back to smiling.

As she went to say something else someone called the two boys over. Carlos left but Lando lingered for a bit, "Stay here, please, I want to know you'll be here when I finish." He asked her, nearly begging.

"Of course." She said softly, up at him. A smile took over Landos face as he looked at her, quickly placing a kiss on his cheek and a quick goodbye as he was called for the fourteenth time.

"Y/n right?" She spun around to see a pretty girl looking at her, missing the way Carlos nudged Lando before whispering something to him.

"Yeah I am." The girl said blushing.

"I'm Isa, Carlos' girlfriend. Come sit, we can watch the race together."

The two girls sat together, watching the race and chatting although Y/n spent half the time forcing down her nerves. She watched in anticipation as the race came to a close, celebrating when Lando got sixth, his first points in Formula 1.

After everything came to a close, Lando came over to Y/n, wrapping her in a tight hug. She hugged him back tightly, disregarding how sweaty the boy was.

"I'm so so proud of you Lan, you did such a good job today." She said beaming from ear to ear, pulling back to look at him.

"Nothing without my good luck charm here." He said, making a rosy blush make its way across his cheeks.

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

2020

yourusername has posted

liked by maxfretwell, yourbsfusername and 967, 394 others

yourusername conragulations lando 🎉

tagged: landonorris, lilymhe

lilymhe i MISSED you so much

→ yourusername stop i wanna see you again alreadyyyy

yourbsfusername GORGEOUS GIRL OML

→ yourusername STOP I LOVE YOU

maxfretwell missed you by one weeked

→ yourusername I'll BE HOME SOOON TRUST

user1 no lando interaction

user2 something feels off about this one tbh

user3 this seems so forced

user4 SHES LEGIT HIS GOODLUCK CHARM

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

Y/n and Lily walked towards the bar when she felt an arm wrap around her wrist, pulling her to the.

"What the - Carlos?" She asked, confusion and shock present on her face. "What are you doing."

"Your over Lando aren't you?" Carlos asked her making the girl stop and stutter.

"I- How did you- why?" The girl started and stopped, not sure what to say.

"Come with me, we should go find Isa or-" Carlos said, pulling her away from Lily.

"Carlos what's going on." She asked confused, turning around to look back at the Lily, and thats when she saw them.

A gorgeous brunette had her arm wrapped around Landos. She was slim, tall and had a gorgeous smile and made Y/n want to hide in a corner and cry. Its not like Y/n was jealous, she knew she was gorgeous, she was a model after all but this girl ha d something Y/n didn't, Lando. And he seemed infatuated with her.

Lando couldn't take his eyes off her, he was beaming. Y/n watched as the girl grabbed onto his arm, playfully swatting at his chest. Y/n felt like she had been stabbed over and over and Lando was just watching as she slowly bled out. "Oh."

"I'm so sorry, I knew he was talking to someone but I never thought it was serious enough for him to bring her to a race." Carlos said, pity laced in his voice. Y/n shook it off. "No, its fine, I'm fine. I guess I just didn't really think." She said.

She turned around and headed off in a random direction, Lily following behind her. It was at that moment Lando looked up, eyes finding the head of hair that was making its way further and further away and Carlos looking at him disappointedly before shaking his head and following after the two girls.

Lily was rubbing a comforting hand on her back when Carlos caught up with them. "Y/n." He said softly before engulfing her in a hug. She finally broke down, all those years of built up hurt and frustration caused by Lando was all let out.

"I just don't understand why he can't love me, whats wrong with me?" She sobbed, Carlos hugged her tighter.

"Nothing is wrong with you, Nothing Y/n. He's the one with the problem." Lily said so her. Carlos knew that when he had the chance he was going to rip into Lando.

"Why can't I just be happy?"

It had made one thing crystal clear, something that Lando had seemed to be repeating to her for years, he didn't want her. It was time to move on.

Landos first podium felt bittersweet, she gave him a small half hearted hug, but it had become obvious that it was over. This was the last moment for a long while that Y/n knew she would share with Lando, she needed space.

On her way out she accidently walked into to something, someone.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry."

"No its completely my fault, I should have been paying more attention." Someone said to her. She looked up to see a rather attractive man. She recognised him from around the track but they had never spoken before. "I'll buy you a new coffee." He said again.

"You don't have to but if your offering a doughnut with that I might just have to accept." She said to him.

"Of course, wouldn't want you to miss out on a free doughnut now would I." He said, matching her tone.

She smiled up at him, "Y/n Y/ln by the way." She said, sticking out her hand to him.

"I know - I mean nice to meet you, George Russell." The boy stuttered out, blushing slightly.

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

2021

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liked by landonorris, yourbsfusername and 1, 209, 394 others

yourusername nothing like monaco grand prix guys. so excited to be here and enjoy with those closest to me. ✨

tagged: maxfretwell, yourbsfusername, lilymhe, carlossainz55

maxfretwell always fun with my sister around

→ yourusername RARE!!!! max showing love to his sister

yourbsfusername BESTEST TIME WITH YOU

→ yourusername I KNOWW IT HAD LEGIT BEEN AGES

lilymhe STOP I MISSED YOU

→ yourusername agghffghhgfhfg

carlossainz55 my number 1 supporter

→ yourusername ferrari is legit my bae so...

mclaren 😢😢

→ yourusername IM SORRY

scuderiaferrari our favourite

→ mclaren back off she was ours first

user1 doesn't feel right without lando

user2 wheres lando

user3 i miss lando tbh

→ user4 so does everyone else in the comments tbh

user5 lando camping out in the likes frfr

user6 y/n here means a lando podium

→ user7 no cause shes his good luck charm fr

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

It was the first time Y/n had been to a Grand Prix since Austrias Grand Prix the year before. Monaco was a big deal in the Formula 1 world and she knew it, the glamour, the elegance, it was one of her favourite races for a reason.

The day also marked the first race that she would go to since she started dating George. The pair had decided to keep their relationship lowkey and away from the public eye until they figured out how they wanted to function as a couple.

After meeting at the Austrian Grand Prix, Y/n and George had become good friends. Y/n trying to give herself sometime before jumping straight into a relationship. George was patient, he knew that there was history between Lando and Y/n but didn't push it. He took her out on picnic dates, would make dinner for her and was overall a loving a respectful boyfriend, never pushing her boundaries, he had been the perfect candidate for Y/n to move on.

The pair had gone long distance for a while because of busy schedules, but Y/n had made an effort to come to the first Grand Prix back.

Y/n had organised to meet at the Paddock Club with Lily and begun to make her way over when she bumped into someone.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry." She said, bending down to pick her stuff up. The person helped her and she felt a spark touching his hand as they both went to pick something up. "Lando." She said in recognition.

The boy tilted his head as he looked at the girl, "Y/n? What are you doing here?" He asked confusion laced in his tone. It didn't make sense, Max wasn't there and she only ever went if Max went.

"I came here to watch the race." She said curtly, shooting a small smile, the tone in her voice sounding as though she was saying 'duh.' She began to walk away from him. Lando chased after her confused, grabbing at her arm to make her stop walking and face him.

"Yeah but like why, you never come if Max isn't, you don't like being in the garage alone." She rolled her eyes. Lando felt his heart clench in his chest, why was she acting like this.

"Have you stopped to think maybe I won't be alone, maybe I'm not here for you Lando." She said and Lando felt as if Y/n had personally stabbed him herself. He had never experienced this side before.

Y/n forced herself to look at his face, trying to distract herself from how hot he looked, and how hurt he looked. Lando opened his mouth to say something but a voice called over from the side.

"Y/n." They both turned to see George. He came over and planted a kiss on her cheek, wrapping an arm around her wait. Lando tensed up immediately. "Hey baby." She said, leaning into him slightly, although she felt very tense.

"Lando." George said, nodding towards the man. Lando ignored him, eyes focused on the arm wrapped around her waist, heart hammering in his chest and blood pumping in his ears. When he noticed the look that Y/n had given him he responded to George, venom laced in his tone. George didn't notice but he did sense the awkward tension.

"So you guys are-"

"Dating, its pretty new though." Y/n cut him off, wrapping her hand around Georges which was sitting on her waist. "We very happy."

Lando could pick up on her tone, one telling him to leave them alone. He excused himself, coming up with some bullshit reason to get away. Once he had gotten far enough away Lando turned to watch Y/n and George, she hugged him tightly and placed a kiss to his cheek before walking off.

Lando felt sick. That should be him. He hated George. He hated himself. He didn't understand why he was feeling like this, maybe he always had. He just knew if he cared for Y/n the way he claimed, his heart wouldn't be hurting so much to see her and George together.

Carlos watched the whole interaction painfully. Lando had been in love with her for a while now and Carlos knew it, but Lando had never admitted it. From day one Lando talked about Y/n. How she was caring, kind, one of Landos best friend. He liked her in a platonic way he argued, he just admired how she would always stop to pat random pets, would bring him food after each race, could tell when he was upset. He even admired the way she would bite off the heads of gummy snakes so they wouldn't feel the pain. After Lando had spotted her at the last grand prix he broke it off with his girlfriend. He had argued that it had nothing to do with her he just didn't feel the same way about his girlfriend anymore.

Lando should be relieved that Y/n had moved on, its what he wanted for years. So why did he feel so uneasy about the whole situation?

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

2022

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yourusername brazil with my fav

tagged: georgerussell

georgerussell 💙

→ yourusername IM SO PROUD OF YOU

yourbsfusername your so sexy ml

→ yourusername I LOVE YOUUUU

francisca.cgomes my fav

→ yourusername STOP ILY SO MUCH

lilymhe CUTIE

→ yourusername YOUR A CUTIE

mercedesamgf1 OUR FAV

→ yourusername stopppppp

user1 missing the y/lando content so much

→ user2 grow up shes moved on

user3 idk something just feels wrong

user4 anyone find it so interesting that the two races Y/n came to was Landos only podium and a dnf

→ user5 NO FRFR SHE AFFECTS HOW HE DRIVES I STG

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

Y/n wasn't a hundred percent sure how she had ended up there. It was Christmas time and she had brought George home with her. Her family and Landos were doing there annual Christmas celebration and somehow Lando and George both had to be there.

Lando was unable to keep his eyes off of her the whole night, it was getting creepy and he knew it. Max had also noticed Landos borderline creepy staring. Lando had been rotating between pouting like a toddler and not subtle staring through the whole night and Max was sick of it.

"Come grab a beer with me." Max said standing up off the couch.

"What-" Lando started but Max forcibly grabbed him up, pulling him into the kitchen.

"You need to stop Lando, I'm sick of it. You either like my sister or you don't. She's happy and I don't want you ruining it." Max said in a threatening tone.

"What are you - How?" Lando stuttered.

"Its obvious." Max sighed, "Just answer me this and I'll be on your side."

"What is it?"

"Do you love her?" Before Lando could answer Max's question the girl in question walked in. Lando felt his heart jump, she looked gorgeous as ever.

"Interrupting boy time?" She asked teasingly, moving past them to pour herself a champagne.

"No, just grabbing a beer." Max said uncomfortably.

She nodded, "I see how it is." She said, heading back into the living room.

Lando turned back to face Max once she left, not giving Max a chance to speak before speaking up, "I'm so in love with her it hurts me. I need her more than the air I breathe, I need her more than the moon needs the sun. She's everything."

Max nodded, engulfing Lando in a tight hug, the boy bursting into tears. He wasn't a hundred percent sure why, but he was.

Y/n was frozen in her place in the door frame, there it was, the words she wanted to hear her whole life. It wasn't fucking fair. She left with George pretty soon after, making some excuse about not feeling well when really she couldn't be in the same vicinity as Lando.

She was done, she had decided. She was fucking done with Lando Norris.

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

2023

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yourusername life out and about

tagged: yourbsfusername, friend1, friend2

friend1 last night was WILD

→ yourusername not worth the hangover

yourbsfusername never again

→ yourusername NEVER I SAY

maxfretwell are you coming home soon???

→ yourusername if i have time

fransica.cgomes missing my baby

→ yourusername i miss you too

lilymhe HOT

→ yourusername HOTHOTHOT

user1 sorry but shes spiraling

user2 i miss the old y/n era

→ user3 nah this era is the best era

user4 LANDOS IN SINGAPORE ASWELL

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

Y/n had lost track of how many drinks she'd had at this point. She was in Singapore for a modelling event, conveniently Lando was in Singapore for the Singapore Grand Prix.

She had convinced the other girls to go drinking with her, needing to get Lando out of her mind. She was spiraling and she knew it. Ever since Landos confession the year prior she had completely gone out of control. Her and George had a messy break up, not for the lack of trying from George to make things work out. He had finally called it quits when she cheated on him during one of her many drunken escapades.

He wasn't certain but George was pretty sure her completely 180 had something to do with Lando, after that Christmas she had started acting weird. After her breakup with George Y/n completely lost it, going out every night, a million different hookups, everyone close to her knew she was out of control.

They wanted to help but they didn't know how. She didn't listen no matter how much they tried to shut it down. They all just wanted her to get better, to feel better. This lead them to hear, at a random club in Singapore. With much reluctance she finally convinced her friends to go out with her.

Y/n swung her hips to the beat, leaning against some random guy. He was her prey for the night she had decided. She turned around to face him. "I'll be right back." She whispered in his ear, heading over to the bar, aware of his stare on her ass as she walked away.

"Another shot." She said the bartender when someone slide next to her.

"Can I get a whiskey please." A familiar gravely voice asked. It couldn't be. The girl turned to look at the guy standing next to her. Lando.

The boy felt someone's gaze on him and shot a glance to the side before double backing. "Y/n." He whispered her name out like a prayer, like something had saved him.

"Norris." She sent him a tight lipped smile. Lando could hear his heart shatter, the indifference was killing him.

"What are you doing hear." He asked her.

"Just a modelling gig. Thank you." She said to the bar tender before taking the shot, making Landos eyebrows raise in surprise. "Look I have to go but it was great seeing you."

Somehow Lando could tell that it was insensire.

Y/n had felt Landos eyes on her all night, she basked in it but also hated in. It was so conflicting. She had bumped into Carlos one her way back to the dancefloor and they had talked for a little while.

The dudes hands started to explore her body, running up her chest to cup at her boobs. She embraced the feeling, imagining it was Lando instead. The guy began to kiss down her neck and she lifted her hand to grab at his hair when all of a sudden he was pulled away.

"What the fuck." She turned around to see Lando holding the guy and yelling in his face. "Lando what are you doing." He ignored her. The dude pushed Lando off him.

"Fuck this shit, this pussy isn't worth it." The dude said, Lando went to chase after him but she held him back.

"What is your problem Norris." She yelled at him in his face, not caring who was watching.

"What's my problem? Whats your problem Y/n. And can you stop with the Norris, what happened to Lan or even Lando? When did you start hating me." He said, emotion thick in his voice.

"Hate you? I don't hate you I just really fucking sick of being treated like shit. I loved you Lando, and you just lead me on for years. I got sick of it, of you never doing anything." She screamed at him, Lando deflated slightly.

"Loved?" He asked her. She rolled her eyes, stepping away from him.

"I'm done listening to this bullshit." She said, walking off, he pulled her back to him.

"You still love me. I know you do." He said, taking step closer.

"No I don't, I don't want you anymore Lando." She said, her resolve crumbling.

"If you didn't you wouldn't have been dancing with some other guy, trying to make me jealous." He said, pausing slightly. "Tell me, were you imaging my hands instead of his, wishing it was me." He whispered, Y/n felt a flush break over her because it was true, she felt like she had been caught red handed.

"Come on, baby, you miss me, I know you do." He said, pulling her chin up lips closing in on hers.

Y/n was in a daze, breathing in the familiar smell of his cologne after so long without him. All of a sudden she felt herself get pulled out of the trance she was in. She pushed him off, Landos gaze filtered in confusion.

"You know what I'm so done with you. Of course you want me now, I'm trying to get over you Lando, I need to get over you." She said, her voice breaking a little. He wanted to grab her, hold her, apologise.

"What if I don't want you to." He said.

She completely stepped back, tears in her eyes.

"Fuck you Lando Norris."

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

a/n: tbh did not spell check this so it might be completly shit also tell me why it took me a whole week to write this and also ignore if timeline is completely wrong - 8K words which is insane

#formula1 #f1 masterlist #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris angst

1K notes · View notes

deadghosy · 8 months ago

Note

How would (Separate) Hazbin hotel (Demons &Angel) react to a green thumb gardener whose elegant, classy and attractive and she went to hell by mistake but it was a happy one (She's not completely weak as she has her plant to protect her and everything)

HAZBIN HOTEL X GARDENER! READER

prompt: a common mistake made demons and angels swoon over a gardener who just wants to take care of her/his plants

cw! Sir Pentious is alive for this so he can witness your beauty in flowers💗

note! I listened to Lana Del Rey while making this lol.

HELL

You didn’t know you were supposed to be in heaven as you started your own flower shop. It was the biggest know hell flower store with actual flowers.

You were practically poison ivy, but more kind and definitely calmer. Hell, even some of your regulars call you poison ivy. Mostly because if people touch you metaphorically the wrong way, then you technically show them a harsher side of you. Literally, a plant impaled a sinner trying to rob your store.

What you didn’t except to get friends or even people interested into you as you just have a normal as shop you dreamed of before dying.

“Welcome to my flower shop, what can I help you with?” You said with a soft smile as a flower vine is watering other flowers in the background. Some imps, sinners, and hell borns go all the way to just see you and your flowers.

I can see you wearing a flower crown or just flowers in your hair. Like dead ass giving rapunzel. Possibly so, your alive flowers and vines had made that for you as you worked.

You most definitely wear those cute gardening outfits like overalls or those dresses if you prefer one of them or both.

See this is what I can imagine, I can imagine the whole damn hotel having a flower competition and you show up with a big ass plant with a neat pink bow on it 😭. You definitely had a smile as you drank tea with a secret smirk.

I can see you visiting the hotel Charlie has as she invited you to do some flower decor for a reopening of the hotel.

Imagine how pissed you were when a couple of sinners came in to make your shop look like shit. But you wasn’t gonna stand for it as you raised your hand grabbing the sinners by their necks with vines. “If you want flowers, I wouldn’t mind making you a funeral for you to have some.” You said with venom as the sinner practically shitted themselves as they were thrown out the windows of your shop.

A sinner had thrown a Molotov cocktail once in your shop all because he thought it was weird to have a “girly” flower shop in hell. As the fire spreads in your shop, you sighed having plant vines cover you in a big ball as one of the vine slither to find the culprit. After finding the culprit, you forced them to clean your shop since killing someone for such a petty crime like that in your opinion isn’t worth killing. You can always make a new shop and fix it.

Vaggie most definitely knows you as you hooked her up with flowers that Charlie might like. You told her Charlie seems like a simple girl would just like roses since they represent romance. And basically it was Vaggie and Charlie’s date night. And it was a success.

Angel dust loves how you don’t judge him for who he is by his work. But he definitely loves how you two gossip over some tea, well he drinks while you drink tea or water. You are like an older sister/brother figure to him. He loves resting in your bean bag you have in the back, he could just come in and and lay down straight.

I headcannon your whole palette to be like green, pink, yellow and white. Literally just spring ass colors to seem classy with your flower shop.

I can imagine you having the personality of applejack but more of a flower and gardening person as gardener! Reader were most definitely born in the south. Like I can imagine reader to be a mix of applejack, rarity, fluttershy but 100% of applejack’s honesty and a lot of Rarity’s elegance.

Niffty adores you! Literally she goes in your store to rant about she wants the hotel to smell fresh and ready. And you hook a sista up with how you give her scented plug in. She immediately starts worshipping you like Alastor which makes Alastor raise a brow seeing a shine of you in her room and drawings of you.

Charlie immediately loves how vaggie and angel ador you and find you as a loyal friend. She would love to have you at the hotel as a resident. She could even beg Alastor or her dad to make a flower shop for you to even stay longer by briding. She would also try to become your friend for her to succeed.

Sir Pentious went to your store to apologize again to Alastor as he felt that Alastor didn’t forgave him. He was scared you weren’t a kind “sinner” that only had a flower shop to scam people for their money. But when you spoke with kindness and care towards the snake demon. He felt calm in your presence, to the point when he got his flowers. He gave you one which made you smile at him and put it in your hair. He blushed and ran off.

The egg boiz love too appear in your store as their boss, penthouse is very nervous to talk to such an attractive person like you. You welcome the eggz to your humble store as you give them flowers to give back to the hotel staffs.

Angel and Cherri most definitely asked you to give them flowers to match their personality. You gave them both a Carnation flower which you thought was good for their personality. Or even a Lilly.

Husk kept seeing the crew leave the hotel to see them come back with flowers. He grumble confused at why they kept getting flowers. That is until he asked Charlie, and Charlie ranted about what a beauty and how kind you are. Husk raised a brow thinking you were putting up an act, so he went to see you. Let’s just say he got a rose coming back with a soft smile and a purr.

The Vee’s heard about you, Vox heard about you first and looked you up to see you are a popular florist and gardener with the power of Chlorokinesis. The power to mentally and physically control flowers. Vox smirked hearing about your 5 star rating shop. If it was that high ranked with people commenting it on yelp saying you were the best business to be at. You definitely got his attention at most.

Lucifer went to your store for some flowers to give to his daughter, and when he heard how amazing your store was. He went to se it himself. He definitely felt your pure spirit making him stumble into confusion on why you weren’t in heaven already. But he got his flowers and felt with a cup of tea you gave him. He shortly came back at the end of the day to give you his own flowers as he smiled with a snake smile and left leaving a note that says, “you’re welcome to come stay at the hotel! :)”

Alastor finally decided to meet you after hearing all the good things you did for the hotel and for the staff. He must say he was jealous how you won their hearts so damn quickly. He went to your store to see what’s all the fuss about and got hit with a lavender scent in his nose. He covered it as he wasn’t use to such sweet smell in hell as it’s filled with fire and blood. And there you were sitting there with a smile as warm plate of teas sat by you. You welcomed him as he made chat with you to find your heart pure with gold. He also left with a rose and a genuine smile.

I imagine how sweet you get your own flowers by regulars and your friends at the hotel as they love your passion about plants.

Headcannon on Gardner! Reader to be a Lana Del Rey fan as the song to match her/him is “born to die” 💗🦆

Vox was obviously the first Vee to meet you face to face as he had researched you so many times on the internet to get any scoop of you to only end up with an empty hand. So he decided to see you in person and smile with a charming one to see you greet him with a smile and show him the recommended flowers for loved one and family. He was not into the flowers as he watched the plant vines in the back work like hands. He smirks trying to use his hypnosis, but failed greatly as a flower in a vase covered his sighting of you. Thanks to your plant vines.

Velvette was the second one to come to your store as she was not impressed at how “boring and plain” it was in your shop. She was snarky about the decor and gave you tips on how to make it “pop” in here. You just smiled, and with a snap of your fingers, the decor changed to a more fashionable flower place. It made the female Vee almost drop her jaw and composure. But she can’t let some flower store shock her. So she left with one last snarky comment under her breath.

Valentino definitely came in last to see what was up with your whole popularity of your “business” of flowers as he was so busy working his porn industry. So when he walked in yo see you reaching for some flower seeds to get for a customer. He grabbed your waist, wanting to seem flirty only for it to backfire as a vine punches him away from you. You already knew who this bastard was, and you weren’t gonna let him get you like how he got angel. So during his entire visit at your shop, you made it a living hell. Literally.

I can see the Vee’s coming back every weekday to try and get you to be their little flower pet, but you ain’t buying it. 😘

You most definitely have a vine hammock in the corner of your store as you just sit there and nap during your breaks.

Imagine how cool and sweet you are to the imp and hell born children that come to visit your store for father day and mother day. Hell, even valentines days

I can headcannon that gardener! Reader has once in their hell life down there had to drag out a rude Karen ass bitch by their hair. You fuck with their plants, you fuck with them.

Imagine how chill you are just sipping tea as your plants and vines attack some dude trying to steal your sunflower seeds. Yeah, no one gets out without being traumatized by plants 😍

You came into the hotel once and immediately got love bombed by everyone. But not in a manipulate way, they just appreciate how amazing you are to people even the staff at most. They go as far to throw you a “welcoming” party 💗

Lucifer had most definitely sent ducks with mini flower crowns and a Gardner duck to you as he finds you very elegant and beautiful in your own way. He even accidentally tries to court you with his wings when he leans against at the front desk of your store staring into your eyes.

HEAVEN

Adam had eventually was sent to take you back into heaven as sera realized her mistake. You willingly went with Adam who smirked at your sweet smile and took you up by your hand. Like, let’s say whatever happened in the hell section didn’t happen as you just had a bad time in hell itself.

St. Peter immediately greets you, making feel welcome to your new home. He even baked you cookies with a smiley face. He tries to make chit chat with you when he isn’t on duty getting people into the gates. He literally visits your workplace in the flower store you own, bringing cookies, making sure you are okay. Hell-, I meannn heaven gods..he must be a househusband cause GYATT DAMN this man is making sure you are well and healthy in heaven’s care. 💗💗

Sera most definitely have showed you around heaven with a please smile to see a Gardner. You would’ve been great for the Garden of Eden, is what she says in her head as you smile at the trees and potted plants around. You even showed the seraphim your powers, and she must say that she was pleased and made you a gardener around heaven and even your own garden shop and house.

Emily most definitely tries to go visit you everyday to try and find flowers that match you so you can be surprise when she buys you flowers herself. You and Emily definitely have a sibling relationship at most because of how she looks up to you in a gardening way as she also wants to impress you by making her own garden and green house. She also makes sure you take breaks as she wants to help with the customers as you take a break in the back. Your friendship with her is so wholesome and lovely.

Adam likes how classy you are, you don’t even cuss him out when you are angry at him. You just put your hand in his face and walk away. Sassy, but classy enough to not curse someone the fuck out. Yeah sure that might’ve turned him on a bit at how hot and “bitchy” that was of you. Cause no one has ever rejected the “Dickmaster”. So it was his duty to make you his friend…sorta😨. But it’s all fun and games at how you guys are like frenemies at most since Adam actually can’t stand you, but still flirts at how attractive and kind you are. Hell even strong minded.

The angels absolutely love coming in your store! They find every single plant and flower you made incredible. You practically almost run out of business when it’s Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, and Father’s Day. But you can’t complain when they leave so much heaven bucks for you to get more plant seeds and such. The angels also love how pure of gold your heart is as you even give some off free for the heaven borns and winners.

Big headcannon on how your Gardner outfit in heaven, the palette is a soft green and pink pastel. But Adam and Sera had thought about you wearing a gold, white, and blue type of Gardner outfit. They want you to stay pure and mighty.

OOOH IMAGINE HAVING CUTE ASS WHITE GLOVES 😭😭 LIKE THEY HAVE THOSE STITCHED IN GOLD THREADS AND LIKE THEY ARE SO CUTE AND COMFY INSIDEEE💗💗

Since i headcannon that Gardner! Reader to be a damn Lana Del Rey fan, their song that matches them in heaven is “young and beautiful.” As you are young and beautiful and mostly, you’re in heaven.

Literally imagine Adam just shows up to just degrade you, but it doesn’t work as you just sit there reading your daily newspaper or on your phone to just see plant and gardening instagram from earth and heaven. Adam pouts or even scoffs before taking your phone and acting like a fussy cat wanting attention.

You really don’t give a fuck about Adam but he definitely gives a fuck about you.

The angels sometimes ships you with Adam, but they also ship you with st.peter at how he is basically the house husband and you are the girl boss who works their ass off😭

Lute and Adam are definitely the type to be those teens who visit their local market..dead ass when they are free they just come to your store and just start “window shopping”…but really they just either want to mess with you or actually know about your day.

I can see you literally just chilling, and Adam busts open the store door that has that jingle bell on it so harsh and all he says is. “Wassup bitch!” With his usual grin and a soda cup as you just groan annoyed.

St.peter literally tried to work beside you ok his days off to just see how “calming” your job is. Until rush hour comes😭 that’s when hell itself unleashes with people wanting to grab any scented flower candles and flowers for theirselves. Have mercy on Peter’s soul that he doesn’t get grabbed and clawed all because he said that the last product was in the back. 😭😭

Imagine how cute your damn angel wings must be. Cause I imagine them to be some god damn fairy wings to match a beautiful aesthetic with your flower and gardening store.

I headcannon you actually had thrown Adam like how vaggie thrown the staff like in the episode of “scramble eggs.”

lol I can see you just slapping Adam with your plant vine because of one misogynist joke he made. He had the most whip lashed mark on his face. He stopped making those fücking jokes like that as he just flinches as a vine comes near him. “WALK HIM LIKE A DOGGG!!” 😘😍

Sera loves gaining flowers from you as the angelic guards bring them in as she is doing her work.

Emily also feels the same way as she smiles and makes the guard send you flowers as well for a thank you. 💗🥺 please give this sweet baby a note back saying you appreciate her damn note so much..

Imagine having a whole tea and cookie station by your front desk where people pay. Like they get a nice drink and a snack in case they were hungry and thirsty from their trip to here. 😘☀️ you care about your customers and regulars deeply.

St. Peter had one time mistook the glass doors to be opened and fell back so dramatically onto his ass, he might as well confirm himself as dead 💀

Emily most definitely actually tried to grow a plant or flower to show you how much she learnt from you, only for the damn thing to fail. She wanted to cry and shrivel up in disappointment, but you taught her and help fixed her mistake on what she did at most.

Lute most definitely acts better without Adam, of course she could act better with Adam. It’s just that Adam is her home dog, and she is Adam’s homegirl. So of course they are besties. So with Adam not interfering with you and lute talking one on one for the first time. You two get quite long to the point she grabs your hands and smile. Leaving with a flower you gave her.

Your plants just causally changing into the liked flower of the customer or regular due to your plant magic on sensing what flowers they like supposedly💗

Headcannon on how short you are. Literally you are shorter than lute to Adam and Emily. It’s really funny but to you, it’s annoying asf since Adam picks you up like a stray cat found at the front porch ready to be taken in.

Emily and sera would have tea time with you definitely. Or coffee if they prefer. You don’t gossip of course but just lift each other up and talk about hanging out later in the days or weeks later. Heck even the day later maybe if Emily is very eager.

Lute most definitely had thrown flowers in your face as she isn’t use to showing affection towards a person she actually admires. Yeah she admires Adam, as a boss and best friend. But there is something about you that makes her stumble on her words.

You had to actually stay home once, forced by sera who got told by Adam you were overworking yourself. Adam and sera hated it as sera showed go to your job looking serious. Forcing you to stay in bed until you had a good sleep for the week.

Imagine just gardener! Reader literally accidentally making Adam spit out a four leaf clover as they were saying a spell in Latin to have four leaf clovers for St. Patrick’s day.

I headcannon Adam sometimes tries to court you with his wings, and you are confused as hell as you aren’t use to being courted by some fucking feathers.

I can see you having a potted plant pet beside you. It was practically a sapling as it smiled with heaven magic and told positive affirmations to waking customers. It’s so fuckin adorable

I imagine you just sleeping as your overworked at your store and Adam comes in pissed off you didn’t come home. So he literally picks you up over his shoulder and walks Home. He has the damn key to your house but he decides to just go to his house and lay you on his bed as he sleeps on the couch grumbling.

St.Peter, after that little incident with him walking into a glass door. This mofo literally puts his hands out towards any glass door 😭 like a little kid being traumatized after a glass maze. It’s so funny but so sad.

A young heaven born had brought you back a freaking flower crown in your most favorite flowers and you were so amazed. You gave the small little angel a flower crown of their own.

The visits are always welcomed to your store as Adam brings you his own set of flowers to try to impress you. 💗 you snickered seeing the note that says, “i hope you like it..bitch. *middle finger drawing* I heard this plant was your favorite.” Sweet, but sour ass motherfuker. 😭😭

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1d1195 · 3 months ago

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Invitation

~3.5k words

From me: I mentioned I had a kinda rough weekend. This just sort of wrote itself. Def a stand alone. Second chance at love. I wrote it mostly in the drafts page and didn't do a whole lot of editing for continuity so it's probs not very realistic nor will it make a ton of sense. But anyway.

Warnings: MC parent death; funeral, angst, angst angst. But I'm hoping if you read it you'll see some cathartic, comforting fluff.

Summary: She and Harry broke up years ago and it was completely fine. But seeing her again, even under sad circumstances has his heart pulling him closer to her.

It had been eight years since he had last laid eyes on her. But when he read the piece on her mum off a mutual friend’s Facebook page he was transported back to one of those moments he spent so totally in love with her.

The idea that her best friend was gone made him terrified for her well being. It was the reason he was in a hotel room, straightening his tie in the mirror. Double checking he didn't miss any spots while shaving. He looked simultaneously presentable yet solemn. Her mum was special, beautiful. She made Harry feel at home the entire time they dated. Bought him thoughtful gifts for his birthday and Christmas. Made sure she bought his favorite snacks and always inquired about school, work, or his favorite show. She joked with her that Harry was too good for her and she didn’t treat him well enough (which was inherently false). She was the perfect girlfriend and had the perfect mum.

He couldn’t imagine how she was feeling.

Harry didn’t want to make his appearance about his arrival at the funeral home at all. He stepped in line silently, tried not to make eye contact with anyone and slowly made his way through toward the front, pretending he was invisible. He looked at the picture boards as he walked along his favorite girl and her mother in so many of them. Both were beautiful and Harry thought she was going to look just like her mother when she was older and so he was really lucky that he would know she was beautiful for the rest of his life. But he would have predicted that anyway.

Their relationship ended amicably enough. They were changing, time moving on, and quite frankly it felt like they couldn't spend enough time together so it didn't seem fair. "Shouldn't we want t'spend time with each other, beautiful? Shouldn't we feel feel bad we're not spending time together? It shouldn't be forced. You're m'favorite person in the world, kitten. S'not fair."

He was right of course. She agreed. So they went their separate ways. Since they were still in university at the time, they saw each other frequently. Their friend groups overlapped a bit so they weren't rid of each other all that much until after graduation. There was even a picture of the pair of them together on that day--her mum's suggestion. It was apparent more so then, that they were changing and moving on but Harry was grateful for that picture. When he saw the notice of her mum's passing, he looked at it fondly and felt something in the pit of his stomach. Wanting and wishing he had made more time for her. That she wasn't so busy and their time apart hadn't lasted as long.

But that was eight years ago. Harry was thirty now. He had a few girlfriends during that time and maybe it wasn't a surprise they didn't work out. When he inquired of his friends if he should go to support her, they said it was up to him. Louis and Eleanor were out of the country so they would send flowers. Mitch and Sarah were waiting for Sarah to give birth at any moment so they too, would send flowers.

"I'll be at the funeral," Niall assured him. "I can't make the visiting hours, sorry, Harry," Harry could hear his frown as they spoke on the phone.

"S'okay, s'nice y'can make it t'any of it. She'll appreciate it."

"I hope," a frown in his voice, a sigh in his tone.

"No, she will," Harry was confident. She would never make Niall feel bad--anyone feel bad. It was just the way she was.

Harry was in front of the urn containing the ashes of her mother and he knelt and said a short prayer for her and her sweet daughter. He tried not to think about his own mother at such a sad time and how he would feel if this was her. He shook his head, blessed himself automatically, and stood to greet the receiving line. It was filled with aunts and uncles who were surprised to see him. He didn't fully understand their surprise (of course he would be there for her--even if things were different now) but moved to each one, quietly apologizing for the loss of their sister and only answering how work, life, and everything was with as few words as possible. It was just her and her mom. Dad was out of the picture before she was even born. It wasn't a bad thing because she was her mum's whole life and she never made her want for anything. "Where is she?" Harry asked quietly. Usually the children were first in the line but she wasn't there.

"Another spat with the boyfriend," her aunt rolled her eyes. "You are by far our favorite," she smiled at him encouragingly. "Don't leave till she gets back, if you can. She deserves to see someone who will make her happy right now," she winked.

Harry felt his eyebrows crawl up his forehead in surprise. He nodded. Pride bloomed inside him for being the favorite. It wasn't the time but he couldn't help it. His heart felt heavy, worried she was with someone horrible. "Yeah, sure. Of course."

So Harry stayed in the little seating area, watching people walk through the receiving line, looking at the slideshow of pictures that somehow managed to boil down to one person's life. There was even a picture or two of him. It made sense, he was in her life for nearly four years and they were inseparable until they weren't.

Harry smiled fondly at the memories within the pictures and wondered where she could be right now. He had seen the full slideshow twice.

"Harry, you're still here?"

He cleared his throat, stood, and shook one of her uncle's hands again. "Yeah... um... haven't seen her yet."

"She went outside with the boyfriend ages ago. I'm assuming they're still arguing or she's trying to calm herself down enough to come in and fake that everything's fine."

Harry frowned. "Maybe I'll go check then," he suggested and headed for the door.

Why was she dating someone if it was clear no one in her family liked him?

The men at the door, let Harry through and he quietly walked to the side of the building wondering where she could be having a private conversation at a funeral home. The side was dark except for a flood light that perfectly illuminated the couple. Harry stepped out of sight but strained to listen.

"What do you mean, 'you have to go'? You're seriously joking right?"

Harry didn't know her voice could take on a tone that sounded so angry like that. They never fought that way. No more than who's pizza topping was better or if they had to pick which dinner place to go to on a busy Saturday night.

"Babe, you know with my work--"

"This is my mother," she croaked. It felt like a bullet through Harry's chest to hear her choked up like that. All that grief wrapping in her throat and pulling on her vocal cords.

"I know, but don't you think she would want me to continue living my life and doing what I need to do so--"

"She's my best friend," her voice cracked because she was crying so hard. Harry wanted to run over, unceremoniously knock him to the ground, and comfort her. "You're supposed to be here to support me!"

"Well you know death kind of freaks me out, babe. I'm trying to support our future. I've been here all day."

Her tone was so biting, he truly couldn't believe it. "You've been here for an hour."

Harry winced and shook his head. No one liked death. Everyone was freaked out by it to some degree. But he was supposed to love her; be there for her.

"If you leave, we're done," Harry felt intrusive for listening in but he couldn't move.

"You don't mean that."

"I do, mean that. I really, really, really, really mean that," she sniffed. Good girl. Harry thought. "I have put up with your bullshit like this for way too long and you're unsupportive and if you leave this is it," she assured him. "Work cannot be more important than me."

"It's important for us, babe. So when we get married--"

"And when will that be?" She shouted.

"For the love of God, we're going to do this now?"

"It's been three years. I'm thirty and wanted kids and you are just..." she trailed off. "Fine. Go. We're done anyway."

"Babe, you don't mean that--"

"I will pack my stuff up when I get home."

"And where are you going to go? You don't have a job right now--"

"BECAUSE I WAS TAKING CARE OF MY DYING MOTHER."

Why was she even with this guy? Harry couldn't fathom it. It was so unlike her to date someone so crass and careless. Or maybe Harry was just filled with rage and envy of a man that couldn't help her the way she deserved.

"Well..." he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I have a plane to catch. Maybe after you've calmed down and aren't grieving we can have a more pleasant conversation."

A silent moment passed between them. Surely he heard it as he said it. It couldn't have been just her and Harry that heard what he implied. "Do... do you... do you think I'm supposed to be done grieving?" She hissed.

He sighed, mumbled something about calling her when he landed, and walked away. He didn't even notice Harry pressed to the building.

Harry watched him get in his car and pull away as if this wasn't the worst day of her life. Harry took several deep breaths to calm himself. This wasn't about him or how he wanted to strangle him. This was about her, her grief.

She was leaning against the wall. She was heaving, sobbing into one hand. For what, at that point, Harry didn't know. He could only see her from behind, the same figure he could have picked out in a lineup and if he was blind. But she seemed smaller. Withdrawn of course. Her free arm wrapped around her stomach like she was trying to hold herself together.

"Hey beautiful," he murmured softly. She sniveled, spun around. Harry was met with her face grief stricken, heartbroken, and tear soaked. But yeah, she was still as beautiful as he remembered. "Aw, kitten," he cooed gently. "C'mon s'cold outside. Let's get you--"

She threw herself against him as he approached. Her arms around his neck and she continued her sobbing against his shoulder. Sighing, he wrapped his arms wrapped around her waist and back, she fit effortlessly into his embrace even after eight or so years since he last saw her. It felt natural to hold her like this. "I know," he murmured comfortingly. "I know, kitten," he kissed the side of her head, soothingly rubbing his hand up and down her spine.

"Please don't let go of me," she cried. "I can't--"

"Shh," he hushed. "M'here. M'not letting go until you do," he promised softly. He hoped she wouldn't pull away because he wanted to take care of her the way that asshole couldn't. It didn't matter what the past was it only mattered that her sweet self could find some sort of contentment.

"Please don't leave me," she begged. "I can't do this alone."

It felt like a switch changed in him. Or maybe it was the anger he felt for her ex-boyfriend. Or perhaps a combination of missing her when he didn't really know he had been missing her and all the frustration he felt for the reasons she was so distraught. He would do anything for her. "No way, beautiful. M'not going anywhere," he assured her pressing his lips instinctively to the top of her hair. Patiently he listened to her cries, held her tightly, and lightly brought a hand to the side of her neck. He carefully pressed his fingertips against her skin, hoping that if she was aching (which he assumed every part of her was) it relieved the smallest bit of tension.

"How much did you hear?" She sniveled pulling away enough to glance into his eyes. Her face was blotchy and red, she was sure. Harry looked like he just left his modeling job for ties and cologne. She wanted to look more beautiful--so it would have at least made sense that Harry had ever decided to date her--even if it was years ago. But she was so overwhelmed with sadness, she couldn't feel anything but that and not even her horrendous look could deter her long enough to utter more than a quick apology for snotting all over him. "M'sorry. I look--"

"Shh," he hushed immediately. Harry pulled a handkerchief from his pocket--Mum was always insistent he have one when he wore a suit. Someone is always crying when you need to wear a suit and it's not to work. Carefully, he dabbed under her eyes, and swiped the fabric across her delicate cheeks. "You look beautiful," he assured her a kind, small smile made his lips curl up just enough to get the dimple in his cheek to appear. The one she had told him she was going to stick her tongue in back when they laid on a mattress that was too small for two people and resulted in a giggling tickle fight between two people who were much too old for tickle fights.

What he would have given to make her laugh now.

Harry kept one arm around her waist taking over her own job to hold herself together. "How much did you hear?" She repeated.

He shrugged, nonchalantly. "Too much, probably."

She frowned; if she could muster an emotion other than sadness and grief, she probably would have been embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry. I was waiting inside, but then your uncle said y'were out here and I wanted t'see you and--"

"Do you need to leave?" She asked quickly. "I'm sorry I'm holding--"

"Kitten," he said gently pinching her chin between his fingers so she had no choice but to look in his eyes and process what he was saying. "M'staying here until y'tell me t'leave."

She sighed. For the first time in what felt like months she felt relief. "Okay."

She dragged him alongside her to the front of the receiving line. Harry felt slightly embarrassed and out of place but the rest of her family paid no attention to it. Like he was supposed to be there. She hugged and cried a lot over the next two hours. Harry handed her tissues and water.

“What if I don’t tell you to leave?” She whispered. Harry was standing so close to her that no one else could hear. Like it was just the two of them. She was sipping from a water bottle and Harry was stroking her hair back with his fingers while wiping below her eyes with a tissue.

“Then I’ll never go," his voice was quiet, like hers. He kissed her forehead softly.

"You don't have to obviously, you have no obligation... but is there any chance you were planning to be here tomorrow?" She asked.

He nodded hurriedly. "Course, kitten," he smiled gently, almost sad that she thought he wouldn't. "Niall's going t'come too. He's really sorry he couldn't make it tonight," he explained. "I have a hotel room right nearby so I can stay s'long as y'need me. Do anything y'need, too. And Niall m'sure would be happy t'help if y'need anything requiring two people, as well."

"Really?" A fresh well of tears filled her eyes and Harry's grin grew even if it was sad she was so surprised.

"Of course, beautiful. We... we want t'be here for you," he assured her.

She pressed her face against his shoulder again and sniveled against him. "I owe you a new suit," she mumbled into the fabric.

"Shh..." he hushed. "M'here," he promised. "Don't worry 'bout anything else."

His hotel room was dark when they entered. Harry didn’t want anything to happen that could be misconstrued due to her grief but she seemed adamant and sure that she wanted to spend the night. Harry was planning to sleep on the floor but instead they chatted way too much. Much later than a girl who had her mum’s funeral the following morning should have chatted. She giggled the way Harry loved and smiled despite how sad she was. Harry told her all about the last eight years, his job, his mum, their old friends and everything in between.

When he looked at the clock, his phone said it was well past one in the morning and she needed to be up early. “Think y’need t’sleep, kitten,” he was lying beside her, fully clothed except he lost the tie. He was brushing her hair away from her face watching her eyes droop.

“Mom didn’t like him,” she whispered. “She didn’t like anyone that wasn’t you,” she told him.

Harry swallowed nervously. Not because he was worried about her sentiment but because her grief was fresh and the tire tracks of where her stupid ex peeled out of the parking lot were still warm. Her mind had to be jumbled and as much as he wanted to kiss her and make promises, it wasn’t the time. Harry was older and more mature now. The way he wasn’t but wished he had been when they broke up. “After that performance, beautiful,” he sighed with a shake of his head. “M’surprised she didn’t poison him.”

“He didn’t even like her oatmeal raisin and white chocolate chip cookies,” she grumbled bitterly.

“Kitten,” he tutted. “How could you let that continue?” He joked, nudging her playfully.

She turned on her side, their faces inches apart on the same pillow. “Thank you for being here for me,” she whispered.

“There’s no where else I want t’be, beautiful,” he promised.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed you. It’s sad this is what it took.”

He leaned forward, pressed his lips to her forehead and let the kiss linger there. “Do y’want me t’sleep on the floor?”

“No,” she shook her head. “This is the first night I’ve felt tired in months. You have to stay here if you want me to sleep through the night.”

“If you’re sure,” he reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off. He didn’t want to change into different clothes or anything. He just wanted to be there for her.

“This is also your hotel room that I invited myself into," she reminded him.

He grinned at her in the dark. “You’ve always had an open invitation, t’me, kitten,” he brought her closer toward him, kissing the top of her head.

There would be about a thousand and one things to discuss after the funeral. But right then it was late, and they needed to sleep because the day was going to bring more exhaustion and sadness that was inevitable. “Did you mean it?” She whispered quietly after Harry thought she had fallen asleep.

“Mean what, beautiful?” He murmured.

“You’ll never go?”

He nodded. “Mmm,” he hummed inhaling the scent of her shampoo. “I meant it,” his words were slurred with sleep and she knew it because she had heard it in his voice hundreds of times in their time together. He was on the brink of dreaming and her mind was reeling.

“Mom wanted us to get back together,” she whispered. “For ages. She had our graduation picture on the fridge,” she explained. “When I was taking care of her these last few months and he was useless, she kept mentioning you. Told me it wasn’t too late to start over. I guess... I guess this was one way she thought she could bring us back together.”

There was no response because Harry had fallen asleep, and she was close behind. She brought the hand that held his to her lips and kissed his fingers inhaling the comforting smell of him as she finally felt like sleep.

“Your mum was the best,” he mumbled. “She brought you into this world, just for me t’find you.”

The words were lost in her mind, her throat, and her aching heart. But she liked to believe that Harry knew already because he was there, and he wasn’t planning on leaving again.

“We can start over, beautiful. M’not going anywhere,” he whispered one more time as sleep overtook her tired mind.

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