#gotta use it before it goes on vacation

[vantetaes]

SPRING FLING🫧🥂

COUNTRY BOY! EREN X CITY GIRL BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!!! yn goes back to visit what once was her home 15 years ago, only to meet a new face.

WARNINGS!!! 18+!!! high sexual themes! oral (f receiving), penetration, slow burn before smut

a part of you missed it. waking up to the fresh smell of sausage sizzling in hot grease while grits simmered on a burner next to it. feeling the cool summer breeze whip around your sweltering body from playing kickball in the large mowed field with some of the towns kids. drinking freshly squeezed lemonade your grandmother made before tending to her garden.

as the driver slowly approaches your grandparents estate, your heart couldn’t help but to let up a little. the large white house still sat perfectly on their plot of land.

“yn, sweetheart!” the houses screen door flys open with a screech. your grandmother dressed in a flowing white dress, tan beach hat, arm decorated with small gold bangles and her wedding band catching rays of sun.

the driver places his car in park, opening his door to retrieve your suitcase from the trunk. hopping out of the yellow vehicle, the older lady meets you halfway. wrinkled hands caressing your face, she smiles.

“it’s been too long. you’re all grown up on us!”

before anything could leave your lips, a grunt comes from around the bend of the house. your grandfather, covered in motor oil and dirt caked overalls. he removes his gloves, walking towards you and his wife, smile reaching his ears.

“ah i would hug ya honey but im dirtier than the pigs!”

your grandparents liked the life they lived away from the city. the way they could sit on the wrap around porch, grandfather sipping a beer and grandmother some lemonade, their towns newspaper tucked in their palms. watching as the sun ducked their bright red barn, casting a golden glow over the crops and animals grazing on the lush landscape. the stars peeking through transparent clouds, moon creating its atmosphere in the sky.

your grandmother enjoyed picking fresh fruits from her orchard, baking pies and making jams with the delectable fruits. your grandfather loved the lake that sat on the other side of the large property. growing up you’d grown to love these things about them.

as for yourself? you wouldn’t be caught dead doing half the things they do.

your career path led you to pharmaceutical consulting. working for one of the biggest companies in the world. it wasn’t something you enjoyed, but it funded the life you wanted.

living in a penthouse, well off from the city below you. the work was intense, demanding, and you needed to stay on top of it. anyone is replaceable in jobs such as those.

which is why you put in every single pto hour you had into a month long vacation.

to the middle of nowhere.

the wheels of the suitcase clank against the wooden stairs as your grandfather lugs it up the flight. following behind the older lady, excitement bubbles out of your grandmother while she quickens her pace, rushing to the door at the end of the hallway.

when she pushes the door open, it gives way easily, the hinges murmuring softly. the air that greets you is faintly cool, laced with the sweet scent of spring. someone had left the large french windows cracked open, the lace curtains drifting in slow, ghostly ripples.

“just like you left it, darlin’!” the lady says cheerfully.

stepping in feels like stepping back into a memory too fragile to hold in your hands. the room is pale, almost dreamlike. soft white walls, still wearing faint shadows of posters long torn away, frame the space. A canopy bed sits against the far wall, its sheer, pastel pink and ivory drapes spilling down like delicate water, pooled at the floor as if waiting for someone to step through them. the bed itself is made, layered with quilts of faint creams and frilly edges, whispering of afternoons spent sprawled on its surface with a book or diary.

“mary anne, we gotta get back to town to pick up some more feed for the chickens! ‘for the sun go down! i ain’t got my glasses either.” after placing your suitcase inside the threshold, your grandfather gives the back of your head a slight hold before placing a small kiss to the top.

“okay! okay! you ain’t gotta rush, clyde!” the two eventually leave you alone to unpack and do as you need.

to the right, a dresser waits, its porcelain knobs cool and familiar, though you can see chips where small hands must have struck too hard, too often. a vintage vanity mirrors the scene beside it, its surface cluttered with an array of glass perfume bottles, now dulled with dust. the mirror above has started to haze, its edges flecked with age, but you can still catch glimpses of yourself. a cushioned stool still sits beneath, its ruffled seat faded and threadbare.

the light here is alive. golden and warm, it pours through the cracked windows, catching on floating dust motes that swirl like restless fireflies. outside, unseen branches scratch faintly against the frame, their new leaves brushing with the weightlessness of spring. the breeze curls in through the cracks, carrying the faintest hints of magnolia and freshly turned earth, slipping beneath the canopy and rustling the skirts of the curtains.

there’s a rug in the center of the room, its edges frayed, and around it—near bookshelves that haven’t been touched in years—small details stand out like relics: a porcelain music box with its lid still half-open, a stuffed rabbit missing one eye perched on the window seat. all of it feels caught in a quiet kind of waiting.

your footsteps are softened by the wooden floor beneath, the boards groaning faintly under your weight. you look around and inhale deeply. it smells faintly of lavender, of clean linens, freshly cut grass, and mahogany wood.

the hot water washes away the weight of the morning and plane rides, the steam curling in soft, misty clouds that cling to the glass. you stand under the spray longer than you need to, letting it loosen muscles you hadn’t realized were tight, letting it strip the last remnants of dust from your skin. when you finally step out, the room feels cooler, the steam clinging to the mirror and walls in beads of condensation.

lathing your body in cocoa butter and applying a fair amount of lip balm.

you pull on something simple: a soft white tank top and a pair of loose cerulean cotton shorts, light enough to let the sun find your skin. carefully pulling your shower cap off, the water droplets falling down to your shoulders, running off your moisturized skin. you grab a new bottle of sunscreen from your spwarled out suitcase, the book ‘if cats disappeared from the world’, and your black chanel sunglasses.

as you make your way barefoot down the creaking staircase, everything tucked in between your arm. the house warm and bright in a way that feels both lived-in and empty. you’re halfway to the back porch when the front door swings open, and your grandparents call for your attention.

“hey, hold up a minute-” your grandfather says, pausing just inside the doorway, his hat in one hand and the keys to the truck jangling in the other. Your grandmother lingers behind him, hands resting on her hips, her face soft but serious.

“-we’re headed into town for a bit.” she says. “need some supplies for the farm and a few other things.”

you nod, shifting your weight onto one foot as you glance toward the back porch, toward the promise of sun and quiet.

“‘fore you run off-” your grandfather adds, pulling the hat onto his head.

“one of the town boys is ‘posed to be stoppin’ by. hes gone take a look at the barn, see about fixin’ up some of the beams we been neglectin’.”

“you’ll know him when you see him.” she says, a touch warily.

“so just keep an eye out. he’s probably fine, but you know how folks can be.”

something about their tone. half warning, half habit. makes you bristle. you know how quickly people judge someone based on a name, a family, a shadow cast long before them.

“all right.” you say lightly, hoping to end the conversation before it becomes something heavier.

“i’ll be outside if he shows up.”

your grandmother nods, giving you one last lingering look, and then they’re gone—boots on the porch steps, the truck’s engine growling to life and disappearing down the road. you linger by the door for a moment, watching the dust settle in the empty yard. the house feels quieter now, a little too still.

when you turn toward the back porch, the sunlight calls to you again, warm and golden, a balm for whatever comes next.

the back door opens swiftly, letting in gusts of spring air to sweep across the floors. trudging through the plains of grass tickling your thighs, you find yourself at the small floating pond your grandfather built. it sat in front of the large red barn, creating a scene of what farm living actually is.

the pond is fairly quiet, except for the hum of cicadas and the faint lapping of water against its banks. the cows deep moo a little in the distance. the sun hangs high, drenching everything in gold, and the heat wraps around you like a second skin.

you’re stretched out on a reclined lawn chair, a thin towel draped beneath you to catch the sweat. your sunglasses shield your eyes, and a book rests open in your hands, though the words blur a little under the laziness of the afternoon. a half eaten sandwich and a glass of fresh strawberry lemonade sweats beside you, the condensation leaving rings of water on the tiny wooden table. it’s sweet and cold against your tongue, a small relief in the heaviness of the heat.

your top is flung casually over the back of the chair, leaving you in a white bathing suit, comfortable and unbothered as you let the sun soak into your skin. the soft breeze off the water kisses your shoulders every now and then, rustling the pages of your book.

it isn’t until the sharp, uneven sound of boots on gravel carries over the quiet that you lift your sunglasses, brow pinching.

at first, you only catch a shadow moving toward you from the far side of the reservoir. someone tall, broad-shouldered, and clearly not your grandparents.

“hey!” the voice calls, deep but rough, like he hasn’t spoken much today.

you sit up a little straighter, your sunglasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you look him over. he’s closer now, close enough for you to see the sharp lines of his face, the way dark hair falls a little too messily over his forehead. he’s wearing a plain t-shirt, worn jeans stained at the knees, and scuffed boots that kick up small puffs of dirt as he moves. there’s a toolbox in his hand, which he sets down carelessly at his feet.

“you’re, uh…-” he trails off, scanning you quickly before looking away, his jaw tight. he was issued to seeing old people on this property. but you were a sight for sore eyes. he couldn’t help but fixate his green eyes back onto you. watching as the beads of condensation dripped from the glass to your exposed cleavage, sliding down between your moisturized boobs. that were too big for the swim top your sported. his eyes fed off the way your e/c* eyes shined in the light under the black shields, lips glistening under the rays.

“im here for the barn. your grandparents said someone would be around.” his words are tight and frigid.

you blink, caught between annoyance and curiosity.

“yeah, they mentioned you.” you let your sunglasses slide back into place, leaning back in the chair as if his presence hasn’t disrupted anything.

“didn’t realize you’d be here so soon.”

“you’re welcome.” he mutters, a hint of sarcasm threading through the words as he squats to grab the toolbox.

you raise a brow, bristling.

“didn’t say i was thanking you.”

that makes him pause, glancing up through his lashes like he can’t decide whether to be amused or annoyed. a scoff releases from his lips.

“you sure are a real warm welcome, huh? and you’re reading a book about.. cats?”

“and you’re a little grumpy for someone who just got here. not that it’s any of your concern, i prefer cats over mutts.”

he huffs out a breath, maybe a laugh, but it’s hard to tell, and shakes his head, muttering something you can’t quite hear. you watch as he straightens up again, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead as if to dismiss you entirely.

“look, i’ll stay outta your way. just here to fix the barn, ma’am.” he says, nodding toward the distant structure.

“you can go back to… whatever this is.” his gaze flickers briefly over your lemonade, the book, your sprawled-out figure in the sun, before he turns on his heel and starts walking toward the barn.

you glare after him, irritation bubbling to the surface. the nerve of him, showing up out of nowhere with a chip on his shoulder like you’re the one invading his day.

“you’re welcome.” you call after him pointedly, though he doesn’t stop, just throws a hand up in a half-hearted wave of dismissal.

the barn door groans open in the distance, and you sink back into your chair with a huff, flipping your book shut. for the first time all day, the quiet doesn’t feel so peaceful anymore.

he had been long gone by the time your grandparents arrived back at the house. watching the sun set on the horizon out of the kitchen windows, casting a warm orange and pink hue to the house. you couldn’t help but to think about how strange of an interaction that was today.

“some’ wrong, darlin’?” your grandfather asks, pulling apart a small peice of his dinner roll, slipping it into his mouth.

“nothing papa. just tired i think. not really used to the time difference again.”

-

the kitchen smells like sugar, butter, and lemon zest. thick and warm in the morning light streaming through the windows. you stand beside your grandmother at the granite counter, your hands dusted in flour as you work a soft, pliable ball of dough, rolling it carefully under her watchful gaze. the little puffs of flour catch the light as they float lazily to the counter, turning the morning into something hazy and dreamlike. outside, the morning doves are already humming, and the breeze carries the faintest whiff of honeysuckle through the cracked window above the sink.

“not too thin now, dear.” your grandmother says gently, leaning over to inspect your work. her hair is pinned back neatly, and there’s a streak of flour on her cheek that she hasn’t noticed.

“these tarts need some structure, or they’ll fall apart ‘fore they make it to the church. we can’t have a lock in with no tarts, honey.”

“yes, ma’am.” you mutter, suppressing a small smile as you focus on the dough, guiding it into perfect little circles for the tart shells.

the table is cluttered with bowls and ingredients. deep red raspberries, bright and glistening, piled in a pale ceramic dish; a glass juicer with lemon pulp still clinging to its grooves; a small jar of sugar, the lid left slightly askew. your grandmother moves around the kitchen like she always has. calm, methodical, humming a hymn under her breath as she fills the air with the scent of baking pastry. you help her spoon the tart mixture into the shells, carefully pressing a few raspberries into each before she slides them into the oven, her hands covered in oven mitts patterned with sunflowers.

while the tarts bake, she chats softly about who will be at the church service, about old friends and new faces, her voice lilting as if trying to bridge the years that you’ve been gone. it’s comforting, her easy way of speaking, and you let it wash over you as you wipe down the counters, the scent of caramelizing sugar growing richer by the minute.

“i really appreciate your help this mornin’.” her sweet voice fills the silence.

your grandfather appears in the doorway just as you’re checking the tarts, a small grin tucked beneath his mustache. hes holding a set of keys. old, scratched, and gleaming faintly in his calloused hand.

“got something for ya.” he says, the words light but carrying a weight that makes you stop mid-step.

your grandmother glances over her shoulder, smiling softly as if she’s been expecting this.

“go on, now. see what he’s got.”

you follow your grandfather outside, the morning sun already high and hot, the light pooling across the gravel driveway. parked just off to the side of the house is a truck—not new by any stretch of the imagination, but clean, its pale blue paint shining faintly in the sunlight. it’s an older model, rounded and boxy in that classic way, and you can see where he’s spent hours tinkering with it. fresh tires, a polished hood, the faint scent of oil and steel lingering in the air.

“you’re givin’ me this?” you ask, a little breathless.

“sure am.” he replies, pressing the keys into your palm with a nod that’s gruff but affectionate.

“i’ve been workin’ on it a few months now. runs smooth s’ever. figured you might want somethin’ to get around while you’re here.”

the gesture hits you harder than you expect, and you swallow against the sudden warmth building in your chest.

“thank you,” you say softly, running your fingers over the keys before looking back at him.

he pats your shoulder in that firm, no-nonsense way of his.

“you go on, take her for a spin. just don’t let it sit idle too long, y’hear?”

you decide you can’t possibly drive your new truck around town in the same pajama bottoms and rumpled tank top you’ve been in since morning. after a quick shower, you stand in front of the mirror in your childhood bedroom, brushing your hair as the sun filters softly through the lace curtains. you choose something easy. a flowy white sundress, the fabric soft against your skin, cinched at the waist, flaring out below. it’s the kind of dress that moves when you walk, catching the breeze and making you feel like youre floating. slipping on tan sandals and grabbing your sunglasses.

sliding into the truck feels surreal, the leather of the driver’s seat warm beneath your legs as you turn the ignition. the engine rumbles to life with a satisfying purr, and you grip the wheel with a grin you can’t quite suppress.

the drive into town is nothing short of idyllic. the windows are rolled down, the warm breeze tugging at your hair and the hem of your dress as you cruise past fields of tall grass and wildflowers. radio crackles softly, static giving way to an old country song you don’t recognize but hum along to anyway. the town comes into view slowly. a handful of streets lined with brick buildings, white picket fences, and storefronts with painted signs. it’s small and familiar, a place where everyone knows everyone, and yet it feels entirely new through your eyes.

you park the truck just off the main street, slipping the keys into your bag before heading toward the square. the town is quiet, but there’s enough movement to remind you that life trickles on here. people chatting on porches, kids weaving through alleys on their bikes, a group of guys sitting on the bed of an old truck parked near the general store.

you don’t notice them at first, too busy taking in the details of the place. but their voices, loud and lazy—drift over as you pass.

“well, well.” one of them drawls, amusement curling through the words.

“ain’t expect to see you all the way out here.”

you glance over sharply, your gaze landing on none other than him. eren jaeger. leaned back against the tailgate of the truck, his arms crossed and a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. his friends exchange looks that border on curious and entertained.

“didn’t expect you to talk to me.” you shoot back without missing a beat, stopping just a few feet away.

eren raises a brow, clearly enjoying this already.

“oh, don’t worry. i’m just surprised you’re not still sunbathing by the pond, princess.”

“princess? it’s yn to you. and all of you.” you repeat, folding your arms across your chest.

“also, big talk for someone who can’t even find full jeans.” your acrylic points to the dirty man-made holes decorating the boys jeans.

that earns you a snort of laughter from one of his friends, but eren just tilts his head slightly, the smirk never faltering.

“guess you’re still mad about yesterday. why you so upset at me, darlin’?”

“mad? please.” you say, rolling your eyes. “nothing even happened.”

“mmh. sure you aren’t.” he says, pushing off the tailgate to stand up fully, his height a little more imposing up close. there’s something sharp about him. his voice, his gaze, but beneath it is something else, something less certain. you get the feeling he’s used to being looked at sideways, just like your grandparents warned you about.

“you always this charming, or is it just for me?” you ask, tipping your chin up slightly. eyes meeting his low green ones.

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as his friends snicker quietly behind him.

“you’re somethin’ else.” he mutters, more to himself than to you. turning on your heels, you rush to excape the uncomfortable encounter.

“see you around, princess.”

-

the next day stretches out slow and quiet. the house feels bigger without your grandparents, their absence leaving a stillness that clings to every corner. you’ve taken full advantage of the solitude, padding barefoot through the rooms in an oversized t-shirt and little else. the fabric brushes against your thighs as you move, worn soft with age, like an old friend. the back of the shirt reads something about a fishing derby from a year that predates you, and you’ve rolled the sleeves haphazardly up your shoulders, letting the collar slip wide against your collarbone.

you spend the morning lazing on the couch, your legs sprawled across the cushions as you flip halfheartedly through a book you aren’t really reading. somewhere outside, birds chatter, and the cicadas hum their slow, pulsing chorus.

it’s the kind of day where time feels like it doesn’t exist. you shuffle into the kitchen whenever you’re hungry, toast a bagel you don’t finish, drink lemonade straight from the pitcher, and leave the radio on low just to fill the silence. some soft, crooning voice filters through the speakers, adding to the lazy weight of the afternoon.

you’re perched on the arm of the couch, knees drawn up to your chest, flipping through an old fashion magazine you found tucked in a drawer when the knock comes, sharp and sudden against the door.

it startles you, your head snapping up as the noise echoes through the quiet house. the second knock follows quickly, impatient this time. you glance toward the clock on the wall, but it’s no help, just another reminder that time isn’t real today.

frowning, you slide off the couch, tugging the hem of your t-shirt self-consciously as you head toward the door. the knob feels cool beneath your fingers as you pull it open just far enough to see who it is.

and there he is.

eren, standing on your grandparents’ front porch like he belongs there, though his posture suggests otherwise. hes got one hand braced against the doorframe, his other hooked loosely in the pocket of his jeans. a thin white t-shirt clings to him in the heat, faint smudges of dirt streaked across the fabric like he’s been working outside all day. his dark hair looks even messier than it did before. some tucked into the cowboy hat, other strands falling over his forehead and curling faintly from the humidity.

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his gaze catching on your bare legs before he flicks his eyes up to meet yours. his expression shifts, something unreadable dancing just beneath the surface. you realize too late how you must look: hair messy, t-shirt oversized and sliding off your shoulder, a little breathless from having rushed to the door.

“what?” you say finally, crossing your arms over your chest as if that might protect you from the way he’s looking at you.

“nice greeting.” he says dryly, his voice low and a little rough around the edges.

“well, you did show up uninvited.” you shoot back, arching a brow.

“what do you want?”

eren exhales through his nose, almost like he’s amused but trying not to show it.

“your grandparents asked me to stop by. said there’s a busted pipe in the barn and they didn’t want to wait until they got back to fix it.”

you frown, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe.

“and they sent you?”

“clearly.” his lips twitch, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“believe it or not, i know how to do more than just piss you off.”

you roll your eyes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“well, the barn’s out back. you know where it is. the big. red. building.”

“i do. smartass.” he says, but he doesn’t move, and there’s a spark of something in his eyes. mischief, maybe. that makes you suddenly aware of just how much skin your t-shirt doesn’t cover.

“what?” you ask again, sharper this time.

“nothing.” he shrugs, the movement lazy as he pushes off the doorframe and takes a step back.

“just didn’t peg you for the type to lounge around in your underwear all day. but what do i know? you wore a bikini outside.”

heat flashes across your cheeks instantly, and you grip the edge of the door tighter.

“it’s not underwear, creep. it’s comfortable.”

“sure.” he says, smirk fully formed now as he starts toward the barn, hands tucked into his pockets.

“looks real… comfortable.”

you slam the door before he can say anything else, the wood rattling in the frame.

“asshole.” you mutter under your breath, but your voice is drowned out by the sound of his boots on the gravel, his laughter carrying faintly through the cracked window.

the hum of the radio drifts on, and sunlight still slants through the windows, but something about the space feels restless now. like the air has been disturbed and won’t settle again. you find yourself standing by the door, chewing your lip and staring at nothing in particular.

it’s curiosity, you decide. that’s all it is. you’re just curious about him. about the boy who showed up at your door unannounced, dripping sarcasm like it’s second nature, as though he thrives on pressing your buttons. that’s why, after pacing the kitchen once or twice, you tug on a pair of shoes and head outside.

the barn stands at the back of the property, worn and familiar, its paint faded and roof patched with tin that glints under the afternoon sun. the gravel crunches beneath your feet as you cross the yard, your shadow stretching long ahead of you. you can hear him before you see him. something clattering against metal, followed by a low muttered curse that drifts out through the open barn doors.

you pause just outside, peeking around the corner. eren is crouched low near the base of a wooden post, his toolbox spread out beside him, sleeves shoved up to his elbows. sweat glistens faintly along the line of his neck, dark hair curling slightly against his temple, though he seems too focused on whatever he’s fixing to notice you.

“i hope you don’t talk to the pipes like that.” you say, stepping into the doorway.

eren glances up sharply, his eyes narrowing as soon as he sees you.

“what are you doing in here?”

“just checking on you.” you lean against the frame, arms crossed, the hem of your t-shirt fluttering faintly in the breeze.

“you could be in here stealing, for all I know.”

he snorts, turning back to the pipe.

“yeah, im gonna steal an old tractor and a pile’a hay. that’ll really set me up for life.”

“you’ve got the attitude for it.” you shoot back.

eren doesn’t respond right away, just reaches into his toolbox and pulls out a wrench, testing the pipe with a faint metallic screech. you take the opportunity to wander further into the barn, your bare legs brushing against the dust-speckled air, the smell of earth and old wood thick in your nose.

“don’t distract me.” he mutters after a moment, though there’s no real heat in it.

“distract you from what?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

“you seem like you know what you’re doing.”

“i do.” he replies quickly, then pauses to glance up at you again, that familiar edge of sarcasm tugging at his voice.

“but I don’t need you hovering over me like a supervisor.”

“im not hovering.” you say, wandering toward the ladder that leads up to the loft. You trail your fingers along a beam as you go, the wood rough and splintered beneath your touch.

“im just… observing.”

“observing me.” he corrects, the corner of his mouth twitching.

you shrug, tilting your head to look at him.

“maybe. you’re hard to figure out.”

“well… why are ya tryin’ t’figure me out?” he fires back, turning his full attention to you now. his gaze is sharp, but there’s something behind it. something curious, like he’s trying to pick you apart the same way you’re doing to him.

you hesitate, feeling your face heat up despite yourself.

“im just bored.”

“bored ?” eren repeats, his voice dry.

“well, sorry im not here to entertain you, princess.”

you bristle at the nickname, pushing off the beam to face him fully.

“will you quit calling me that?”

“what?” he says, smirking now. “does it bother you?”

“obviously.”

“good.” he huffs a quiet laugh under his breath, shaking his head as he goes back to the pipe, adjusting the wrench with a sharp twist. the muscles in his forearm flex with the movement, beads of sweat dripping from his body.

“you’re insufferable.” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you turn and start to climb the ladder to the loft. the wood creaks faintly under your hands and feet, but you ignore it, needing to put a little distance between you and him.

“where are you going?” he calls from below, sounding more amused than anything.

“away from you!” you shout back, hoisting yourself onto the loft and brushing the dust from your knees. the space is dim, beams of sunlight filtering through the slats in the walls, catching on cobwebs and hay strewn across the floor. you sink down near the edge, letting your legs dangle as you glance back down at him.

“don’t worry. i won’t distract you from all your hard work.”

eren glances up at you with a look that’s half exasperation, half something else. he stands, tossing the wrench back into his toolbox with a faint clatter.

“or you could just gone back in the house. you’re a real piece’a work, you know that?”

“you’re one to talk.” you shoot back, swinging your feet slightly.

“you act like you hate me, but you keep showing up.”

“i don’t hate you and i keep showing up for your folks, not you.” he mutters, scrubbing the back of his hand across his forehead as he looks away.

“you just talk too much.”

“and you’re just cranky.”

he lets out a soft laugh, one that seems to surprise even him. when he looks back at you, his expression is different, though it’s hard to tell in the dappled light of the barn.

“you don’t know anything about me.” he says finally, his voice quieter this time.

you tilt your head, studying the man below you.

“maybe not. but I know you’re not as bad as everyone says you are.”

eren stiffens slightly at that, his jaw ticking as he averts his gaze. for a moment, the only sound is the wind pressing against the barn, rattling the boards, and the distant hum of cicadas.

“you don’t know that either. and what about you, huh? showing’ up outta nowhere. bein’ as bossy as you are?” he says eventually, his tone flat.

“im a pretty good judge of character. and i used to live here. a lot changes in fifteen years.”

he scoffs, but there’s no real bite to it.

“you’re annoying.”

“and yet you’re still here.” you say, letting a smile creep onto your face.

the loft creaks beneath you, but you don’t think much of it at first. it’s old, worn by years of weight and weather, and the barn itself seems to hum with the memory of its age. eren is below, fiddling with his toolbox, muttering curses under his breath as he wrestles with some stubborn pipe or post. you’re perched on the edge of the loft, legs dangling as you watch him, not bothering to hide your smirk.

“you’re taking forever.” you tease, your voice carrying through the barn.

eren pauses, glancing up with an annoyed glare.

“if you think you can do it faster, darlin’ , be my guest.”

“oh, i didn’t say that.” you reply, leaning back with a huff of satisfaction.

“i’m just observing how inefficient you are.”

he mutters something under his breath, shaking his head, and you’re about to push his buttons again when the sharp sound of splintering wood freezes you. the beam beneath you gives a slow, aching groan. erens head shoots up, noticing the lift giving in right where you sat.

you don’t have time to react. the wood cracks loudly, shattering the stillness, and suddenly you’re falling.

it happens in a rush. your stomach lurching, air rushing past you, hands scrambling for anything to grab. you hit something solid but not the ground. the impact knocks the wind out of you, but there are arms around you, holding you tightly.

“jesus christ!” eren’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and alarmed. “are you stupid?”

your brain catches up slowly, heart still slamming against your ribs as you look up to find eren staring down at you. his face is just inches from yours, his arms wrapped firmly around you where he caught you before you could hit the floor.

“i—” you start to say, but the words catch in your throat.

eren lets out a breath, long and shaky, as he lowers you carefully to the barn floor. his hands linger at your sides, steadying you. “are you okay?”

you try to nod, but then you feel it. the sharp, searing pain radiating up your leg. you wince, shifting slightly, and his eyes dart downward.

“you’re hurt.” he says flatly.

“no, i’m fine,” you lie, but as soon as you move your leg, the pain worsens. you look down to see a gash along your shin, blood streaking your skin where the wood must have splintered against you.

eren notices immediately.

“shit-” he mutters, reaching for you before you can protest. “don’t move.”

“eren, i’m fine,” you insist, but your voice wavers when you try to put weight on your leg.

“yeah, sure you are,” he shoots back, already scooping you up before you can argue. his arms slide beneath your knees and back, lifting you effortlessly.

“stop squirming, unless you wanna make this worse.”

you freeze, stunned at the way he carries you, like you weigh nothing at all. his face is set, focused, though you swear you can see a flicker of concern beneath the irritation.

“you don’t have to carry me.” you mumble, feeling heat creep up your neck.

he doesn’t look at you. “and what, let you drag yourself back to the house? don’t be stupid. now imma have to fix up the loft.”

the walk back to the house feels longer than usual, the silence stretching between you save for the crunch of his boots against the dirt. you steal glances at him—at the way his brow furrows in concentration, at the way his arms flex slightly beneath your weight. his grip is careful, like he’s afraid of jostling you too much.

“you’re really dramatic, you know.” you say quietly, trying to lighten the mood.

eren snorts, glancing down at you with a raised brow.

“me? you’re the one who decided to fall through the damn barn.”

“it wasn’t a choice.” you mutter, pouting slightly.

“whatever you say, princess.”

he carries you through the front door like it’s nothing, kicking it open with his boot before setting you down gently on the couch. the shift makes you wince, and he notices, crouching beside you immediately.

“last door on the left, under the sink.”

“stay put.” he says, voice low but firm, before disappearing into the bathroom.

you sigh, leaning your head back against the cushions as the adrenaline starts to wear off, leaving behind nothing but the dull ache in your leg and the embarrassment settling deep in your chest.

when eren comes back, he’s holding the first aid kit and a damp towel. he drops onto the floor in front of you, his knees brushing the edge of the couch as he sets everything down.

“this might sting.” he warns, wetting the towel before carefully pressing it to your shin.

you hiss through your teeth, nails curling into the couch cushion. “you could be a little gentler, you know.”

“i am being gentle.” he says, though his tone lacks its usual bite. he works quickly, cleaning the blood and dirt from the scrape before carefully dabbing it dry.

you watch him quietly as he unwraps a roll of gauze, his movements surprisingly careful, his expression softer than you’ve seen before.

“you didn’t have to do all this.” you say softly.

eren doesn’t look up, focused on securing the bandage.

“yeah, well. you’re not exactly good at taking care of yourself.”

“is that your way of saying you care?”

he pauses for half a second, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. the look he gives you is unreadable, but there’s something there. something warm.

“just… don’t do anything stupid like that again.” he mutters, his gaze dropping back to the bandage.

you bite back a smile, watching as he finishes and sits back on his heels. his hands linger on your leg for a moment, testing to make sure the gauze is secure before he finally stands.

“thanks.” you say quietly, your voice soft.

eren just shrugs, grabbing the first aid kit and standing to his full height. “don’t mention it.”

you try to mimic his movements, grabbing onto the arm of the couch for support until the pain shoots you right back down. eren wastes no time meeting you at eye level again, frowing a little.

“you need to stay put. stop being so damn hardheaded, yn.”

“finally you use my name.” his eyes burn deep holes into yours, brown chunks of hair framing his face.

“eh. i still like princess.”

he pauses, just for a second, as if he’s considering something. then he turns, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“both are real pretty though.” he mutters, but his voice is quieter now, softer. there’s an edge of something else there, something that’s hard to place.

you feel your heart pick up, and before you can even process the thought, before you can even think to stop him, he’s closing the space between you. his hand comes to rest gently on the side of your face, and then, with surprising tenderness, he leans in. the kiss is slow, hesitant at first. just a brush of lips against yours. but it deepens quickly, and for a moment, it feels like time itself is holding its breath. maybe you were holding your breath. his hand curls around the back of your neck, and you instinctively lean into him, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of his lips presses against yours, soft and urgent.

the kiss is over almost as soon as it started, and when he pulls back, his face is so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your skin. his eyes are dark, a little unsure, but there’s something raw there too.

“eren?” you whisper, breathless, unsure of what to say, what to do with the sudden surge of emotions.

he doesn’t speak at first, just looks at you like he’s trying to figure you out. his fingers linger against your skin for a second too long before he pulls away, stepping back.

“um, guess i’ll get going then.” he says, voice low, almost like he’s unsure of himself for the first time.

he basically rushes out the front door, leaving you with a bloody gauze pad wrapped around your shin and a sense of confusion.

-

the farmer’s market buzzes softly with life. the air smells of ripe peaches and freshly baked bread, and the sunlight filters through the trees, dappled and golden. you weave through the crowd, your basket swinging lightly on your arm, filled with a small loaf of sourdough and a jar of honey. it’s your favorite part of the week, wandering between the stalls, picking out produce and listening to the steady murmur of the townsfolk.

you’ve got a small crumpled list tucked into your hand: oat milk, a jar of honey, maybe some fresh greens, and you’re weaving your way through the market when you spot him. eren. he’s standing with a man you can only assume is his father. the resemblance is impossible to miss: the sharpness of the jawline, the same dark hair, though his father’s is streaked with gray, and the way they both carry themselves. quiet and a little standoffish. they’re posted at a vegetable stand, crates of carrots, onions, and cucumbers spread out before them. eren’s arms are crossed as he listens to something his father says, his brow furrowed like he’s only half paying attention.

something about the way eren glances around, almost restless, makes you hesitate. you watch for a beat longer, tucked slightly behind another booth, debating whether to approach. but then eren looks up, and his gaze lands on you. for a second, he’s still, his face unreadable. then his eyes shift slightly, narrowing, and it almost feels like he’s warning you.

you step forward anyway, hobbling a little on your sore leg.

“eren.” you say, your voice soft but steady. his name feels strangely loud against the background chatter, and both he and his father turn to look at you.

eren’s face tightens slightly, but he doesn’t look away. his father, on the other hand, gives you a long, slow once-over, his sharp green eyes cutting into you with a coolness that makes your chest tighten.

“who’s this?” his father asks, his tone mild but clipped, like the words have edges.

“yn, sir.” you offer quickly, stepping closer and giving him a polite smile.

“i’ve been staying with my grandparents for the spring. i’ve seen eren around, so i thought i’d introduce myself. he helps around a lot.”

you hold out your hand, but his father doesn’t take it. instead, he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the booth’s counter, his gaze steady and unwavering.

“introducing yr’self, huh?” he says, his voice light, almost amused, but there’s something underneath it, something just sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

“not many of the town folk bother to stop by our booth, let’lone introduce themselves. guess you must be curious.”

you pull your hand back awkwardly, your smile faltering as you glance at eren.

“i just thought it would be nice, sir. i apologize.” you reply, trying to keep your voice even.

“your vegetables do look great.”

his father lets out a soft huff of a laugh, barely more than an exhale.

“yeah, they do, don’t they? we put a lotta work into this land. more than most people around here would know.”

eren shifts beside him, his jaw tightening.

“dad.” he mutters under his breath, but his father doesn’t even glance at him.

“you stayin’ with the wrights?” his father asks, tilting his head slightly.

“figured. they’re good people, always minding their own business. shame not everyone in town does the same.”

you blink, the words settling in your chest like stones. there’s no malice in his tone, not directly, but the weight of them is unmistakable.

eren’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, his shoulders tense.

“she’s just trying to be nice.” he says, his voice low, almost resigned, like he knows it won’t make a difference.

his father finally straightens, dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“nice is fine-” he says, glancing at you again. “-but not everyone ‘round here is friendly as they seem. might be worth ‘membering.”

the air between you feels tight, uncomfortable, and you’re not entirely sure if his words are meant as advice or something closer to a warning. you force another smile, even though your face feels stiff, and take a small step back.

“well, it was nice meeting you.” you say, your voice a little quieter now.

“i’ll let you both get back to work.”

eren looks at you then, his lips pressing together like he wants to say something but can’t. his father, however, just gives you a small, curt nod.

“have a good day, darlin’.” he says, the words clipped and formal.

you turn quickly, your cheeks burning, and make your way back into the flow of the market. the cheerful voices and warm sunlight feel duller now, muted by the lingering tension.

it’s not until you’ve stopped by another stall, pretending to inspect a bunch of lavender, that you feel eren’s presence beside you. you glance up, and there he is, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his face pulled into a scowl.

“sorry about him.” he mutters, his voice low. “he’s… he’s just like that.”

you shrug, trying to act like it didn’t bother you, though the knot in your stomach hasn’t quite eased.

“it’s fine.” you say softly, but the look he gives you says he doesn’t believe you.

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the market swirls around you, full of life and sound, but between you, there’s only a quiet tension. finally, eren sighs, tilting his head toward the edge of the market.

“come on,” he says. “let’s get out of here.”

-

you’ve learned to move quietly, to slip through the back door of the house when no one’s looking, to meet him at the edge of the woods by the lake when the sun has set and the stars are just beginning to prick the sky. everything feels like it’s wrapped in silence, soft and secretive. even the air between you seems charged with something unspoken, something thrilling. for two weeks.

he was addictive.

soft whispers under your large quilts as his lips traced kisses from your neck to lips. engulfing you in a warm embrace. wind blowing through the windows he snuck into.

he loved seeing you drive past him casually in your truck while picking up groceries for your grandmother. watching your hair whip in the wind and the low hum of the trucks engine passing by.

when you and him sat in his living room, playing with the golden lab he named ‘scout’ when he was four. your fingers comb through his mane, tilting your face upwards to avoid from being licked by the drooling animal.

whenever your grandparents gave him yet another daunting task around the farm, he’d watch as your sprawled out in a bikini. sipping the sweet tea, beach hat shading your face. watching as the droplets of water dripped down your chest. he’d hate to admit how many times he’s almost nailed his hands to the barn.

“you okay over there?” your arm, half up in a wave, drawling his attention from your new position. you lay on your chest, slowly pulling at the strings holding your top up. letting them dangle off the side of the chair, you slide the waistline of your bottoms down a little.

“eren! why don’t you come have some lemonade with me?”

you were driving him nuts.

he loved how lively you would get after spending the afternoons in a tiny, quaint bar located on the outskirts of town.

the drives back usually consisting of you halfway out the passenger window, eyes gazing up at the sky as you took advantage of the open landscape. eren would watch you intensely, eyes bouncing from the road back to you.

pulling into erens dirty path driveway, he pulls your body across the long front seat, carefully tucking his arms under your knees and around your back.

“im not drunkk!” you whine, face buried into the crook of the man’s neck while he places you down softly on the dark leather couch. closing his front door, his hand runs through his brown locs with an exasperated sigh.

“you need to sober up so i can take you home, yn. i ain’t trynna deal with a angry mob of old church people.” his height blinds out everything in your path as he stands over you. his large hands cup your face gently.

“boy im grown, come here.” you whisper, pulling him down by the forearm, eyes never leaving his. green eye flicker from your eyes to your glossed lips. your essence was like a gravitational pull.

lips locked onto one another, you can’t help but to notice he much softer his lips have gotten.

“you been exfoliating?”

“i’on know what that is, shut up and kiss me.”

it was hungry. borderline filthy the way his hands rubbed you down slowly. caressing the dips of your waist, cold jewelry slides across your stomach, hitching your breath. the tank top you wore stood no chance. brown nipples poking through the sheer cotton fabric.

hes smiling. feeling his hands roam you so freely. he couldn’t help but to take his thumbs and pointer fingers, slipping them into his mouth and out with a quick pop! going back under your shirt, he takes your perky buds in between his fingers, rolling them slowly as the rest of his hands cup your breast.

“oh! eren- oh my god.”

his lips pepper kisses all over your exposed skin, nipping at spots before kissing over the pain. hands roam down to your thighs, giving them tight grips before sliding down the couch.

eyes latched onto each other, you can’t help but to whine.

“please eren.”

this was the first time in years you’ve felt this strong of an attraction towards someone else. crazy for it to be eren of all people.

“please, what?” he’s slowly tugging at the drawstrings of the shorts you wore. eyes locked on you with a burning passion. sitting up against the arm of the couch, your shorts make it to the other side of the room.

your jaw is wide , eren hissing when you tug at his long brown locks. the moment he’s sliding his middle fingers into your burning core, stretching you open as his thumb slowly teases your clit. his body proceeding lower, all you can feel is slight gust of air hitting your cunt. his lips wrap gently around the swollen bud, sucking agonizingly slow, saliva and slick stick to the man’s face. he hums into your taste, wrapping his arms around the base of your thighs. he laid fully out on the couch.

instantly, you’re falling apart. moans breaking out in short whimpers and high gasps, grinding into his palm and nose. feeling his tongue slip inside your clenching hole, only to add two of his slender fingers.

his fingers scissor up into your throbbing cunt, hitting your sweet spot.

“babyy” you whimper, barely able to get anything out with the man’s face devouring you below. eyes closed in euphoria and concentration. hands interlocked into his head full of hair, your moans grow louder.

“doin’ such a good fuckin’ job, princess.”

feeling how he used his thumbs to spread open your pussy, using his tongue to penetrate your clenching hole. his tongue dips into you, coating his tongue in your cum, before coming back out and circling your swollen bud. the repetitive sensation sends you into a fit of louder moans, enticing the man to keep going.

“oh! ba- fu,fuck eren! im fucking c-“ the pressure builds, coiling tighter in your abdomen until you can't hold back anymore. not even when you’re cumming all over the man’s face, does he stop. he wants more now. he needs more.

from the first day he saw you out by the water, he knew he wanted you for himself. he watched the way you interacted with the townsfolk and farm animals. how sexy you were effortlessly. walking around your grandparents farm with nothing but a bikini on and practically see through shorts.

he hated to see other men in town look at you. the way the old, decrepit men would sit in the farmers markets and watch you browse around. whispering to each other while you naively chose your fruits and vegetables.

he didn’t want to share you with anyone.

his body jolts to a standing position, with ease he’s dipping down to pick you up off the couch. a large wet spot decorated the leather where you lie. he’s carrying you over his shoulder down the narrow hallway of the house.

“where we goin’?” you ask, eyes low and hazy.

you make it to the well decorated room. posters and band prints scattered on the wall , a radio sat in the corner, humming random songs from the station eren left it on. his bed was royal blue and well kept.

that was until you were being pounded into the bed.

you nails grip for anything they can reach. digging straight into the bed set, while his throbbing cock dips in and out of you. he has your right leg thrown over his shoulder, hands pinned to your waist as he draws out. face twisting in pleasure. his dick coated in the slippery substance, a faint white line forming the base of his cock as he moves in and out of you repeatedly .

“makin’ such a mess on me. pretty fuckin girl.”

he waste no time, throwing your other leg over his shoulder, locking you in as he quickens his pace. shallow breaths escape his mouth, eyes locked in concentration. you’re stuck with your mouth in an -o- shape as the man pounds you relentlessly. with a swift pull out, he taps against your side.

“on your knees, princess.”

on all fours, he wastes no time reinserting himself, bottoming out while his nails dig into the supple skin on your waist. the sound of skin slapping together and the wet squelches of your abused cunt bounce off the walls, filling your ears.

“i’ve wanted you for so long, you’re so good to me- fuck!”

the more your honey coated words fall from your lips, the more the man wants to ruin you. he wants to see you beg for him. he needed to have it.

pulling your arms from under you, he pins them to your back, locking you in an unforgiving arch. he feeds you slow, agonizing pleasing, strokes. loved watching the way your pussy desperately gripped around him as he pulled out.

trying your hardest to escape the abuse of your cervix, you try to pull away, only to receive a fire fueled spank on your ass.

“take this dick, baby. you had all that mouth ‘member? you can do it, i know ya can.”

his pace quickens, yearning for your release. the only thing you can form is small gasps of air as the man shows no mercy on your smaller frame.

“eren! oh shit- im cumming again ple-“

he releases your hands, using his free hand to rub at your clit as he continued fucking into you.

your body goes limp, clear liquid spewing out onto the man’s blankets. he flips you back over, eyes dark and full of hunger still.

“gimme just one more? please, honey. she just so good.”

folded into a middle split off the bed wasn’t something you ever thought you could do. yet here you were, on your back, eren standing in front of you, holding your legs apart.

his hips roll into yours, digging at your inside slowly. head tilted to the side, eyebrows furrowed and eyes low. your hands hold onto his muscular forearm, trying to keep grounded as the man was wearing you out.

with a few more thrust, he pulls out. long white ropes decorate his chest.

“you’re something special, yn.”

-

after your grandparents had gone into town for their usual errands, you find yourself at the edge of the lake, hidden in the soft embrace of the willow trees. the faint glow of fireflies flickers in the warm spring air, and the world feels still, like it’s holding its breath for what’s to come. eren’s there before you, waiting, leaning against a tree with a smile that always makes your stomach flip.

“thought you’d never show up,” he teases, his voice low and smooth, like it’s a secret only meant for you. his eyes flicker over you, and the corner of his mouth pulls into a crooked grin.

“you just like being dramatic,” you reply, though you can feel the flutter in your chest as you walk closer, the pull between you too strong to ignore.

he steps forward, closing the space between you, and before you can say anything else, his lips are on yours. quick, soft, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless. it’s always like this, quick, a rush of feeling that neither of you can seem to contain. he pulls away just as quickly, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“you’re insane.” you whisper, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

he grins, taking your hand and guiding you down the worn path toward the lake. the grass brushes against your bare legs, soft and cool under the fading light. the blanket he’s spread out by the water is a patchwork of colors. faded reds and yellows that look almost too bright against the darkening sky.

you settle down beside him, the scent of wildflowers heavy in the air. the lake reflects the dimming stars, the quiet ripples in the water mirroring the racing of your heart.

“y’know. ive been havin’ a lot of fun with you.” he playfully nudges your body, rocking you to the side.

“i know. imma miss you, country boy.” the fake southern accent rolled off your tongue sarcastically. although the tone was funny, something about erens aura shifted.

“what’s up? why’ve you gone all quiet?” you ask, eyes fixated on the male. the moonlight illuminated his face, exposing every freckle, unshaven parts of his face, and his eyes locked onto yours.

“i jus’ really don’t wanna let you go, princess.”

“don’t go all sappy on me now. i’ll visit when i can, you know that right?” he just nods, taking a drink of the beer he had before your arrival. the air was thick and warm, your knees pressed together, watching the water reflect the bedazzled night sky as eren just shuffles in his spot.

“yn, promise ya wont forget me?”

“eren-“ you try to stop the conversation before it happens. instead ending up in a tight hug from the man. his arms latch around your waist, head resting over your shoulder.

“im serious, yn. i ain’t ever felt this way for nobody.” pulling away, all you can see is his bright green eyes burning into yours.

“how could i ever?”

you lean in, your free hand brushing against his jaw as you kiss him. it’s slow, deliberate, and familiar, yet it feels new in the way it sends warmth flooding through you.

his hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, his touch firm but gentle as he deepens the kiss, like he’s trying to hold onto the moment for as long as he can. the world around you fades. the quiet lap of the water against the shore, the soft hum of the crickets. until there’s nothing but him.

when you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. eren’s thumb brushes over the curve of your jaw, and his lips curl into a small, almost sheepish smile.

“you ever thought about visiting the city?”

© vantetaes. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. ageless/blank blogs dni.

random inspo pics at the bottom? yes!

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

Pool Day | for @steddiemicrofic's April prompt

pairing: steddie (duh) | word count: 1,987 | rated: T | on AO3

“Thanks for having us, Steve Dear,” Mrs. Henderson greets, stepping through the front door after Dustin barrels in and handing him a huge covered bowl of potato salad.

Steve grins at her, taking the dish, “It’s no trouble at all Ms. H; thanks for bringing this, you know it’s my favorite.”

“Of course, hon!”

“Claudia!” Joyce calls from the living room, “Come help me settle this.”

“There’s nothing to settle!” Hop argues in return.

Steve snorts out a laugh, “Good luck, Ms. H.”

Claudia sighs, shakes her head, and heads into the fray.

Steve goes the opposite way, dropping the bowl off in the fridge with the other lunch cookout ingredients Wayne and Hopper will be starting in on in only a couple hours now, grabs a bottle of water for Robin, and follows Dustin’s route back outside to the patio.

It’s a clear, warm, sunny day in the late summer of ‘86. The whole ‘other dimension survivors’ party is in attendance at Steve’s place for the day; Hop, Joyce, Karen, Claudia now, and even Wayne are staying inside in the A/C, the kids are in the pool, and all but the one of the ‘older kids’ are lounging around on the Harringtons’ sun chairs.

Argyle in particular is soaking up the UV rays.

Jon is burning to a crisp under his and Nancy’s umbrella.

It’s Eddie, however, that’s been in the pool practically all morning, and is currently hyping himself up to do… something.. off Steve’s creaky, probably dry-rotted, diving board.

He does look good up there; drenched head to toe with his hair pushed back from his face like that. If he wasn’t covered in pool water, Steve would want to lick him.

…okay, he probably still would.

Robin elbows him as if she can read the thoughts straight from his brain.

”Shut up.” he grumbles out the corner of his mouth, sitting on his previously vacated chair beside her and passing over the water.

She just snorts at him in return, taking the bottle from him and going back to her book..

”Eddie, dude, it can’t be done.” Mike groans, “If I can’t do it, you can’t do it.”

”He’s got an 82 percent chance of landing flat on his stomach.” Erica states.

“It’s gotta be higher than that.” Max says, “I’d give it 93 percent.”

“Never.. tell me the odds.” Eddie declares from atop his perch. The board creaks when he shifts his weight.

His eyes keep darting from the end of the diving board to the clear, blue water beyond it, and back again.

Steve calls across the backyard, “What’s it he’s trying to do?”

“He says he can do two whole flips before he hits the water.” El says, piping up from where she is laying on a towel on the far side of the patio next to Max.

Steve grimaces, “Does he now?”

”…He’s gonna die.” Dustin says. “Again.”

Lucas is the one to go to bat for their DM, ”Give him a chance, dude, he says he’s done this before.”

“See, you say that, but we all know how uncoordinated he is. Can you bellyflop to death? ‘Cause that’s how he’s ‘bout to go.”

“Don’t fuck this up, Eds, I’m not CPR certified anymore.” Steve calls from his spot beside Robin who leans in immediately to whisper, “What are you doing? If he dies you can give him mouth-to-mouth!”

Steve blinks once at her, turning back to Eddie who’s still hyping himself up for his promised double-flip. “Never mind, I remembered it!”

Eddie breaks from his focus on the board in front of him to give Steve an exasperated, questioning look. Steve winks in return, making the sunburn on Eddie’s skin burn brighter.

He’ll get the hint(s, there’s been multiple) eventually… hopefully.

The advice starts coming from all sides; “C’mon, man just do it already!”

“Yeah, Are ya gonna go or what?”

“Let him work up to it!”

“You work up to it.”

“That’s it, you’re going down, Wheeler.”

“You’re never gonna go are you?” Max yells, ignoring the scuffle starting up between Will and Mike

“Do a run-up!” Dustin suggests, and Steve stops that one in its tracks.

“No! No running around the pool!”,

Nancy chimes in, not looking up from her magazine. “Just don’t die, Eddie.”

”And what, desert all you losers? What’d you even do without me?”

“He’s got a point,” Erica concedes, deadpan, “Who would we watch hurt themselves if you weren’t around.”

“Alright, alright, alright, shut up, I’m going.” Eddie says, waving his arms around, “In three…two…one!”

And he does. He goes for it, bounding off the end of the board, completing exactly one and a half turns, and landing stomach-first onto the surface of the water.

Sympathetic hisses of pain and grimacing ‘Oohs’ erupt around the pool as Eddie sinks into the water.

To his credit though, he manages to stand on his own soon afterwards.

Steve calls out to him, “You okay, Eds?”

“I think I’m gonna need that mouth-to-mouth, big guy.” Eddie groans, then flops face-first back into the water dramatically, much to the amusement of the gathered peanut gallery.

“What a doofus, why do I have a crush on him again?” Steve asks Robin in a low voice as he stands from his chair.

Robin sets her book down on her lap, counting out on her fingers without looking up at him: “Big hair, big eyes, big smile, bigger heart.”

“Ah, yep, that’ll do it.” he nods, then drops down off the edge of the pool into the water. “Alright, dumbass, that’s enough pool for you.”

He wades over to Eddie, still floating face-down on the surface of the water, and scoops him up in a bridal carry.

“Blegh…” He feigns death, letting his tongue loll out the side of his mouth. The backs of Eddie’s arms and the very ends of his hair trail along the rippling surface of the water when he lets his head and arms flop backward, bonelessly out of Steve’s hold.

Steve rolls his eyes and drops his arms just enough to submerge him again. His yelp of surprise is muffled when he goes under, much to the delight of the rest of the party.

But Steve gets his arms under him again quickly; Eddie scrambles for a hold around his neck while continuing to splutter, spitting out a mouthful of pool water and pushing the hair off his face to reveal his now-red face.

Steve smirks cheekily down at Eddie’s murderous glare, wrapping his arms tighter around the other man. He walks through the shallows back to the pool steps with Eddie still in his arms (“You bringing me to a chair, Stevie?”), climbs up the first one, then stops.

He looks down at a now confused Eddie (“What? What’s wrong?” he asks, looking around for something what it was that made Steve stop.), smirks mischievously, then, before he can parse out what’s about to happen, Steve twists around and tosses Eddie back into the water.

His flailing limbs just barely miss Mike’s head (Oops, sorry Mike,), the resulting splash hitting at least four of the five gremlins still in the water.

Grinning widely at the others’ laughs, Steve hurries up the stairs and around to the side of the pool closest to where Eddie fell, looking down at him over the edge as he re-emerges from the water, spluttering and coughing, and flips his bangs haphazardly up off his forehead.

“What happened, Eds? One minute you were safe in my arms, and the next, you were back in the water! It’s the strangest thing.” Steve can’t hold back his grin any more than he could his sarcasm, reveling in the murderous glare Eddie is giving him.

Eddie continues to glare, the other kids snickering off to start what sounded like a game of chicken.

“What’s wrong, Teddy, d’ya not like being thrown aroun–” Steve’s awareness of his surroundings kick in a fraction too late; the kids parting out of the way, the smirk that appears on Eddie’s lips a moment before disaster, the somehow still-cold hands that splay and push against the warm skin of his back, sending him toppling over the edge and into the water himself.

Resurfacing to resounding, howling laughter from all sides, Steve similarly flips his hair back and glares at his new nemesis, Robin, standing above him all smug.

“I… hate you.” he tells her, with no real heat behind it.

“Love you too dingus,” she waves and turns back to her chair.

“So whattya say pot, gonna join this kettle in solidarity against the hoard?”

As if he could ever say no to those eyes.

“Sure Eds, hop up.”

And of course, Eddie makes a big deal about it, “What?! Who says I can’t carry you on my shoulders, big boy?”

Steve shrugs, “Okay, squat down and I’ll climb up.”

To his credit, he actually does, letting Steve get situated (and panic silently about where Eddie's head is… 'Ridiculous.' he tells himself.) and standing up, his arms locked around Steve’s shins.

Steve holds his arms out to help keep his balance on Eddie’s shoulders, “Holy shit man, I didn’t think you had it in you!”

Eddie grits out a low “I don’t..” then pitches backwards, sending them both under the water.

Opening his eyes to the burning chlorine, Steve watches the blurry shapes of Eddie’s legs get their bearings on the pool floor once again.

As soon as his feet are settled on the floor, Steve swims forward and around Eddie’s now-kicking legs, the gangly appendages trying futilely to keep him away.

He’s almost out of breath so he clamps a hand on one of Eddie’s knees, using it as an anchor to get behind him and puts his head between the other man’s legs, sitting the backs of Eddie’s thighs squarely down on his shoulders.

He stands, his hair plastered flat to his forehead by the water, and by Eddie’s hands where they hold onto him for dear life.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Eddie says when Steve attempts to shake the hairs off his face, pushing the offending hairs out of his eyes and back up onto the top of head.

Steve tilts his head back as far as he can, looking up at the man on his shoulders.

Eddie’s head blocks out the sun, and it gives him a halo made of sunlight. “Thanks sweetheart.” Steve says, only to Eddie, then faces down the rest of the shitheads. “Alright shitheads, who’s up first?”

Steve and Eddie play against each of the others, some pairs taking longer, some only taking a single shove to get Eddie to topple down into the water.

And each time Steve scoops him back up, Eddie pushes the hairs off his face, scooches his bony butt around to get situated (seriously, how does he sit for any length of time on that thing?!), and gives Steve’s cheek a pat of encouragement before they face off against another round of kids.

Jon and Argyle go up against them once, and it’s the longest round of the afternoon.

Eventually though, about halfway through their chicken tournament, the ‘real’ adults file outside to the Harringtons’ patio table and start up the grill.

By time Jon finally dislodges Eddie from Steve’s shoulders, it’s time to eat.

Eddie’s the last one out of the water, and Steve savors every moment it takes him to trudge up the pool steps, winded, probably aching, but smiling wide, as gorgeous as ever.

“C’mon Stevie,” he huffs, “Let’s get some grub. I’m starving after beating all these twerps.”

“They kicked our asses, Eds.”

“Yeah, but it was fun though, right?” Eddie grins, walking ahead of him to grab, still soaking wet, a handful of (now also soaking wet) hamburger bun.

Steve smiles to himself, watching Dustin and Lucas gang up on him for adding chlorine to their food. “Yeah it was.”

i had to do the fake one too!!

[slasherscream]

A/N: shout-out to @abominableghostface, who was my beta reader and co-conspirator as usual.

CRAZY ASS BOYS GANG + WHAT TYPE OF "LEAVING IN THE MORNING" PERSON ARE THEY

❥ we ride at dawn. try and survive ❥

Billy Loomis - The man with the plan. When he says morning he means we are going to be in the car and on the road by the time the sun rays begin to hit the earth. Granted, it's not a hectic morning by any means. He'll have made sure the two of you started packing days in advance. There’s no last minute rushing around. No wondering if you packed a toothbrush, or your favorite jacket. You double checked everything the night before, and then checked behind one another to make sure. But no matter how peaceful the waking, being dragged to your car at 4:30am will make you want to kill him. He passes you your favorite blanket that he threw in the dryer last minute, a cozy protection against the dewy chill of the night turning to morning. When he tells you to sleep until he finds somewhere decent to eat you hate him a little less.

Jordan Li - By nature Jordan is more of a night owl. Through pure necessity they’ve molded themself into something resembling a morning person. Sure, the way they don’t start smiling before 10am shows you it’s not at all a natural state of being, but they do it anyways. 

So used to starting the monotonous, average days bright and early they’re definitely not going to want to start a vacation late. They wake up to the sound of their alarm. They wake you up to soft kisses pressed into your skin. When you open your eyes, scowling at them anyways, they can’t help but laugh, “Yeah I know, I know, fuck off. But we gotta head out before traffic hits.” 

Knowing how you are in the mornings Jordan packed the car last night. When you roll over, intent on ignoring them they roll their eyes and shift, so that he can drag you from bed no matter how hard you try and make yourself dead weight. 

You’re still half asleep, leaned up against him beneath the spray of the shower, but wake up when he flicks water at your face.

“Fuck off.” You grumble. 

“Once we’re on the road I’ll fuck off for at least an hour. Then we’ll grab breakfast, yeah?” He pushes a loofah in your hand and grins once you take it. They shift again, nudging you out the way with her hip so you’re sharing the water instead of hogging it, “Wash my back so we can head out.” 

When they wake you up outside a diner two hours later instead of one you’re feeling much more agreeable, pulling them in for a kiss when they open your car door.

Sebastian Valmont - A chronic riser with the sun. It doesn’t matter what time he goes to sleep, he is going to wake up right as the sun rises. He has black out curtains and takes morning yoga classes. The bastard. His body simply enjoys being awake at six am. Thus, he sees absolutely no reason why leaving for your trip should come hours after that. He’s going to be the one driving anyways. The maids packed all your things, and the butler brought everything out to the car. All that’s left is to get you out of the house. Sebastian helps you put on your clothes, laughs at the way he has to push your arms into your shirt, and drag you to brush your teeth. When he tucks you into the passenger seat he knows you’ll be asleep again by the time he slides into the driver’s seat. He sneaks glances at you for the first few hours of the drive, quietly listening to music and the soft sound of your snoring, enjoying every second.

Stu Macher - Ball of energy that he is, Stu is awake bright and early, and does not need time to “wake up.” He unfortunately acts like this is a universal experience. The fact that he’s excited about the trip makes his typical lack of empathy towards night owls even more brutal than usual. You’re unceremoniously dragged from bed. He tickles you as you brush your teeth. If you seem a little extra groggy that morning he hops in the shower with you and turns it on cold to get your motor running. He acts completely baffled about why you’re still scowling by the time he’s back from his banishment of loading up the car while you try to dress yourself in peace. To make matters worse he wants to talk about anything and everything with you despite the fact that the sky is still that sleepy shade of blue that’s half night, half dawn. You stare at him hatefully from the corner of your eye, grunting answers at him until you pass a diner that’s open and you can get caffeine into your system. His excitement for the trip is cute once you’re awake.

Kevin Khatchadourian - Rises with the sun and is deeply irritated that you don’t. On a regular day he rarely let’s you sleep in. You’ll be lucky if he chooses to start his daily routine without you. On the mornings when he decides to practice archery, which is most, you’ll get an extra hour and a half. By the time he’s coming back inside he wants you both moving around one another, starting the rest of the routine. Brushing teeth, making food, the idle chatter of your voice. Considering he’s not fond of changing your routine, which is exactly what a vacation is, he doesn’t want to hear a single complaint about the hour he wakes you up to start the drive. He also doesn’t let you fall asleep when you get into the car, even though he’s the only one driving. You’re keeping him company no matter how tired you are.

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - While he maintains a strict schedule of waking up early unless hungover he is by no means a morning person. He’ll wake you up as gently as he’s capable of if the shrillness of the alarm didn’t do the trick, rocking you by the shoulder until your eyes blink open. The two of you packed the car last night so there wouldn’t be anything to do or communicate with one another upon first waking up. Two non-morning people trying to talk to each other upon first waking up was a recipe for disaster. Especially if it was the pair of you. Quietly you go about your morning. Brushing your teeth side by side, bumping against each other every now and then instead of speaking. Ben grabs the green smoothies that he made for the two of you the night before, something to tide you over until you found a place he was willing to eat at (which was always an unnecessarily complicated task.) It’s thirty minutes of driving and radio playing softly before you’re caught in a bit of traffic and you’re awake enough to be sweet. You lean across the cupholder to kiss his cheek and he gives you a small smile,  “Morning, L/N.” The two of you are experts at sharing your mornings by now.

❥ we leave sometime before noon ❥

Jason Dean/JD - Will never wake you up before he thinks you’ve gotten all the rest you need. His favorite hobby is turning off your morning alarms if he thinks you set them unreasonably early in comparison to when you fell asleep. He’s certainly not going to break that pattern for the start of a vacation, when you should be resting. You’ll wake whenever you naturally wake up, JD still wrapped around you. You’ll shower, drink some coffee, do one last check of the luggage and then he’ll haul everything out to the car for you, no matter how much you both packed. He likes you to not lift a finger during your trips and it starts before you ever leave the house. It certainly puts you into a vacation mindset.

David Mccall - David himself is an early riser but likes to let you sleep in whenever he can. The start of a vacation is certainly one of those times. He spends the hours before you wake taking care of last minute things. He checks all the bags again, makes sure everything you could possibly need is packed, then loads up the car. He makes sure the house is clean so there’s no mess to come back to that you’ll stress yourself out over. Closer to the time he knows you’ll get up he starts making breakfast for you. He’s so focused on the task he jumps when your arms loop around his waist and you start to press grateful sleepy kisses to his back. You’ll be on the road in an hour or two, he’s in no rush. He wants you relaxed and enjoying yourself every step of the way.

Josh Washington - Due to his insomnia he is not falling asleep any earlier than one am most nights. To ask him to get up at dawn would be like killing a puppy. You both sleep in, wake up sometime just before noon. You like to be realistic about your expectations for yourselves, so there’s no rush. A late start was factored into the plans from the beginning. You packed everything into the car the night before, so all there’s left to do is hop in. You wake yourselves up with some music to start. Barely twenty minutes on the road you see a cute diner and stop for late breakfast. You smile at each other as the afternoon sun shines on both your faces, sleepily discussing what you’re most excited about doing when you arrive at your destination.

❥ secret third worse thing ❥

Nathan Prescott - Nathan likes your journeys to begin in the dead of night. Whether it’s heading to the airport or hopping in the car to start a long drive, a 9pm start time is the sweet spot for him. He doesn’t like waking up early to start trips in the morning. Nor does he like being stuck in the claustrophobic traffic of other human bodies or cars during the afternoon. You’ll be dead tired by the time you get wherever you’re going but having a good beginning to vacations is important. Especially for Nathan. When you start at night his anxiety tends to be lower for the whole trip. The things we do for love.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Wibta if I told my mom she loves a cat more than her own children.

I do feel like an asshole for this. I’m 17f and I have a younger sister 15F. My parents are married and for the most part good. When have a 12 year old cat that my mom just adores.

This part is all speculation, but when I very young like I was 5 or something my mom had an event that changed a lot. She stayed with her parents and would visits us. My grandparents would help out and no one really ever explained what happened to her but she lived there for like a year, she did move back in with us. My dad got her a cat to cope while she was away. The speculation is she had really bad post partum depression and had a break down. The reason I believe this/and this is my own theory, was when I was struggling mentally, my mom encouraged me to go to a therapist and they asked family history and she said she had struggled with depression/episodes and had tried medication but never stayed on. She just said when she was younger she had a hard time regulating emotions, and she wants me to worry about me and my own emotions. The post patrum comes from the fact that I asked my dad why did you two have kids and he admitted he wanted kids and my mom was more on the fence. I also find it weird she gets really nervous around Mother’s Day and will often try to not celebrate. (She always says she could be a better mom)

My mom is a good mom don’t get me wrong. She’s always encouraged my sister and I to try and do our hobbies. She’ll drive us where we gotta go. I know she works overtime when she wants to make sure we can do stuff for the family. It’s just sometimes, she seems more like a distant mom. She’ll listen to us, do anything asked, but idk how to put it into words.

But she really loves this cat. And I do love our cat too, but this cat and my mom are bonded. The second my mom comes home and the cat greets her and my mom picks her up and kisses her. She calls the cat her pretty princess and a hundred other nicknames. She calls me my dad and sister honey, bunny, and sunny. I know the cat actually makes my mom happy. Her eyes light up when she sees the cat. I know she looks forward to coming home to the cat. When we go on vacations she’ll miss the cat, or if she goes on a work trip she’ll always ask for pictures of the cat or ask to see the cat on FaceTime. She throws a small birthday party for the cat every year and makes a cake. For our birthdays she’ll ask what we want and sometimes she resorts to store bought desserts.

So this is where it gets bad. Our cat is now sick and probably has a year left to live. The vet told my mom she’s a good cat owner and has always done right for her, but with her age, treatment isn’t really the route because it’s not gonna prevent death, so just focus on making the cat happy and comfortable (this vet appointment was her 6 month check up.) My mom hasn’t been doing well mentally. She’s always struggled with mental health. She just seems to have a shakey mind at times if that makes sense. She very much before would hide her struggles, but we knew she’d have them. Before she would like stand still just gripping the counter with one hand. Now my mom is definetly depressed. She will come home be greeted by the cat, and go to her room and cry with the cat. She’s been just not happy.

My sister and I kinda decided to see if telling her we got good grades would cheer her up, and she’ll say good job and will sometimes offer to cook something or get something for us, but her eyes are just like very tired. (There is also an app she can use to check out grades but she never once used it and will just take our word face value) We’ve talked to my dad about this and he basically said that our mom has always loved animals (she use to work with her grandpa at a pet store he owned, but apparently her grandpa wasn’t a good person to most people in the family except her, so that was hard on her). I asked my dad what he thinks and says it’s normal for someone to be sad about this and that he’s gonna work hard or make sure we get all our needs handled. Which is nice, but I kinda wish it was my mom. I don’t feel dire need of anything, I’m just annoyed/jealous a cat can destroy my mom mentally.

My mom has gone over load for the cat. She cooks for her, makes her dinner buys the best food and mixes then. She often cries while cooking, and asks the cat if she likes the food.The cat doesn’t even know what’s happening.

I was looking at prom dresses online and asked my mom to look with me and she was just out of it. She would just say she’d like one or she’s not a fan but don’t let that discourage me. She’s just kinda lifeless. I try talking to her about it and she’ll aplogize and says she’ll get better. (It’s been like a week)

It boiled over when my mom’s sisters came over. (She’s the youngest. One sister has kids and one doesn’t) My mom tried to be happy and perky but ended up crying about the cat. Her sisters kinda said that she’s gotta be strong for her family and my mom just cried saying everything’s gonna be so much harder without the cat. I wasn’t in the room, they were in the basement, and there’s a vent where you can hear everything down there. My sister and I do easedrop to see what they say (her sisters are loud but we can never hear what my mom is saying without the vent. Normally we do it because my mom is a more different interesting person and again we don’t know our mom well. Away from us she kinda puts down the facade and actually talks). I was just angry. Her life isn’t hard. We’re middle class, if she wants to go to therepy she can afford it. We all deal with grief and loss. Yes I’m gonna be sad when our cat passes, but she is an older cat. I don’t imagine my life becoming “harder” other than my mom being depressed, but she is an adult who will heal from this.

After her sisters left and she was doing her night routine, I asked her if she loves the cat more than my sister and I. She said that’s not true and if she could do something more for my sister and I please name it. I told her that that’s the problem is that she does stuff for the cat without thinking, but for us it’s all asking us and she’s the adult she should know. She’s said she’s not a mind reader and she’s gonna rely on the information I give her to help me out where she can. I went to my room because ovbiosuly that conversation wasn’t going anywhere. I feel like my mom understands a cat more than her own daughter.

My dad came in a little while after and we talked. He assured me my mom loves me and this cat has been like an emotional support animal through the years. He mentioned my one friend who has an emotional support dog and compared them and told me that the cat has helped my mom emotionally with emotional regulation and just helps her steady herself. I asked if we were enough, or if my mom regrets having a family and she would just be happier if she just left us for the cat and lived by herself. My dad told me she loves all of us, but depression can be hard to navigate. I asked him about how he wanted us more than our mom and he just said that he was more excited, but my mom wouldn’t have had us unless she wanted us (which I don’t think is totally true.)

I went into my parents room and my mom was there with the cat. Again going to the cat for comfort. I told her I was sorry for saying she loved the cat more than us and she apologized for how her treatment towards the cat can seem that way and if I ever need anything please ask. It made me mad because she again is relying on me to know what’s wrong/ or ask, instead of her just idk taking initiative. I didn’t say that.

I get people can be mentally ill, but she’s also my mom. I do feel bad about telling my mom she loves a cat more than me, but I also don’t feel too reassured.

[loveesiren]

Doing It All For Us (Pt. 12)

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe and Y/n leave the Bahamas and have a chance to enjoy themselves.

Warnings: Language, fluff, smut

Word Count: 2.8k+

You wake up to Rafe peppering kisses to your swollen belly. "Goodmorning, angel," He whispers against your skin. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Mmmm, don't wanna get up." You whine. Rafe's bed was so comfy. The warm air that drifted in through the patio doors added to your comfort and you were suddenly sad this wasn't a real vacation to the Bahamas.

"I know baby, I'm sorry. I promise we'll come back here soon."

"Honeymoon?" You ask.

Rafe looks up at you, smile wide on his face. "Honeymoon." He confirms. "But first," He says as he climbs back up your body, letting his lips hover over yours. "I owe you a ring, my dear fiancee."

You smile, taking his face between your hands as your guide his lips to yours, savoring every second of the kiss with your fiance. You'd never get tired of saying that. Atleast until you got to call him your husband.

You lazily got ready, putting on some basic make up, some shorts, and one of Rafe's t-shirts. He carried your stuff to the truck and you made your way downstairs. You ate cereal while you watched Rafe, Ward, and the escorts load up the gold on to the truck.

You sat in between Ward and Rafe as you drove to the airport. Rafe had his arm lazily slung around your shoulder as he leaned his head against yours.

Suddenly, a bunch of kids were running out in front of the trucks causing you all to stop.

"What the hell is this?" Ward asked.

"Oh, God, it's just some kids," Rafe said. "Move! Get out of the way!" He began yelling out the window.

Something didn't feel right. This was a trap.

"It's a trap!" One of the escorts yelled. You turned around to see men approaching your vehicle.

"We gotta go!" You yell.

Ward pulls out around the other trucks and takes off through an alley. "Where are we going?! Find where we are!" He yells at Rafe.

"Alright, alright, alright!" Rafe responds, looking at his phone. "This road goes to the same place just keep going."

"What the fuck was that?!" You ask as you tried to steady your breathing. You didn't realize you were clinging to Rafe's shirt until he pulled you into him. He wrapped protective arms around you as he looked out the window for a sign of anyone following you.

"Stay on this road, it will take us directly to the airport." Rafe says.

"Oh, what the fuck..." You mutter as you see the barrels and workers blocking the road ahead.

"Are you kidding me?" Ward says. "Get the gun, Rafe."

Rafe reaches for the glove box, pulling the gun out and tucking it in the back of his waist band. You swallow. You still hated guns but you'd been around them much more recently. Rafe gives you an apologetic look and you just nod, letting him know you trust him.

The people that approach the truck pull a gun on Ward and a knife on Rafe. Noticing you're pregnant, the man pulls you out of the car too, pushing you forward with Ward so he can keep the gun on both of you.

"Please don't hurt her!" Rafe begs, keeping his eyes on you.

"Shut up!" The woman spits at Rafe. "Move these to the side of the road."

Ward and Rafe begin moving the barrels and are forced on the ground. "You too, Princess!" He yells at you.

"I-I can't lay on my stomach," You say, keeping your hands up.

"On your knees then!"

You glance over at Rafe. You could see him trying to swallow his anger. You pleaded with your eyes for him not to try anything stupid.

"Go, go!" You hear the man yell.

You turn around and your jaw drops as you see Sarah and John B running to the truck.

"Sarah?" Ward yells. "Sarah, baby, you're alive!" He was standing up now. "You're alive, baby, I can't believe it! I love you!"

You see John B raise his gun as Ward moves closer to him and Sarah. Before he could pull the trigger, Rafe fires his gun. You watch as the bullet hits Sarah in the stomach.

The man hits Ward in the head with his gun, causing him to fall to the ground before he turns the gun on you. The woman had a gun pointed at Rafe now and you couldn't help the tears of fear that fell from your eyes.

John B and Sarah drove off with the gold and the two people holding you captive got in their own truck and drove off as your escorts made their way down the road.

Rafe ran to you, wrapping you tightly in his arms. "Are you okay?" He whispered against your hair. You nod in response, trying to muffle your sobs against his chest. "It's okay, baby girl, I got you."

"Fuck, I'm sorry Y/N-" Ward began. He was quickly cut off by Rafe shaking his head. Now wasn't the time.

-

You were taken back to the police station while they tried to locate the gold. You clung tightly to Rafe as Ward gushed about seeing Sarah. "It was her, right? It was her?"

"It was her, yeah..." Rafe responded.

"She's alive," Ward smiles. "I don't know what the hell you were doing though, shooting a gun right at her. You're just lucky you didn't hit her."

"I did. I did hit her."

"You shot Sarah?!"

"I was trying to shoot John B, okay? It was an accident. She stepped in the way. I did not mean to shoot her."

"Okay, okay, okay. I'm sorry." Ward says.

"But I don't care that I did."

You look up at Rafe as the words leave his lips. "Rafe, that is your sister!" Ward scolds him.

"Sister? The one who stole from us? The one who had her boyfriend pointing a gun at us, dad!" Rafe shot back.

An officer came in and handed Ward his phone, showing him a picture of Sarah and John B. You tune them out as you keep your gaze on Rafe. He turns to look at you and you can see a darkness in his eyes. Something was wrong and it made you nervous.

-

Ward had gotten two hotel rooms while the police looked for the gold. You sat on the bed and flipped on the tv while Rafe paced around the room.

"Rafe, what's going on?" You ask. You could tell shit was starting to get to him.

"I'm not okay..." He finally said. Sitting down on the edge of the bed and running his fingers through his hair. "I don't know how much more of this shit I can take...I feel like I'm losing my mind."

"Rafey..." You say softly, crawling over to him and climbing in his lap. He accepts you needily, pulling you close as he sniffles into your shoulder. He keeps one arm wrapped around you and brings his other palm to your swelling belly. You can feel his shoulders relax as he he breathes in your scent and feels his child growing inside of you.

"I want to be okay...for you and Wolf..."

"You will be, my love. Once we get the gold back...We'll get a place of our own..." You speak softly, raking your fingers through his shaggy hair as he leans into you. "We can paint Wolfie's room together...what color do you think he'll like?" You ask, trying to soothe your fiance.

"Purple..." He mumbles into your neck. "With dinosaurs."

You chuckle. "Of course he'll have dinosaurs."

You bit back tears as you held your sweet boy in your arms. You knew he was struggling and you wished so badly you could take that pain from him. You just wanted to marry Rafe, have your son, and live a normal life. But now you were tangled in this huge mess. Rafe was falling apart, you were almost six months pregnant. Ward was no help to his son. Sarah and her Pogue boyfriend were just toxic. You needed to step up and save your family.

You laid down with Rafe, running your long nails through his hair as you listened to the hotel TV play in the background. The sun began to set and Rafe drifted off to sleep.

You carefully took his arms off of you and crawled out of bed. You tried your best to be quiet as you made your way out of the room and headed towards Ward's room. You were surprised to find Ward already on his way to your room.

"Where's Rafe?" He questioned.

"He's asleep. He's not doing well..."

"What do you mean?"

"This shit is getting to him. What he's done...to Peterkin...to Sarah...All this...chaos." You say, gesturing at nothing. "He's not okay, Ward. And I really need him to be okay. Wolf needs him to be okay."

Ward sighed and looked down, offering a small nod. "You're right," He says, placing his hands on his hips. "You're right. Listen...I just got the call. We got the gold back. When we get home and I sort out all the little details, I'm going to set you and Rafe up with a fourth of it-"

"A third." You demanded.

"Y/n, I-"

"You wouldn't have it if it wasn't for Rafe. All the trauma falls on him. He's going to need therapy. We're going to need a house for our baby."

"But your dad-"

"I'll talk to my dad. What's important is that Rafe is okay and ready to be a father to his son. Your grandson."

Ward thinks for a second before nodding. You were calling the shots. You always did.

"By the way..." You added. "Rafe proposed."

Ward's eyes went wide as he turned to look at you. "You guys are-"

"Inlove. Pregnant. Killers. The least we can do is tie the knot and be a real family. I love your son. He's perfect. You've always been too focused on Sarah to realize that Rafe always has your back. But now he's going to be my husband and Wolf's father you'll have to fend for yourself. We need him now. We're his family. Wolfie comes first."

You could see Ward's eyes begin to water as he registered your words. You were right. You were completely right. Rafe always had his father's back. But now Rafe was going to be a father himself and he was going to put you and Wolf over everything. Including his own dad.

Ward nodded, biting back tears. "I'm going to make sure everything is set for our flight tomorrow. I'll see you two in the morning, okay?"

You nod your head as Ward walks past you. You move to go back to your room.

"And Y/n," Ward turns back to look at you.

You look over to meet his gaze.

"Wolf always comes first." He offers a small smile. "Rafe is going to be a great father."

You smile, placing a hand on your swollen belly. "Yeah, he really is." You agree before pushing the door open and heading back into your room to join Rafe in bed.

-

The flight home was a blessing. No nausea, no vomiting. You rested peacefully in Rafe's lap. When you arrived back in the OBX you and Rafe opted to go to your house. You wanted to be holed up in your room with your fiance for a few days.

"I'm gonna shower. Join me?" You asked, cheeky smile plastered on your face as you stripped out of your clothes.

Rafe bit his lip as he admired your naked body, perfectly tan and swelling with his child. "Go start it, I'll be in in just a minute, yeah?"

You giggle and run off to the bathroom.

Rafe leans over and grabs his phone, opening up the group text that lacked your number.

I proposed to Y/n

He pressed send and chewed on his thumb as he waited for a reply from your friends. He listened as the shower turned on and you stepped inside, overly excited to join you.

Courtney: WHAT?!

Kelce: When????

Topper: Holy shit

Rafe read the messages and began typing.

A lot to explain. A lot I need help with. Didn't even give her a ring yet. Court, help me pick one out?

C: Duh!! Meet me on the mainland tomorrow at 3. Top, Kelce, distract Y/n?

T & K: On it.

Rafe smiled, excited that your friends were so ready to help. He tossed his phone to the side before hopping up and running to the bathroom to join you.

"Aphrodite..." He cooed as he stepped into the shower and wrapped his arms around you, cupping your belly and leaning his face into your neck. "So perfect..."

You smiled, reaching back to lace your fingers through his hair. You felt so close to him as you placed your other hand over his on your belly. You needed him closer though.

"How are you feeling, my love?" You ask him. He hums happily into your hair as he rocks you back and forth. You smile, finding peace in knowing that, for right now, he's okay.

"Wanna make love to you..." He mumbles.

You bite your lip at his words, knowing you're about to get the gentle side of Rafe. As much as you loved him fucking you into oblivion, you also loved how slow and gentle he was when he really wanted to show you how much you meant to him.

He helped to clean you, getting all the spots you couldn't reach with your growing belly. You took your time washing him too, just enjoying the feeling of his naked body against yours.

When you finished your shower, Rafe stepped out and grabbed you your towel, wrapping you up in it and helping you dry off.

He picked you up bridal style and carried you back to your bed. He laid you down gently and hovered over you. He was hard, precum already dripping from his tip as he scanned your clean body. "So fucking beautiful..." He mumbled, placing soft kisses across your chest. "Never seen such a beautiful creature in my life..."

You hummed at his words, silently begging for him to touch you.

"How can I make you feel good, mama?" He asked, the vibration of his voice against your skin was intoxicating.

"Touch me, Rafe..."

Rafe smiled, bringing a soft thumb to your clit and circling slowly. You felt his index finger run up your entrance, collecting the juices that flowed so effortlessly out of your body.

He leaned his forehead against yours as he continued to thumb your clit. "So wet, my pretty girl..."

You could feel the twist in your stomach begin to form as he brushed over your throbbing clit.

"Ra-"

Rafe pulled his hand away, watching you almost come undone underneath him.

You whimpered at the sudden loss of connection. "Rafe, please..."

"Don't worry, baby girl. I'm going to make you cum. Just want you to cum on my dick, yeah?"

You nod your head, squeezing your eyes shut. "Need you, Rafe...please...please..." You beg.

"Awh, baby..." He whispers, running a thumb over the soft skin of your cheek bone. "You need me to make you feel good, huh?"

You knew this was feeding his ego but you didn't care. It was true. Your core was aching. You needed him inside you. "Hurts Rafey...please...need you...daddy..."

He groans at that. He was weak when you called him that.

"Anything you want, my angel..." He whispers, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to him and slowly pushing his cock inside you.

Your jaw falls open at the sensation of him stretching you out. You would never get used to his size.

"Feel okay, baby?" He asks.

"Mhmm," You moan.

Rafe begins to move slowly, pulling out of you and pushing back in. He moved so slow that you could feel everything, every inch of his skin filling you and your walls were already fluttering around him.

"You are ecstasy..." He whispers, thrusting into you slowly again. "Never felt so amazing...so in love...handcrafted by God herself...I'm so lucky....so in love....so...so...in love...."

You could feel tears escaping from your eyes at his words. He made love to you with so much emotion, so much love. He made you feel like you were the only two that existed, floating through time and space as one.

You didn't realize you were crying now, letting out a whimper into his shoulder.

He wrapped a hand around your thigh and brought your leg up, thrusting a little harder to hit you just right. "That's it baby...cum for me, my beautiful girl..."

You cried loudly as you released around his cock, the sensation was almost overwhelming. Rafe stayed buried inside you as you squirted on his stomach. His absolute favorite thing. Sending him into his own orgasm, you could feel his warmth filling you up and the sensation calmed you.

You finally met Rafe's eyes and you noticed the slight tears forming there.

"Why are you crying baby?" He asked you, forehead pressed to yours as he smiled at you.

"I-I just love-love you so fucking m-much..." You whimpered. The feelings you had for this man were so overwhelming you couldn't help but cry.

He reached a hand up and cupped your face as a tear fell from his eye too. "My pretty girl..." He whispered, pressing a kiss to your nose. "The moon, the stars, the planets, the heavens...you outshine all of them. You are the most divine creation. I'm not worthy to even be in your presence."

"Rafe-"

"Shhh...Aphrodite. Sleep my love."

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! :)

@outerbankspov @torturedtypewritersdept

[fluentmoviequoter]

Because of My Family

Requested Here!

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!wife!Street!reader (Street's sister)

Summary: When you return to S.W.A.T. after having your fourth child, you are fatally injured. Your family gives you a reason to fight.

Warnings: angst to fluff, depiction of gunshot wound (r is shot), 20-David is the best group of men in the world

Word Count: 4.0k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Hey, sleepyhead, you’re not on vacation anymore. We gotta get up.”

You sigh and roll closer to Deacon as you argue, “Maternity leave is not vacation. And I’ll remind you that it’s your fault.”

Deacon chuckles as he pushes your hair out of your face and kisses your forehead. “Your brother will kill me if you don’t come in with me.”

“You can take Jim,” you murmur as you press your face against Deacon’s chest. “Do I really have to get up right now?”

“Five minutes,” Deacon answers. “Or I’m pulling you out of bed.”

“I’m sure that was supposed to be a threat, but it didn’t sound like one.”

The baby monitor beside your bed crackles before you hear your family’s newest addition whine. Deacon pats your hip and reminds you to get up as he goes to check on his youngest child. You stand, too, and answer your phone when it rings.

“Good morning,” you greet as you walk to the bathroom to get ready. “And before you ask, yes, I’m up.”

“Whoa, take it easy. I’m just excited to have you back at work,” your brother Street replies. “You plan on being this grumpy all day?”

You chuckle at Street and smile when you hear Deacon having a one-sided conversation.

“Are you nervous?” Street asks.

“No, I’m actually really excited. I’ve loved being home with the kids, but I miss it.”

“You mean you miss me.”

“You’ve been here every single day, Jim. I wish I could miss you, but you don’t let me.”

“You love me.”

“Luckily for you,” you tease.

“How’s Deac? Nervous for you?”

You glance toward the nursery and lower your voice to say, “If he is, he isn’t showing it.”

Street hums before he says, “I’ll see you at HQ. Love you.”

 “I love you, too. See you in a bit.”

You get ready quickly, growing more excited to get back to work. You love your family, but S.W.A.T. has been part of your life for a long time, and you missed it during maternity leave. While you anticipate what your first day may be like, Deacon lets your sitter into the house. When it’s time to leave, Deacon takes your hand and walks you to the car, promising to be by your side at work just as he is at home.

✯✯✯✯✯

“There they are!” Hondo yells when you and Deacon walk into S.W.A.T. HQ.

“So glad to see you,” Luca says. He smiles, hugs you, and whispers, “You look amazing.”

“Thanks, Luca,” you respond. “Thank you, all of you, for everything over the past few months.”

“She’s mostly talking to me,” Street interjects.

“You didn’t do it alone, Street,” Deacon argues.

“Okay,” you call, raising your hands. “Thank you Deacon and Street for single-handedly getting me physically ready to come back to work.”

Street smiles as he says, “You’re welcome.”

“Not like I’m the one who had a baby and then beat my PFQ records or anything.”

“No way!” Luca exclaims. “New records?”

“Shaved five seconds off my run time and got another pull-up. That obstacle course seemed pretty easy after dealing with four kids, too,” you answer.

“Congratulations.”

Hondo is smiling but looking at you a bit too intently. 

“What?” you ask.

“I’m just wondering if we should apologize in advance,” he explains. “We’re going to be more protective than ever.”

“More than these two?” you ask as you point at Deacon and Street.

“Well, there’s more of us now. We just need to make sure you go home to all those babies every night.”

“I appreciate it, Hondo. And, trust me, I remember last time, so I’m prepared for the helicoptering.”

“20-David!” Hicks yells. “50 squad needs backup at a barricade in Norwalk.”

“Let’s roll!” Hondo adds.

Hicks smiles when he sees you, and when Street and Deacon arrange themselves on either side of you, he shakes his head. Whatever level of protectiveness you expect is underestimating how much your team cares about you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Rocker said they were called to a noise disturbance after the suspect barricaded himself in the house and opened fire on the responding patrol officers. Apparently he winged one of them, and they can’t track him in the house,” Hondo explains.

“What’s the plan?” Luca asks from Black Betty’s driver seat.

“50-David tried breaching, but the house has reinforced steel beams, and the pulls didn’t work. They suspect that he has more weaponry, so they don’t want to get too close.”

“What’s behind the house?” you ask.

“Uh, a tiny yard that backs up to an alley,” Street answers, looking at a satellite view of the area. "It has an Abingdon Street address, but there’s an alley between it and the house it backs to on Excelsior Drive.”

“Black Betty can’t pull from an alley, but we can hop a fence,” you suggest.

Hondo nods, flipping the map to find an approach route.

“Three side on the back… If we approach on foot from the other side of the alley, Grayland Avenue, he shouldn’t see us coming,” he says. “Let’s do it. Luca, you’re with me, we’ll join Rocker at Elaine and Abingdon. Street, you and Deacon lead the approach from the back.”

You nod when Hondo tells you to go with Deacon and Street. When Luca turns on to Grayland, you jump out of the back of Black Betty and move down the alley.

“Go inside,” you whisper to a child playing in an unfenced backyard.

Deacon raises a hand and signals for you to stop. Street stops directly to your left and waits for more information from Deacon.

“This is 30-David, I have visual of the house from the back alley. There’s a camera on the opposite corner from my location. Do we know if his surveillance works?” Deacon radios.

“One second, 30-David,” a tech back at HQ replies. “I’ll check.”

“This is a boring story,” Street whispers. “Your first call is a noise complaint gone wrong.”

“The automatic weapon adds a bit of suspense,” you reply with a smile.

“30-David, the camera is a fake. Clear to continue,” the tech alerts.

Deacon gestures for you to follow him in a single-file formation, and you end up in the middle. As you approach the fence, Deacon looks through the boards to see the back of the house and shakes his head.

“The windows are blacked out on this side, too. Except for one in the corner.”

“Then that’s the one we need,” Street replies.

Deacon jumps the fence and raises his weapon to cover the backyard while you and Street join him. He extends an arm toward you quickly when you land but moves it back when you nod.

“30-David, approaching the southeast window,” Deacon radios.

Before you take a step, the window slides open, and the barrel of an automatic rifle comes out. 

“Go, go, go!” Deacon yells, shooting a nonlethal round into the window.

The suspect inside opens fire as the beanbag enters; the firing is unplanned and erratic. You duck toward the ground and follow Deacon toward the opposite side of the house to exfil. 

“Deac, where are those shots coming from?” Hondo demands.

“Southeast window!” Deacon answers. “We’re moving to the west side.”

“Deac!” you call, watching as a matching window on the west side comes into view.

“Hondo, we’re stuck in a corner,” Street says. “Now would be a great time to say you have a plan!”

“We’re working on something, hold tight.”

“Kind of hard to do with someone shooting at us,” you mutter.

“Where’d he go?” Street asks.

“Both windows are closed now,” Deacon answers. “Maybe he saw the cops out front.”

You shake your head and point to a window further up. It’s blacked out but slightly ajar, so you suspect he’s still on this side of the house.

“Hondo,” Deacon radios. “Get a plan.”

“We’re trying, Deac,” Hondo answers.

“Try faster,” you add.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Luca, how would you feel about running Black Betty into the front of the house?” Hondo asks.

“What? Why?” Luca asks.

“They’re trapped at one of the back corners. Can’t get out without taking more fire,” Hondo says quietly, not wanting to concern the other police officers waiting nearby.

Deacon radios about getting a plan before Luca can answer. Hondo looks toward the house and doesn’t have time to reply to you before the suspect opens fire again.

The shots are concentrated at the back of the house, and Hondo rushes toward the front door and kicks it in while the shots are still ringing through the air. He takes careful turns as he moves toward the back corner. When the suspect comes into view, Hondo fires a beanbag round into his leg, knocking him to the ground.

“You’re under arrest,” Hondo says, kneeling beside the man as he handcuffs him.

“Deac, Street, someone give me an update!” Luca radios, moving toward the gate entrance at the side of the house.

“Suspect in custody,” Hondo alerts. “Deacon!”

✯✯✯✯✯

When the bullets begin ripping through the stucco on the exterior of the house, you, Deacon, and Street fall to the ground and cover your heads. Your adrenaline spikes as the shots continue. When they stop abruptly, you wait a moment before raising your head. The shots were close, so your ears ring as you move to your hands and knees.

“You okay?” Street asks though it’s muffled.

Luca asks something through the radio, but you can’t tell what he’s saying either. You drop your head and notice a growing puddle of blood underneath you. When you try to lift a hand to find the source, everything goes dark as you fall onto the concrete.

✯✯✯✯✯

Street yells your name when you tip forward, drawing Deacon’s attention.

“No, no, no,” Deacon repeats as he carefully turns you onto your back. 

They see the blood pooling under you and have to fight not to panic. Deacon finds the hole in your vest and pulls his hand back up, swallowing as he sees your blood covering his hand. He moves out from under you to put pressure on the wound.

“Take her vest off and then go get the med bag from Betty,” Deacon tells Street.

Your brother freezes, and Deacon repeats himself. Street nods before he carefully removes your bulletproof vest, exhaling sharply at the sigh of the clean hole through the Kevlar. Deacon lifts you gently so Street can pull the vest from behind your back and checks for an exit wound, but as he suspected, there isn’t one.

“Med bag,” Deacon reminds Street.

As Street stands, Deacon realizes he can’t feel your heartbeat below his hands anymore. He moves one hand up to your neck, but as he leaves stains on your skin, he can’t find any sign of a heartbeat.

“Street!” he yells.

At Deacon’s pained yell, Street immediately turns back and rushes to your side.

“Keep pressure on this,” Deacon demands.

Street kneels over your thighs and presses both hands against your side as Deacon moves forward. It isn’t until Deacon begins chest compressions that Street realizes you’re gone.

“Tell… Hondo,” Deacon grunts between compressions.

“Hondo,” Street radios. “We need an R/A.”

“What happened, kid? We can’t get to the backyard from the front or through the house, so we’re coming around the back. You and Deac stopped respo- who’s hit?” Hondo interrupts himself when he realizes that he didn’t get a response because someone couldn’t respond.

Street says your name as he watches Deacon begin mouth to mouth. 

“Hondo, get somebody to pass the med bag over the west fence,” Street adds.

Deacon hears Hondo yelling orders in the front yard, but his complete attention is on you. He tells Street to apply more pressure to stop the bleeding, and he begins another round of chest compressions. When he breathes into your mouth this time, you cough before gasping.

“Street!” Luca yells from the other side of the fence. “I’ve got the med bag.”

Deacon stands and pulls himself onto the top of the fence, taking it from Luca. When Luca sees the blood covering Deacon’s hands and smeared across his chest, he fears the worst.

“Pull this fence down if you have to, Luca. We have to get her out of here right now,” Deacon explains before jumping back down to help you. “Street, we’re packing the wound. She’s losing too much blood.”

“Deac,” you whimper.

“I got you, sweetheart. We’re not leaving you,” he promises.

Deacon nods at Street, and Street trades places with him. You stretch your hand out toward Street, and he takes your hand in his. When you notice that his hand is covered in your blood, you whisper a thank you for all they are doing to save you.

“I can’t breathe,” you pant.

Deacon looks up from your side and watches you take short, fast breaths. He asks Street to check your heart rate, and Street gives him an elevated number.

“Luca!” Deacon yells.

“Yeah, Deac?” Luca replies.

“Where’s the ambulance?”

“A minute out.”

Deacon licks his lips and turns back to packing your wound.

“Elevate her legs, Street. Twelve inches off the ground,” Deacon says. “Sweetheart, this is going to hurt. I’m sorry.”

You release a muffled scream as Deacon wraps a bandage around your torso and pulls it tightly to keep pressure on the wound. Sirens sound as the ambulance approaches, but there is no way to get you out of the backyard safely.

“Deac,” Hondo says, raising himself over the fence. He stops for a moment when he sees you, and Street and Deacon are covered in your blood, which doesn’t help his concern any. “We’re pulling the fence down right now.”

“Thanks, Hondo,” Deacon replies. 

Deacon situates himself between you and the fence and keeps a hand pressed to your pulse point. When your elevated heart rate suddenly plummets, Deacon says your name. You don’t reply, and Deacon apologizes before he puts more pressure on the wound. The resulting adrenaline spike brings you back, and Deacon closes his eyes when you yell in pain. The fence comes down harshly and loudly, but you don’t react to any of it.

“Oh, no,” Luca mumbles when he sees you, Deacon, and Street.

“What’ve we got here?” the first EMT asks as he runs over the destroyed fence.

“GSW to the lower right abdomen and possible hemorrhagic shock.” Deacon lowers his voice to add, “Her heart stopped twice already and she’s still losing blood.”

“Know her blood type?”

Deacon nods and tells him your blood type. Two more EMTs join the first with a gurney, and Deacon has to pull Street away so they can move you onto it.

“Go with her,” Hondo says. “We’ll be by later.”

Deacon and Street climb into the ambulance and sit beside you. The EMTs work quickly, leaving Deacon’s makeshift tourniquet in place.

“Heart rate and BP are plummeting,” one of the EMTs alerts.

Deacon and Street can only watch, helpless, as the EMTs prepare the equipment to shock your heart back into a normal rhythm. 

“Is she going to make it?” Street whispers.

“I- she’s a fighter, but I really don’t know, Street,” Deacon answers honestly.

✯✯✯✯✯

Hondo and Luca are waiting impatiently at S.W.A.T. HQ when Deacon finally calls.

“Deac, tell me you have good news,” Hondo answers.

“She- she’s in emergency surgery and they had some trouble finding all of the bullet fragments. Doc said she should be out in about twenty minutes, though, and her heart rate has been stable,” Deacon replies.

“Has been stable?” Luca repeats. “Was it not before?”

“Her heart stopped once in the backyard, and nearly stopped twice more while I was with her. Apparently there were a few more close calls when they first started the surgery.”

“Do they know if she’ll recover?” Hondo asks.

“They don’t know anything for sure. Just, uh, if you want to come down now, you can.”

“We’ll be there, Deac,” Luca replies. “Need anything?”

“No. Thanks, though, for everything.”

✯✯✯✯✯

As Deacon ends the call with Hondo, he gets another call from Hicks.

“Commander,” Deacon greets, hoping he won’t have to leave you.

“Deacon, I just wanted to tell you that I’ve taken 20-David off call, so you’re all free to stay with her unless there’s some kind of emergency,” Hicks says.

“I appreciate that, sir.”

“Just make sure she’s alright, Deac.”

A few minutes later, Hondo and Luca rush into the waiting room. Street and Deacon have changed out of the blood-soaked clothes from earlier and removed your blood from their skin, but they can still feel it.

“Deac,” Hondo sighs as he pulls him into a quick hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“Tell me what you need,” Luca offers.

“I already called our sitter, and she’s going to stay the night,” Deacon replies. “I don’t know what else I need to do.”

“You need to be here for her,” Hondo answers.

Luca moves to Street’s side to check on him as Deacon and Hondo sit down. Deacon recounts what happened, how one of the windows was open before the shots came through the wall.

Nearly an hour later, the doctor finally returns and says your name. Every waiting member of 20-David stands, eager to hear how you are.

“How is she?” Deacon asks.

“She is stable and in a room. She owes her life to your team, gentlemen. The first aid you performed and the speed with which you got her here is the only reason she’s still alive,” the doctor answers. “I can only let family come back at the moment, but I’ll ensure she knows you’re all here for her.”

Deacon and Street follow him into your room, and they’re both surprised to see you are conscious. You smile at them when they enter, and they rush to either side of your bed to hug you.

“The bullet damaged an artery in her torso, which we’ve repaired, and there was no other internal damage,” the doctor adds. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Where are the kids?” you ask Deacon. “The sitter-“

“Is staying the night. I called a while ago and told her what happened, and she was happy to stay with them,” Deacon assures you.

“And I can go stay with them after, for as long as you need,” Street offers.

You can tell that they’re upset, but you are too. Lying in your own blood like that and not knowing if you’d get to see your babies again was terrifying, yet there are only two things you want to do: hug your kids and go back to work.

“How long do you think I’ll be benched?” you ask.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Street responds as he rolls his eyes. “I’m considering quitting and you’re ready to go back?”

“Are you really?”

“I don’t know,” he admits while taking your offered hand. “That was terrifying, and I don’t want to think about losing anyone else.”

“Jim, you saved my life. And I will never leave you, okay?”

Street nods, and you squeeze his hand to remind him that you’re still beside him.

“Can I get some comfort now? Because I was covered in your blood earlier and just want a hug,” Deacon interjects.

You turn toward him and raise your other arm. Deacon hugs you, mindful of your side, and sighs against your neck.

“I love you,” Deacon whispers.

“I love you,” you reply. “And thanks for saving my life.”

“I didn’t-“

“I remember more than you think,” you argue with a smile. “Hey, is everyone here?”

“We’re family and you want Hondo and Luca?” Street asks obnoxiously.

You nod, and Street sighs as he pulls his hand away to get them for you.

“I need to hug our kids as soon as possible,” you tell Deacon.

Deacon smiles as he moves closer to you. “Soon,” he promises.

“Now that just ain’t fair,” Hondo says as he walks inside. “You still look like that after everything you’ve been through?”

“Don’t flirt with my wife, Hondo,” Deacon replies jokingly.

“I don’t know, I kind of like the attention,” you add. “Maybe we should do this more often.”

“Don’t ever say that again,” Luca demands as he lays a kind hand on your shoulder. “Glad you’re feeling good enough to make fun of us and our worry though.”

“Speaking of worry,” Hondo begins. “Street tells us you want to come back to work?”

You nod, and Hondo continues, “Then we will be with you through it all. Recovery, training, we got your back.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Seriously. I know I’ve been joking, mostly to distract myself, but I wouldn’t even be here without all of you, and I can’t thank you enough for that. My- our kids wouldn’t have me anymore, and there’s nothing I can say to make you understand what all of you mean to me and how much I appreciate what you did for me today – and do for me every day.”

“Did your family grow while I was away?” the doctor asks as he returns.

“No, it’s always been this big,” you reply. “Ask them, they love me.”

The guys nod, and the doctor shakes his head before telling you and your visitors you should be healthy again in just a few weeks. Then he says that visiting hours are over and politely asks everyone to leave.

“I’m her husband,” Deacon offers.

“Oh, my apologies. You’re free to stay for the night,” the doctor replies.

“I’m her brother,” Street adds.

“Would you like me to gather cots for everyone, ma’am?”

“We’re heading out,” Hondo says with a chuckle. “We’ll be back by in the morning. Have a good night and call if you need anything.”

“Seriously,” Luca adds. “I live closer than Hondo, so call me first, though.”

Hondo and Luca argue as they leave, and you smile. The doctor talks for a while, but you focus on Deacon’s hand in yours. He cleaned his ring at some point because it is no longer covered in your blood. Your wedding ring is at home, but the silicone ring you wear at work was taken off when you got to the hospital. As you slide Deacon’s wedding ring off, he glances at you but continues listening to the doctor. With Deacon’s ring on your finger, you feel more complete, even if you are in pain and miss your kids.

“I’m going to go find some food,” Street says after the doctor leaves. “You want anything?”

You smile, and Street sighs as he agrees to find your favorite food.

“You’re the best brother ever!” you call after him. “I love you!”

“Luckily for you I love you too,” he replies with a wide smile.

When it’s only you and Deacon, you slide over and pat the bed, asking him to join you. He smiles at the sight of his ring on your finger as he sits, letting you lean against his side.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you whisper. “But I’m glad you were with me.”

“I am too,” Deacon replies. “But when you’re released, we’re going home and sitting with all of the kids for as long as possible.”

“That sounds perfect. I love you, Deacon, and you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“I love you,” Deacon replies, kissing your cheek.

Street returns faster than expected, and when he pushes the door open and says, “I can’t believe I said your first day back was going to be boring,” you can’t help but laugh, even though it hurts your side.

You are alive because of your family, both your real family and your work family, though those lines blur more each day. There is nothing you wouldn’t do for all of them, and you know the opposite is true; they will be with you through everything, just as they promised. While you sit between your husband and brother, you know that you owe more than your heartbeat to your family.

[tacticaldiary]

Where One Goes, The Other Follows

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Angst.

Note: Mentions of attempted suicide. Death on a mission

"You said we'd get out of this, remember? You promised."

She feels him shake his head minutely, a movement she might have missed if not for how close she was pressed against him. "Promised you'd...get out."

A/N: I don't feel great, so you get to not feel great with me! You're welcome!

Masterlist

It hurts.

Everything aches, a deep-seated anguish pulsing through her entire body. Like a shot to heart...no, a shot to the heart would have been quicker than this. Painless. Instant.

Merciful.

She chokes on shallow breaths as blood pools between the shaky hands pressed to the middle of her abdomen. Crimson gurgles up in her throat, so metallic she can almost make herself relax with the familiarity of it.

A simple mission, they had told her. A simple in and out, no clearance to engage. Keep it clean and quiet. When Price had handed her the packet of information, Ghost already flipping through a similar one, she'd joked about it being a vacation from the gruelling environments the team is usually forced to tough out.

It was supposed to be easy.

So why does she have a bullet lodged in her stomach? Why did they pick up the intel in a suspiciously empty warehouse, only to be ambushed by a few dozen Russian soldiers laying in wait? Their intel was rotten, she grits her teeth at the thought.

Pinned behind a metal container, the roar of gunfire crescendos over her ears. Pressed thigh to thigh, she feels hopelessness claw at her when Ghost makes a frustrated sound at the empty clicking of his last pistol.

Nothing. They had nothing but the slowing beat of their hearts and the uncertainty of their lives.

Despite the situation, she laughs. A tortured, humourless, choked sound as her head hits the metal behind her. One soldier injured, the other soon to be ripped apart by dozen. What a way to go out.

Ghost glances at her, eyes a little too wide under his mask.

It was funny. Everything was a little funny under the prospect of dying right now.

"Keep pressure on that." He orders when her hands slip. "They don't know we're out of ammo." Patting down his vest for a second, he unclips a grenade. The last one there, a last resort. You didn't throw a grenade like that in a close quartered environment unless it was a last resort.

"We'll make a run for the shutter on the left once this goes off, yeah?" He says, eyebrows knitting together in what's blatant concern when she doesn't respond. "Copy, Sergeant?" He says sharply, moving to shake her shoulder.

"I can't move, Simon." Comes a soft reply, the resigned tone sends chills down his spine. "I'll stay here and distract them. You take the shutter. Gotta get this intel to Price."

"Negative." he barks, shifting into position. "We move as I planned. Evac is just beyond those doors in the field. They won't follow us there, not enough cover against heavy fire."

For a moment she comes back to herself. Did he not hear her? "I can't...Simon I can't move-"

"Heard you the first time, love." That's all he says before pulling the pin out and tossing the object. There are a couple of clinks as it rolls, then the shouts and yells of their enemies as they recognise the threat. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

Hope dwindles, like the last rays of light before the sunset. There was no getting her out of here. She knows that. Dead weight is tough to deal with, useless in their line of work.

"Promise?" She breathes out roughly, a joke for a dying soldier.

The conviction he meets her eyes with, fierce and determined makes even her dark thoughts halt in their tracks. "I promise."

She closes her eyes, braces for the loud noise and flying shrapnel, only to be yanked to her feet and thrown over a broad shoulder. The movement makes pain wash across her body, enough to make black dot her vision, but she gets her bearings and clutches onto the back of his vest anyway, letting him do as he pleases.

The explosion sounds, ringing in their ears and Simon takes off instantly. Ducking behind containers, he almost makes it to the exit before shots start firing again.

He grunts, jolts more than a few times before he reaches the shutters, slipping out and slamming them shut behind him.

The metal and concrete is scraped from her vision, replaced with a green field and the sound of a chopper's blades whirring. Wind blows against her hair and for a moment it seems surreal.

She thought she was going to die. A shuddering gasp makes its way through her as they stop midway through the field. Simon moves to set her down gently-

And sways.

"Simon-?" She starts to ask, halfway to the ground. Eyebrows furrowed in intense concentration, she can't help but notice the way his mask is damp from sweat...his clothes too, and surely that much of a run wouldn't have been enough to wear him out. She's so making fun of him the moment she can suck in a full breath if that's the case, and-

Simon buckles to the ground, taking her with him. She lands on top of him, pulling a strangled groan out of the man. "Shit, are you...you okay?" She pants, clutching a hand to her wound before sitting up on her knees next to him.

Her entire front is covered in more blood that it had been before, and that's odd because...oh.

His front is stained with enough blood to make his previously green vest the colour of wine.

The sight stuns her, knocks the breath out of her because...what?

"Hey, you-Simon you're bleeding." She gasps, abandoning her own woes to take a better look at him. Blinking away the sluggish dizziness from her own blood loss, she carefully tears off his vest and-

His torso is riddled with bullet holes.

Too many to count. All of them bubbling and bleeding, pouring out liquid that should be inside him because he needs that, it's important and he's going to bleed out if this keeps going...

Hands hovering over his chest, they move from injury to injury, not knowing which one to press down on. For each one there were three more, and the fight against the rising panic and bile rising in her is getting tougher and tougher by the second.

"Made it out, at least." He breathes, shallow and raspy.

"You-you're bleeding." Is all she can manage to say, voice shaky.

In shock.

"I noticed." His humour isn't appreciated.

"I'm sorry." She chokes out. "I didn't...you got shot because I-"

"Oi." He grits out. A shaky, trembling hand moves to cup her jaw and despite the state he's in the touch is grounding and as rough as ever. "None of...that."

"You can't die." She encases his palm with her own, keeps it pressed there uncaring of the blood slicking her face. "You can't. Simon, you-it's okay. It's going to be okay." A sob rips its way out of her, though she tries to choke the rest back.

"Can't...can't kill someone who's already dead...love." He mumbles into her hair, blooding it with blood that he's coughing up way too fast to not be concerned about.

"Don't leave," She begs, hunched over him, clutching onto his gear. She wants it off, wants to rip it all off and feel his skin, press her hand against his chest, and make sure his heart never stops beating. "Don't leave me, Simon. I can't- I need you." With a scratchy voice, she pleads and begs, trying to keep him talking. "You promised, remember? You promised we'd get out."

She feels him shake his head minutely, a movement she might have missed if not for how close she was pressed against him. "Promised you'd...get out." He croaks, bleeding out but nevertheless the same strong, still presence as always.

Still...still?

Her breath chokes her, her entire body trembling as her grip on his shirt tightens. "Simon...?" She whispers. No answer.

A sob rips out of her, raw and painful because this wasn't real. It was a dream. There was no other explanation.

She'd wake up in her room, head pillowed on his chest and pretending to still be asleep just to have a few more minutes of his warmth. Simon would chuckle, she'd feel the motion under her skin, and he'd prod at her side, line kisses against her forehead until a smile broke free and her ruse was up.

They'd be happy.

She'd be happy.

Her face stays pressed against him, her grip iron. She doesn't pull away, letting the primal fear and grief mix with the senseless hope that maybe he was still alive. She hadn't confirmed it. Hadn't peeked up to see it, so maybe he was still there, waiting for her. Like he said he always would.

Hours, days, maybe minutes? A period of time later footsteps thunder behind her. Shrouded in delirium and grief, she's still a soldier, and her instincts kick in.

Protect, protect, protect.

It's a mantra in her head as she curls over him, unwilling to let them take him away from her.

People surround them but her grip does not falter. Hands grab at her shoulder and someone's speaking, saying words, what...

"-go, you have to let go." The voice is...shaky?

Gaz?

Confused, she tilts her head up a centimeter to catch a glimpse of the person who has her. Gaz. It was Gaz. Looking exhausted, shaken but determined. His eyes flitter away from Ghost on the ground repeatedly.

"Gaz?" She asks, voice cracking. He nods, taking her confusion to his advantage and pulling her to her feet. When she makes a strangled sound and hunched over, he finally notes the wound on her abdomen and curses.

"We need a medic." He calls over his shoulder, pulling to sling her arm over his shoulder. "We've got you, exfil's here. You're gonna be alright now, yeah?"

"N-no." She shakes her head, fuzzy and full. "Not me, I-...Simon...Ghost, you have to help him he's..." A hacking cough cuts her off, sending sharp flares of pain all across her body. Gaz firmly keeps her head towards the front when she tries to look back. "What-...no, not me." A weak attempt at pulling away is made, "Simon, Gaz I need to help...Ghost." Mumbling to herself half incoherent, she finally bats his hand away and turns to cast a glance back.

Her steps falter into nothing when she sees her boyfriend.

The sliver of skin beneath his mask is a sickly pale, blood dripping out from under it. His balaclava is soaked in blood, a strange waterboarding technique to chart for the future, her delirious mind unhelpfully supplies.

It's the stillness that jarrs her, makes the reality finally sink in.

Simon was quiet, he was purposeful, he could lay looking through a sniper scope in one place for hours but he was never still.

This kind of stillness was one brought by the absence of the warmth of light.

Gaz is talking...is he? His mouth is moving that much she can see out of the corner of her eyes, but all she can hear is static as her mind clicks together a devastating picture, a scene that would haunt her for as long as she lives.

Dead.

She thinks she might throw up.

Simon. Ghost. Simon was dead.

They were supposed to be a pair. Unbreakable. Where one went, the other followed offering the silent reassurance that neither of them would ever be alone.

Where one went, the other followed.

She lunges against Gaz's hold, the strength in her battered form surprising the soldier enough to allow her to rip free and stumble over to her lover.

Shaky hands fumble around Simon's body, one of them grips his gloved one in her own tightly, God he was cold, how was he already cold? until cool metal meets her fingertips, slicked with their blood.

People call her name. One person...maybe five? It doesn't matter, nothing matters right now but the press of the barrel against her forehead.

There's no hesitation when she pulls the trigger.

But there's a distinct lack of blinding pain.

A stunned, heavy silence takes hold of the field. Slowly, guilt and dread and hate and self-loathing curling up in her gut, she peels her eyes open to see her team. Her family.

And if the cold corpse of her lover beside her wasn't already punishment enough, the devastated, broken, confused looks on theirs' definitely does.

Soap makes a strangled noise when she pulls the trigger again, her head full of cotton.

Click.

Oh.

That's right.

The chamber was empty, wasn't it?

Staring numbly at the gun, at the pistol that Simon had carried with him throughout his entire career, she doesn't fight the hands that grip at her, that pull her up.

Doesn't fight the way Simon's cold hand slips from hers. When the gun is gently pried from her iron grip.

Words fall upon deaf ears, a buzzing sound accompanying her glazed over expression as she stares at two soldiers dragging over a body bag towards him over Price's shoulder.

"It's alright, lass." Soap mumbles in her ear, and distinctly she notes the sheer of tears in his eyes out of the corner of his own. "We've got ya."

"He's..." She says faintly. Simon's head is zipped into the bag out of view. "Gone..."

And then she cries. No, crying is too lenient a word, for what leaves her is a sound reserved for a wounded animal, a sound that not even the most experienced interrogators could ever hope to coax out of her. She wails and cries, hoarse and raw because nothing about this was okay. Nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.

Because she was alive.

And her other half was dead.

And she was still alive.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(1/08/2023)

[gadriezmannsgirl]

Hi love your work! Could you write gavi x reader? Where gavi and reader both like each other but try to keep it a secret and gavi has a blue slushy and reader has a red and they both like make out and gavi goes back to his teammates and they tease him about it? Sorry for being Pacific 😂

Secret's Out -P.G6

Summary: Everyone finds out you and Gavi are together.

You giggled against Gavi's lips as they collided once more with yours "You gotta stop" You said in between kisses, feeling his hands roam around your body and bring you into him.

"No puedo. Estás muy hermosa" (Can't. You're beautiful) He said inbetween kisses

"The guys will start asking for us" You separated from him and smiled

"Let them" He shook his head before kissing you once more, you kissed him back for a few seconds before getting enough strength and separate from him completely. "Jus' want to kiss you"

"Pablo" You giggled grabbing his face and stopping his kissing attack.

You and Pablo admitted your feelings for each other about a month ago and ever since then you have been together but no one from his team knows that. You met him thanks to Ansu five months back and you got along with him so good that you got extremely close to each other and eventually started liking each other.

And now, you were here.

You turned around in his hold watching yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair and clothes when he decided to attack your neck "No, stop it now" He sighed and got his head back.

"Es que quiero tanto estar contigo" (I want to be with you so bad). He whispered against your ear kissing your cheek repeatedly as you smiled.

"Y yo también, believe me. Pero, no podemos por ahora" (So do I. But, we can't do that for now) Gavi sighed hugging you closer to him before letting you go.

"Go before I change my mind" He said smiling softly as you got out of the bathroom.

You went downstairs where the guys were chatting about something. You guys were at Ansu's place since it was one of their vacation days before preseason starts and since Barcelona was awfully hot lately, you decided to have a pool day with a lot of drinks to refresh ourselves.

You ran onto Raphinha at the living room as you screamed scared before you two laughed out loud from the stupidity of the scene and from how easily you tend to get scared.

After a few minutes more of laughter, you excused yourself and went to the kitchen grabbing another red slushy before coming outside when you saw Pablo was already there chatting with Araujo and Balde, as you went to Ansu.

"Where were you?"

"Bathroom, then Raphinha scared me and then I went to the kitchen and grabbed another of these" You showed him the slushy while Ansu was really quiet and with a confused facial expression "What's up?"

"Why's your mouth purple?"

"Sorry?"

"Your mouth's purple"

"You kidding"

"Y/N, I'm serious"

"That can't be because I didn't put any lipstick on and I have only eaten..." Your words died in your mouth when you saw Pablo with his purple lips too.

That little...

He was eating a blue slushy whilst you had a red one, you gasped lightly covering your mouth surprised. Ansu quickly turned himself around and looked at the same place you were looking in to.

"Pablo? Really?"

"What's up with him?" Your quick answer made Ansu laugh histerically

"Oh, I'm loving this"

"You're not loving anything" You replied seriously as Ansu laughed and turned around

"Pablo!" Ansu yelled and Pablo turned as Ansu laughed harder making Pablo grow confused

"What's up?" He said coming up to you both, Ansu was red from laughing.

"I'm glad you two are together but try not to make it seem too obvious"

"What are you on about?" Pablo acted confused whilst you were blushing hard

"Red plus blue equals purple" He laughed once more pointing his own lips, you felt Pablo's gaze on you

"¿Qué es lo gracioso?" (what's funny?) Pedri asked coming to you

"You can ask that to the little couple here" Ansu smiled as Pedri looked at you two and then smiled

"Purple?" He smiled as you groaned "It finally happened!" Pedri yelled happily "Those who bet 'till August, come over here and gimme all of your money!"

"Couldn't you wait a few months more?" Balde and Ferran groaned looking for their wallets

"You were betting on us?" Pablo asked surprised, his hand, though, was on your waist.

"It was inevitable. We all saw the eyes you gave to each other" Torre said pushing a bill onto Pedri's hand.

"Wait, who took the first step?" Ferran asked hopeful

"I did" Pablo said confused

"¡VAMOS!" Pedri yelled in victory as the guys took their wallets out once again

"Good news is we don't have to hide anymore" You rolled your eyes and smiled leaning into him, glad all of your friends liked you two together.

"I would have also bet on us, y'know?"

"Ay joder, Y/N"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

[daryltwdixon]

The Promise of Us: Chapter 39

“So the game goes, I say something I’ve never done, and if you have done it, you drink. If you haven’t done it, I drink. Then, we switch,” Beth explains, sitting across from Daryl with a cup in her hand. “You really don’t know this game?”

“I ain’t never needed a game to get lit before,” Daryl replies, the skin of his thumb caught between his teeth. 

“Wait, are we startin’?” Beth asks, her excitement clashing with his simmering reluctance.

“How do you know this game?” he mutters, his suspicion barely hidden.

“My friends played, I watched.” She brushes off his question and adds, “Okay, I’ll start.” She closes her eyes, pretending to think hard, but her first attempt is obvious. “I’ve never… shot a crossbow! So, now you drink.”

Daryl rubs his fingers together, staring at her with a deadpan expression. He wants to resist, but the rules seem simple enough. He reaches for his cup, bringing the strong liquid to his lips, feeling the familiar burn as he drinks. “Ain’t much of a game,” he mutters.

“That was a warm-up!” Beth insists. “You go.”

He grunts, hand returning to his mouth, teeth picking at the skin around his nails. His mind’s a mix of annoyance and hesitation. “I don’t know,” he mumbles.

“Just… say the first thing that pops in your head!” she presses, trying to keep the energy light.

“I’ve never been outta Georgia,” he finally says.

“Really?” Beth responds, intrigued. “Okay, good one.” She takes a sip, her curiosity palpable.

She continues quickly, eyes narrowing a bit as she thinks. “I’ve never been drunk and did somethin’ I regretted.”

Daryl stiffens, feeling the subtle dig. He knows she’s trying to pry, to make him crack open, even a little. His defenses flare up, and it’s not anger he feels—it’s shame. He lifts his glass and takes a swig, the bitter taste doing nothing to wash away the memories of all the bad decisions he’s made under the influence of liquor.

“I’ve done alotta things,” he says flatly, the words clipped.

“Your turn,” she prompts, eager to keep the rhythm going.

Daryl’s eyes shift as he thinks, feeling the weight of her gaze. “I’ve never been on vacation,” he says, voice low.

“What about campin’?” she asks, her tone lighter, almost playful.

“No, that’s just somethin’ we—” He pauses, the words catching in his throat. His gaze drops, shame bleeding into his expression until he looks up again after a heartbeat, “I had to learn. To hunt.”

Beth’s eyes soften. “Your dad teach you?” she asks, trying to be careful.

“Mhm,” he grunts, nodding, still watching for her reaction. 

Beth shifts awkwardly before coming up with her next attempt. “I’ve never been to jail. I mean—as a prisoner.”

His eyes narrow, the question striking a raw nerve. The old shame, buried deep but never forgotten, wells up inside him. He feels suddenly exposed, his past laid bare in front of her. 

“Is this what you think of me?” he asks quietly, voice tight with both defensiveness and hurt.

Beth’s eyes widen, realizing she’s crossed a line. “I didn’t mean anything serious,” she backpedals quickly. “I thought maybe the drunk tank. Even my dad got locked up for that back in the day.”

Daryl doesn’t let up, pointing to her with a rough gesture. “Drink up,” he demands, his hand back on his face, fingers covering his chin as if trying to shield himself from her scrutiny.

But Beth’s smile creeps back. “Wait! Prison guard, were you a prison guard before?” she guesses, her enthusiasm unintentionally prodding him further.

He takes his time answering, staring hard at her. “No,” he says at last, his voice low and flat.

“It’s your turn again,” she presses gently, trying to get back into the rhythm of the game.

But Daryl’s done. He pushes himself up abruptly, muttering, “Gotta take a piss,” as he stalks out of the cramped living room. It’s an excuse, and a thin one, but he needs distance. The game was never about fun to him—it was an interrogation, a slow peeling back of layers he’s spent the life he had now trying to forget.

He heads into the kitchen, releasing his fly, dropping his glass of leftover alcohol on the floor as it shatters on the ground. Her questions riled something in him—how different their lives have been, how far apart their worlds are. Beth grew up with family dinners and curfews; Daryl grew up with broken bottles and bruises, fighting just to exist. And then there’s Y/N, who grew up in the same kind of hell he did. She got it, never needed to ask these kinds of questions because she knew—she lived it. The shame from his past was never something he had to explain to her.

The glass shatters beneath Daryl’s boots, and Beth’s voice cuts through the chaos, urgent but hushed. “You have to be quiet.”

But Daryl’s fury is already boiling over, his body coiled tight with anger. “Can’t hear you! I’m takin’ a piss!” he shouts, voice harsh and ragged.

“Daryl, don’t talk so loud,” Beth hisses, her voice tense.

“What? You my chaperone now?” he barks back, his voice rough, his words laced with a bitterness that’s been festering inside him for far too long. He urinates against the kitchen wall, the anger a twisted kind of relief. When he’s done, he zips up, spinning to face Beth. “Oh, wait, it’s my turn, right?”

Beth’s face is a mix of frustration and something close to pity, but Daryl ignores it. He looks out the grimy window into the darkness of the woods, eyes distant, searching for something he’ll never find. “I’ve never, uhh…” he mutters, adjusting his belt as he steps into the room. “Never eaten frozen yogurt , never had a pet pony. Never got nothin’ from Santa Claus .” His voice turns sharper, colder, as he shoves over a dusty vase that crashes to the floor, shattering in front of him. He steps closer to Beth, lip curling with disdain. “Never relied on anyone for protection before—hell, I don’t think I’ve ever relied on anyone for anything!”

“That’s not true—” Beth begins, her voice softening as she tries to reach him, “You and—”

“ Don’t ,” he snarls, his voice breaking, pointing a finger at her, his face twisted with barely-contained rage. “Don’t you dare.” It feels like a dam breaking now, and he keeps going, throwing words at her again and again:

“I’ve never sung out in front of a big group in public, like everything was fine,” he continues, his voice heavy with contempt, each word dripping with raw pain. “I sure as hell never cut my wrists lookin’ for attention.”

Beth’s eyes widen, her initial shock quickly turning to anger. She twists to face him fully, her back straightening, her expression hardened. But before she can speak, the banging against the door grows louder, a chorus of guttural growls now turned to snarling from the walker outside.

“Ah, sounds like our friend out there’s tryin’ to call all his buddies!” Daryl screams, his voice rising with a reckless, desperate edge. He kicks a chair across the kitchen, making as much noise as he can. “Hey, you never shot a crossbow before? I’m gonna teach you, right now,” he snarls, grabbing Beth roughly by the arm. He kicks open the back door, dragging her out into the low evening light.

“Daryl, stop it! Daryl!” Beth squeals, panic and anger clear in her voice, but he pulls her forward, ignoring her protests.

The walker at the window turns toward them, drawn by the commotion. “Dumbass,” Daryl growls, leveling his crossbow at it. “Come here, dumbass.” He releases an arrow, pinning the walker to a nearby tree.

“You wanna shoot?” he demands, shoving the crossbow into Beth’s hands.

“I don’t—I don’t know how,” she stammers, her voice breaking.

“Oh, it’s easy,” Daryl says, positioning himself behind her, his chest pressing into her back. He forces the crossbow into her trembling arms, guiding her to aim. “Come here, right corner,” he mutters darkly, firing another arrow that lands with a dull thunk.

“Let’s practice later!” Beth insists, fists clenched as she tries to break free from his grip.

“Come on, it’s fun,” he grunts, voice harsh and almost manic.

“Just stop it! Daryl!” she cries, twisting away.

“Come here,” he repeats, his voice low and menacing, pulling her back toward the walker pinned to the tree. “Eight ball,” he snarls, releasing another arrow that thuds into its chest.

“Just kill it!” Beth yells, her voice thick with fear and frustration.

“Come here, Greene. Let’s pull these out,” he says releasing her, his tone almost taunting as he steps closer to the walker.

But Beth moves quicker, lunging forward and plunging her knife into the walker’s skull with a sharp, angry thrust.

“The hell you do that for? I was havin’ fun!” Daryl yells, his voice raw as he gets in her face, his breath coming fast and angry.

“No, you were bein’ a jackass!” Beth shouts back, her eyes blazing with tears. “If anyone found my dad—”

“Don’t,” he snarls, cutting her off sharply. “Not even remotely the same.” He’s close now, so close that his anger is palpable, radiating off him in waves.

“Killin’ them is not supposed to be fun ,” Beth spits, leaning in, unafraid now, her eyes fierce. 

“What do you want from me, girl?” he roars, his voice breaking with a mix of rage and grief. 

Beth cries in his face, “I want you to stop actin’ like none of this matters! Like nothin’ we went through matters! Like none of the people we lost meant anything!” her voice is harsh, cracking, as she bares her teeth at him, “It’s bullshit!”

“Is that what you think?” Daryl’s voice drops, his anger smoldering into something darker, more bitter. His eyes are cold, but his voice trembles slightly. 

“That’s what I know,” she snaps, voice faltering as she looks him up and down, “You haven’t even said her name , Daryl— just say it! Say you miss her! And that you miss the others! Rick, Michonne—”

“You don’t know nothin’,” he growls, shaking his head violently.

“I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl ,” she cries, her voice wavering with a mix of pain and frustration. “I’m not like her, Daryl! I’m not like Y/N! I’m not tough, but I’ve survived! But you don’t get it, ’cause I’m not like the two of you, or the others. Carol or Maggie… But I made it! And you don’t get to treat me like crap just because you’re afraid!” She waves her hands at him, her face wet with tears.

He steps closer, his face inches from hers, his breath ragged. “I ain’t afraid of nothin’.”

“I remember,” Beth says, her voice lower, shaking with tears, “When that little girl came outta the barn, after my mom. And the night you found Y/N in the field, seeing you in the morning on the highway with her covered in blood, the both of you. And now God forbid you ever let anybody else get too close.”

“Too close, huh? Bet you know all about that,” Daryl sneers, his finger jabbing at her accusingly. “Lost two boyfriends and can’t even shed a tear!” His voice is full of venom. “Your whole family’s gone and all you can do is just go out lookin’ for hooch like some dumb college bitch!”

“Screw you, you don’t get it!” she shouts.

“No, you don’t get it!” Daryl roars, his voice breaking. “Everyone we know is dead! ”

“You don’t know that!” she screams back, desperation in her voice.

“Might as well be, ’cause you ain’t never gonna see ‘em again!” he snaps, “Rick–” he stops short, her name almost coming off the tip of his tongue then, but he holds it back, the only morsel he can hang onto as his walls come crumbling down in this moment, “You ain’t never gonna see Maggie again!”

“Daryl, just stop!” she begs, reaching for him.

“No!” he twists away, the pain and guilt rushing up uncontrollably as his back faces her. After a heartbeat, his voice breaks as he says, his throat tight, “The Governor rolled right up to our gates. Maybe if I… if I wouldn’t have stopped lookin’, maybe because I gave up. That’s on me!” 

“Daryl—”

“No!” he shouts again, shaking her off, his voice cracking, “And your dad …Maybe I coulda done somethin’...and her , god…” his voice wavers now, the sting in his eyes, his throat tight and throbbing, “She’s…she’s prob–probably already...already...dead,” the words barely make it out of his mouth, his throat so thick with grief.

But suddenly, Beth is on him, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle, hugging him with a fierce, desperate strength. It’s like she’s trying to hold together all the unraveling pieces of him as her arms wrap around him, fingers interlocked against his chest so he doesn’t push her off. But he doesn’t. Daryl’s chest heaves, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. The dam finally breaks, and he sobs into the night air—quiet, breathless, and broken.

[craziness2345]

Chapter 4

So I suck lol I'm sorry this one took so long school and this mixed does not go well at times. I hope you like this chapter and i promise i will bring next chapter out by next week i'm going on vacation and the drive is 16 hours so i'll have time to work on this! let me know how you guys like this chapter please!

_________________________________________________________

It was weird how our dynamic changed within a week. I haven't had a single nightmare since i started staying with Natasha and wanda it still confuses me why they've been so adamant on me staying with them each night there was a few nights in the beginning of the week where i tried to sleep in my own room feeling bad for bothering them but each time they’d just go straight in my roo to lay with me instead.

I gave up after that and kinda just got used to it i liked not having the nightmares and for once in my life since i was younger i felt safe and protected it was nice having that feeling. It also caused us to get a lot closer. I felt like I was always with them. Now one of us was with the other or together all at the same time. 

But that changed when wanda and natasha had to go on a mission but the worst part about this mission was it was no contact nor was there a set day for them to come back either. It was both nerve wracking and I hated how it made me feel knowing I shouldn't be feeling this way. Sighing to myself i see Natasha and wanda head on over to me dressed in there undercover clothes “ Will you be okay? Wanda asks worriedly.

I nod “ Don’t worry i’m a big girl “ I comment reassuringly even though deep down i know i’m struggling i just show  a happy face” be careful please” I say softly worry evident on my face. Natasha smirks “ It’ll be wanda and i and captain america everything will be fine” Natasha says. I roll my eyes “ Okay “ I laugh giving them each a hug “ But seriously i want my two best friends to make sure to be safe” I say not noticing the small frown on the two red heads faces when i had said best friend. By the time I looked up they were back to smiling at me. “ So have a safe trip and be back in time” I say as they nod giving me one last hug before they head out onto the quinjet steve following not long after he gets out of the elevator as he waves at me before leaving. 

I sigh and slouch in my couch “ so you have a thing for my sestra and her girlfriend L/N Y/N “ I jump off the couch meeting yelena's eyes as mine widen “ Wait what!?” I exclaim my eyes bulging as Kate walks in giggling “ Yelena leave her alone” She says sitting on the couch.

“ What? I’m just stating a fact i mean she gets all googly eyed on them” Yelena says as my cheeks redden “ She nots wrong Y/N and you’re even acting all depressed “ kate point out softly causing me to slouch in the couch again my face beat red. I let a loud scoff pass my lips “ I am not acting depressed” I say dismissively. I decide to sit up as Kate snorts “ Okay Y/N “ She says softly. 

I hear yelena snicker “ You’re such a love sick puppy” she comments” You know Y/N L/N you should well tell them” She shrugs as i give her a dirty look “ there’s Nothing to say to them” I snap as yelena raises an eye “ тупица”  ( Dumbass) I give her a dirty look “ I gotta go “ I grumble annoyed as i stand up and leave kate and yelena teasing me as i leave.

I decide to head into the elevator and go up getting off i head straight to furys office barging in as he looks up instantly” Do no- Oh Y/N what is it” He calms instantly as i sit in the chair across from him shrugging” Nothing just wanted to hang with the old man” I tease. 

He gives me an unamused look” I’m not old” HE corrects causing me to smirk “ Oh yeah yeah that’s what old people say” I tease as he gives me another look rolling his eyes he goes back to his paperwork “ what do you actually want ? “ He asks as I go serious. “ I wanted to know if you have any leads on him” I say, sitting straighter, fur humming and pulling out a folder. 

“ Honestly nothing after he left the hospital went dark” he says. I frown at grabbing the folder looking at the medical records. I scan over all the people looking at the picture. My heart was aching at what I was seeing. I close it, the guilt hitting me. 

“ Stop, I know that face, it was an accident. “ HE tries to reassure me as I look away hiding my emotions. “ Right,” I mumble, not believing a word he says, “ Just let me know if you find anything else,” I say standing up.

Fury sighs watching me leave “ You know i will” He says gently a tone he only ever uses for me as i leave his room . The image of my brother still embedded in my skull as I walk down the hall the memories of that night and his and my fathers screams of pain I shut my eyes taking a deep breath to control that memory before heading out needing a coffee.

I head down a street once I leave the avengers tower heading to a small coffee shop. I head inside placing an order for a caramel mocha. Thanking the barista, I sat down at a booth to stare out at all the people walking down the streets. I let my mind wander worried about Natasha and Wanda. I wonder how long they will be gone for. Knowing how no communication missions  go, it could be a few days or weeks. I shudder at hating this already.

I curse myself silently hating how i feel knowing it wasn’t right when they were together as well. I sigh to myself drinking my coffee before doing a double take standing up. I head out of the coffee shop looking through the crowded streets in a hurry. I know he was somewhere. I swear I saw him cursing when I didn't see him. I rubbed my temples, deciding to head back as I thought back to the figure I saw across the street. 

He looked like Jake. I swear that's who I saw the burnt side of his face but maybe I was hallucinating? Yeah I had to be there's no way that was him. I started walking back to the tower, my thoughts jumbled up by what I thought I saw.

______________________________________________________

The two weeks go by as I start to slowly struggle to sleep feeling like someone was watching at times I swore I saw my brother but I try to put that thought at the back of my mind since I've been struggling to sleep. It made more sense. It was my exhaustion fucking with me.

We still had no word from Natasha and Wanda. I did get some words out of fury, finding out that they might be coming back soon from the mission. That did get me a bit more upbeat. I start heading back to the tower as it starts to pour down tremendously. Cursing, I toss my coffee in a nearby trash can as I decide to take a short cut and go pull my hood up over my head. 

As I walk down the alley I feel some type of sharp pain in my shoulder groaning. I move my hand pulling it out of my shoulder. I realized it was what looked to be a tranquilizer dart. Unsure what the liquid was, I started to feel woozy moving my head. I blink seeing a figure walking down with a gun that I assume had the dart in it. I try to furrow my eyes moving to use my invisibility but struggle to.

The dark figure walks closer humming his face completely covered” sorry but you’re powers ain't gonna work i gave you a nice dose that stuns you're powers” The deep distorted voice says stumbling back words i curse before stumbling to run away the figure chuckles deeply “ Who i love a good game of cat and mouse” he starts following me slowly as i pass down another alley stumbling some more i blearily pull out my phone hitting the emergency button that sends to the tower hoping they can get to me in time. 

Everything starts to blur as i end up hitting a dead end i curse to myself turning around to make another run for it i freeze seeing him standing there “ i think this is the end of the game and the line” He says “ that tranquilizer should be doing it’s job by now “ He says coming closer as i start to slide down the wall.

“ Your friends won’t be saving you either they are a little preoccupied with a bomb in downtown “ He chuckles as i completely black out the last thing i remember his him picking me up before everything goes dark.

[crystalsnow95z]

hello! hope you are well, I've been missing your stories. Are you able to do a Jinny's kitchen sickfic where Tae gets the flu :)

Ooh I did a story after Jinnys kitchen with Jhope taking care of him, but I love the idea of him being sick while actually filming. This was far too long the first time so I cut some scenes out so I hope it still makes sense. I just know if I go back to edit it I'll never post it and I feel like that'll be a waste.

"Taehyung-ah, are you getting ready? We need to go shopping for ingredients before we open." Wooshik knocks on the bedroom door, cracking it open when he gets no reply, seeing the youngest hadn't even left the bed yet, buried underneath the blanket."Taehyungie.."

He goes to the bed, pulling the covers away from Taehyung's face, pushing his sweaty hair from his eyes. "You shouldn't sleep under there. Your room is so stuffy, you should've cracked a window like i did.." Wooshik rubs Taehyung's shoulder to try to gently wake him. "Come on, you gotta get up."

"Mmn..Hyung..what time is it?" Taehyung asks in a hoarse whisper, trying to motivate his eyes to open, but his body felt like it was three times heavier than usual, just barely picking up his head to be able to see who disturbed him.

"It's eight.. we need to get up to get ready. Come on Taehyungie, sit up.." Wooshik gently pulls Taehyung's arm, placing his hand across his back to lead him into a sitting position. "I know you're not a morning person, but we need to get ready for work. Here. I brought you some water." He takes the water bottle he placed on the side table, opening the lid. "Your voice is so deep in the morning..it surprises me."

Taehyung takes the water, drinking a few gulps before the water makes him feel uncomfortably full, pushing it back into Wooshik's hand.

"A shower will help wake you up. Go on sleepy head.." Wooshik plays with Taehyung's wild bedhead fondly, unaware it was so messed up from Taehyung's tossing and turning all night. "I'm going to go eat a quick breakfast."

Taehyung drags himself out of bed with a yawn, ignoring the heaviness of his limbs, going to his suitcase to get his clothes, sitting in front of it. I went to bed right after dinner so i shouldn't be this tired. Is it the heat that's making me feel so awful?

Taehyung gathered his clothes together, shakily rising back to his feet, stumbling forward when a dark haze clouds his vision making him fall onto his knees once more throwing his hands out to catch himself. I need to lay down for a bit..I feel so dizzy and my stomach hurts..

Taehyung lays his head down, using his suitcase as a pillow. I can't be like this.. the others are depending on me to help them.. I just need some medicine and I'll feel better..

"Taehyung are you falling asleep?" Seojoon peeks into the room surprised to see Taehyung laying still on the floor, rushing over to him. "Are you okay? Did you get dizzy?"

"I don't feel well hyung..." Taehyung admits softly. "My body hurts every time I move and my head is pounding.."

"I'll go get you some medicine. Did you drink some water today?" Seojoon rubs Taehyung's back,trying to ease the pain from the youngest intern. "You're sweating.."

"I had a little bit that Wooshik-hyung brought.." Taehyung replies, leaning into Seojoons touch."I don't know why I feel so dizzy.."

"I think you're dehydrated Taehyungie. We'll see how you feel after a shower okay? I'll carry these for you." Seojoon gathers up Taehyung's clothing and toiletry bag.

Taehyung drags himself to his feet, following Seojoon out of the room. He stays close to him, leaning his head against his back, Seojoon walking a slower pace to make it easier on Taehyung.

Seojin notices the two, frowning when he sees the unmotivated Taehyung, taking notice of the bags forming underneath his eyes. "You shouldn't stay up so late while we're here Taehyung-ah. You're here to work, not play. This isn't a vacation."

"Taehyungie has been working hard." Seojoon defends Taehyung. "He's getting better at the morning prep work compared to the first few days.."

"You need to keep up with the others, got it?" Seojin tells Taehyung simply, a scowl on his lips "Just because Wooshik is here to help out now doesn't mean you can lack off. "

"Yes, I know..I'll work hard. I'll do all the tasks you give me.." Taehyung stands upright, ignoring his body's protests to keep resting against his hyung. "I'll shower and be ready to work." He smiles politely, going into the bathroom. Why didn't I just tell him I wasn't feeling well? I don't know if I can meet his expectations..

Taehyung slowly undresses, lightly scratching the little bumps on his belly. I need to cool down.. maybe a colder shower can help..

He turns the water to as cold as he could handle, getting in and letting the water cascade down his back for a bit before washing up, warming the water to make the shampoo easier to rinse out. We're only working for six hours today..I've practiced ten hours without much of a break.. this will be easy..

Taehyung tried to motivate himself as he got dressed, but his body felt heavy and an itch in the back of his throat was causing a constant feeling of having to cough.

"Taehyung-Ah, are you ready?" Wooshik knocks softly before entering the bathroom. "You're hair is still dripping.. you're getting your shirt all wet." He uses a towel to try to dry the ends of Taehyung’s hair.

"I was going to use my hair dryer, but I forgot it in my room.." Taehyung leans against Wooshik, allowing the older man to ruffle his hair dry."It's hot here, so I didn't think it would be too big of a deal if I didn't dry it."

"You should at least stop it from dripping." Wooshik scolds him, taking a comb to tame Taehyung's hair. "If we hurry you'll have time to have a bowl of cereal before we have to go shopping."

Taehyung forces back a cough, nodding. "Thanks hyung."

The two go to the market together to get supplies, looking at fresh vegetables. "Taehyung-Ah, what was the Spanish word for carrots? We need to get some for Noona."

Taehyung coughs into his fist, trying to remember the word he used just yesterday. "It was la zana...zana..I'm sorry..I can't remember.." he frowns, wondering if it was the heat that made his memory fuzzy, or if it was the pounding headache that the medicine hardly dulled.

"It's okay, I'll look it up." Wooshik reassures Taehyung with a gentle shoulder touch. "Are you sure you're feeling alright? You can wait in the car for me. We only got two more things on the list. I can finish up on my own."

"I'm okay. I just still trying to fully wake up.. I can help." Taehyung says pulling Wooshik along the little shopping Plaza. "I see orange up ahead, maybe those are carrots."

Taehyung suppresses another cough, letting Wooshik do the talking, trying to sip on water to soothe his throat. "Is that the last thing?"

"Yep. We got 20 carrots. That should be enough. Let's get to the restaurant. The sooner we get this done the quicker we can relax before we really open. I'll drive."

"What about the pineapple?" Taehyung asks carrying heir newest bag, Wooshik keeping most of them for himself.

"We still have a lot of juice left over from last time, hyung can just say that we forgot to buy one." Wooshik pulls Taehyung back towards the car. I need to get Taehyung out of the heat. He's breathing too hard, and he's looking pale. I'll just tell Seokjin-hyung some excuse on why we didn't get one. I'll take the blame.

Wooshik watches Taehyung with a worried expression when he sees the young man falling asleep in the passenger seat, his cheek pressed against the window.

"I'll talk to Seojin for you.. don't worry. Hyung will handle it.." Wooshik whispers, brushing Taehyungs hair out of his eyes.

"Hm?" Taehyung slightly picks up head, sleepily blinking at Wooshik.

"Nothing, just trying to remember the Spanish I was studying last night. You rest. I'll wake you when when get there." Wooshik lies, taking a longer route to the restaurant so his sickly dongsaeng could have a few extra minutes to relax.

"What took you so long to get here? It isn't that far away." Seojin scolds them. "There's a lot of prep to do, you two can't be messing around. This isn't a vacation."

Wooshik takes a step in front of Taehyung protectively. "It's my fault, i'm sorry, hyung.. I took a wrong turn and got a little lost. I'll be more careful in the future." He bows his head.

"Get to work on preparing to open." Seojin accepts his apology, sending them away.

"Yes sir." Wooshik pulls Taehyung into the back, emptying their bags on the table. "Do you want me to help shred the carrots or maybe help with washing the rice? Taehyung-ah." Wooshik doesn't get his attention until he says his name, the mankae looking at him with confusion.

"I'm sorry.. what was the question?" Taehyung asks, feeling guilt churning in his stomach. I have to focus or I'll let everyone down.

"I'm going to wash the rice. You get to work on the carrots okay?" Wooshik orders him softly, wanting him to be able to sit while he works.

"Okay.." Taehyung gets to work, trying to quickly grate the carrots for Yumi's station, but it felt like he had no strength, only getting through three carrots before Seojin goes to check on them.

"You need to work faster. We'll be opening at 2 at this rate. That's hardly enough to make two orders." Seojin speaks with disapproval. "Take this seriously."

"I am taking it seriously..I am.. I just..I'm not feeling all that well.." Taehyungs speaks softly, looking down at the progress he made, looking away with shame.

"Do you want to go to the hospital?" Seojin asks, concern flashing in his eyes.

Taehyung shakes his head, knowing that if leaves his work would be distributed to his brothers who already had enough on their plates. "It's just a headache and upset stomach..I can still help.."

"You probably aren't used to the exotic food. I'll get you some antacids. Did you already take something?" Seojin asks.

Taehyung nods. "Seojoon gave me some medicine this morning.."

"Then you'll be fine. Do what you can and I'll pick up the slack." Seojin tells him, leaving to talk to the crew.

Yumi appears a minute later from upfront after over hearing about Taehyungs failing health.

"Are you okay Taehyung?"

"I'll be okay..my stomach and throat just hurt..I won't let it get in the way of helping.." Taehyung nods, lying to himself. With every hour that past he felt worse than the one before, the chills making his hands shake as he works.

"Let noona do it. It's for my station anyway. I got this. You go work on the sauces." He takes the half carrot from his hand.

"Are you sure?" Taehyung asks, failing to hold back the cough he'd been holding.

"You poor thing.. I got this under control and I'll handle the boss if he says anything. Okay?"

Taehyung nods, feeling grateful for her support even though they'd only known each other for a short while. "Thank you Noona.."

"We're officially open!" Seojin announces. "Wooshik go turn the sign and put out the menu."

Wooshik nods, leaving Taehyungs side. "Just focus on the dishes today okay? We'll handle the rest."

Taehyung nods, the guilt of everyone doing the opening prep work for him. Seojoon took over making sauces after he finished preparing for the corn dogs, Yumi prepped her own veggies, Wooshik washed the rice.

Taehyung couldn't get himself to keep standing, going to his knees when another wave of nausea hit him hard. I think I'm gonna be sick..

A customer enters, Seojoon quickly helping him to his feet to save him from being seen in such a weak state. "Come on TaeTae, let's get you some water.. you're over heating.. I'll ask someone to take you to the-"

"No.. no I can help.." Taehyung insists, swallowing back the vile tasting acid that rose from his stomach.

"No. We can handle it. You need to lay down."

"Seojoon you can't make these decisions on your own. It's the weekend. We'll have no dishes if yoy send him home."

"Wooshik can do dishes in between customers and so can I. We worked without Wooshik the first few days we can manage without Taehyungie." Seojoon argues.

"That was when we were still unknown. We get more people than before."

"No, no it's okay.. I can still do the dishes." Taehyung hated seeing them argue because of him, and the thought of them working twice as hard because of him only made him feel worse.

"See? Taehyung understands the importance of a team. If I feel like he can't do it I'll personally find him a way back." Seojin praises Taehyungs resilience, not understanding that he had made the wrong decision.

"Taehyung-Ah I need the dishes to put the gimbap, I got four orders!" Yumi calls to him.

"Yes Noona. I'm almost done..!" Taehyung calls back with a cough at the end, leaning heavily on the sink. They had to get an extra table from the back because they had a full house, and still had people waiting outside to come in.

Taehyung refused to listen to his body, screaming for him to rest, his knees threatening to buckle underneath him.

Yumi went back there to get them herself, quickly forgetting her task when she sees the mankae struggling to even stay on his feet.

"Aigoo, Taehyung-sii.." Yumi rubs his back, feeling his heart hammering with effort. "You're really unwell.. you need to rest.."

"I can't..not when..we're busy.." Taehyung argues weakly, his stomach churning trying to push out the bit of rice that Wooshik talked him into eating on their lunch break.

"Taehyung you cannot do this to yourself baby. You can't help getting sick. We'll manage without you. Okay?" Yumi pulls him away from the sink and into a chair.

"Yumi we need to serve the cus- Taehyung what are you doing sitting when we have so much to do!" The words came out, but as soon as he got a closer look he instantly regretted it. He could see the usually tanned Intern had lost all the color in his face and that his body was trembling with effort just to stay sitting.

Taehyung tries to stand to appease his boss, but his knees instantly buckle, making him land on his hands and knees. The vertigo overwhelmed him, finally forcing him to throw up the entirety of his stomach on the floor. Tears swelled up dripping onto the floor as he mumbles his apologizes. "I'm..i-im so..sorry.."

Seojoon drops down next to Taehyung, running his hand down his back. "Aiggo baby..it's okay.. it's okay. You don't need to be sorry.." he glared up at Seojin who drops to his knees to try to comfort Taehyung, guilt weighing down his heart to see the cheerful Intern crumbling in front of him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Taehyung-sii..I just thought it was the heat making you feel ill and if you just drank enough water and stayed out of the sun you'd be okay.." Seojin apologizes profusely, rubbing Taehyungs back as he desperately tries to stop dry heaving.

Taehyung shakes his head, trying to fill his lungs with air to tell him it wasn't his fault, but every time ge tried his stomach would clench into a tight knot, spitting up foamy saliva into the bucket that Seojoon grabbed in a panic.

"I'll get someone to take you back. Okay? Just try to breathe.. As soon as we close up I'll let one of your hyungs go to check on you." Seojin promises, relaxing when he hears Taehyung take a deep breath without gagging.

"I'm..I'm okay..i..i..just..just need to rest.. you..you don't need to.." Taehyung tries to speak bravely, but Seojin could see the relief in his eyes at the thought of one of his wooga brothers coming to comfort him.

"I insist. We can manage to clean up with two missing people." Seojin says gently, getting a towel and dabbing Taehyungs sweaty forehead. "It's the least I can do.."

"Thanks hyung.." Taehyung sniffles, leaning into Seojoon.

"Do you want me to carry you? We can use the back entrance." Seojoon offers when he feels Taehyungs body trembling against his, wrapping his arms around him.

"Yeah.." Taehyung says in a soft whine. "I don't want to walk.."

"Alright, put your arms around my neck okay?" Seojoon scoops Taehyung up, slowly getting to his feet, trying his hardest to not shake up Taehyung's already aching middle. "I'll come and help you wash up as soon as I get home okay?"

(Part 2 possibly?)

[threepandas]

Bad End: Screen Demons

Giggles echoed through the empty halls. Unhinged and static-y. Everything smelled of copper and viscera. Stale air and fear. The final moments of these poor souls, had not been kind ones. Somewhere, not far from where I was trapped, I could hear dripping. Unsteady. I hoped... I prayed... it was water.

I had already smashed every screen in this room. Ripped out every reflective surface. Security cameras, shards of glass, bottles. Every single thing the average person forgets, when warned against "reflection" based threats. There were more then you'd think.

Even your own eyes could be a problem, depend on how powerful they were. You may have to fight blind. There were specialists. I, however, was no such individual. I was a CONSULTANT. Company wanted to both keep compliance and cut costs. I'd been requesting a team for over a year. Getting denied. "We'll look into it." And "gotta check the budget".

All while they go on another yacht vacation.

Well, now? NOW the inevitable happened. I had been stretched too thin. Couldn't check all the sites in a timely enough manner. Someone, somewhere, got DISGRUNTLED. Started listening to a little voice they shouldn't have. One that PROMISED them things. Love, power, revenge. Just do this oooone little thing.

THEY'RE not like those OTHER Demons! Promise!

Ha!

I got here too late. Far, far too late. Everyone was already dead. Whole satellite facility overrun. Didn't even REALIZE until I found the first body. And by then? I was too far from the door.

They sealed me in.

The only, ONLY, reason I survived those first few hours? Was because of my safety suit. It got SHREDDED. But? They have my patronage for LIFE. I counted no less then fifteen blows that SHOULD have killed me. Claws, fangs, curses, the WORKS. I used every single off hand trick my professors ever mentioned. Plan to buy them all flowers... assuming I live.

Fell back to a defensible position. Like you're supposed too. Set up a camp. Armed myself. Took stock of supplies. Risked my life, nearly lost a LIMB, to get to the emergency communications system. The warded one.

Fucking IDIOTS had kept it in a SAFE. Yeah, it's expensive. Really expensive. But that wasn't were it goes! For a REASON. This! SPECIFICALLY! Is the reason! This happening RIGHT HERE! But did I get it? Fuck YEAH I got it. Will have the scars to PROVE that for the rest of my life.

And? It worked like a CHAMP. I could kiss it. Make sweet, sweet, sloppy love to it. Inanimate object be damned. We would have a spring wedding, honeymoon in the fall, go fuckin apple picking. It would be BEAUTIFUL. Is that the blood loss talking? MAYBE! There are A LOT of wards to set up! I'm fucking terrified!

But Cental Supernatural Suppression is ON THE FUCKING LINE. And the C.S.S. does NOT fuck around. I've never called their emergency line before. Never wanted to be in a situation where I HAD too. But the calming voice on the other end? Helps. Walks me through ward set up I NEVER would have been able to do on my own.

There is a rescue team being sourced to get me out and back up to put this thing back where it belongs.

And... and if I cry? When they tell me I'm going to be okay? That's between me and the blood stained walls.

All the while, that THING laughs and coos. It can feel my fear. My desperation. And? The most fucked up thing? Is that it looks like a fucking "waifu". Some vampire e-girl I think, from a show. Whoever had unleashed this thing had... they had been lonely. Wanted connection. And I want to say ugly, UGLY things because I am scared.

But that is how THEY fucking win.

So I won't. I will not judge. I will not sneer. Won't let my fear turn to anger. Lash out at the dead. Someone who was hurting. Who made a terrible, fatal, mistake. They just... just wanted CONNECTION. Someone to listen. And this THING preyed on that. Fed on it.

"Muuu~, don't be like thaaat~! I was just giving them what they WANTED! They SAID they wanted to be Together Forever~! Now~. We~. Are~!" Coos a cutesy voice from speakers throughout the building. My room is the only room without them. "You're being so MEAN. I just want to LOVE yooou~! Don't you want to LOVE me? You've lasted so LONG! So COOL~☆ I should give you a biiiiig kiss! He he~"

Kiss. Right. Says the Demon pretending to be a vampire girl.

She never STOPS. It's been hours. And still she's trying to convince me to leave my bunker of wards. Compliments. Threats. Mimicry. For the last six? She pretended there was another survivor. You know... one she was torturing. Classic "I'll STOP if you come get them. Don't you want to STOP me? Save them?" Shtick.

Ha! As though life sign detectors aren't the FIRST thing we're told to make, once a safe zone is established. There's no one in this building but me. I have a week's work of rations from smashing vending machines in the break room. Would have had more, but my flare died faster then anticipated thanks to her constant direct attacks.

"Aaaaw, are you ignoring me? You're making Kimi-tan SAD~! You big MEANIE! Why you got to be like that? Some~Thing~ I~ diiiiiiid~?" She continues, before breaking off into cackles. The sound discordant and rapidly changing pitch. Distant speakers whining and crackling with the strain of it. "It's not like they didn't deserve it. They ALWAYS deserve it~! They summoned ME!!"

Yeah. After you fed off them. Called to them. Built up their loneliness and pain, until it actually seemed reasonable. Try your lies on someone who didn't SPECIFICALLY go to school for this, you hellfire shit.

"Well, that's not nice."

I choke on the scream I know won't save me. Scramble back. Away, away, AWAY! There, in the doorway. Stands a glitching manifest of the Demon herself. Pale, wrong, and impossible. She's-! She was-! IS a reflection demon! The sort of power MANIFESTATION costs?? Oh god. What have I walked INTO?!

"I wonder, Dar~ling~," she muses, eyes unblinking as she stares me down. "How long you can survive me? I bet it's REAL long. Bet you'd be FUN to break. You know~? If you're cute enough? I might just KEEP you! Like a little pet. Bet I could make you a demon, easy!"

A hand comes up, single finger out, to lazily trace the air between us. Holy light violently rejecting her. BURNING her. Yet it clearly doesn't bother her, even as the tip of her finger sizzles and cooks. Instead, she lazily traces shapes in the light. Watching me. Contemplating. Deciding if it's worth it.

"Thoooough? I DO like you like this. You're like a little mouse in a cage. All terrified and alone. It's cute. I never did get why the others got so obsessed over hunting you guys." Pulling back her finger, she smiles.

It splits her face farther then it should.

"I think I get it now."

[starryredpandawrites]

Bendy Bites 8: Hunting

Guess who's back with another fluffy siblinks idea?

So, after Audrey and Bendy escape the Ink Machine world, adjusting to this new life is going to be especially hard for Bendy in his Ink Demon form. Is it worth it? Absolutely yes. But he’s still going from a world where he can basically do and kill whatever he wants to a functioning society with rules that are very, very different from what he’s used to. I have another post planned I’m going to make about how Audrey goes about teaching him those rules, but that’s a story for another day.

One of his main struggles is going to be with his kill drive. He really enjoyed the thrill of the hunt and lording his power over weaker ink creatures. When he leaves that world, he’s going to miss it. 

Audrey knows this and again, worries that someday he’s going to end up snapping. She’s made back-up plan after back-up plan just in case that happens, but she would prefer to prevent it if possible. (Quick side note: Audrey is completely ride or die for Bendy at this point, and several of her back-up plans include covering up murders)

One thing she tries to do is get him outside as much as possible. This is challenging for many obvious reasons. Eventually, after she learns how to do it, accumulates some supplies, and possibly steals a car, she takes Bendy on regular camping trips. They have to go to some fairly remote locations because the whole point is to get Bendy out into the world in a place he can safely be himself in both forms without worrying about the Gent corporation finding them. 

While they’re camping, at one point Audrey catches the Ink Demon right as he kills something (a bird or a deer or a raccoon idk). Insert image of Ink Demon looking super ashamed like a dog caught with something they know they shouldn't have while he waits for Audrey to scold him.

Initially, Audrey is upset but after some deep thinking she realizes this could be a good thing and lays out some ground rules. 

At least once a year, they’ll go on a hunting trip (this rule is more for Audrey to incentivize him to follow the rest of the rules)

Bendy can only kill what he and Audrey can eat on that trip. No killing just for sport.

If there are any hunting rules for the area they're camping in, such as no killing doe or avoiding certain animals during certain seasons, he has to follow them.

(this one is already a rule but she says it again just to hammer it in) No showing himself to anyone, even if he's mid-hunt. If some rando shows up, he's gotta abandon his prey and leave the area.

Despite rule #4, Audrey knows someone is gonna see him eventually no matter how careful he is but she figures they can get away with some Ink Demon sightings because the woods have a long history of cryptid sightings and she doesn’t think they could get back to the Gent corporation. 

((Quick disclaimer: I’m not a fan of hunting. I won’t judge anyone if that's their interest but if someone offered to take me hunting I would decline. I do think in this specific scenario it would be really good for the Ink Demon to have some sort of outlet for his craving for violence. ))

Anyways, these trips quickly become a tradition and something they both look forward to all year. Audrey didn't really use her time off before this but now she uses every day she can for these vacations. She probably still draws but would change her focus to more nature-oriented things. I could also see her packing paints and mini canvases so she and Bendy can paint nature scenes while they're out there (If you've never done that while camping, I highly recommend it).

Bendy in his toon form is enchanted with nature and spends a lot of time doing little kid things like playing in creeks, running through the trees, staring at weird bugs and bringing them to Audrey so she can scream at them (He probably didn't mean to scare her the first time, but he quickly challenges himself to see what bugs will freak her out the most. Little brother things, yanno?).

When he's in his Ink Demon form he revels in the open spaces. He can run as far and as fast as he wants and he relishes in the freedom. At first, he would be frustrated with the hunting limits Audrey put on him, thinking he should be allowed to kill whatever he pleases, but eventually he develops a deeper understanding and appreciation of nature and only taking what you need. He probably starts watching nature documentaries at home and is like, huh, maybe I shouldn't just kill everything I see just because I can. Life is hard for animals too.

He takes a break from killing deer after watching Bambi for the first time. Audrey ate a lot of weird things that year.

IMAGINE: Audrey buys a book about edible things in nature just for some light reading. Bendy asks her to read it to him and/or reads over her shoulder so when he's out hunting he starts recognizing those things and brings them back to the campsite. Suddenly, he's bringing back less and less fresh kills and more and more roots, berries, and mushrooms. GIVE ME A HUNTER/GATHERER INK DEMON

Okay, this post is getting long so I might need to make a part two for this Bendy Bite lol

Feel free to share any other Siblink camping ideas y'all might have and I might expand on/include them in the next post.

[papercupids]

people we meet on vacation - jeong yunho

pairing -> jeong yunho x gender neutral!reader. (they/them used)

summary -> after bumping into what you call, the love of your life at a vaction once, you found that there was no way to find out more about him. 4 years later, when you've lost all hope, you finally find him and he's your boyfriend's bestfriend.

genre -> slice of life kinda (?), strangers to lovers.

warnings -> a bunch of curses, a tattoo, mingi is a real dick (sorry, had to be <3), it goes back and forth between the past and present a lot but its all labelled that's all though.

word count -> 4255 words.

a/n -> this fic isn't in anyway related or inspired by the book of the same name by emily henry, it's just that the title of the book went along with the fic's themes so i rolled with it :) a tiny, tiny part of it has been inspired by the first half of the bollywood movie, tamasha. and and, lastly, all the translations were taken from google translate so if you find any mistakes you know who to blame. ok bye, enjoy.

PRESENT, SEOUL, 2023.

“Are you ready, babe?”

Mingi calls out from the living room, tying up the laces to his boots. You took one last glance at yourself in the mirror and then called out in agreement. 

“Let’s go,”

when you're in the car with him, you look out of the window, watching the daylight completely drown out slowly. and then you look at your boyfriend, who is focused on driving. you're both going to his friend's birthday dinner and since it’s only been about 2 months of you both dating, it is one of the first time you're meeting his friends, having heard a lot of great things about them already.

he notices you looking at him and gives you a smile before giving his full attention to the road again.

mingi isn’t a bad person, you know that. but for some reason, there has been no one who'd been able to catch your attention fully or make you stay for even a month. the 2 month mark with mingi was a huge thing for you.

But then you visibly wince when you remind yourself about the texts. 

Never could you ever imagine that your tendency to never commit to anyone would bite you back in this form. 

When you finally feel secure enough with someone, you find out that they’ve been cheating on you. 

Mingi wasn’t a bad person, you convince yourself. It was just your karma.

when you reach the parking lot of the restaurant, mingi tells you to wait, he unbuckles his seatbelt and then gets out of his seat and slams the door shut and runs to get yours.

when you give him your hand, he kisses it gently, whispering a little into your ear.

"my angel looks so pretty tonight,"

and he holds out his arm for you to clasp yours into.

"ever the gentleman," you kiss his cheek.

as you enter through the glass doors of the hotel, you spot a lot of people, a bunch of foreigners going about, someone trying to check in, and people like yourself, here just for dinner.

"excuse me, what way is the banquet?" mingi asks on the front desk.

"oh, are you mr. kim's guests?"

"yes, yes,"

"straight from here, last room on the right,"

"okay, thank you," 

"___, can you go ahead? i need to take this call, i'll be there in 5,"

"let me wait for you?"

"oh, just introduce yourself, i really gotta take this,"

you were a little irritated (understatement) but decided to go ahead anyway, what’s the worst that could happen anyway?

and as you step inside the white tiled room with a huge chandelier in the middle, and golden lit lights, you think you might be dreaming.

no, not because of the ambience. but because of the person sitting there, looking up at you, as surprised as you were.

PAST, CURÇAO ISLANDS, SUMMER, 2019. 

"who? what? why?"

"well, i don't know, i didn’t he would show up here when i told him we were coming here,"

"oh god," 

to say you were exhausted would be an understatement. your friend, jae-i and her "situationship" with the university playboy, kim sungwon was famous and you hoped that you could try to get her away from him during this vacation but turns out, old habits die hard. she claims she only told him that she was going for a vacation and apparently, he was here and "begging for forgiveness," because he deeply thought about how wrong his actions were.

"you know what, do whatever you want to, because to hell with our vacation, and don't you dare come to me when he breaks your heart again,"

you slam the door and get out. you weren’t that harsh and you did feel like you went overboard but she needed it. you would come back later anyway.

The bar was a couple blocks away from the cottage that you’d rented and it was right on the beach, a bunch of wooden chairs and tables and people enjoying their exotic coloured drinks, each one of them speaking in different languages. 

Speaking of languages, you weren’t quite sure of dutch. You knew the typical “hallo (hello),” and “ik ben nieuw hier (i’m new here),” but the basics was where it ended. 

“Um, hi,” 

“waar kan ik je mee helpen (how can i help you)?”

“English?”

He made a disappointed face. “No english, de werknemer die Engels kent, heeft pauze (the employee who knows English is on break),”

With a mental facepalm, you realize you’d even left your phone and wallet back where jae-i was, and you had no intention of facing her, especially if there was a possibility that the asshole would be there, and there was no point in trying to order without money anyway. 

“Nevermind, Bedankt (thank you),” he snickers at your accent but nods anyway. 

“Oh no, no, let me get that for you,” a tall man, absolutely gorgeous, with the looks of someone who could easily pass off as a well known celebrity appears beside you. 

“What do you want?”

“Its fine, i was just leaving,”

“Relax, i’m not a creep, just trying to help, you can pay me back later,”

“Oh, well, okay,”

A few minutes later, you and the handsome stranger were both seated on the wooden stools, he was taking in the sun without a lot of struggle since he brought sunglasses, meanwhile you, well, let’s just say it was a bad day for you. 

a little away from the arrangement of chairs there was a live band, some music playing as a couple danced, and then later the others joined as the tune got more upbeat.

As you sipped on the oddly coloured drink you’d seen a lot of people drinking, he turns to you, “so what’s your story?”

“Ah, well, i came here with my friend thinking it would be a little time before she could be away from her shitty ex, but guess what? He’s here,”

“Interesting story, i mean, sucks for you, but, it’s a nice plot,”

“Is that so? What’s yours?”

“Not much of a story, my one of my friends is getting married in september and the other is going to take over as ceo of his father’s company after this summer so we all decided on this trip as something of a milestone,”

“It would get harder to meet after this so,”

“Oh got it, got it,”

"wait, we never exchanged names,"

“I’m yunho,”

“I’m ____,”

he gets up, "in my opinion, You know, what you should do? Enjoy your trip, not everybody has a chance to take a trip like this and you really can’t let your friend ruin it for you,”

You think it up. “Ofcourse,”

He asks for your hand as he puts down his own glass. 

You’re almost about to slip your hands into his but then you hesitate, “but wait, don’t you have your own group of friends to worry about?”

“I think seven adult men can enjoy life without me. Besides, it’s not everyday I bump into someone like you or presented with an opportunity like this one.” he winks. 

Far away, the sun shows signs of weakening and giving into the sea, the music that’s steadily shifting to more mellow tunes and the noise of the sea gulls. 

Yunho takes your hand and guides you to the open space, a couple of people are dancing but the attention from the crowd focuses on you both as you laugh at yunho’s actions. He attempts to spin you and the crowd cheers at that, the beats become more and more danceable. 

His hands are on your waist, and his eyes, those eyes. They stare right into yours as you dance. Even though you shrug it off with your laughs, you can feel the spark. And then he’s close, way too close to be with a stranger that you just met, and instead of facing him, you just lean your head onto his chest and close your eyes. 

“Kiss already,” someone from the band shouts. 

And then you look up at him, “what do we do?”

“Only if you want to,”

His words repeat in front of you again, “...it’s not everyday i bump into someone like you or presented an opportunity like this one,”

You close your eyes and reach up to him, it honestly catches yunho by surprise but it’s over almost as suddenly as it is initiated. A peck. But it was more romantic than any kiss he’s shared with anyone. 

PRESENT, SEOUL, SUMMER, 2023.

"hey, you came with mingi right? oh my god, you’re gorgeous, how did he even score you? i'm wooyoung, by the way,"

"i'm _____," you blush, this man certainly knew how to make a fist impression.

"Where's mingi? is it his manners to leave his date alone?" 

to which you let out a chuckle, "he got a really important call, he'll be here in a bit though,"

"let me keep you company then, and fulfill mingi's duty of introducing you to the others."

a few people are gathered on the far end of the table opposite from you and a few are sitting on the table already engrossed in a conversation except one of them who looks at you, eyes fixated.

“That is our friend yunho, san and his mate, milo.”

Yunho. Him. fate. There were so many things going in your mind right now, all of the memories, him paying for your drink, spending the entire day with him, forgetting that a thing like a mobile even existed, it was so funny that you both met again. There were almost zero chances, after you came back from your trip, you searched every nook and cranny of social media from whatever information you had of him, scanned every public setting, just in hopes that somehow, just somehow you bump into him again. And unfortunately, this is how you meet. 

“Hey,” he extends his hand. Does he remember all of that? Given it was not more than even a day spent together, but it impacted you, did it impact him?

There was like an unspoken agreement to not mention that you’d met before, because you’d not seen a lot of his friends on the trip neither had they seen you nor had yunho ever seen jae-i, all because of that stupid agreement. 

You try searching for recognition in his eyes, but mingi comes before you can try communicating with him even a little. 

“Mingi! Dude, why’d you leave your date alone? Thank god i was around to help,”

Mingi looks at you, “so you’ve already met them, i see,” and takes your hand into his, and never have you ever wanted to pull your hand back from someone this badly, because you look at the subtle way yunho’s eyes flit to the clasped hands and he backs away. 

-

“Hongjoong,” 

The said person is too deep in conversation with someone yunho has never seen but has deduced that they’re most probably business partners. 

He calls out to his friend again. And hongjoong looks at him, he mutters a “please,” and then steps away.

He’s careful not to be in the earshot of the group that wooyoung, mingi, you and san have created, they’re very curious to know you, someone mingi had been talking about for months, labelling his new date as his best ever. 

“Oh, mingi’s here,” hongjoong notices as he steps to the side yunho is, “wait, yunho, i’ve seen-”

“Shhh, shut up, shut up, this is exactly why i brought you here, keep your mouth shut, mingi’s date, the one he’s been bragging about, is the person i fell in love with in the summer of 2019,” he releases his hand that he had been holding over hongjoong’s mouth. 

he touches his elbow slightly, to remind his friend.

And the older guy doesn’t say anything. 

“It’s just you who knows, so please, don’t tell anybody, and don’t let anybody know that you know them,”

“It’s just unbelievable,”

And hongjoong watches as they both look at you, he looks at the way yunho watches you. “I remember you being all miserable because you couldn’t find them,”

“Yes, it’s unbelievable but also unfortunate, i’d rather have they not met me at all than this,”

Hongjoong wishes he could have done something, but he doesn’t even know what to do. He wishes he could have taken his friend’s pain because it’s so cruel but he tries to cheer the other up instead, leads him to the dinner table and carefully diverts the conversation to anything but you and mingi. 

PAST, SUMMER, 2019.

"and i'm supposed to believe that?"

"i swear, i've never done it,"

"you've never ever fallen in love?" the stranger you met at the beach is clearly in disbelief over the fact that you've never been in love. it's after dinner that you're again here at the beach, walking on the shoreline.

"i don't think it's consciously my choice, it's just something that happens, i become obsessed with a person, i think that its love but then it wears down as fast as it comes."

"uh huh, okay, so you won't fall in love with me?"

you look up at him, his face lit up by the different shades of colours, the streetlight on your left, the headlights of the cars speeding past, and the lightings that are decorated on stalls at some stalls. he looks absolutely gorgeous but more than that, there's something in his eyes, that makes you feel like you actually could. you could actually dream about a forever, and this time maybe even fulfill it. was that possible? 

but the realization that you're probably never going to meet again sets in and he looks away too, thinking the same thing maybe.

"nevermind, i'm sorry,"

"wait, yunho,"

he'a already a few steps ahead of you when you stop him, he looks back at you with a questioning look as you point to at something.

"a tattoo?"

you nod.

"you want to get a tattoo with me?"

"there should be at least a little something that i can recognise you by if we ever cross paths again,"

he looks at you in awe as you walk over there, determined to get a tattoo, with or without him. 

as he follows you, he knows something very clearly, he'll do whatever you want. even if he doesn't know you, he knows that he's had a feeling of love. not entirely falling but a fleeting kind of. He doesn’t pay much attention and without giving it much thought, follows you. 

"hey, yunho,"

he turns back, spotting hongjoong at a little distance from where he was standing, his friend walks closer to him and he has a bag full of beer bottles, clearly leaving to refill the party with their friends.

"we've been looking all over for you, buddy,"

"uh, i've.. found a friend," 

"where?" he points to the tattoo shop where you're talking to the guy, and swiping through designs.

"that's great, dude, about time you find someone,"

“Yeah, and i hope y’all don’t mind it,”

He tsks in reply, “they’re all shitfaced, they probably won’t last for more than an hour or so, and that’s when i can finally drink,” he points to the beer bottles. 

"hey," you call out from your place, and interested to know the stranger standing beside your new friend, you walk up to them.

"you're?" 

"i'm hongjoong,"

“Nice to meet you, hongjoong,” you give him a smile.

"you're getting a tattoo?" he asks.

"if yunho agrees," 

"yunho, hmmm, you should go ahead, do it," 

"oh, wait, hongjoong is a great artist, he can draw something for us," yunho suggests. 

"well, if you want me to,"

and about an hour later, there’s half a butterfly on the area above the elbow on your right arm and the same location on his left arm.

"well, that was painful," you say, gripping your covered arm.

"you think?"

"but well, now i have something to remember you by so i'm not complaining," he adds.

which makes the both of you go silent again.

you want to ask him his number, but something stops you. Looking back you’re not so sure of what held you back but you wished, wished so bad that you’d taken some number, some contact anything. Heck, even an email address would have sufficed. 

But thinking that you can probably search him up on instagram or snapchat or something, you don’t bother about it.

"let's meet here tomorrow? you're here right?" 

you ask him, curious to know if he's into hanging out for another day.

"ofcourse, i'm craving some pancakes for breakfast,"

"we got it! let's have pancakes tomorrow,"

PRESENT. SEOUL. 2023

"hey, i'm hongjoong,"

"oh, hongjoong,"

the man visibly pales over your mention of his name but you can't resist it, all of it is coming back to you in such a full swing and you can't even do anything about it, you should have just stayed home.

and then the tattoo, your bare arm left it being exposed, nobody would know its meaning but it just felt like an open wound right now and you wish you had some extra sleeves so you could just cover them up.

yunho is ignoring you, and as you are, too. but it keeps on poking you with a stick, the memory of all of it, and you shake your head, it was just a day, you cannot let it have so much effect over you. and it just killed you that you couldn't just drop mingi's hand and tell him that this was the man, this was the guy you had fallen in love with, for the first time and intensely and in the period of not even a day.

throughout the dinner, his friends keep trying to make you comfortable and so does mingi but every time he talks to you and you're forced to look away from yunho, it practically rips your heart apart and then the thought of going home and then again being apart from him. it just seemed like a nightmare.

hongjoong looked awkward as he tried his best to not let anything slip out of his mouth, he looked like a bad liar. and as you sit there on the dining table you realize that the guy who was getting married after the summer was hongjoong, and it was almost his 4 year anniversary soon. and the guy who was taking over a company was the obnoxious but sweet, wooyoung.

But yunho seemed different with them. When he was with you, that day, it felt like he would just about do anything without any remorse at all. And today, the tie around his neck felt too tight. 

"excuse me, i need to go to the washroom," you needed some air.

"should i come?" mingi offers.

"i'll come too, i need to get some air, i'll help you find the way?"

the dining table doesn’t notice the way the air shifts around you both and mingi nods and carries on with his previous conversation with san but you walk up to the door with yunho walking behind you and keep walking until you've reached the far end of the corridor, where he pulls your hand to stop and then looks around and opens a door.

"that's a janitor's closet-"

"shhh," he quiets you down, there’s nobody who would hear you, but its just that he wants to look at you, quietly. think about that day again and again.

you look into his eyes again, the door has slits so the lobby lights spill into the room and parts of his are visible, including his eyes. the eyes you fell in love with, is that even possible, to fall in love with someone's eyes, or to fall in love with someone you just met for a day?

"why did you leave suddenly?"

"i-" 

he places a finger on your lips, leaning towards you in the small, dark room filled with brooms and the smell of room freshners. 

and his voice comes out as a whisper.

"i searched the entire island, all hotels, all the resorts, the airbnbs. there was not a single corner i hadn’t looked for you that day, where were you?"

"i had to leave, jae-i's family found out that she'd been with that jerk and they called us home immediately, and i tried finding you but i had to leave on the first flight that morning and i'm just so, so, so, sorry,"

he puts away his finger and sighs, "it's fine,"

"fate is such a bitch though,"

"you think?" you snicker. 

"what do we do now?" he asks. a deafening silence follows. 

"i'm going to leave,"

"again?" 

you don't pay much attention to his comment.

"i'm going to get out of mingi's life because i obviously can't live with him knowing that i'm in love with one of his friends,"

"and what about us?"

you place a hand on his chest.

"there was no us, yunho, how can you even be with me like this? all we'll end up being is each other's worst secrets, i don't think i'd want that, i don’t think you would want that either."

he nods.

"you fell in love with me?"

"yes,"

his tears glisten with the light.

"i fell in love with you too, and that morning i was going to properly introduce myself, take you out on a proper date, tell you that my drunk self was just beyond crazy for the shit he'd pulled the day before. but i guess fate had other plans,"

A FEW WEEKS LATER, PRESENT, 2023.

a few weeks later, when he gets a text from mingi in the groupchat, yunho feels a stake through his heart even though it was his friend who just got dumped.

he's brushing his teeth, while he goes through the texts for the entire day. mingi writes, it's been days but i've been kinda busy so i just thought i'd let you all know.

and then a notification for a private group chat, something the others had a knack for doing when they wanted to spill some gossip on the recent event in the main group chat, this particular one was revived from last year's surprise party for mingi's birthday. so the gossip was about mingi.

it was san, "you know he deserved it, milo told me he saw him with some other girl in a hotel one day,"

Hongjoong : “really? He’s such a fool for doing that to y/n, they definitely deserve better,” 

Now, that felt like a very personal jab. 

The others express their opinion too, with wooyoung saying he kinda predicted it with the way mingi left you alone that day at hongjoong’s party and yeosang and some others concluding with “what can we do? It’s his life, hopefully, y/n is not hurt a lot,”

he facepalmed. why? why were the fates so fucked? was it possible any of his friends would have your number? would it be weird if he asked for the number of one of friends' ex lovers? god, the amount of bad luck he always seemed to have was astronomical. 

Hongjoong called him right after the texts ended. 

“You, my friend, have the worst luck in the entire world,”

“Shut up, don’t rub it in,”

he lays down on his bed, tired from the day. It was only 7 pm but he felt like it would be better if he just slept. 

“We should have lunch tomorrow, by the way, my treat,”

“We’re not having a pity party for me, joong.”

Just then the doorbell rings. “Wait, hold on, i have a visitor,”

 He puts the phone on the shoe rack and walks over to open the door. when he opens, he sees the white bag before he can figure out its you. because you've shielded your face with it.

“Oh shit, shit, shit,”

when you move it out and finally take a look at yunho's face, he takes a minute to register it's you.

and he grabs you into a hug as soon as he realizes. guess his luck isn’t that bad even.

Hongjoong, still on the call and listening over, is concerned for yunho. “Hello? Yunho? Who is that? Yunho??? Answer me? Is someone stabbing you?”

after he realizes he's almost blocking your windpipe and realizes it's rude to just cry in the looby of your apartment complex, he invites you in and properly takes a minute for his emotions to settle down.

Meanwhile, hongjoong has ended the call and resorted to calling again, so yunho can pay attention to his phone. 

“Hello?”

“Oh my god, you’re alive,”

“I’m alright.”

And you walk over, looking at the caller ID, decide to introduce yourself, “hey, hongjoong, remember me? You drew my tattoo for me?”

“Yunho, what the fuck, man?”

“Don’t blame him, he didn’t know i was coming. And i stole his address from mingi, at least he was of some use,”

“Woah,” the older man is clearly surprised but then cuts the call after telling you both to not lose this chance and that he will talk to yunho tomorrow.

“So,” yunho says, you’re both in the kitchen, your white bag placed on the counter. “What is this?”

“We never got to have those pancakes,”

[instructionsnotincluded]

Any chance we could get an Audrey and JJ happy snippet?? If not it’s fine!! I love all the snippets of Rafe and Logan!! 👉🏼👈🏼

Yes!!! Here is the second scene to our fourth fic, the one that will pick up right after the events of season three and take us through season four.

18+ MDNI | language, references to sex, friends joking around. Some things have been deleted to avoid ITM spoilers. Plus, It’s a long one.

They found the rest of the Pogues sitting around the large round outdoor dining table that overlooked both the impressive pool and jacuzzi area, as well as the gorgeous clear ocean. It had been four months since the events in South America and while they were all attempting to figure out what life was going to look like with a shit ton of money, they had all managed to agree on a spectacular vacation before the real world set in.

“There they are,” Sarah Cameron greeted them with a huge smile, her mimosa poised in midair as the couple wandered over to the empty chairs, “we didn’t know if you’d make it or not.”

Cleo grinned playfully over her cup of coffee, “It was fifty-fifty on if you were puking or having sex.”

“And there goes my appetite,” John B dramatically pushed his eggs benedict away from him, the others laughing as he shook his head. Pulling the plate back towards him, he glanced over at his sister and best friend as they settled into the chairs. JJ had since pushed his sunglasses up onto the top of his head as he reached for the glass pitcher of ice water, however Audrey left hers on. “I’m guessing the champagne hit you pretty hard, sis?”

“Yeah,” at the sound of Audrey’s rough and cracked voice Pope Heyward and Sarah shared a laugh, Kiara Carrera reaching over to squeeze Audrey’s shoulder in sympathy. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be having champagne for a long while.”

“It was a $500 bottle of champagne,” Sarah giggled as Audrey winced, thanking JJ softly as he handed her a glass of water. “How does a $500 hangover feel?”

“Terrible,” Audrey sipped her water slowly, taking comfort in JJ’s arm as he tossed it around the back of her chair, “how are you all so…peppy?”

“Well, for starters, we didn’t drink an entire bottle by ourselves,” Pope shot her a pointed look and Audrey rolled her eyes, “and we’ve also been up for a few hours—the Advil started working.”

John B nodded, “Food will make you feel better, Aud. Promise.”

“Ugh,” Audrey made a face at him as JJ leaned over to press a soft kiss to her shoulder, “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Have you never been hungover before?” Cleo asked as she passed Audrey some toast while JJ started to fill his own plate.

“I don’t think a natty hangover is the same,” Audrey confessed as she nibbled on the toast, forcing her stomach to keep it down for the time being, “or at least, it doesn’t feel like it. Plus it’s been awhile.”

“She normally throws it up,” JJ happily accepted the coffee from John B, “before bed—you get it out of your system and it’s better to deal with it in the morning.”

“Fair,” Kiara nodded.

“Let’s change the subject,” Audrey settled into JJ’s arm, his fingers running up and down her arm comfortingly. “What’s everyone’s plan when we get back?”

“I’m only back for a week or so,” Kiara spoke first as she cut into her waffles, “and then I’m off to Florida for training before…Costa Rica, I think?”

“Gotta save the turtles.” Pope grinned as he took a bite of his food. “How long are you going to be gone?”

“Not sure,” Kiara shrugged, “a minimum of six months, I think? It’ll be good for us—I think I need some time to learn to forgive my parents and I think they need some time to forgive themselves.”

“How are they doing?”

“They’re ok,” Kiara glanced over at Audrey, “we’ve talked a lot and they’ve apologized and I’ve apologized. But the problem I’m having is if it would be different if we hadn’t found the gold, you know?”

“You mean if you didn’t have one million in your bank account right now?”

“Exactly.”

“Can I get you all anything else?” One of the servers wandered over to the table, her hands clasped behind her back.

“Could I get a ginger tea?” Audrey asked softly and the woman nodded before disappearing back into the house.

John B nudged some fruit onto his fork, “Alright Pope…Cleo?”

“I gotta get high school figured out,” Pope shrugged as he glanced out over the ocean, “tutoring, studying, figuring out where I left off and how I can get back to where I was. Apply to college, get some of this money into investments, that sort of thing.”

“Boring,” JJ coughed.

“I’m ok with boring,” Pope grinned, “I think the last nine months have been exciting enough, don’t you think?”

“I’ll drink to that,” Sarah lifted her drink to cheers with Cleo and John B, Audrey wincing at the champagne cocktail glittered against the sun, “Cleo?”

“Dunno,” Cleo shrugged, “I think I’m gonna open up a shop. See how life is in the OBX for a while.”

“That sounds really nice,” John B nodded, “what kind of shop?”

“Smoothie? Ice cream? Sandwiches?” Cleo shrugged, “I haven’t figured that one out yet. Gotta talk to the Heywards first.”

“What about you two,” Pope motioned between Sarah and John B with his fork. “What are you guys doing?”

“I’m working on buying the land the house sat on,” John B glanced over at his sister, wishing he could read her expression better with the sunglasses, “and I’m gonna build a house.”

“Chateau 2.0?” JJ lifted his eyebrows.

“Much nicer Chateau 2.0,” John B laughed, “but yeah—it won’t be all wood this time.”

“Sweet,” Kiara nodded happily, “that’s a great plan.”

John B watched Audrey lean further into JJ, his best friend allowing his sister to move closer against him. There hadn’t been a lot of time to watch the two be a normal couple in situations that also didn’t involve life changing or life threatening events—but over the course of the last few months he’d really gotten a closer look at them. They moved together, totally in sync with one another and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about what they were up to. Everyone else had been pretty vocal about their initial plans after getting the money deposited, but neither JJ nor Audrey had offered more than the typical “cars and clothes” they’d all discussed.

“Alright,” Sarah smiled across the table. “What about you two? Gonna get your own love nest?”

John B blanched, “Can we just not talk about their sex life? Can we make that a rule?”

Everyone laughed, including JJ and Audrey. The blonde glanced over at the oldest Routledge, the two silently communicating before JJ cleared his throat, “Yeah, I—I don’t really know what we’re going to do yet.”

“Nothing?” Pope lifted an eyebrow, “Not even an inkling of anything?”

John B watched his sister closely, his eyes flickering between the two as Audrey shrugged at Pope’s question, realization dawned on John an as he said, “You don’t want to go back to the OBX.”

Audrey’s attention shifted to him as he stared back at her. “I—” Audrey sighed, shoving her sunglasses away from her eyes to see him better. “A lot of shit happened there, JB. I’m not overly excited to do anything there right now.”

Silence fell over the table, everyone taking a moment to think back to everything that happened over the last year.

“So, where do you want to go?” Kiara asked the question they were all thinking.

“We’re gonna travel,” JJ took over, his hand slipping down Audrey’s shoulder to caress her elbow, “start with the US and then when the passports come in, see a bit more of the world.”

“You guys have to invest some of that money,” Pope straightened up, “I won’t let you both just piss it away on—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” JJ held up his hand, not liking the heat at which his friends were coming at him right now, “no one said we were gonna piss it all away. We’ve got a plan, we’ve got some things in the works right now. But none of it’s finalized and—”

“Like what?”

“Jeez, Pope, would you let me finish?”

Pope held his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t say decision making is your strong suit and all I’m hearing is that you’re going to travel the world and the world is expensive.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“I don’t know! I’m not so sure!”

JJ grunted, “And going back to high school is the way to go?”

“Alright,” Kiara held her hands out as she waved them around, “can we not on our last day? We’ve got the whole plane ride home to argue.”

John B finished his breakfast before standing, motioning for Audrey to follow him as the Routledges left the table. Audrey squeezed JJ’s shoulder in passing, following her brother down the steps towards the private beach area.

[tokuvivor]

Duckverse June Week 2: Travel/Vacation

@duckversejune2024 @secret-tester @queer-in-a-cornfield

Appropriately enough, I’m going on vacation myself tomorrow. And now, I give you…

Launchpad’s Week Off

“I still can’t believe that Mr. McDuck gave you the week off!” Drake exclaimed. “This is so exciting.”

“Oh, I know,” agreed Launchpad. “Just what we need-a relaxing week at the beach.”

“How long is it gonna be for us to get there?” Gosalyn asked.

“Nine hours, give or take,” Drake told her. “But I promise you, it’s going to be worth the wait.”

“Awesome!” grinned Gosalyn. “Not the long drive, of course. No offense to Duckburg, but you can only look at the pier area so many times before you get tired of it.”

“Fair point,” Launchpad noted. “Plus, even we need a little distance from the chaos once in a while.”

“Alright,” Drake said. “Looks like we’re all packed. Let’s go!”

The Mallard-McQuacks left for their trip fairly early in the morning, so that would hopefully get them to their destination by late afternoon. Of course, in all the planning, Drake had forgotten to account for…

“…morning traffic,” he grumbled. “Of course.”

“This is gonna take us ages to get out of!” groaned Gosalyn.

“Hey, cheer up, you two,” Launchpad persuaded. “It’s not so bad.”

“Really?” Gosalyn asked. “Can you use your crazy driving skills to get us out of this mess?”

“Driving on city streets is a lot different from driving on the highway, Gosalyn,” Drake reminded her. “Besides, Duckburg is just…well, it’s different from other cities.”

“He’s right,” Launchpad agreed. “So for now, we just gotta roll with it.”

Well, every once in a while, the car did gradually move forward. But not by much. Gosalyn decided to just put in her earbuds and play a game on her phone to pass the time. The slow passage of time was even getting to Drake.

“Let’s see-nope. No new e-mails.”

“Babe, that’s the third time you’ve checked your e-mails,” Launchpad noted.

“I’m sorry,” Drake responded. “It’s just all this traffic. Can’t it go any faster?”

“Traffic goes only as fast as it wants to go,” Launchpad told his boyfriend. “It’ll thin out soon. I guarantee it.”

About 20 minutes later, traffic started thinning out, and the car really began moving again.

“Alright!” Drake exclaimed. “Let’s see-we lost about an hour in all that, but we could still get there before…6.”

That was the usual dynamic the superhero duo/couple had when it came to driving-Launchpad was the driver, Drake manned the GPS. Gosalyn-well, she just let them do their thing. She took a break from her game, and just took to staring out the window, other cars passing by, Muse playing through her earbuds. She wondered what it would be like if Launchpad really could maneuver through all those other vehicles on the highway. Was it possible? Probably not. But a girl whose dad’s boyfriend was an insanely brilliant pilot/chauffeur could dream.

Eventually, several hours, several miles of highway, one lunch stop, and one gas refill later, they made it to their destination.

It was a nice little beach house, not exactly a shack, but not overly fancy, either. It was just off of the main drag along the coast, which was convenient.

Drake checked his watch. “5:24. Could be worse.”

“Well, the important thing is, we’re here,” Launchpad put in.

“Finally!” whooped Gosalyn. “Let’s check this place out.”

They quickly got their bags out of the car, and made their way inside.

“Well, this is nice,” Launchpad remarked.

“It’s cute,” Drake added.

“Keen gear,” Gosalyn finished. “I like the digs.”

It took a bit of time to get the two bedrooms set up, but by the time they were done, the three of them were starving.

“Well, since we’re at the beach, I think it’d be appropriate to get seafood our first night here,” Launchpad suggested. “Apparently, there’s a place not too far from here. We could easily just walk.”

“Then ice cream, possibly?” Drake posed, knowing what his daughter’s answer would be.

“Yes,” agreed Gosalyn. “Also, are we gonna have time for the beach tonight? I really want to check that out, too.”

“Alright, alright,” Drake replied. “The sun doesn’t set until after 8, so we won’t be bumping into anything.”

“Dad,” commented Gosalyn. “It’s not like there’s a huge risk of that happening, considering beaches are flat. Mostly.”

Launchpad sighed. “Let’s just go and find some food,” he chuckled.

Well, it was nice to have some time off. He, Drake, and Gosalyn certainly needed it. He couldn’t wait to see how the rest of it would go.