#he will consume three packs of cigarettes after that

[psychopacifist-rm]

Oh my gosh I love the dealer you draw! The buckshot roulette game is amazing! I hope you don’t mind me asking but is there a chance I could hug the dealer??? Please 🥺

[greenorangevioletgrass]

the albatross, here to destroy you (a.d.)

Pairing: art donaldson x popstar!reader

Summary: three years, three encounters. First, a chance meeting between two rising stars seeking an escape leaves a handprint on their hearts.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: smoking, language, greek mythology references, hella unresolved sexual tension(!!!), art is highkey a baby and lowkey a brat lol, did i mention unresolved sexual tension?, sooo much pining

Notes: this idea has consumed my waking days for weeks. I contemplated making it a really long fic, but after a long and careful consideration, I have decided to make it a trilogy! Two reasons; a) it’s gonna be really long, and b) I wanted to put Art’s look as a reference in each part lmao. Big up to @ysuftmikey and @tommysparker for being awesome and hearing out my incoherent rambles about this story. But anyway, please comment, reblog, talk to me and tell me what you think about it! Happy reading!

**i do not have a taglist. Follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass andd turn on the notifications to be alerted for new fics and updates!**

Part One: London, July 2011.

It was quite an impressive feat. 23-year-old American rising star Art Donaldson had miraculously beat the defending champion-slash-legend Rafael Nadal at the Wimbledon final.

Or so they said.

You don’t know, nor do you care much, to be quite honest. You were basically ordered to attend by your publicist, outfits picked out, hair and makeup team on full throttle only to have you sit pretty on the side of the Centre Court. And now, after milling around and halfheartedly mingling at the afterparty, you decide to give yourself some respite and slip away to the balcony.

“Oh, shit—” the man quickly turns back and stubs his cigarette on the railing, waving away any trace of smoke.

(You say man in a very broad term. He looks more like a teenage boy with that messy blond mop and skittish way about him.)

You raise your hands, showing no threat. “Sorry. Didn’t realize this balcony was taken.”

“Wait, no. Please.” He stops. He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. The only thing more embarrassing than getting caught smoking was getting caught smoking by a pretty girl. And pretty is… a fucking gross understatement, based on what he was seeing. “Don’t leave on my account.”

“You sure?”

You flash him that soft, understanding smile and he very nearly asks you not to leave, like ever. But fortunately, he’s got enough game to hold his tongue and smile back at you, “There’s more than enough room for both of us here, right?”

Technically, the balcony is big enough for the two of you to stand on opposite corners without even addressing each other. But his fingers are resting on a pack of Marlboro Green, and you bite the inside of your cheek thoughtfully. “And more than enough cigarettes, I hope?”

He’s not sure what he was hoping for, but he sure is surprised to hear you accept his invitation to stay. Gosh, he must’ve looked like an idiot right now. “Sure, of course.”

He slides a cigarette out of the pack as he offers it to you, readily leaning in with his zippo. For a split second, the two of you share a breath in the space that he encloses with one hand as he lights your cigarette. You would be lying if it didn’t make your heart stutter.

“So…” you inhale, taking the nicotine hit to calm your thoughts, “I thought smoking was bad for athletes.”

“I thought smoking was bad for singers too, but I guess it’s less frowned upon, huh?” He murmurs, trying to balance a fresh cigarette off of the side of his lips, smirking at you over the flicker of flame he started.

“Touché.” You lean your back against the railing. It’s an interesting game of chess you’re playing. Each of your reputations precede you and don’t at the same time. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re out here smoking on your own, instead of in there…” Celebrating is left unsaid, although the implied word hangs in big and bold letters.

“Ah well, maybe this is my way of celebrating. We’re allowed one vice every now and again, right?”

You look at him like it’s a bullshit excuse—and it is.

“This is gonna sound insane, but…” he takes a drag, looking out at the landscape before him, “I don’t feel like I should be celebrating.”

You look at him like that bullshit excuse grew a new head.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I worked hard for it and I’m glad it paid off, but…” he flicks the ash on the end of his cigarette three times. “I could’ve been better. Quicker. Won more points earlier. Beat him faster. And until I can do that, I don’t think I deserve a celebration just yet.”

You hum softly. “Sounds like you’re making a Sisyphus out of yourself. That can’t be fun.”

His mouth tugs into a crooked smile, not expecting to be called out like this. “I mean, at least I’m not rolling a boulder up a hill. I’d take tennis over that any day.”

“Yeah, but it seems like tennis is your boulder up a hill.”

“Touché.” He smiles bashfully as he takes a long drag. And then, he offers his hand. “I’m Art Donaldson, by the way.”

It’s a formality at this point. He knows who you are, heard your songs on the radio and saw your face on billboards more times than he can count. Hell, he saw you on the stands in your little Dior sunglasses earlier—and you saw him looking, just for a moment, sweat dripping down his perfect nose and all. But out of courtesy, you tell him your name and accept his handshake.

You pull your hand away, and he almost groans in protest. But again, he holds his horses. “Alright, I’ll bite. If I’m Sisyphus, what does that make you?”

“Oh, definitely Dionysus. Living on wine and theater and good vibes.” You’ve got that shit locked and loaded. It’s obvious that you’ve thought of this before.

“Is that so?” He chuckles. “Well… as long as you don’t sacrifice me to the maenads, right?”

“Can’t promise you that,” you quip back, tapping the gray off of your remaining cigarette. Pleasantly surprised that he doesn’t make the obnoxious remark that Dionysus is also the god of sex, as boys would do. Even more so that he knows enough to know the difference between the sirens and the maenads.

There’s no fighting the raging flush in his cheeks anymore, but he just hopes you would spare him. “Will you at least promise to make it swift?”

It comes out faster than a trainwreck, but without even blinking, the one thing that comes out of your mouth is, “What if I wanna take my time with you?”

Fuck.

The party carries on inside, although Stevie Wonder’s ‘My Cherie Amour’ sounds a mile away. His cigarette smoke comes out in a stuttered huff, as he looks away, not knowing what to do with himself. Eventually, though, he recovers, taking another drag. “It wouldn’t be a terrible way to go, huh?”

“I suppose not.” You sigh into a smile, exuding a flume of smoke through your nose. Shit, he doesn’t know which one is hotter; that, or the lipstick mark on your filter. Or the pensive look as you watch the party through the window.

Oh, he’s down bad.

“So, Dionysus…” he leans out against the railing, flicking ash off his stub one, two, three. “What brings you out here? You a tennis fan?”

“Me? Oh, no. No, I… don’t even really understand how it worked until today,” you admit bashfully. Somehow the truth doesn’t feel so embarrassing, even though you spent the day lying through your teeth. “Not until I saw you play. Which… congrats, by the way.”

“Wow. Thanks.” He’s not sure whether it’s the earnestness in your congratulations, or the fact that the game finally makes sense because of him, but his heart grows three sizes.

“But, yeah, no, my publicist dragged me here kicking and screaming.”

“So you were forced into a party, huh? That’s not very Dionysian of you…” He muses playfully, and those lines on each side of his lips aching to break out into a full smile. And they do. And it warms your heart that those smile lines only emphasizes the way his face lights up. “Nah, I get what you mean. My agent had to drag me out of the locker room to make an ‘appearance.’”

“Yeah, she said something about… shifting into a classier, more grownup image?”

“By watching a couple of dudes hit a ball with a racket?”

“By sitting there and looking pretty. It’s the only reason I’m all decked out in this ridiculous fucking thing,” you look down at your outfit with a grumble. Of all the days you could’ve run into someone cute, you’re in a fucking pantsuit like some middle-aged politician.

“But you do look pretty,” he replies without even blinking.

“Thanks, it’s Ralph Lauren.” You smile faux sweetly. “I believe I’m contractually obligated to say that.”

“Still pretty,” and he means it, lackadaisical smile and all. The ivory cape-like blazer is an interesting cut that goes down to your knees, and it makes you look regal. The cut of the pants makes your legs go for miles. It certainly doesn’t hurt that your off-white shirt is unbuttoned halfway, showing a generous amount of cleavage.

(And hey, he’s still a guy. Can you blame him?)

He has this way of looking at you. Like he’s studying you. It would’ve been unsettling, if he weren’t so fucking beautiful to look at and you don’t mind an excuse to stare back and admire the angular lines on his face. Like Apollo in the moonlight. “What?”

Art taps his cigarette much more deliberately and inhales, exhales out of the side of his mouth, much more deliberately this time. “I think you’re more Aphrodite than Dionysus.”

You take another drag. “How so?”

“First of all, for a god of parties, you don’t like to party all that much,” he grins knowingly, smugly, like he’s proud to have figured you out. But his smile softens, and there’s intensity behind his eyes. “And because you’re beautiful. And dangerous.”

Your mouth twists, pausing for a long moment. To calm yourself. To gather yourself. “But it’s so cliched, though…”

“Well, who would you rather be? Medusa, maybe?” He turns his body, leaning on his side against the railing so he’s fully facing you, and you can’t help but mirror his position.

You raise a forefinger pointedly, French manicured nails on display. “Hey. I think Medusa gets a bad rep. Neptune fucked her over, but she was the one cursed.”

“And what, you think you’re as cursed as Medusa, too?”

You shrug, maybe.

Despite the weight of your answer, he can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. “There’s no way you’re cursed. A curse wouldn’t be so beautiful.”

“But a curse could be deceiving, no?”

“Or maybe it’s a matter of perspective. Maybe you think you’re cursed, even when you might not necessarily be.”

“Oh, just like you’re so inclined to keep pushing your boulder up a hill?”

Art blinks, and sucks his teeth bashfully. Just when he thought he’s got you figured out… Check and mate. “You know, if I didn’t know you any better, I would’ve thought you were some kind of an oracle. Like Cassandra.”

Your eyebrows raise in interest.

“You have this strange, unnerving ability to see right through me. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve had a few drinks, or you’re just very observant, but…” he trails off thoughtfully and then nods like he’s made up his mind. “Cassandra.”

“Cassandra,” you echo quietly. “I like that.”

“Mm-hm. I’d say it’s a very fitting title for you.”

That fond little glint in his eyes is becoming a staple in the way he looks at you. And you don’t ever wanna see it dim. So you speak up again, leaning in conspiratorially. “You wanna hear something funny?”

“What?”

“My parents almost named me Cassandra.”

His jaw drops, dumbstruck. “Shut the fuck up.” His grandmother would have smacked him on the back of his head, knowing the profanity he uses (to a girl he likes, no less). But out of all the things he tried to figure out about her, he never expected to get this one right.

“I shit you not.” You watch him double down laughing, grinning to yourself. “Freaky coincidence, right?”

“Or the Fates working overtime. I’m sure they’d be laughing at us right now.” He looks up at the deep blue sky with a shake of the head.

You wave at the stars, taking a mock bow to your invisible audience. “Thank you. Glad you’re enjoying the show, guys.” The laughter lingers on your lips, and you wonder if it tastes the same on his. “We really are just the court jesters, huh?”

He nods. “Although I wouldn’t mind playing the fool for you.” Maybe it’s the drinks or the cigarettes or the unlikeliest conversation with the most stunning creature he has ever laid eyes on, but at one point, his inhibitions are starting to leave him.

It’s now or never.

The dubious smile that comes out of you is involuntary. He can’t be serious, right? “You are so full of shit, aren’t you?”

“You don’t believe me?”

You look at him like, obviously.

“What are you gonna do, punish me for lying?” There’s that glint again, the bite against the inside of your cheek, and Art steps in.

Your heart catches. He doesn’t feel much like a boy now, inches away from you with a disarming look, his intentions crystal clear. And your head drops for a moment with a wry smile. “You can’t say that to me...”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“Because? His grin widens, because for the first time this whole evening, he’s got the upper hand. And he likes it.

“I…” You blink at him, finding yourself cornered. Thankfully, though, your phone comes to the rescue, buzzing in your pocket and popping the tension between you and Art like a balloon. “I’m sorry, do you mind if I—”

“Yeah, sure.” he backs away a step, flashing an understanding smile. He watches you pick up the phone, looking out at the London sky. He would swear up and down that he didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He just loves to watch you gnaw at your lower lip in thought, study your moonbathed profile.

Listen to the sweet, sweet sound of your voice.

“Hi… no, I’m still at the— yeah. I’m not sure… are you still with…? Oh, good. Good, just checking. Say hi to everyone for me... Yeah, I’ll call you when I get back?” You catch Art’s gaze, and your stomach drops as you hear the dreaded words on the line. But again, you’re backed away into a corner. So you look away and say it back, “I love you, too. Bye.”

There it is.

Art really should’ve known this. He should’ve seen it coming. You were way too good to be true, but that doesn’t stop him from getting disappointed. No, his heart breaks on the spot, and he’s pretty sure you can hear it.

(You can’t. But you can see it in his face.)

The silence is awkward. It’s ugly. The steady sounds of cars passing by on the ground feels like it’s right in front of you. For the longest time, the two of you can only look out onto the horizon. Anxiously tracing the outlines of skyscrapers in sight.

He is reeling, like he’s been shaken awake from a dream. “So, I take it you’re taken, huh?”

The look you give him is apologetic, and it kills you as much as it destroys him. “Yeah.”

Art rubs at his jaw like he’s willing himself to say something, anything. “I see you’ve cursed me, then.”

“What?”

It takes him a moment to gather his words. Put together his thoughts in a way that you would understand. He didn’t mean it to sound so damning, but it’s the first thing that comes out. It feels like taking a boulder out of his throat. “By making me like you.”

Oh.

Your face falls. Of course. How cruel of you to play his game, knowing you’re setting him up to lose. “I’m sorry. I never meant to…”

“No, no. I’m not blaming you, I swear,” he quickly interjects. “It’s… not your fault one of us is a fool.” He smiles ruefully at nothing.

“It’s a shame,” you quietly admit.

And even then he can’t be mad at you. Not from the way he looks at you oh so tenderly. “It’s a real shame, love.”

There are no words, no more witty remarks. They’ve all been exhausted out of you. There’s nothing left to exchange but that soft look of resignation. Of defeat.

Of wishful thinking.

The cigarettes have long died out and forgotten, only the filters left between your fingers. Your ashes fall in a big chunk on the railing, while Art’s… have free-dived and dispersed in the muggy night air.

“I should go.” Your voice comes out in a whisper. “Let you go back to your party.”

Art can only nod. He keeps his mouth shut, not trusting himself enough to not beg you to stay.

You reach out, almost pulling back, but you can’t help it. Even if it’s just a nothing hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Art.”

He covers your hand in his, just for a second. His thumb caressing the back of your hand. His heart is in pieces, but at least he will have this. If nothing else, he will still know how your hand feels in his.

And just as quickly as it happens, it ends. Art doesn’t dare watch you leave. He misses your touch instantly, and the sound of your footsteps, and the door opening and closing follows. As Al Green’s ‘What Am I Gonna Do With Myself’ plays on in the party, Art looks out towards the London sky and lights another cigarette.

[hobicakess]

PLAYING DANGEROUS | (one)

summary: It's been almost three years since Jack in the box was caught, and no one could make him talk. No one knew his story, and what drove him to become the monster he was today. That is until you're assigned your first story. What makes you so lucky?

rating: 18+ (I'm not your mother you're in control of what you consume)

pairings: Journalist!Reader x Criminal!JungHoseok x CEO!Kim Namjoon x Detective!MinYoongi.

warnings: warnings: no thoroughly edited, EW Ai , character death (nothing to cry about), black/plus sized coded reader, talks of murder, talks of torture, corporate evilness, violence, Mc reads hobi to filth, yandere characters, possessive/obsessive behavior, short hair namjoon (yes that's a warning), one maknae introduction, maknae helping cause chaos, cigarettes, Yoonie is an angry kitty this chapter, bratty mc, mc is kinda a bitch (a bad one at that), unhinged serial killer hobi (joker vibes tbh) , yoongi hates his job, namjoon loves his job (he gets to piss you off everyday) SMUT— nothing too crazy , choking, sub mc , missionary, mating press , man handling (yummy)

a/n: HEYYY omg this took me so long to write and it's just a little over 2k words... LMAO I suck i know, but we're getting there I pinkie promise. I really hope you all enjoy this and constructive criticism is welcome!!

TAGLIST: @sumzysworld @bbgniecyy @paramedicnerd004 @heartsbr0ken @grltwin @superbbananananana @secfir @darkuni63 @thisladysperspective @p34rluv @secfir @sarcastic-cookie @coffeedepressionsoup @ot7nem @italiekim @cynicalbitch666 @jalexd @whenthebeatdrop-beatdrop

2 MONTHS BEFORE JACKS ESCAPE

Kim multimedia station.

The place of business was always busy and there was never not anything to be done, Endless reports and stories in need of being written, the podcast teams always chattering about the hottest topics.

KMMs was a journalist's dream — your dream.

You were a known face around the company both online and in person. A pretty foreigner who was damn good at her job and that made you favored by the late CEO Kim. You were always hand picked by him to attend press conferences in his favor. He treated you kindly, allowing you into a large world of business pulling strings to get you the best stories helping you— a once broke freshly graduated English major climbing up in the world of reporting.

It's only been three months since CEO Kim passed away and the company was changing fast. You were grateful that you weren't a part of the many that were fired and replaced by new faces and AI, and you were now noticing how low the viewers were on podcasts, social media and blogs.

KMM was dying out very slowly and that meant you might go away with it. You were dedicated to your work, and the company that helped you become the person you were today.

And you were willing to do anything to not be forgotten.

Sleeping was not on the agenda right now.

A quick double tap to a cell phone showed an awfully bright screen reading 4:40 am. You had been lying in your bed mind racing while staring at your wall for the past hour and a half.

Jack in the box.

Rolling out the tangled bedsheets and arms you pull on a large T-shirt that'd been discarded a long with the other items of clothing on the floor shuffling towards the desk in the corner of your room. Laptop already open from your previous research when you pull out a pack of cigarettes from your drawer before plunging deep into the web. Your mouse clicks every site as your pen moved furiously taking in all the information you can about said serial killer.

“On May 14th, 2018 Serial Killer Jack In The Box was finally caught after a murdering spree in Seoul. The killings of ordinary outgoing individuals taken with a quick swipe of a knife and a long torture method.”

"Before his kills Jack likes to taunt his victim. He ironically sends them a Jack in the box to let them know they're next. The next few days said victim lives in constant fear, looking over their shoulder, leading the mostly known outgoing victim to slowly isolate themselves from loved ones in fear of them being hurt, eventually this leads to insomnia and in some cases hallucinations and histera. Then Jack disappears for a while making them think they're finally okay and he's gone until he wasn't."

The scoff that left your lips echoed through the quiet room, breathing out the nicotine smoke from your Cancer stick.

So Jack was an antisocial loser and took out his lack of social skills on people who could.

"No one knows of Jack's real identity. Police have reported that the man has lived many lives and has owned many faces for the past 11 years. Reporters have tried their hardest for the past 4 years to get a one on one interview with the man but unfortunately he refuses to talk only resorting to violence."

A reporter says he went for a handshake and left with two missing fingers.

Another says he watched the man bang his head on the wall hard enough to bleed when he asked the murderer's real name.

A broken arm??

“Fuck” you huff flicking the ash at the butt of your cigarette. You stare at the mugshot photos supplied at the end of the article. Dark wide eyes, shaggy black hair falling over his forehead, the piercings sticking from the bridge of his nose eyebrow and top lip.

The look definitely screams psycho but…. he was kinda hot. It took everything in you not to go and click the endless fanfiction that you stumbled upon.

A pair of warm lips press onto your shoulder causing you to jump. Turning to look over your shoulder at the shirtless sight of Kim Namjoon.

“We have to be up in four hours, baby, come back to bed.”

You hum into his embrace with a pout stubbing out the cigarette into the pink ashtray beside your computer. “Did you know Jack went through eight lawyers? Until one day he randomly called Kim Seokjin. That high profile guy from the law firm we're partnered with? they must know each other”

Though Namjoons attention was not on the words that were leaving your mouth. Hands wander all over your body while placing kisses on your neck, and cheeks.

“He literally bit the finger of the last reporter clean off. Like do you know how much force you have to put into that? I think he reads too much gothic liter—”

Cutting you off with a quick grab of your jaw turning your head to connect his plump lips to own. Pulling away with a cheeky dimpled smirk, “I’m not sure how I feel about you talking about another man.”

“Well you shouldn't feel any type of way because you aren't MY man.”

You squeal when you're lifted up from your chair and throw over a broad shoulder. He huffs when he throws you onto the memory foam comforter, your (his) shirt lifting up your thighs exposing your bare cunt. Immediately his big body was hovering over you as he slightly pressed his body weight onto you.

“Get off you dick” pushing and smacking his tan shoulders but that did nothing for you at this moment. “Well I'm trying to put it in you.”

He bullies your legs up over his shoulders as he taps his hard piece against the wetness between your thighs. “If something happens to me during this case I swear” choking on your words as he slowly but surely presses his thick head into your cunt.

“Fuck — may the man himself strike me down.”

Hand reaching to grip your throat smashing your lips together. Luckily your mind left the thoughts of the serial killer , the only thing on your mind right now was Namjoon and his ridiculously large cockm

It wasn't weird for you to obsess over your assignments to the point where it was all you thought about. Everyone does that.

Though this one you couldn't seem to finesse your way out of. Without the help of the late Kim you'd have to pull your own strings to get what you wanted and now that Namjoon was in charge he loved making your life harder.

“Y/n.”

Your head snaps up from your laptop hand stalling from moving on your notepad face to face with gorgeously pale Detective Min Yoongi.

“Yoonie” you smile, motioning for him to sit in front of you. He looked different from when you last saw him all the months ago, more tired and cat- like you guessed it was from the heavy responsibilities that came with the position as Chief of Seouls police department

“Did you just call to look at me?”

“Sorry it's just been . . a while” you push the large Iced Americano towards him as a peace offering. He gladly accepted it with an amused raise of an eyebrow, “You know I just wait for your call.”

“The phone works both ways” you internally wince , you sounded like an estranged father talking to his child.

“What do you want?” A frown spread across your face and lips, shutting your laptop. “I can't call an old friend for a friendly coffee date.”

You waited for his answer as he took his time generously drinking from his plastic cup. With a smack of his lips he sat the cup down leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You only call me ‘Yoonie’ when you want something” eyes scanning over the scatter of papers and notes taking up your side of the table.

“This must be serious”

Hands going to clasp under your chin you sigh, cutting the bullshit. “Three years ago you were the lead investigator on the Jack in the box case which brought you from rookie detective to Chief of police.”

“I was wondering if you could help old friend out tell me what you know about-”

“No.” He cuts you off with little to no thought.

“No? Why not? This isn't our first rodeo Min”

There were plenty of times Yoongi helped you with stories without a second thought. He'd give you case files, witnesses, and anything you needed but why not now?

“Anybody but him”

You scoffed at him, irritation rising in your body. “I need this story not anyone else.”

“Well I can't help you, princess.”

“That's bullshit!” Your voice raises causing a couple people around you to turn their attention towards the two of you. He stood up, chair scraping the floor, slamming a few dollars on the table. “Call me if you need anything else.”

Turning on his heel he leaves you sitting there in your slowly growing rage. You quickly hopped from your seat chasing after him, managing to catch up with his long strides. “Yoongi slow down dammit”

He twirls around grabbing onto you by your arm, “Who gave you this story.

“Namjoon he-” you whine as his grip tightens on your arm as his eyes slit. The angry red scar on his face makes his angry stare look even more intimidating. “You don't understand how dangerous Jack is. Just because he's behind bars doesn't mean he won't have people on the outside that will whack you for being a nosy reporter.”

He softens his hold, lifting his hand to rub your cold cheek. “If something happens to you. . .” He shakes his head letting you go.

“Sit this one out Y/N I don't want to see you in our precinct mortuary.” with that he walks away disappearing into the crowd.

You sniff doing the walk of shame back to the Café sitting back in your seat with your head in your hands

Detective Min Yoongi.

“Excuse me Ma’am” the blonde barista came over holding a box of blueberry doughnuts which happened to be your favorite. “It's on the house.. everyone saw your fight with your boyfriend, manager said this might help cheer you up.”

“Oh! Thank you but he wasn't my boyfriend, just a work colleague.” You tried to defend yourself but the sympathy in his eyes only grew so you accepted the treat with another thank you. “What is your name? I've never seen you here before.”

A soft brightens his pretty face, eyes scrunching slightly adding to the prettiness of his face. “Park Jimin, Ma’am.”

MEANWHILE

The buzz of the electrically wired door opening didn't alert the man that stayed deep in the corner of his cell. “Long time no see.”

“Why now?” the visitor asks, “After all this time you choose now.”

He giggled, the haunting sound bouncing off the walls. “Did you bring what I asked for”

The visitor threw the pictures and the box of cigarettes into the cell. “Answer my question.”

“It's been three longgg years.” He finally answered, moving from his corner to pick up the photos. “Tell me is she this gorgeous in person?”

“Just for her?”

“And I need to stretch my legs” he laughs louder this time the high pitched sound echoed even through the thick steel door that kept him locked in tight.

Jack was ready to play more games

©hobicakesss , please don't repost or steal my work. don't be a loser

[mrsriddles-blog]

Her Girl | P.P

Pairing: Slytherin Fem Reader X Pansy Parkinson

WC: 2k+

Warnings/Notes: Mild language, kissing, angst, drugs…

Summary: Unsure of how either of you feel and not wanting to risk losing one another as a person in each other’s lives, you continue to dance around the truth of your guys’ relationship.

A/N: I am so sorry! It has been ages since I’ve actually posted a piece of writing! This is a draft and I’ve seen all the requests, I’m working through them slowly, but surely! College and work have been a real pain in the ass, so I’m so sorry guys! I’ll probably be switching up the plan I had originally just to try and get some more work out and posted. I’ll also probably do away with the song fics until I have more time on my hands! I’ll try to finish the ones already planned and of course if a request comes up, but it’s super time consuming!

"Hey, who's that?" Lorenzo asks, pointing at you.

You sat alone at a table in the courtyard, your green robes sticking out to your own house. They've never noticed you before and clearly you were new if you were sitting at the Golden Trio's table.

"I don't know, but I feel like we should rescue her before the Golden Trio gets to her." Draco says, looking in the direction of the glaring Gryffindors.

"Too late." Mattheo mumbles, taking another drag from his cigarette.

"Excuse me. Who are you sitting at our table?" Harry asks.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is your name on this table? No, it's not. So it doesn't make it your table. Now get the fuck out of my face." You snap.

The boy who lived was taken aback by your hostility, along with your icy tone. He puts his hands up, deciding not to fight with you. He had no idea who you were anyway, only that you were an enemy by your house colors.

You watch as he backs away, a familiar look of fear in his eyes. You wait until the three fools turn around before focusing back on the letter to your father. You had found you hated Hogwarts as you've faced nothing, but bullying and not to mention you were still friendless after a month. 

You weren't one to give up, but this time...you weren't wanting to fight.

There wasn't anything here for you. No one even in your house has noticed you. You're barely noticed by the professors. It's like you don't exist because you're not apart of their clicks. You pull a cigarette out, lighting it in hopes it'll ease your nerves.

You pack up your belongings, tired of the chatter as you begin walking to the Astronomy Tower in hopes for some peace.

"Sorry, didn't know anyone was up here." You mumble, seeing a girl with long brown hair and green eyes.

She wore no robes, but she wore a green tie—one that hung loosely around her neck. You start to make your way to turn to exit as she speaks.

"No! Wait! Come sit." She says, her cheeks flushing red at sounding so panicked.

Panicked because she realized she'd been quite a tad bit too long and was just staring, so you had begun to walk away. You were hesitant, but you take a seat next to her.

"I'm Pansy Parkinson." She says.

"Y/N Y/L/N." You murmur.

"I've seen you around. I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself sooner. I assumed it would be overwhelming as I'm sure people were eager to meet you. It's not often we get someone in the middle of the year, let alone our fifth year." She explains.

"You're alright. It's been quite the opposite actually. You're the first person to actually speak to me...and notice me. Although, I'm considering lettering my father to get transferred elsewhere." You admit, putting out your cigarette to light another.

"What? Why?" She asks.

"I've faced quite a bit of bullying since I've got here. Not that I've cared. Typically I'll handle it, but I'm not quite sure who keeps pulling their stunts. And I haven't made any friends. It's been hard." You admit quietly.

"Don't send that letter just yet. You are now my friend. Let me introduce you to my other friends later at dinner. It'll be nice to have another girl apart of the group, oh, and I'll figure out who's messing with you, Y/n/n. I'll handle it." She says, giving you a smile.

"That's okay, Pansy. I'll figure it out sooner if later. It's my problem to sort out anyway." You say, managing a soft smile.

"You can handle it, but I'll also be handling it. Trust me, if I don't handle it, the boys will which means all of them will cast hellfire on the unfortunate bloke. The moment they meet you, you'll be apart of our little family." She says.

"Hey, Pansy? I was wondering if—." You say, before stopping.

She was in a dark green lace bra, wearing a mini skirt as she sifted through her closet. She smiles at you, one that sent your stomach in a bunch of flutters. Your cheeks flush red when you realize you were staring.

"What's up, love?" She asks lowly.

You swallow thickly, your thighs not so discreetly clenching together as a heat ignited in your core.

"I...um, nevermind. Sorry, I can't remember what I was going to ask. Sorry, um for barging in." You say, looking anywhere, but her.

"Hey, what happened to your lip?" She asks, stepping forward until she was in front of you.

She lifts a hand, cupping your face as she runs her thumb across your busted lip.

"Nothing." You mumble.

"This isn't nothing." She scolds.

"It's not that big of a deal, Pans." You mumble, pulling back.

She purses her lips, nodding and you sigh, knowing you've pissed her off. You turn, leaving her dorm as you walk back to your dorm.

There was a party tonight and that was what you had gone to talk to Pansy about. You sigh, running a hand through your hair. You wanted to be bold though, so you began the tedious search through your closet.

"Hey, I wanted to talk with you." Theodore says, slipping in your dorm.

You've settled on an outfit and now you just had to get dress. You start to shimmy your way out of your jeans.

"What's up?" You ask.

"So—oh, hey Pans." He says.

Her eyes were on you as you were half-naked in front of Theodore Nott—one of the two most notorious boys in Slytherin who screwed with girls.

"Oh...when did this happen?" Pansy asks quietly.

"It's not that, Pansy. I've seen her naked like a lot now. Friends only, pinky swear." He says, leaning back on your bed.

You rolled your eyes, seeing she wasn't convinced. You pull on the skirt and look at her.

"I'm gay, Pansy." You say.

"Oh!" She says, her cheeks flushing red.

"You really think this girl would let me sleep with her and let me see her naked on a daily basis? No! She'd kick my ass." He snorts.

"I-I've got to finish getting ready. Sorry! I can't remember what I was going to ask...actually, I do. I'm sorry, I got cold and I iced you out because you weren't comfortable telling me what happened." She says.

"Pans, it was a stupid argument I got into. I shouldn't have listened because I know the truth anyway. It's seriously no biggie. Go finish getting ready. You and I will slay this party, more so you." You say, smiling softly at her.

She smiles, her cheeks flushing red, but she leaves. You look back at your skirt and fix it before pulling your shirt over your head.

"So, that answered my question. One of them at least. But, do you like her?" Theodore asks, unfazed as you take your bra off and pull on the lace bralette that was a dark green.

"Of course I do! She's a great friend...she's been accepting of me since day one and she's been nice despite me having my days sometimes. She's always understanding and I love that. No one has been that way for me. Ever. I've never really experienced the love and care of friends until her...and of course you guys, but she and I are always going to be a little closer obviously." You ramble, pulling on the black blazer.

"I meant in a more than friend way." He says, lighting a cigarette.

You sigh, sitting at your vanity as you straighten your hair, going for a bold look. You settle on a vibrant red lipstick along with dark eyeshadows.

"Yeah, but that won't ever happen, Theo. She doesn't like me that way. Not to mention...I've tried to subtly hint to her only for her to brush past it. I've gotten my hint, so I'm going to be thankful I even have her in my life as a friend." You explain.

"God, you are blind." He mumbles.

"And what are you talking about?" You ask.

"I'm talking about the way she talks about you to us when you aren't around. It's like, she's in some dream. She gets this dreamy smile and look to her eye when she thinks or talks about you. She lights up when you're around. She cares about you, worried when you're having an off day or if you get in a fight. She's just scared to lose you. You are more than her girl than you realize. And what about that fight you got into with that Ravenclaw who was calling her a fag and stuff? That's just being friendly?" He asks.

"You're telling me you wouldn't have fought her for that?" You deadpan, turning to him.

"One, I would have if she was a he as I don't hit girls. Two, is that all you got from what I said?" He asks.

"Theo, I can't lose her. I don't think you realize what that will do to me if I lose her. It's not that I don't want to believe what you're saying. I just don't want to get my hopes up. What if you're looking for the same thing I am?" You ask.

"I guess we'll find out tonight. I heard a certain Gryffindor was going to show her moves on Pans tonight. Just know it's on you for letting her slip away." He says, leaving your dorm.

You frown, looking at your vanity for a moment before finishing up your makeup. You pull on your heels with the snake coiled around the heel as music began to play. You debated on even going to this party.

You went nonetheless, striding towards the bar where you mixed up a drink that was borderline death itself. Your eyes found Pansy chatting it up with Hermione Granger of all people. You frown, not noticing a Hufflepuff sixth year striding towards you.

"I'm Anna!" She calls, sending a flirty smile your way.

"Y/n!" You call, smiling back slightly.

Pansy had tuned Hermione out, her eyes on you before she stormed over to the boys. She smacked Theodore in the head who curses.

"What the hell!? I thought you said she liked me!" She snaps.

"She does! What the hell was that for?" He says, rubbing his head.

"She's talking to that sixth year Hufflepuff! That's what it was for!" She snaps.

"I said she likes you. I even told her that Hermione was going to make a move on you if she didn't. I never said she'd make the move though. You are really important to her, she doesn't want to lose you. She rather have you as a friend than lose you because she doesn't believe you like her." He explains.

"So, she's going to just dance with her? Are you actually listening to whether she likes me or not or are you just a fucking bloke?" She snaps.

"That busted lip is because she got into a fight with a Ravenclaw who was calling you some nasty names. I believe I heard her say something across the lines of don't talk shit about my girl. You can stand here and sulk about her dancing with Anna, or you can go get your girl. Your choice." He says.

Pansy looks at him with malice before relaxing and sighing as a tired look washes over her face. She looks up at you to see you dancing with Anna still.

"I'll handle, Anna. It won't go anywhere obviously, but just so you can whisk her away." Astoria says, taking her pin out of her hair and shaking her curls free.

Astoria was a new friend of the group because of her arranged marriage with Draco, but only the group knew of the arrangement.

Pansy strides towards the dancing crowd and grabs your hand. You look at her as Astoria whisks Anna away. Pansy pulls you off to a secluded corner and sighs.

"I'm a bloody idiot for not realizing how you felt. But, that makes you one too as you haven't realized how I felt." She sighs.

"What?" You ask oblivious.

"I like you, Y/n/n. I have for awhile." She chuckles.

"I...I like you too, Pans. I just...didn't think you would ever feel that way for me." You admit quietly.

"Fucking hell, shut up and let me kiss you." She laughs.

Your cheeks flush red, but nonetheless, you let her pull you in by your hips, your lips meeting her soft ones that tasted like her cherry lipgloss. You smile into the kiss as your guys' guy friends started to whoop and holler for you both. You flipped them the middle finger as Pansy's hands move to your ass.

"She's got her girl." Theodore chuckles.

"The hell they'll be together." Mattheo laughs.

[lilyevanstan1325]

❤️ Built For This World ❤️

Chapter 3

I look around trying not to lose my mind.

Behind me I can hear the quiet patter of a horse, its low whinnies are the only thing keeping me company.

They won't kill me.

Right?

Oh shit.

Ok ok, I have to stay calm, I can't lose my mind right now.

Breathe Summer, breathe.

Despite the darkness, interrupted by only a few rays of moonlight passing through the old wooden planks of the ceiling, if I concentrated I could try to understand how the hell to escape from this place.

Would it be such a bad idea after all?

I almost miss the woods full of biters.

I sigh shaking my head.

Bullshit.

I'm just panicking and this isn't going to help.

I'm safe now.

I'll be fine here and Daryl won't let anything happen to me.

Daryl.

Another big sigh leaves my lips.

I'll be honest, when he puts a gun to my head I felt betrayed.

It was an unexpected gesture but after the initial shock I think I can understand his motivations.

He doesn't know who I am and the people he cares about live here.

From what I understand and from what little I was able to see there are women here and perhaps even children.

It is more than normal to want to protect them from the new intruder, even if the new intruder is a girl on the edge of death.

A pang runs through my shoulders.

Damn Shane.

That's the name of the man with the crazy look who tied me up as if I were a serial killer.

Without even realizing it, I relive in my mind the meeting with these people on the top of the hill.

As soon as the three men reached us, the one with the shaved head was the first to start yelling at Daryl.

"Are you crazy?What the hell is going through your head?And who the hell is this kid?” he shouted, looking down at me and waving the gun in my direction.

I found myself staring into two black pools full of hate and…madness?

For the first time since I set foot out of that damned woods full of biters, I was truly scared.

I felt a drop of cold sweat run down my spine and with eyes wide open and full of panic I did the only thing I thought was safe at that moment.

I turned my head in the direction of the archer, looking for help, finding his blue eyes already fixed on me.

I know it was an irrational thought.

Asking for help from the man who points a gun at your head is certainly not a smart move but at that moment my every action was the result of my instinct.

I remember moving a little more towards him, sliding my knees on the hard ground scratching my knees, bringing me closer to the archer's legs.

The tip of my left shoulder grazed his knee.

Without hesitation Daryl moved from my side and positioned himself in front of me, interposing himself between me and that dickhead who, waiting for an answer, was looking at me as if he was ready to rip my heart out of my chest.

With bare hands.

Everything about him screamed danger.

There is definitely something wrong with him.

At that moment, however, I couldn't do anything other than look at Daryl.

From my perspective I could only see his boots but better than the eyes of that raging madman.

Now he was my only chance of salvation.

Daryl for his part seemed calm.

Relaxed.

Even too much.

Looking up I saw him take a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jeans and very calmly, as if at that moment we didn't have the end of the world on our heels ready to bite us in the ass, he took a cigarette, lit it and took a long, deep drag.

Spirals of white smoke dispersed freely into the sky.

For a moment he turned his head, glancing over his shoulder, right at my figure kneeling on the ground.

“I found her in the woods.I couldn't leave her"

A clear sentence.

Short and concise.

But also a big lie.

He could have left me to die, he didn't have to take me with him and jeopardize the safety of their safe place.

Another spiral of smoke rose above his head.

From my position I could hear the crackle of tobacco consumed by the flame.

Daryl's attention was totally focused on the man in uniform.

Another useful detail for me.

He's the leader here, I thought.

I remember observing his figure, half hidden by the man in front of me, for endless minutes.

I could hear the gears turning at lightning speed in his head as he pondered what to do with me.

After another deep exchange of glances between Daryl and the cop, the latter moved to the side, kneeling in front of me and bringing his eyes up to mine, studying me for a few more seconds, as if I were a fucking animal in the zoo.

I had some difficulty keeping myself from snorting and rolling my eyes.

All that was left was for him to throw peanuts at me.

The cop ran his hand over his face, rubbing his tired and exhausted features and then finally I heard his voice for the first time.

“I'm Rick Grimes.Who are you?"

“I'm Summer Davis” I stammered uncertainly, using my mother's last name as information.

I had already abandoned my father's surname a long time ago, no longer using it helped me overcome his betrayal.

I saw him nod just once as if he was satisfied with my answer.

"You are alone?Do you have people looking for you?”

Now to anyone this might seem like a simple question.

But not for me.

Not for me.

Was I alone?Yes.

Was someone looking for me? Probably.

Would I have told him?Hell no.

Looking at the men in front of me I knew immediately that I didn't care what they did with me in the end.

The only thing that mattered was that I would never allow their path to intertwine with that of him and his men.

After all, they seemed really good people.

Except for crazy eyes, he's definitely a disturbed son of a bitch.

So I did the thing that came most naturally to me.

Lie.

After all, I had been lying to him for months now.

I also became quite good at it.

I cleared my thirsty throat and I straightened my back.

The first rule for lying is to show confidence when speaking and look your interlocutor straight in the eyes.

“Yes, I'm alone, I don't have a group or a family.I was just trying to get to Atlanta”

Rick's blue eyes suddenly clouded with sadness.

I remember looking at him with curiosity.

Why that reaction?

“Atlanta is overrun.Nothing exists in that city anymore” Rick replied softly, responding to my questioning look.

“Oh…” was all I could mutter.

The memory flies from my mind.

Atlanta is overrun.

I cannot believe it.

I left Washington and arrived here with the illusion of being able to find something but instead?

In the end I almost lost my life to find myself tied to a pole in a stable.

I move my aching shoulders again and a hiss slips between my parted lips.

Why did Shane have to tighten the rope so much?

Where the hell did he think I would go?

After Rick's little interrogation I was left alone, but kept in sight by all four men, while they conversed among themselves.

About what?

Well I found out soon after.

Rick and Shane left without even looking back, the two were too busy arguing heatedly with each other.

And I'm sure that the topic of their heated discussion was me.

Great.

Antagonizing someone like Shane is never a good thing.

Glenn and Daryl instead escorted me into this stable, leaving me here and telling me to wait.

After a few moments Shane arrived with his damn rope.

Prick.

The stable door creaks open, taking me by surprise and tearing me away from my mental ruminations.

In front of it was a man watching me.

I try to understand who it is but then the timid sound of his voice takes away any doubts.

“Hey”

“Hi Gleen” I smile.

“I'm still here” I add with an ironic laugh.

Where the hell could I have gone anyway?

Slowly he approaches me.

His footsteps echo lightly around us.

I watch him carefully while in the dim light he sits on an old chair in front of me.

In his hand he holds a glass of water which he places near his feet.

“I'm sorry about that” he murmurs ashamedly in a low voice as if it were his fault, while with a wave of his hand he points to the rope that keeps my hands tied behind my back.

I shrug, feigning indifference, trying to hide the grimace of pain caused by my aching shoulders.

“Shane is an idiot.I tried to tell him it wasn't necessary but…you saw him…he can be a real hothead” he admits defeated, taking the baseball cap off his head and fiddling with it.

I smile at his sweetness.

Glenn is a really good guy.

“Don't mind” I try to reassure him.

His gaze wanders for a few seconds and then stops on me.

“I brought you some water and these” he says, taking what appear to be crackers from his pocket.

Food and water.

I think I could cry with gratitude.

I try to settle myself more comfortably even though the hard wooden floor beneath me is leaving indelible marks in my battered flesh.

I straighten my back grunting and cross my legs waiting to receive my dinner.

Glenn gets up from his chair with a little huff and after lighting a small oil lamp hanging right above my head he sits on the floor right in front of me, also with his legs crossed.

I blink several times trying to get my weak eyes used to the dim yellowish light.

The smell of the oil burning in the lamp fills my nostrils.

Glenn grabs the glass and brings it to my lips.

I drink enthusiastically without ever taking my eyes off the boy in front of me.

He seems really happy to be helping another human being.

After drinking half a glass I move my lips away, better to go slowly and avoid throwing up on the poor Glenn.

“Thank you” I whisper while the boy fiddles with the plastic of the cracker packet and after a few moments he brings one to my mouth.

I gladly accept and starting to chew slowly in ecstasy.

It's just a stupid cracker but...damn, it tastes like heaven.

"Are you crying?" he asks me hesitantly.

At first I don't understand what it means but then I realize that some big tears are slipping from my chin, wetting the once light fabric of my worn jeans.

“Sorry” I reply, accompanying my words and tears with a big hysterical laugh.

My reaction seems to scare the young man even more as he looks at me with his big dark eyes.

I shake my head and continue to smile, I smile so much that my cheeks hurt.

"Sorry.I assure you I haven't gone crazy but I haven't eaten in days.Can I have more?” I ask impatiently, looking at his hand which is still holding half a cracker.

Glenn seems to recover and giving me a wonderful smile he hands me the food.

Wrapped in a pleasant silence I eat my meal.

A meal that didn't last long but gave my hungry stomach some respite.

“You should be out there eating a hot meal with everyone else” Glenn murmurs dejectedly, looking at me sorrowfully.

“Nah” I reply with a smile after drinking the last drop of water.

“I'm not one of you”

My words seem to hit him and I see a flash of anger cross his naturally kind eyes.

“You are a human being.You are someone who seems to have been through a lot.You don't deserve this” his words are accompanied by his hands waving and pointing to the place around us.

I look around again, focusing my gaze on the open door of the stable.

From it I can glimpse the sky.

There isn't even a cloud and a blanket of shining stars covers it entirely.

I will never get used to the beauty of the starry sky.

Living my entire life in a city, the only opportunity I had to observe the stars was in the summer, when my parents and I went to spend the holidays at the seaside at my grandparents' house.

I remember that every night I spent whole hours lying on a blanket looking at the stars, drinking in their splendor.

I look back at Glenn and, gathering all the courage I have, I ask him the question that scares me the most.

“Glenn?”

The boy lifts his gaze from his hands to rest it on my face.

Gripped by anxiety I shift my gaze towards my boots unable to look at him.

Afraid of the response I might read on his face.

He certainly understood that there is something that disturbs me but he doesn't push me.

He waits patiently letting me take my time.

“Do you think…do you think they will kill me?”

"What?" he responds agitatedly choking on his own saliva.

“No, oh my God!No!Don't even think that”

“And why shouldn't I think that?” I quickly reply angrily.

“They tied me here, alone, in the dark”

I shudder.

The anger seems to evaporate instantly leaving only a lot of fear in me.

"I...I don't want to hurt you.Please, please Glenn convince them to let me go.I'll disappear.You will never see me again.I swear I won't tell anybody about you or this place.I just want to have a chance.I want to live”

I feel my chest tighten and my breathing becomes short.

I'm hyperventilating.

I feel the panic crawling in my stomach as it slowly rises, wrapping itself in my heart and clouding my mind.

I feel the walls closing around me, suffocating me.

Hot tears flow from my eyes.

“Please Glenn” I repeat letting my head fall forward.

Big sobs shake my chest.

I feel out of control.

So far I had managed to stay calm but interacting with this sweet good soul in front of me shattered my facade.

“Hey, hey Summer.Look at me!"

I feel his hands on my shoulders.

His strong and firm grip forces me to look up.

There is a strong determination in his eyes.

“No one will hurt you.Nobody.Rick would never allow it.I won't allow it” he smiles sweetly at me.

I feel my entire body shaking under his grip.

“You know, no one wants a bolt in his ass” he chuckles immediately afterwards.

The veiled allusion to the archer makes me blush for no reason.

The thought of Daryl being out there fighting to keep me alive makes my heart beat with an emotion other than fear.

Why would he do that?

Why expose himself so much for me?

I am nobody to these people.

And yet…and yet Daryl saved me in the woods first.

Glenn is here, kneeling in front of me, promising to help me.

Suddenly a loud commotion catches our attention causing our heads to snap towards the large stable door.

Outside I can clearly distinguish footsteps and frantic voices.

My body trembles without restraint now.

Even though the warm air of this summer night envelops us I feel a cold that grips my bones in a cruel grip.

Glenn's grip on my shoulders tightens, he looks worried too.

"It's madness.Madness!” a woman's voice shouts.

The footsteps are getting closer and closer.

"Wait!" another voice shouts.

This time I recognize who it belongs to.

Rick.

After a few moments some dark figures stand out against the entrance.

Here we are.

They came here for me.

Without thinking twice I curl into a ball pressing my body against Glenn's, burying my head in his chest.

His skin smells like laundry soap.

I can hear his heart beating furiously.

At first, perhaps due to the surprise at my gesture, his hands detach from my shoulders as if he had been burned but after a few moments, without any further hesitation, his arms tighten around my shoulders, engulfing me in his embrace, trying to give me the protection I seek.

I feel the muscles in my shoulders pulling and burning from the unnatural position I'm in but I don't care.

“What the hell is going on?”

It's the same woman speaking before but I'm afraid.

I can't move.

I don't have the strength to look, I don't want to see.

The agitated voices stop, in the air only the sound of my sobs suffocated by the cotton of Glenn's t-shirt.

“Summer?”

Daryl's voice makes me jump like someone just slapped me across the face.

His tone seems worried.

I don't have the courage to look at him.

I couldn't bear to see his eyes.

I couldn't bear to read his placid resignation for what is about to happen.

After endless moments of silence, some light footsteps approach me and a delicate hand like the wings of a butterfly rests on my head, making me tremble.

“It's okay honey.It's over”

That woman again.

I feel her hand move down my back, towards my tied hands.

I feel her fumbling with the rope, I feel a cold blade graze the tortured flesh of my wrists.

Another shiver shakes me violently.

“Don't worry” Glenn whispers without loosening the grip of his arms wrapped around my figure.

I trust him so I try to stay as still as possible.

“Carol”

“Shut up Shane!She's just a kid.You should be ashamed” the woman hisses in disgust.

Now the voice also has a name.

After a few moments my arms are free.

With aching muscles I move my arms forward and with my hands I cling even harder to Glenn, squeezing his shirt between my fingers and crying even harder.

I don't care that strangers are watching me, that they are judging me.

I do not care.

I'm tired and scared.

Carol's hands continue to caress my back as she softly whispers reassuring words in my ear.

Slowly, Glenn on my left and Carol on my right, support me, helping me to my feet.

I tighten my grip on the boy's t-shirt, burying my head further into his chest as he slides an arm around my waist.

Carol instead wraps her arm around my shoulders and the three of us walk towards the door.

Towards the public who witnessed and is witnessing my pathetic mental breakdown.

The few steps that separate me from the exit seem to expand, becoming miles in my head.

I feel like I'm walking my own personal green mile.

My walk of shame.

I feel tired, empty...as if panic has drained every crumb of who I am.

A few steps from the door Carol slows down until we are forced to stop.

“You should be ashamed.Everyone” she repeats.

“Especially you” she adds after a few seconds.

I risk a glance in the direction of her gaze.

And my eyes meet the archer's contrite ones.

I feel an uncontrollable blush color my cheeks, totally embarrassed I look down again.

Glenn tightens his grip on my body.

“Come on dear” Carol whispers in my ear again.

Now there is no longer any trace of anger in her voice but only an infinite sweetness.

We start walking again and as we finally get out into the open air I feel my heart getting lighter.

The grip that oppressed me until a few minutes ago seems to lighten with each step that takes me further and further away from that place.

"Where do we go?" I croak, sniffing at her and finally lifting my head from my refuge.

I straighten my back, popping several vertebrae.

I can finally give a face to that sweet voice.

Carol has short silvered hair and eyes as blue as the sea, full of sweetness and pain.

She reminds me a bit of my mother.

She smiles at me in a reassuring way, pointing with her hand to a point in front of us.

“Let's go somewhere safe and quiet, okay?Nothing will happen to you, I promise”

With my gaze I follow the direction of her hand and a few meters from us I see an RV.

I look at Glenn and he nods his head reassuringly, inviting me to continue.

Once we reach our destination, Glenn opens the door of the RV and Carol helps me up the steps.

“Now I'll help you get cleaned up.Glenn can you go get a real meal for our new guest?” Carol murmurs softly.

Glenn nods vigorously but before he can leave I quickly go down the steps I just climbed and standing on tiptoe I throw my arms around his neck.

Just like a little while ago in the stable, at first Glenn remains still and surprised by my gesture but then his arms tighten around my waist.

“Thanks Glenn.Thank you so much” I whisper with my cheek pressed against his.

“You have nothing to thank me for Summer”

I quickly break the hug and when we are eye to eye I meet his sweet smile.

Then he turns and digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans he walks away.

I watch him for another couple of seconds until my attention is drawn to a figure in the distance watching me intently.

Motionless in the dark of the night.

Daryl.

“Let's go” Carol whispers, drawing my attention and inviting me to enter the RV again.

Once back, Carol accompanies me to where there is a bed, then indicating it with a wave of her hand and another reassuring smile.

I sit down without saying a word as the woman walks away.

The bed under me is so soft that my brain does nothing but scream at me to lie down, to rest my tired and exhausted limbs but I can't.

I have to stay alert as long as possible.

I have to understand what's happening.

I have to understand what will happen to me.

I don't feel ready to let my guard down yet even if something tells me I can trust these people.

Or at least I can trust Carol.

And Glenn.

And then there would also be Daryl.

I think back to his eyes, in that stable.

I can't decipher his look.

The regret in his eyes, the way he whispered my name when he saw me trembling in Glenn's arms.

What does it mean?

My thoughts are interrupted by Carol's return, in her hands she has a basin full of water.

She sits next to me keeping a certain distance, I'm sure she does it to show me that she doesn't want to invade my space.

With slow and measured gestures she grabs a small towel and dips it in the water after which she begins to clean my face, my neck, my arms, being careful not to rub too much on the irritated skin of my wrists.

“I would like to apologize on behalf of everyone” she mutters after a while.

I look at her confused and remain silent.

She continues to clean me gently.

“You know, we've been through a lot lately, we've lost so many loved ones.We are all very stressed and suspicious”

Her voice cracks.

I am sure that among those people there is also someone very important to her.

And in fact her wet eyes immediately dispel all my doubts.

Carol clears her throat, I can tell from the tone of her voice that she is struggling to hold back tears.

“A few days ago, we encountered a horde of walkers”

Walkers?

Is that what these people call those fucking monsters human flesh eating?

“We hid but something went wrong…my daughter Sophia got scared, she ran away and we lost her.We've been looking for her ever since.This is why Daryl was in the woods when he found you”

The last words full of gratitude for the archer come out in a whisper.

“I'm sorry Carol.Really.I'm sure you'll find her again”

I try to smile reassuringly, placing my hand on hers.

I know my words mean nothing but how can I deny a little comfort to a broken hearted mother?

She smiles back at me, getting out of bed.

“I'll go get you some water” she whispers.

I'm sure she needs a minute alone to regain some composure, talking about her missing little girl must not have been easy for her.

I think about Daryl again and why he was in the woods.

Imagining him looking for that poor little girl confirms what I already thought.

Behind that tough mask there is a big and pure heart, the same heart that I saw in his eyes when he offered me that sip of water.

Before Carol can return there is a knock on the door of the RV.

Will definitely be Glenn with my meal.

I smile at the thought of seeing his friendly face again.

Carol opens the door, mutters something.

I see her nod her head at me.

After a few moments, a man I have never seen before enters.

He has a cloud of white hair and a kind look, he wears a pair of elegantly gray trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

I immediately notice a stethoscope around his neck.

He approaches cautiously, smiling at me reassuringly.

A noise behind him distracts me and I just need to look up to understand what it is or rather who it is.

Behind the kind man is Daryl, his gaze wanders everywhere except on me, next to him Carol smiles at me.

“Nice to meet you, I am Hersel, the owner of this farm”

Hersel speaks confidently catching my attention as he extends his hand towards me.

“You must be Summer”

I nod accepting his handshake, his skin is soft and warm.

Daryl clears his throat.

“I thought about calling Hersel 'cause he's a doc.I thought ya needed one” he mutters under his breath, scratching the back of his neck.

Carol looks at him curiously, raising an eyebrow.

My gaze returns to Daryl's eyes.

My heart does a somersault.

He seems almost embarrassed.

My confused look softens.

His gesture is so kind.

“Technically I'm a vet but I guess we should be satisfied with this nowadays” the man in front of me chuckles.

“I'd like to make sure you're okay, I know they found you unconscious” he smiles at me and when he does so his eyes smile too.

“Thanks but I'm fine now” I try to reassure him but the tremor in my hands and especially in my voice don't seem to convince him.

Behind him, Daryl shifts his weight from one foot to the other, biting the side of his thumb.

Our eyes meet again but this time I can't look away.

His eyes are like deep blue pools that draw me in like a magnet.

Thank goodness he's the first to look away, allowing me to turn my attention back to the sweet doctor in front of me.

Hersel smiles again.

“I would feel more comfortable if I could visit you, I would just like to check your blood pressure and your pulse.Then I promise I'll leave” he chuckles.

“Ok” I whisper in response, sketching a shy smile.

I don't feel like telling him no.

After all, he is welcoming me into his house and it costs me nothing to indulge him.

With another big smile he invites me to lift my shirt.

I'm about to do so but suddenly I remember the archer's presence and I stop embarrassed.

I don't even have time to look up before I see him turn his back on me.

Nice of him to turn around so as not to embarrass me.

After making sure that everything was ok, Hersel recommended me to eat and rest and that he would check me again in the morning.

“Thanks Hersel, thanks for everything”

“You're welcome, Summer” he replies, walking away and leaving me, Carol and Daryl in an awkward silence.

What happens?

Why is it suddenly hot here?

Why does Daryl look at the floor of the RV with such interest while Carol giggles?

I reflexively look down and focus on my hands clasped in my lap.

The silence continues, charging me with a strange anxiety.

I should speak, say something.

I lick my dry, chapped lips but when I open my mouth nothing comes out.

Just a strangled sound.

A sob shakes me and then another one.

Great.

I can't seem able to keep my damn emotions to myself tonight.

“I'm sorry” I murmur between sobs, burying my face in my hands so as to avoid the pitying looks that Carol and Daryl are surely giving me.

I hear some footsteps, then someone sit next to me.

The mattress sinks under the weight of the latter.

“Ya safe now”

His voice immediately stops my tears.

I honestly didn't believe that he would actually come close to console me.

God, he'll think I'm pathetic.

Crying in Glenn or Carol's presence had definitely been easier and less embarrassing.

We both remain silent.

I can't even think of what I could say to him.

After a few minutes Daryl gets up and walks away.

His gesture makes me snap up.

Is he leaving?

But after a few moments I see him return with a steaming plate in his hands.

“Eat”

His is almost an order.

Without hesitation I obey by grabbing the plate he is handing me and he sits down next to me again, this time a little closer.

I grab what looks like a piece of meat between my fingers, hold it to my nose to smell it before taking a bite.

As soon as the meat comes into contact with my taste buds, an embarrassing moan escapes my control.

It's absolutely delicious.

I don't know if it's because I was literally starving but this meat is the best thing I've ever eaten.

Forgetting about the man next to me, and about my good manners, I begin to eat with more ardor, bringing larger and larger pieces of meat to my mouth.

Daryl doesn't say a word the entire time but I can clearly feel his eyes probing my face continuously.

“Mmmh” I murmur at the end of my hearty meal after licking my fingers.

I feel calmer now, more relaxed.

This meal gave me time to reflect and calm down.

So with a big smile on my face I turn to Daryl.

For a moment I remain silent.

I was smiling and he was serious, his lips were a hard, serious line.

"Thank you.It was truly delightful” I thank him trying to convey all my gratitude into my words.

In response I get a grunt and a shrug.

I look back at my now empty plate and find myself once again surrounded by silence.

The smile on my lips is now the shadow of a memory.

Daryl jumps up making me jump.

What?

What happen?

I watch him as he nervously runs along the entire length of the RV a couple of times.

What have I done?

He seems to be upset because of me.

Did I say something I shouldn't?

I get up from the bed taking a couple of steps in his direction but suddenly the archer stops his walk and turns towards me.

I think he didn't expect to find me so close because he takes a sudden step back, hitting his hip on the corner of the small table to his right.

Another grunt, accompanied by a puff of air coming out of his nostrils.

“Daryl…”

“’M sorry” he suddenly grunts, making the words die in my throat.

I frown in confusion at his apology.

Why is he apologizing?

His eyes look in any direction except mine.

“Daryl?” I call him and his eyes focus on his boots.

I wait patiently for him to decide to look at me but when this doesn't happen I take another step in his direction and when I notice that he doesn't step back I take another step.

Now only a few inches separate us.

From here I can smell his skin.

Daryl smells like the woods, he smells like the woods where we met.

It is a strong, pungent but pleasant smell.

He smells like wood, musk and smoke.

An intoxicating smell that enters my head.

Very carefully I lift my arm and then place my hand on his bicep, squeezing it delicately.

As soon as my hand comes into contact with his warm skin a discharge seems to pass through my skin, my muscles, my bones.

Straight into my soul.

It's like I've been hit with a teaser.

Pure electricity.

His eyes dart first onto his arm where my hand is and then into my eyes.

And the emotion I read in it destabilizes me.

Panic.

This big, thick, muscular man with a menacing look is totally panicking just because I'm touching him.

His eyes are wide open.

I don't want to make him uncomfortable so I remove my hand from his body and take a step back.

“Why are you apologizing?” I ask in a small voice still shocked by the sensation I just felt.

Sensation that I can't explain and to which I don't even want to give a name.

His eyes are still fixed on me, a few locks shadowing them.

I have to use all my willpower not to bring my fingers to his face and move those locks away.

I dig my nails into my palms, the pain caused helps me concentrate.

When I think he won't answer me anymore I take another step back and turn my back on him and go back to sitting on the bed.

I rest my back against the wall of the RV, stretching my legs out in front of me, trying to relax my sore muscles.

The silence around me makes me understand that he left me alone.

Fantastic.

I close my eyes trying to understand what happened.

“I shouldn't have let Rick and Shane treat ya like that”

Jesus.

I jump, putting a hand to my chest to try to contain the pounding of my heart.

“Damn” I mutter through gritted teeth, my eyes wide with panic.

Daryl lifts one corner of his lips in what looks like the ghost of a smile although in the dim light of the RV it could also look like a grimace.

“'M sorry.I didn't mean to scare ya" Daryl apologizes, biting his lower lip slightly.

I shake my head as if telling him not to worry.

I cross my arms over my chest, softening my gaze at the image of a man so strong, with a dominant aura, so absolutely incapable of managing his own feelings.

“That's ok.It's not your fault.You…you have already done so much for me Daryl that a whole lifetime wouldn't be enough to thank you” I stammer.

His gaze wanders nervously from one point of the RV to another.

Ok.

Daryl isn't even comfortable with compliments.

I leave the bed again followed by the protest of my aching muscles and cautiously I approach him again but this time I remain at a safe distance.

I don't want to invade his personal space but I need to make him understand how grateful I am to him.

“If it wasn't for you I'd be walker food right now”

Daryl snorts in response.

“Yeah…sure” he grumbles without saying anything else.

I roll my eyes even though he can't see me.

This man can be truly unnerving.

His vocabulary is limited to snorts and grunts, what the hell!

In exasperation I watch him as he crosses his arms over his chest, his firm, toned muscles contracting elegantly, his tanned skin glistening under the moonlight streaming in through the windows.

In the silence peppered by our breaths I surrender to the thought that perhaps I will never be able to understand this man.

I'm too tired and anything he does or says only adds to my frustration so I do the only thing I think is wise at the moment.

I head towards the RV exit.

“Night Daryl” I murmur passing by him avoiding any visual or physical contact.

As soon as I find myself outside, I breathe deeply, raising my face towards the sky.

Above my head millions of beautiful stars shine set in a dark velvet blanket while the smell of grass tickles my nose.

Within a few moments I regain a bit of serenity...serenity which is interrupted after a few seconds by the door of the RV being slammed forcefully.

Daryl makes no sign of leaving, remaining behind me.

I slowly turn around determined to face him.

His eyes seem full of anger.

It's my fault?

Is all that anger for me?

Maybe my presence is causing trouble to him with his group.

With Shane.

“What's wrong with you?” I snort without being able to contain myself.

His mood swings make me dizzy.

First he seems worried about me.

He brings me food, calls a doctor and then…then he treats me like I'm a disease.

Like I'm one of those fucking biters.

I feel like I've reached the limit of my kindness for today.

Now that's enough.

I had a gun pointed in my face.

A crossbow.

I let myself be dragged.

Interrogated.

Tied up.

I let myself be treated like a criminal even though I didn't do anything.

Nothing.

The banks are breaking and the words are starting to flow like a raging river giving vent to all my frustration.

“Why do I get the impression that you're regretting having brought me to safety from that damned woods?Well know that if it bothers you it's not my problem, I wasn't the one who asked you!You could have just let me die and come back here to mind your own business on this nice farm safe from the walkers with your stupid water and your stupid food” I spit the words out angrily.

I feel the blood boiling in my veins.

Something in my words seems to set off an alarm in the archer's head.

He storms down the steps of the RV, getting dangerously close, his every step sounding like an imminent threat.

His massive body towers over me as his cruel gaze pins my feet to the ground.

He remains to observe me with a menacing expression for a few moments, his dilated nostrils quivering with anger.

If a look could kill right now I'd be six feet under.

“Is this what ya think?” he hisses.

His posture is rigid, his arms at his sides with fists clenched.

White knuckles seem to want to pop out of his skin.

Honestly?

Yes that's what I think.

I have the impression that once the adrenaline of the moment has passed he is realizing that perhaps it would have been better to let me die.

This thought hurts me.

And I don't understand why...

After all, who am I?

And in the end he could be right because even if I personally am not a danger, the people who are looking for me are.

My life is certainly not worth more than those of these people.

I would just like a moment's respite.

Nothing more.

“That's what I see” I murmur dejectedly.

My eyes fill with tears and I don't even try to hide them this time.

My heartbeat is deafening in my ears.

Daryl looks at me with even more disgust, clenching his fists even tighter as if he's holding himself back from hitting me.

Would he really be able to do that?

This Daryl scares me.

The archer takes a further step towards me invading my personal space.

“If ya looking for consolation sunshine ya have chosen the wrong man.Go cry to Glenn, it doesn't work with me” he taunts me viciously and then walks away without even sparing me a glance.

I turn to watch him as he walks away, stomping his boots angrily on the grass.

I'm totally shocked.

What the hell just happened?

He's the one who was acting strange to me.

He started.

I was kind, I tried to reason with him, I respected his space.

What did he give me in return?

Only silences.

Threats.

What the hell was I supposed to do?

I put my hands on my hips, huffing loudly.

My eyes are still on him as he walks away and enters a tent not far from the RV.

“Don't worry, you'll get used to him.He may seem grumpy but deep down he's a good guy”

I jump with fear.

God!

Tonight everyone is having fun testing the resistance of my heart.

Another scare like this and I don't know if I'll see the dawn rise tomorrow.

I spin around looking for the person who spoke but strangely I don't see anyone.

“Hey!I'm here”

The man chuckles and following the sound of his voice I look up.

On the roof of the RV there is a man, sitting in an old chair with a rifle in his lap.

He wears a bucket hat and has an unkempt beard.

How long has he been up there?

How much did he hear?

I look at him for a couple of seconds in total embarrassment.

Nothing happened between me and Daryl but the fact that this man may have misunderstood our attitude makes me blush to the tips of my hair.

Thank goodness it's dark and I don't think he can notice it from up there.

“Anyway, I'm Dale.If you're looking for Carol, she went that way” and with his finger he points to a small bonfire a few meters from me where Carol and other women are chatting.

“Thank you” I murmur under my breath, glancing one last time at Daryl's tent and then walking briskly towards Carol.

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@deansapplepie

[heyits-asher]

😍 + uly!

There aren't a great many people that Ash finds he loves. He can make friends with more than most, but he can count on one hand those he extends his greatest care to. He never thought one of those fingers would be taken once he made it to California.

Los Angeles was a concrete maze of tourism and Hollywood lights that outshone the derelicts and everything grimy underneath. Ash has no fond memories of that city. Aurora Bay is better with that - not having thinly veiled lies to make it seem better than it is. It has the beach, a cozier vibe that isn't overwhelming, but the biggest pillar to his adjustment of beach town vibe had been none other than Ulysses Flynn.

It wasn't hard for Ash to fall into step beside him, to find a place there where he was welcomed and home. He didn't realize it until about two months in, hanging out on Uly's balcony, with the tobacco burning his throat and a heady buzz from shitty PBR tilting the world ever so slightly. They were teetering close to four in the morning. It was easy to lose track of time, he even said so.

"Y'know. When I'm around you, I don't worry or care about anything. Like, look - it's three forty three in the morning!" Ash holds his phone up where, through the crack that stretches corner to corner, the time reads. He pulls it back and extends his other arm out to ash the end of his cigarette. "It's cool, yeah? I'm not so busy overthinking things because it feels easy. You make things feel easy."

Does it make sense?

Ash takes another drag of his cigarette, letting it hang from his mouth so he can divide his attention between that and his phone. "You're easy to be around. I don't know if you know it, but I love it."

Uly quickly became someone Asher would consider family, because family has each other's backs, and Uly has proved that time and time again.

"Yo, dude. I think that guy was about to shit his pants!"

It was around October, when the chill started taking hold late in the evenings, fleeing the Reef after a near-altercation, and Asher was delivering a slap to Uly's shoulder.

A set of sticky fingers and a plucked wallet nearly ended with a fist to Asher's face. "He took one look at you and - psh, knew better. But y'know..." Ash waved up the wallet in one hand and the pack of American Spirits. "I might've double dipped." Oops.

But that was the thing. It didn't matter that this started because Asher had some morality issues. Technically, he did wrong, but Uly was there at his side. Some 'what if' questions over time told Ash that there wasn't much he could do that would change that. "Thanks for that. You're honestly probably the most loyal fucker I know."

Possibly, to a fault, but that is neither here nor there if you ask Ash.

There was a certain gratitude and fondness when he said to him, "It's, uh... thanks, man. For always being like my ride or die." Tried and true, always faithful, and his confidant.

Coming around closer to the New Year, he had felt like there was a lifetime between them, all packed into nine months. The night of his birthday, back in the Reef. He couldn't have been happier at that point. Gillian on one side, Uly on the other. He had his whole world there that night, plus many more. It didn't matter that he lost first round in the pool tournament.

"Thanks for coming." Of course he would. After the first few beers had started to soften the edges of his vision, it was already all too late from the amount of shots he'd had with them that Asher made a huge miscalculation in how much he actually consumed.

He let himself stumble outside, soppy and drunk, to get a touch of fresh air. "I didn't think i'd still be here, in this town, by the way. That's all you." He grins, and it reaches his eyes. "I didn't know Gillian was here before we met, or for even like a few months after, and I was close to hopping on a bus to find my feet somewhere else. But I stayed when we became friends. I stayed because I didn't want to leave here if it met leaving you."

The anchor that had kept Asher from floating too far off, his inevitable wandering brought to an end. He felt he had found his place here with someone he met only by chance. One 9-1-1 call for attempted theft would've ended all of that.

"Thanks for making this place home." And that was probably the thing that Asher loved most. Uly made him a home.

@ulyflynn

[sundrownsthehouse]

Take This Pain And Give It A Name, Part Three

Posted to AO3

Prologue

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Summary: George breaks his shoulder. Matty looks after him. It gets complicated.

Warnings: Please see the AN at the end for trigger warnings (in the interest of avoiding spoilers). There's brief mentions of a couple topics that could be upsetting to some folks. Take care of yourselves!

Words: 5.1k

In his dream, they were kissing.

Soft, eager lips sought his own and claimed them, over and over and over again. He held the warm, solid weight of their body in his arms whilst wandering hands stroked his skin, lighting him up from within. He’d never wanted like this before— it was devastating. All consuming. He raked his fingers tenderly through soft curls, reveling in the texture, prompting familiar dark eyes to meet his own. They were hazy with longing.

“George…” Matty sighed reverently, saying his name like it meant something.

“Please, George…”

“G—”

“—eorge!”

George gasped and raised himself up onto his good arm, narrowly avoiding a collision with the low ceiling of his bunk. Blinking furiously to clear his blurry vision, he struggled to orient himself, searching for the source of the disturbance. Ross’s amused grin came into focus.

“The fuck was that for?” George protested weakly, squinting at the bright lights in the otherwise empty bunk hall. Ross laughed.

“Mate, I let you sleep as long as I could! We’re in Austin— been here for hours, actually,” he replied pointedly.

“Austin…?”

“Texas.”

George groaned: “I know where Austin is, Ross. Why does it matter?”

He sighed dramatically, flopping back against his pillow. His broken shoulder was already throbbing, a dull ache that demanded his attention, but all he could think about was the once vibrant dream, already beginning to fade into obscurity. No matter how hard he tried to cling to it, all that remained was an increasingly vague image and a strange sense of loss.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit annoyed. There was no reason for him to be awake right now. He hadn’t even bothered to set an alarm, since he sincerely doubted that Jamie would let him anywhere near the next show— not after the way he’d botched it so pathetically yesterday. And if he was being really honest, he wasn’t in a rush to face the cold light of day after what happened last night.

Ross simply beamed at George, oblivious to the depth of his dismay. “We’ve a hotel for the next two nights,” he explained with barely contained enthusiasm. “Grab your shit. Jamie left your keycard on the table.”

A hotel… 

Shit.

“A real bed, working aircon, actual privacy… God, I hope they have a pool,” Ross continued wistfully.

George slowly sat up on the side of the bed, minding his sore arm, and watched as Ross continued to pack clothes into his well-worn duffle bag.

“Where’s Matty?” he asked carefully.

Ross shrugged: “In your room, probably. He and Hann went up ages ago.”

George felt a pit form in his stomach. He wasn’t ready to process what happened between him and Matty last night. He needed time to think—

“C'mon man, they’ve gotta lock up. Hey, are you alright?” Ross asked, brow furrowed in concern.

George mumbled some vague reassurances as he got up, declining Ross’s offer of help. As he packed, he purposely pushed everything to do with last night to the back of his mind, directing his focus to the task before him. Even so, he couldn’t fully squash the pervasive sense of unease that lingered, warning him that something major had shifted.

He emerged from the tour bus later to find himself in car park across from some generic, mid-range hotel. It had only just gone noon, but the heat was stifling. Dressed in joggers and a zip-up hoodie (he still wasn’t confident he could get the sling on and off by himself), he leaned back against the bus and dropped his bag onto the hot pavement.

Ahead of him, Ross turned back with a quizzical look: “You coming?”

George held up a half-crumpled pack of cigarettes that definitely didn’t belong to him: “S'okay, I’ll catch up.”

“I could take your bag up,” Ross offered kindly. “You look a little—”

“Ross— honestly, I’m fine. I’ll be up in a few minutes,” George assured smoothly.

In reality, he was already exhausted, and in a disproportionate amount of pain for how little activity he’d done, but he’d be damned if he was going to admit as much. He sweat uncomfortably in the sun as he smoked, but at least he was alone. He needed this time and space to clear his head. There was so much he wasn’t ready to unpack about last night, but he couldn’t put it off much longer. For the first time ever, he found himself regretting the decision to room with Matty.

When they had first started to properly tour as a band, they could barely afford one hotel room on the road; the amount of times the four of them had squeezed into a double bed was truly ridiculous. They were at a point in their careers now that they could splurge on privacy, which Ross and Adam took full advantage of, but no matter what, he and Matty always seemed to end up together regardless. When Jamie booked this US tour, Matty told him point-blank not to bother with giving them separate rooms. At the time, that suited George just fine.

It was no secret that he tended to get the most homesick while on tour; the hectic pace, lack of structure, and instability wore him down. Sharing a space with Matty reminded him of home— a place in East London that they bought together a little over a year ago. The familiarity helped him feel more grounded. Meanwhile, Matty was the polar opposite. He enjoyed touring much more than the rest of them, and genuinely seemed to thrive in the chaos. He was at his best, creatively and personally, when he was kept busy. It was the comedown after a show that he struggled with; the duality between having the rapt attention of thousands, and then being completely and utterly alone. George’s company helped mediate that.

The others teased them for being codependent, and they weren’t exactly wrong; George had spent nearly every day of the past thirteen years with Matty. And yet the prospect of sharing this hotel room with him for the next two nights had his stomach twisting in knots.

He couldn’t pretend to fully understand what Matty had been thinking, offering… that. What he did know was that their friendship had always lacked certain boundaries. They told each other everything, and it was rare that they were ever apart. They were also quite tactile— more so than male friendship warranted by society’s standards, anyway. They’d never felt the need to shy away from physical affection.

As George sucked on the smoke, he thought about the way Matty would sometimes slip into his bed at home in the middle of the night— the routine of it all. Driven by nightmares or insomnia, he would creep in quietly and pull back the duvet with excessive care, as if he didn’t know that George was only pretending not to notice. George would yawn and stretch and, still feigning sleep, roll over to gently pull Matty in. Only then would Matty finally relax enough to drift off, his head burred in the warm space between George’s neck and shoulder, their legs entangled.

They’d never talked about it; they didn’t have to. There was so much between them that didn’t need to be spoken aloud to be understood. Offering comfort to Matty when he was going through it was instinctive for George.

In his own way, maybe Matty had been trying to do the same.

This is different though, George thought wearily as he crushed the end of his cigarette under his shoe. Though their relationship was intimate, intense even, it had never been sexual. He’d never wanted anything like that from Matty before.

But Matty was… fuck. He’d been almost desperate. The sound of his voice when he’d begged…

George’s eyes fluttered closed as his heart began to hammer in his chest. It wasn’t from the heat. Even now, the unbidden memory of Matty’s touch lit a powerful spark of arousal within him that left him dizzy and wanting.

If he was being really honest, he could maybe admit to a longstanding… curiosity about Matty. It’s not something he’d ever really acknowledged to himself consciously before. Surely, it was only natural— after all, George knew absolutely everything else about him, except what he was like in bed. It's not that they didn't talk about sex. Matty in particular had never been shy when it came to bragging about his exploits, so George knew that Matty had slept with both men and women, but knowing something and experiencing it first-hand were two very different things.

Last night, George caught a rare glimpse of a side of Matty that had never really been accessible to him before. He had no idea that Matty could be like that... Strangely exhilarated, he realized that he didn’t know who this person was at all— this part of Matty that was all tentative touches and burning desire and need— but he wanted to.

George paled.

He promptly shoved that thought as far away as possible, recalling the utter embarrassment on Matty’s face after they’d been interrupted.

It’s not like it meant anything.

Getting ahold of himself, George retrieved his bag and made his way toward the hotel lobby. The blast of cold air that hit him as he entered was a welcome shock to the system. Really, his best course of action would be to act normally; in the grand scheme of things, this wasn’t that big a deal. They could chalk it up to a substance-induced fumble, have a laugh, and move on. It might be a bit awkward at first, but things would go back to normal. And that’s what he wanted, right?

Of course, Adam and Ross would take the absolute piss if they ever found out. George cringed internally at the thought as he stepped onto the elevator. He found himself in front of room 2208 all too soon.

It’s fine, he told himself. Be chill— if I freak out, he’ll freak out.

George placed his hand on the door knob. With one last calming breath, he entered the room.

His attention was drawn immediately to the large balcony directly across from him, displaying an incredible view of the city skyline. The french doors were open, causing sheer white curtains to flutter in the breeze. He noticed the end of a cigarette smoldering in an ash tray perched on the railing. Sunlight drown the interior, illuminating the tidy, nondescript furnishings. George approached slowly, calling out for Matty as he did. He placed his bag on a wooden desk in the corner of the room next to a familiar Louis Vuitton keepall.

Matty wasn’t there.

George called his name again, and checked both the bathroom and the balcony, finding evidence of Matty’s presence, but nothing more. He pulled out his phone and texted Ross:

matt isn’t here do you know where he went?

He received a reply shortly:

idk but he checked in rlly early so maybe he’s out

He sent the same message to Adam, and then pulled up Matty in his contacts:

just got in where are you?

George sat heavily on the end of the plush, king sized bed. He looked blankly around the room, feeling a little dejected. He checked the screen impatiently. Minutes passed. There was no response. 

Eventually, he started to unpack for lack of anything better to do, hoping Matty would return soon. When he finished that, he casually flipped through the hotel’s brochure, noting the amenities. Room service, a spa, an outdoor pool— just about everything you could want on a much needed break from bus living. A dip in the hot tub might not be such a bad idea. He rubbed at a sore muscle in his neck. 

His phone buzzed. It was a message from Jamie in the band’s group chat.

Van leaves at 4:15 from the back of the lobby — seen by Matty, Ross

George studied the read receipts— Jamie had insisted on them for certain threads— and frowned. It wasn't like Matty to ignore him. He double checked his messages, but they were still unanswered. 

Feeling uneasy, George popped out of the room and made his way down the hall to Adam’s. He knocked, apprehensively shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He could hear muffled movement through the door: “Just a sec!” After long moment, Adam finally opened up. He looked a little weary. Behind him, George could see that the lights were out and the curtains to the balcony closed, shrouding the room in darkness. Guiltily, he also noticed that Adam was in pajamas.

“Sorry mate,” he said sheepishly. He should've known; one of the downsides to touring was the havoc it wreaked on their sleep schedules.

“No, no, it’s okay” Adam replied. He gave George a once over, searching his face with a wary expression. “Ah… how are you?”

“Good, yeah,” George deflected offhandedly. He knew that his friends meant well, but constantly having to placate their concern was getting old. “Listen, have you seen Matty? His stuff is in the room, but he’s not there.”

Adam scratched his head, glancing down in contemplation: “He checked in with me early this morning. Then went to your room, I’d assume. I think… he might have mentioned something about a radio interview today, or something like that...”

Oh. It wasn’t uncommon for Matty to have interviews and appearances apart from the rest of the band— it would explain his absence, and why he wasn’t texting back.

“He’ll probably come round soon.”

“Right,” George conceded, suddenly feeling a little foolish. Matty was probably just busy; it was nothing to get worked up about. “Sorry for waking you. Thanks.”

“‘Course. I’ll see you in a bit, then?”

“Yeah, see you,” George replied. Adam smiled and gently shut the door.

Stuck in a sort of limbo, and not knowing what else to do with himself, George decided to wander back down to the hotel lobby for lunch. The buffet at the restaurant wasn't anything fancy, but he perked up a little when he clocked the massive salad bar— it had been so long since he’d eaten real food. Just as he finished making up his plate, he heard a voice call out to him from across the room:

“George!”

He turned to see Jamie waving at him over his food from a nearby table. He put his laptop away as George sat down. “Is that really all you’re having?” he admonished. “The chicken is mint— I think there’s brisket up there as well.”

“Can’t cut it,” George reminded him, picking at the loose right sleeve of his hoodie.

Jamie's brow furrowed in confusion before he broke out in a chuckle: “Oh, right. I’m sorry, I know it’s not funny.”

“It’s a bit funny,” George granted with a wry smile.

“If you want something else to eat, I’ll help you,” Jamie insisted. “You need to keep your strength up.”

George snorted, amused: “Not gonna have you cutting up my food for me— I’m not that much of a diva.” Jamie grinned. “Nah, my appetite hasn’t totally come back yet,” George explained, digging in to his salad.

Jamie nodded: “I suppose that’s to be expected. And how’s the pain? You taking your meds?”

“Yeah,” George lied. “It’s better.” He knew he probably should, but he hadn’t taken any dilaudid since last night, despite the constant pain he’d been in since; he didn’t like the way the medication made him feel. Besides, he was gagging for a spliff, and he knew enough about narcotics to understand that it probably wasn’t a good idea to mix the two.

“I’m glad.” Jamie cleared his throat. “I hope you’ll understand, if I ask you to take tonight off,” he said delicately.

George’s heart sank. He kept his face carefully neutral as Jamie continued.

“Hear me out: tomorrow’s a day off, and we don’t get back on the bus until the night after that. If you’re still doing well by then, I’ll get you back in the booth for the Woodlands show.”

George sighed: “Yeah, alright.” He’d been expecting something like this, but it still stung.

As they ate, they chatted about the upcoming shows, their families, and the new material that he and Matty had been working on. It reminded him of Adam's comment about a radio appearance. He asked Jamie about it. 

“It’s just a local station looking to do a short interview ahead of tonight’s gig. Actually, he was supposed to meet me here,” Jamie remarked, checking the time. “We’re due to leave soon.”

George frowned: “It hasn’t happened yet?”

Jamie shook his head, gazing around the room and out into the lobby. “It’s not like him to be late,” he muttered.

George scrolled through his phone: still no response. Where had Matty been all day?

Jamie made a small sound of surprise, drawing George’s attention: “Oh— he’s just texted me. He’s waiting outside. Sorry George, I’m gonna have to run,” he said apologetically, standing to gather his things.

“I’ll see you off,” George suggested. “I nicked Matty’s fags earlier; he probably wants them back.” It wasn’t a total fib, but he needed an excuse to follow Jamie out. For whatever reason, it felt vitally important that he see Matty, talk to him, even just for a moment. At least then, he would be able to stop stressing about it. 

The pair walked out to the back lot, where a black Sprinter van sat idling. Jamie unintentionally ended up blocking the door, distracted as he engaged the driver in a conversation about the day’s schedule, so George approached the side of the vehicle, where he could just make out the silhouette of Matty’s mop through the van’s tinted window. He rapped on it with his knuckles.

Matty jumped, and met his gaze with wide eyes. George held up the pack of cigs, gesturing for him to roll the window down. Matty’s lips formed a thin line— he shook his head and turned away. George frowned, confused. He tapped on the glass again impatiently.

Matty wouldn’t even look at him.

Jamie called out from the front door: “Gotta go, George. Rest up, okay?”

George nodded, his eyes still trained on Matty’s profile. He stepped back a little as the van pulled away. With a growing sense of dread, he silently willed Matty to look at him, grasping at that telepathic connection they always seemed to have.

It was no use; Matty didn’t look back once.

***

Riddled with anxiety, the rest of the day dragged on far too slowly, with very little to keep George from second guessing all of his previous assumptions. He didn’t have much time with Adam and Ross before they had to head out, leaving him alone with his thoughts again. He couldn’t bear it. So, he ordered room service, went out to the balcony, and tried to enjoy his first spliff in days as he watched the sun set.

The initial head rush was followed by a deep, steady calm that slowed his mind and made the world go all soft and fuzzy around the edges. His whole body tingled pleasantly; the pain in his shoulder, neck, and back blessedly faded into the background for a while. He ended up crawling into bed, luxuriating in the high, and passed the time with some nature documentary that he found on the telly.

It was almost enough to distract him from thinking about it. Almost. 

Hours later, with his high fading, George found himself going over everything again in his head, all right where he left it. He didn’t understand. Sure, he’d expected some awkwardness, but he didn’t anticipate that Matty would go to such lengths to avoid him so thoroughly. The longer they went without talking, the stranger the whole situation felt. He wanted nothing more than for them to just get back to normal.

As the uneasiness returned, George briefly considered lighting up again, if only to take the edge off. From the corner of his eye, he noticed his phone turn on. He'd shot out a text to the group chat asking how the show had gone; Jamie was just getting back to him, stating that it was “good” and that they were all on their way back to the hotel. Finally. Any minute now, Matty would walk through that door, they would put all of this behind them, and then George would get some much needed sleep. 

Twenty long minutes later, he heard a knock at the door. To his surprise, it was Adam on the other side.

“Wanted to give you these,” he said with a soft smile, holding out a stack of hallmark cards. “Get well soon wishes from some fans in the front row.”

“Cheers,” George murmured as he accepted them. He actually felt rather touched; it was a sweet gesture.

Adam yawned powerfully and rubbed at his eyes: “Well, I’m knackered. I'll see you in the morning.” He started to make his way down the hall.

“Wait—” George called, “where’s Matty?” He glanced around the corridor, but it was empty.

Adam seemed to hesitate before answering: “Ah, I think he’s out back of the lobby, having a smoke.”

George blinked, taking the information in. Adam watched him cautiously.

Yeah, he was properly fucked off now.

“For fuck’s sake,” George bit, putting on his shoes.

“What?”

“He’s mugged me off all fucking day.”

Simmering with frustration, he passed Adam in the hall and called the elevator. He normally didn’t rise to anger very easily, but the combination of anxiety, pain, and exhaustion had worn at his willingness to tolerate Matty’s dismissive bullshit.

Adam watched him go uneasily. He opened his mouth, as if he had more to say, then closed it again. In the end, he simply murmured “goodnight.”

“‘Night,” George replied sullenly as the elevator doors closed.

The lobby was dark— still open, but essentially vacant. George strode outside. It was well past midnight; without the heat of the sun, the air had cooled off significantly. Initially, he didn’t see anyone around at all. Growing increasingly irritated, he marched over to the alleyway at side of the building.

A little ways down, a shadowed figure looked up at him and froze. Their gaze darted toward the other end of the alley, as if looking for an escape.

“Don’t,” George warned lowly, his voice stopping Matty in his tracks. Even as he drew close, Matty still wouldn’t face him. The silence was tense, only broken by the sound of a light wind rustling in the trees. George stared at the back of Matty’s head. Waiting. Fuming. Eventually, Matty flopped back against the wall, his profile still in shadow. He held out his hand to George, a lit joint dangling between his fingers.

“No, thanks.”

Matty hovered for a moment. He took one last long, hard drag off the spliff before crushing the remainder of it under his boot.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong with you?” George asked with an edge to his voice that he couldn’t be bothered to suppress. Matty hid his face, looking down the opposite end of the alley. “You’ve been avoiding me all day.” He hated the way the accusation sounded so pathetic to his own ears.

Matty sniffled wetly and wiped at his face. His hands were visibly trembling.

“Matt…” George protested, putting a hand on his shoulder to spin him around.

George wasn’t prepared for what he saw. Matty flinched from his touch— actually flinched— and choked out a heavy sob from deep within his chest. His face was mess; the dark eye makeup that he’d recently taken a liking to wearing on stage was smudged, and his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. He'd been crying. When he spoke, his voice was a broken rasp, strained with emotion.

“Just hit me, if it’ll… if you want to. I promise, I won’t tell anyone.” His face crumpled, black tears streaming down his cheeks.

Alarm bells went off in George’s head. “What the fuck are you on about?” he demanded, his heart in his throat.

Matty was sobbing so hard, he could barely speak, so uncharacteristically inarticulate.

“What I… I c-can’t… m'so s-s-sorry…”

His stuttering devolved into nonsensical noises of distress, growing more panicked by the second. His chest heaved; he was breathing too fast.

George sprang into action, his anger forgotten as he wrestled with the cold dread that flooded his system. “Matty, you need to breathe.” He reached out on pure instinct.

“Don’t!” Matty shouted weakly, pulling out of George’s reach with wide eyes. He began to cry again with renewed fervor.

“Okay,” George said in what he hoped was a gentle, soothing tone. He held his hand up disarmingly, as if he were trying to soothe a wild animal. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, but he willed himself to stay calm. “Okay. Let’s just talk, alright? Matthew, look at me, please,” he implored. Matty shuddered as their eyes met. “Deep breaths, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow… even slower… that’s it.”

Matty’s bawling gradually began to ease as his breathing came back under control, George coaching him through it, his voice grounding and soft. Calmer, yet still weepy, Matty pressed the palms of his hands into his face, as though he couldn’t help but try to hide.

George swallowed around the lump in his throat and mentally prepared himself for the worst.

“Tell me honestly— what did you take?” he whispered.

Matty looked up at him and shook his head, eyes wide: “Nothing—! I swear.”

They’d been here before. Matty dabbled in drugs more than George cared for, and honestly, it scared the shit out of him. After that last time, that close call, he’d promised he would stop…

“I need to know, Matty. I won’t be mad— but you have to tell me. I need to make sure you’re safe,” George pleaded. He felt nauseated as he wondered what kind of comedown they’d be facing tonight.

“I mean it, George, I’m not on anything. I’d tell you if I was,” Matty insisted. “I swear to you, that’s not what’s going on here.”

George shook his head, bewildered: “Then what’s got you so upset?” None of this was adding up.

Matty sniffled and looked up to the sky, biting his lips. It was a long moment before he finally faced George, his expression full of remorse, fresh tears in his eyes.

“What I did to you was wrong,” he whispered, “and I want you to know that I will never forgive myself.” He pulled at his hair, his voice cracking: “I’m so fucking sorry, George.”

George was stunned speechless. Oh, God. This was so much worse than he thought it would be.

“If Ross hadn’t knocked on the door… fuck!” Matty cried, holding his head in his hands.

What have we done?

George's mouth went dry. “It’s okay. We can forget about it. It’s not that big a deal,” he said feebly.

“‘Not that big a deal?!’” Matty cried. Now, he seemed almost furious. George was taken aback by the sudden outrage, scrambling to make sense of Matty's rapidly shifting emotions. He'd only ever been like this before when he was using. 

“What do you think happened last night?”

Matty’s face twisted in pain: “I fucking assaulted you, because I’m selfish piece of shit and all I was thinking about was myself. And I will never forgive myself George, never.”

George recoiled. “You didn’t assault me, Matty,” he scoffed, “how can you even think that?”

Matty shook his head and gestured wildly with his arms: “You were high on pills, fucking broken and in so much pain… your arms were… you couldn’t even push me away!” he lamented. “And I took advantage of you, like a sick fucking pervert—”

George grasped Matty’s arm, tightening his grip when he tried to pull away. Matty looked up at him with something like fear in his eyes.

“Stop! I’m not going to hurt you— Christ, I’d never hurt you, how can you…?” George trailed off, feeling horribly sad. “You didn’t do anything to me.” Then, quietly: “You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want you to do.”

Matty’s face fell: “I didn’t give you a chance to stop me. You were so out of it—”

“Fuck's sake, would you listen to me? I didn’t want you to stop!” 

Matty froze; George rarely ever raised his voice. The admission hung heavily between them.

George sighed heavily, searching his best friend’s face; Matty was no longer crying, but his makeup had stained his cheeks with the dark trails of so many tears shed. The whole situation was a total fucking mess.

“Listen— can we just, like, go upstairs? Start over in the morning?” George asked softly.

Matty sniffed and wiped at his face with his sleeves. He nodded.

“C'mere,” George murmured, pulling Matty into his chest. At first, Matty kept his arms at his sides, as if unsure of what to do with them. George dropped his face into Matty’s hair, fighting back his own emotion, and held him tight. He felt Matty slowly wrap his arms around his waist and press himself against his body. They clung to each other, seeking comfort in the closeness. After a long moment they broke apart, and without another word, walked back up to their room.

George felt like he was ready to drop— his very bones ached with exhaustion. Emotionally drained, he wasted no time stripping down to his briefs and crawling into bed. Matty stared at him awkwardly from the foot of it.

“I can sleep on the couch,” he murmured.

Something about that made George so fucking sad. Is this what it would be like between them now? All of that trust and intimacy gone, because of one mistake?

“Don’t be daft. C'mon.” George pulled the duvet back, eyes pleading.

Matty quietly undressed and slipped into bed beside him, lying still on his back. An ocean of space separated them.

George looked over and held out his left arm.

“It’s okay, if you don’t want to—”

Matty closed the gap, slotting himself to George’s side, his head resting on his chest in the warm space between his neck and shoulder. George pulled him close, breathing in his hair, legs tangling together.

AN: Warnings for mentions of past drug abuse. There is a discussion regarding sexual assault.

Phew! This chapter was a beast, but I'm pretty pleased with the way it turned out. Thank you so much for all of your patience and support! Let me know what you think- I'd love to hear from you if you've been enjoying this story. I pinky promise that the next chapter will be happier (and smutty)!

[sweetjuniperandboiledsatan]

Chapter 26 - Shady Belle

Full story here: Not a Doctor, Not an Angel Either

Word count: 34,472 Chapters: 26/41

Rating: M Pairing: John Marston x F!Reader; Javier Escuella x F!Reader

Warnings: Sexual content, mention of alcohol and cigarettes

You didn't really think that running away was the answer, did you? That it would bring back their son and magically fix everything? Of course not, but that didn't mean you weren't contemplating it. In fact, the idea struck you when Pinkerton agents unexpectedly made an appearance at Clemens Point, prompting Dutch to order everyone to start packing and moving fast.

This was it, your opportunity, you told yourself as your eyes fixated on your suitcase. It was just sitting there, unassuming and waiting for you to make your next move. You've played it in your head a few times - pick up your suitcase while no one's looking, bring your horse right behind the wagons and carriages, strap it up, and when you're ready, make a run for it. You knew your dad still had some money in the bank, and this new campsite was in close proximity to St. Denis. From there, you could board a ship that could take you away, maybe far east – away from all of this, away from Abigail, away from John.

John wasn't there; he was with Arthur and Dutch. The three of them had set out for St. Denis to look for Angelo Bronte, hoping to shed more light on Jack's whereabouts. The others who remained hustled about, unloading supplies from the wagons, pitching tents, and repairing the walls and floorboards of the derelict house that was to be the Van der Linde gang's new hideout.

You felt a sense of restlessness and unease in your chest when you finally decided to act. With mechanical grace, you picked up your suitcase, thinking it must have weighed a thousand times more than it actually did before approaching your horse. You moved carefully so as not to draw any attention to yourself and let anyone know what you intended to do. Thankfully, the wagons and carriages provided cover that helped keep you hidden from view. With practised ease, you mounted your horse and adjusted your suitcase, making sure it was securely fastened. Taking a deep breath, you urged your horse forward.

You looked back once more, and you saw your life and home for the past year growing smaller and smaller. You turned your head back on the road ahead, leaning forward and urging the animal to go faster. Maybe if you rode fast enough, you could outrun the guilt and shame that consumed you. Leaving them was the last thing you wanted, but you couldn't bring yourself to face Abigail and John again, not after everything that had happened when you broke the news to them.

You were still disoriented from the injury you sustained to your head, frantically searching for words to explain to them what had happened to their son. Abigail's face grew pale and twisted with horror, then rage. She started screaming and spewing curses at you and John. She had made herself explicitly clear that she never wanted you near her son, and John had betrayed her.

You could still hear her screams ringing in your ears as you recalled how she launched herself at you with her fists balled tightly and arms swinging wildly. You instinctively flinched and shut your eyes tight, bracing yourself for impact, only to feel the rush of air as she missed you by mere inches. When you opened your eyes, you saw John standing between the two of you, his hands holding a firm grip on her. You wondered if you would still be alive had John and the others not intervened and if Dutch hadn't been able to pacify her that day.

As you neared Caliga Hall in the eastern part of Scarlett Meadows, you could hear another horse gaining speed towards your direction. The hoofbeats sounded different but not entirely unfamiliar. It was unmistakably Boaz's. You turned your head and saw Javier riding swiftly behind you. He was a much better rider than you, and it didn't take him long to finally catch up to you. With skillful maneuvering, he was able to block your path effectively, causing you and your horse to swerve to the side.

"Where do you think you're going?" His eyes, filled with alarm and concern, flicked from your suitcase and then to you. Javier had noticed your absence among the commotion at Shady Belle earlier, and when he realised your horse was missing too, he immediately headed out in search of you.

"Out of the way, Javier, please!" Your voice quavered as you implored him to move.

"You can't just leave like this." He tightened his grip on the reins, keeping his horse steady. Your horse whinnied in protest as you attempted to guide it around him, but Boaz was too strong.

You shook your head. "You don't understand. I can't stay. I can't face Abigail… and John. That little boy, Javier, I just can't!"

"Think about what you're doing, [Y/N]." Javier's voice was firm but gentle, begging you to find some reason amidst all of this.

Gritting your teeth, you dug your heels into your horse's sides, but it refused to budge. Javier's horse edged closer, causing your horse to sidestep and your suitcase to jostle behind you.

"You think that's what John needs right now? He's out there, at his wit's end, looking for Jack."

"Have you even thought about what it'll do to him when he comes home and finds you gone?" He gestured with his arm in frustration.

"What happened to Jack, that wasn't your fault, [Y/N]." He added, his voice finally softening.

Warm tears started streaming down your sun-kissed face, and the weight of your decision suddenly felt unbearable. You realised how foolish and selfish you had been, and you were this close to leaving everything and everyone that mattered to you, including John.

You knew you had to go back. You took a deep breath and finally looked at Javier, who was patiently waiting for your response. You nodded, a silent acknowledgment of your defeat.

With his reassuring nod and a smile, Javier led his horse to ride alongside yours. The two of you made your way back to Shady Belle in comfortable silence. You thought how grateful you were for his company and, most importantly, for showing you the way back home.

*

As the afternoon faded into evening, the sounds of the swamp grew louder. The deep and guttural croaking of the bullfrogs echoed in the distance, and the incessant buzzing of mosquitoes and other insects hummed in the background. Every so often, the occasional splash of water could be heard from the swamp, creating an ominous and foreboding atmosphere that seemed to seep into everyone's mood.

Dutch's voice boomed, breaking the tension and unease in the air. "We're here!" he shouted, "And we've brought Jack back!" The camp erupted into a frenzy of cheers and relief, and the fear and apprehension that had gripped the gang dissipated.

No one was more relieved and overjoyed to see little Jack again than his mother. Abigail ran toward her baby boy, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. She thanked Dutch and Arthur for bringing her boy back, her gaze meeting John's before leading the little boy back into the fold, where they were greeted with singing and celebration. Javier led with his guitar, and the gang broke into a chorus, his beautiful voice carrying above the others.

As the celebration carried on into the night, you found yourself standing alongside Reverend Swanson and Kieran, taking in the scene of the party from a safe distance. Even Sadie, who had been distant and withdrawn since Horseshoe Overlook, appeared to be in better spirits.

"I don't want to ruin it," the Reverend answered ruefully when you asked him why he wasn't joining the festivities. You reminded him not to be too hard on himself, offering advice you thought you could certainly use as well.

Your eyes wandered over the group by the campfire, lingering for a moment on John as he sat with Abigail and Jack. A faint and familiar feeling tugged in your chest as you watched them by the campfire. You tore your gaze away in hopes of distracting yourself from it. You shifted your attention back to Reverend Swanson, who had started telling you the story about the ghost of a young woman that haunted the grounds of Shady Belle. The sunken hollows beneath his eyes only seemed to deepen as he spoke, casting an eerie shadow over his already haunted tale.

As Swanson's story drew to a close, Arthur made his way over. Noticing your reserved demeanour, he placed the comforting weight of his hand on your shoulder and offered you a drink. You accepted and felt the warmth of his touch still lingering on the cup, sensing that he had somehow read and understood everything that was going on in your mind. You looked up at Arthur and thanked him for the gesture, the liquid burning down your throat as you did. His eyes held a silent inquiry, and for a moment, you considered confiding in him, but words eluded you.

As the night progressed, the singing and drinking gradually died down, and the group that had gathered around the campfire earlier dispersed into smaller clusters. Javier's music continued, providing a soothing backdrop to the conversation between Arthur, Hosea, and Dutch, who were discussing what they’ve recently learned about Angelo Bronte.

You must've been on your third or fourth refill, all courtesy of Miss Jones, when John found you sitting by the fountain, lost in your own thoughts. Without a word, he sat beside you and raised his bottle in a silent toast. A few moments later, Jack joined you with a cheerful greeting, seemingly unmarred by the recent events.

You returned the little boy’s greeting with a warm smile, but your expression quickly turned serious as you noticed Abigail approaching you and John. Your heart raced, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, hoping to avoid another confrontation with her.

"I feel like I can breathe again," Abigail said, finally breaking the ice. She paused for a moment before continuing, "I'm sorry if I was...well, I was just really worried sick." Her words were sincere, and a sense of relief washed over you as you accepted her apology.

After bidding the two of you goodnight and taking Jack with her, Abigail left you and John alone once more. You savoured the last sips of your drink, basking in the peace and calm of the night. John remained quiet, his tiredness apparent in his eyes. You knew he needed a good night's sleep after all he had been through, and you decided it was best not to burden him with the knowledge of what you were up to that day.

With a soft sigh, he stood up and looked at you with such tenderness and longing, a silent invitation to call it a night. Without hesitation, you rose to your feet and took his rough, calloused hand in yours. Together, you made your way back to your quarters, leaving behind the warmth of the fire and the memories of turmoil and disquiet of the past few days.

***

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Magnolia Blues--Deleted Scenes

Esmeralda ‘Jo’ Jones is new in town, but has already been building big dreams for herself. Eddie Munson knows that the path in his life leads him to just west of 'Nowhere Fast’ as he’s no stranger to the circumstances and how they don’t always work out for some people. When Jo and Eddie meet, it seems like a spark that may or may not catch. But the slowest loves are the ones that mean and hurt the worst.

Black OC X Eddie Munson.

NOTE: All canonical deaths still stand. The gore is NOT described as the main focus in the romance.

Chapter 1--Meetings | Chapter 2– Butterflies and Strawberries | Chapter 3–The Vortex Meets a Magnolia | Chapter 4–Action Vs. Reaction | Chapter 5–Sights Ahead: When Clouds Meet The Ground | Chapter 6–Psychic: Damage and Healing (Final Part)

Bonus: Deleted Scenes (Fluff, fluff, and more full)

Deleted Scenes 

Saturdays have become sacred for Jo. Though she still has to wake early and her dad is the person to drop her off for practice, she knows that at the end of it all, the rumble of the van will greet her. Jo takes the laps and murder sprints for what they’re worth. They’ll make her better. They’ll make the rising morning sun crest. They’ll provide a guiding shine that Jo’s always followed. When it’s just her and track, there’s nothing else to worry about. The problems will always be there after she’s done. So why not just let them all go for just the moment. 

With her duffle bag slung across her body, Jo crosses over into the parking lot. She doesn’t spot Eddie in the driver seat so she continues around until she’s at the back and Eddie’s resting against the bumper with smoke billowing up into the sky. “Please tell me it’s not your own supply,” Jo teases. 

“I never dip into my own supply. It’s rule one.” Eddie reveals the pack of cigarettes from his front pocket. For a moment he holds it out, like he’s offering one to her. Jo reaches up and before her fingers can brush the carton, Eddie tilts it away. “The cost is one kiss. And I mean a real kiss. Not one of your cheat pecks either, like I’m a fucking bird or some shit.”

Jo closes the distance and presses a gentle kiss to Eddie’s lips. Then a second one which lasts a little longer than the first. “That’s the tax. You happy?”

Eddie unhands the pack and Jo taps the bottom before peering inside and then promptly shutting it back close and tucking it into his pocket. Eddie takes the moment to wrap one arm around her waist before speaking, “I guess I’m adding those two to your tab, for the day dear old Jo crosses into the dark side. You’re up to three joints now and at least two packs of cigarettes. You’re robbing me blind over here.”

Jo watches the smoke from the burning paper between Eddie’s fingers. Like it’s automatic he flicks at the end to tap off any excess. “Open your eyes then. So you can see me robbing you.” 

The laughter is soft. “My eyes are too busy on something else,” he returns softly. The hand around her waist travels to the curve of her ass to give it a squeeze. 

“Eddie!” Jo laughs, swatting at his hand. The fight is useless as Eddie silences her cries with a kiss. It tastes of the nicotine and mouthwash Eddie used earlier. But Jo welcomes it as she sighs. The gape of her mouth is all it takes for Eddie to deepen the kiss. They stay in the heat of the kiss until they need air and even then Eddie buries his nose in the crook of Jo’s neck. 

“You always smell good,” he mutters. 

“It’s the cocoa butter,” Jo states, fingers twirling a strand of Eddie’s hair. “If I came out from practice sweaty, I’d smell like ass.”

“You hungry? I heard Coach all the way out here.”

“If we go out, I’m absolutely getting a slice of pie,” Jo counters. 

“You say that like I don’t encourage it, sweetheart. Who doesn’t love a good old slice of pie at 7:45 in the morning.” Eddie straightens up, dropping the nearly gone and not even half consumed cigarette to the ground and stamps it out with the toe of his shoe. “C’mon. We’ve got ourselves a slice of pie to get.”

Jo only nods at the statement. 

Eddie slings her bag over his shoulder and helps her into the van. He watches though from the ground as she buckles up. He can’t place it--what the feeling is telling him, but he knows he should listen. So he hoists the bag up onto his shoulder, shuts the door, and walks to the driver’s side. He’ll get two slices of fucking pie if need be. 

The drive, which is usually filled with Jo attempting to shout over the blaring guitars and Eddie singing the lyrics back to her, is noticeably less vibrant. The music blares. But Jo’s not laughing. Eddie’s not trying to drown her out with his singing and laughing at her huffs of annoyance. Eddie scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip. Should he say something?

He reaches for the radio and turns the volume down just a smidge. Before he can get the breath into his lungs to ask Jo what’s going on, she reaches to turn the volume back up. Not what he was expecting, but he let’s it go for the moment. Until there’s no distraction. They pull into the lot of the dinner with the open sign just barely flipped over. Eddie follows Jo inside after holding the door open for her. 

They get seated immediately and Eddie gets out the order for a slice of apple pie before turning his attention to Jo. She picks at the green polish on her nails that just last week she painted on the floor of his trailer while Eddie made them lunch. “Is this a silent date?” Eddie asks. “I’m no good with silences. But you know that intimately well.”

Jo scoffs at the exaggeration of the word ‘intimately’. “You do have cute noises, though. And you sort of look like you have to sneeze when you…” the rest of the sentence trails off

Eddie scrunches his nose, eyes trained in on the tip of it. “Like this?” He makes his voice sound a little nasally on purpose. 

The contortion isn’t quite right but it makes Jo giggle. “A little bit.”

“I have never had anyone admit to me what my O-face looks like, so, thanks for that. I’ll go write about it in my diary later and add it to my list of insecurities.”

“It’s still handsome and manly. But it’s just a little bit like someone stuck pepper briefly next to your nose.”

Eddie shakes his head as his laughter falls. “You’re, uh, you’re not exactly helping but I appreciate the attempt.” Jo’s starting a pile of chipped nail polish and Eddie reaches over and gently takes her hands. “You’re going to ruin all your hard work.”

“I was bored of the color anyway,” Jo returns. 

“Speaking of color, do you think you want to tell me why you’re so blue?” 

It’s silent for a moment. Even as the slices are settled down and Eddie just barely gets out an audible ‘Thank you’, there’s a distinct quietness from Jo’s side of the booth. The urge bubbles again, to fill the silence and tell Jo she doesn’t have to answer. He wants to crack a joke. But instead he exhales and keeps quiet. 

“It’s my grandmother’s birthday today,” Jo says, staring out of the glass wall of the diner. 

Eddie slips out of the side he’s on and settles next to Jo. “I’m sorry, Jo.”

“She encouraged me to run and it just sometimes feels hard. When I needed new shoes, she’d scrape every penny together to get me a new pair. I miss her doing my hair or when she’d let me help peel the sweet potatoes. It’s just the little things.”

Eddie takes Jo’s hands again and it’s enough to get her gaze settled on him. “If my two cents matter in any way, I think your grandmother would be proud of you. And if you start talking shit like how would I know? I’ve got some connections. I may be going to Hell but I know some folks up in the sky too. You haven’t stopped. And I can take over potato peeling so you can boss me around in the kitchen.”

“Eddie Munson,” Jo starts, “you are utterly ridiculous. But I love you anyhow.” 

Eddie blinks. There’s no way Jo just said what she just said. “What-You-Wait.”

“Yeah. And I mean it.” Her brow raises like she wants Eddie to challenge her. “Need me--” The full sentence never leaves her mouth. Eddie’s cupping her face and kissing her. Like it will say everything he’s feeling--how he’s grateful to have found someone like Jo, someone that just wants him for him, not to change him. Like it will say “I love you too’. 

He pulls away just enough to speak. “Don’t make me go out here and buy a ring.”

“How about just a slice of pie for now?”

“Consider it done.” Eddie slides the plate closer to her but Jo feeds him the first bite. As they exit the diner, Eddie takes Jo’s hand. “Do you want company today? I can take you back home. But I don’t want to overstep.”

“Do you have anything to do?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nothing that needs broad daylight for it anyway.”

“Band practice?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Gareth’s down with strep.”

“I’d like some company, yeah. Dad dropped me off this morning but then had to head out of town. Mom’s probably running errands soon, so it’ll be empty for only a little bit.”

“Are you asking for another look at my sneeze O-face?”

Jo laughs. “No, I’m asking for us to take a nap and for you to help me pick out what nail color to paint my nails.”

Eddie sucks his teeth. “Ah, not as physically active as what I was hoping. I have a figure to maintain too ya know. But it sounds delightful.”

___________________

Jo stares at the track beneath her palms. The red color burns back into her iris. The white number shakes just a little in her vision. She exhales, eyes slipping close for a moment. In--a deep breath, and then she pushes it out all from her gut. “Runners,” the announcer calls out. The entire line shifts, ready for the fire of the gun. “On my mark.”

In and out. 

“Get ready.”

In and out. 

“Set.”

The gun fires above the thrumming of her heart and Jo pushes up, arms and legs pumping. She keeps a focus on the track ahead of her. It doesn’t matter what’s next to her. It doesn't matter what’s behind her. Nothing matters but the length of the track in front of her. Jo feels the wind whipping over her face from the speed she’s set, and she lets it provide her with a small moment’s peace.

The ribbon--Jo’s torso crosses it, carrying it an extra meter or two before it drops. That’s when she lets the gears come down. She slows, her stop not as smooth as she’d like but she laughs. It’s another win. Not that Jo worried but she was alway shumble. The win’s never ever guaranteed. Winning requires work and it always has required it. 

“Let’s go Jo! That’s it!”

Jo just barely registers the voice. But then a laugh follows it and she latches onto the sound. Eddie stands on the sidelines right next to the finish line. When Jo finally gets her legs out of overdrive she turns and is greeted by Eddie's smile. He hollers from the sidelines, jogging to catch up with her. The brick divider between audience and athletes has a small gap in it. Eddie slides to a halt right at the gap and then looks over his shoulder quickly. His hair flies up with the wild glances over his shoulder. 

“Don’t even dare,” she laughs, picking up her feet and jogging to Eddie. Eddie jumps for a second like he’s going to go for it, so Jo picks up her speed. She just barely skids to a stop in front of him. “Do not fucking dare,” she laughs. 

Eddie catches her to keep her from colliding with the wall. “You see that?” he asks, pointing in the direction that she just ran from. “Dust, it ain’t even settled yet. Fucking dusted every single one of them.”

“I still got second in one race,” Jo points out. 

“You just qualified for that distance at the start of this season. Bambi, I am telling you you are doing amazing incredible things,” Eddie drops his forehead to hers. “Now, I know your parents are watching. But later tonight, let’s celebrate. I mean the biggest fucking heave of ice cream that we can get.”

Jo closes her eyes at the touch for a moment. “I like extra sprinkles.”

“Scouts honor,” Eddie returns. “I’m proud of you, Jo.”

“Thanks--for being here. It means a lot.”

“I’m going to be at every meet. You’re going to get sick of seeing my face on these sidelines. I’m saying don’t let me find a print shop. I’ll get signs, or t-shirts. The whole nine-yards.”

“Just nine of them. Catch up, sweetheart.” Jo lifts her head gently. The embrace starts to fall, but it’s mutual. 

Eddie rubs at her waist one last time before letting her go fully. “Alright, alright, smartass.”

“But your smartass, right?”

Eddie nods, tongue flicking out for just a moment to wet his lips as he watches her head back towards the team. “Yeah, mine. All mine.”

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Hi I was wondering if you could write about Billy and reader having the biggest argument in their relationship but in the middle of the argument the reader gets an anxiety attack?

Sure :)

Sorry for not posting guys, long, sad day.

Billy could really get riled up over really stupid shit.

Today it was after a long day of him getting screamed at by his father so he kindly and patiently asked me to grab him a twelve pack before he came over to my house to unload for a bit. I know that his day has been stressful, that he's had a lot on his shoulders with his dad and the expectations, but there was still apart of me that knows that I don't deserve it when he takes it out on me.

I forgot the twelve pack, long story short.

I deserved the disappointment that he feels, he did ask me one simple request and it was literally one of three things on my list for the grocery store. But he was keen on not accepting my apology and continuing to grill me after I had fallen completely silent.

His breaths are ragged as he looks down at me, hands on his hips and my hands rest in my lap, my lips tugged down in a sad frown, upset at myself because, if I would've remembered, this wouldn't have happened in the first place.

"I just don't understand how you forgot when I specifically asked you, specifically, for what I wanted." He huffs, jaw gritted and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, pulsing and pounding as my eyes flutter shut, tears escaping my eyes, trickling down my cheeks. "Are you fucking listening to me?" He claps his hands in front of my face, my whole body jumping away from his as I stare up at him, shocked at his attitude and behavior.

He scoffs, his eyes traveling down my expression and trembling frame, a sarcastic smile taking over his lips. He shakes his head, taking a step back from me with his hands up in surrender, anger still radiating from him nonetheless.

"You're crying? Why?" He asks, his voice a bit more calm than he was just moments ago, his hands clasped in front of him as he waits for me to reply, my chest heaving in anxious breaths as he laughs once more. "C'mon, yell or some shit-"

"Because it's a 12 pack Billy! You're yelling at me and telling me how much of a fuck up I am because you couldn't stop to get your own damn beer!" I cry, gasping as the air leaves my lungs, fingers gripping at my blankets in an attempt to ground myself as my head spins. "You're such a- fuck- goddamn asshole sometimes." I choke out, leaning over as I try to not hyperventilate, consumed by the twenty minutes of yelling and trying my best to keep calm.

Silence fills the room, both of us tense and tired as can be. Billy moves after a few moments, sitting down beside me on the bed as I cry quietly. I look to him with frantic eyes, my frown easing up a bit at the sight of his sorry smile, his fingers raking through his curls before reaching for his pack of cigs.

"I'm an asshole, yeah." He sighs, pulling out a cigarette, placing it between his lips before writing it, his brows pulled together in quiet frustration. When his eyes look to me, they're sorry but also filled with an unusual amount of regret. "It's a twelve pack. Shouldn't have made a big deal." He curses under his breath before taking another hit of his drug, shaking his head in disappointment but for a completely different reason than ten minutes ago.

"You've gotta work on not making the bad things that happen to you my fault." I sniff, reaching up to wipe my eyes as he reaches over to take my hand in his, giving it a sorry squeeze. "Asshole, c'mere."

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[orchid3a]

THIS LOVE IS GOOD- H. KAZUTORA

✦ synopsis ↷ Yours and Kazutora's love during the years

✦ pairing ↷ Hanemiya Kazutora x Baji's step-sister!f!reader (everyone alive au!)

✦ cw ↷ teenagers smoking (they’re 18), lovesick tora, arson (it’s baji), mentions of kazu’s backstory, high school settings, time-line isn’t clear but there are a few time-skips, kazu has insecurieties, yn too, wedding, baji is the best big bro!!, kazu has two kids who are two copies of him! lazy-beta reading

✦ note ↷ happy b-day my bby tiger!!! i want to give you all the love of this world!!! a bit sappy for tora, i love him sm! hope you like it!!

kei and kotone

reblogs and comments are appreciated!!!

Kazutora wasn't fond of his birthday, he doesn't remember a happy birthday from his early childhood. However, everything changed when he met Baji and you, on the day of his 11th birthday. 

He can still remember Baji's grin and yours after you three set a car on fire, enjoying the sight of the fire consuming the machine. 

Now twelve years later, many things have changed, he doesn't have only two friends but more. He works with his childhood friend and a boy he met during his adolescent years. And now he is happy. 

More importantly, he has a place he can call home. You. 

You are Kazutora's precious treasure and first love, first kiss and first everything. 

Before calling you his, however, he had to go through a lot. The journey wasn't simple, his own insecurities didn't let him think about a possible future with you. 

During his all life, Kazutora never thought he deserved to be truly happy, despite Baji and Chifuyu attempts to tell him otherwise. 

He thought he didn't deserve to be with someone as you, you were the sun and he the moon. 

Two lovers destined to always long for each other but never touch or hold the other. And he was happy, or so he tried to convince himself, Kazutora would have traded his whole life just to see you happy, even without him. 

And yet, you proved him wrong. You stayed and never left him, always there to help him, to listen to him or just staying near him. 

Never once, you left him, and Kazutora couldn't understand why. 

Why do you continue to stay with an unhappy and troubled teen like him? Why won't you choose a guy like Mitsuya or Takemichi? Why do you always choose him? 

These questions found an answer during a summer day, it was your last high school year, you two were waiting at your Baji’s house, Chifuyu and Baji, who were buying food and cold drinks.

You were laying on Baji’s bed, Peke J as usual hogging your lap, enjoying your head pats and belly scratching. Kazutora was sitting on the floor near the bed, his back against the wall, as he was smoking a cigarette, he stole one from Chifuyu’s pack.

He was lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice, you were shifting your position, now sitting beside him, Peke J still laying on your lap.

“Lemme try one, Tora” You asked, looking at the stick between his lips, he almost finished smoking that one. 

“Baji will kill me if he knows that you smoked. And I can’t steal another one from Chifuyu, or he will notice.” Kazutora remarked before blowing out the smoke. 

You pouted at his answer, clearly it wasn’t what you hoped he would say, but you wouldn’t give up until he gave in. Annoyed, you quickly stole the stick and put it between your lips, finally tasting the so-dreamed nicotine. 

Kazutora was speechless and didn’t know how to react when you stole his cigarette, on one hand he was annoyed by your bratty behavior, and he accuses Baji of spoiling you, his little step-sister, too much. But he would never admit, how beautiful you looked while smoking. It matched with your classy attitude, you didn’t take after Baji’s reckless behavior. 

“Baji spoils you too much… And that’s the result” he mumbles, looking away from your lips, your lipstick smudging the stick. They were beautiful, the color really suited your lips, they looked so soft… Maybe they were. He could feel his cheek burn at the thought, how could he even think that!? Why the sudden though of kissing your lips, made his heart beat faster and louder, and his anxiety grew, as his mind wonders. Would you love him kissing your lips? Or you see just as a friend and nothing more. Too lost into his thoughts again, he didn’t see how close you were to touch each other. Now, you were sitting in front of him, your hand gently pushing a strand of his hair behind his ear, your hues concerned for his strange behavior.

“Huh?” he only murmured, trying his best to not focus on your parted lips, the cigarette now between your fingers. He gulped, unsure to what to say.

You giggled at his flustered face, you knew the effect you always had on him, how he trembled or tried to not act too embarrassed, when you got too close to him. Maybe you were a bit mean with the teasing, but you didn’t know how to tell him. And no matter how many times you try to confess, you can’t bring it up, you fear that it will ruin the both of you. Love wasn’t like the shoujo manga Chifuyu lent you, trying to guide you towards the right way to confess.

“Kiss me… Tora~” you murmured a few centimeters off his lips, and you smirked seeing his cheeks getting redder, then you felt him grabbing your wrist and pulling you in a kiss.

Kazutora never imagined that he would one day kiss you, those words you said, even if they were just a tease, he decided to not care anymore. Quickly, he pulled you in his lap, kissing you until you both ran out of hair. And yet, he didn’t leave your lips for one second, he couldn’t stop kissing you. Years of waiting, finally bore their fruits, and you seemed to enjoy it. Your hands found themselves on his hair, playfully pulling his strands. Eyes closed and mind lost in the heat of the moment, both you two found the answers of your questions. 

Kazutora now knew that you loved him, he saw how your eyes shined when he kissed you, how eager you were to finally kiss him. He finally had someone he could call home. And this time, this new home wouldn’t turn into a cold and abandoned home.

Kazutora loved you as much as you did, and the kiss sealed your answer. You could be a couple now, and no matter how hard and difficult your life will be from now on. You will never leave him, you will always be there, near his side, holding his hand, hugging him, kissing him. Just staying. 

Breaking the kiss, you cupped his cheeks, lovingly and placed a chaste kiss over his lips. He laid his cheek on your palm, basking in the warmth. Everything was perfect, the sun was shining, the wind was calm and no one would interrupt anythin-

“Kazutora you fucker! What are you doing with my sister!?” You jolted, completely forgetting about your brother, Keisuke, now he was standing near the door, Chifuyu next to him, the blonde was smirking, clearly expecting to be informed about your kiss. However, before telling him that you have to stop your brother from killing the only guy you love, which seems a quite difficult mission. Luckily, Chifuyu was there and you two prevented homicide getting into the list of Keisuke’s crimes. 

“Kei, Tora and I are going out~ So treat your brother-in-law well! Or I will tell mom!” You grinned, hugging Kazutora’s arm to your chest, as you two laughed your asses off seeing how pale Keisuke went. It was truly a sight.

Years went by, you and Tora went through everything, the first dates, the first sneaking outs (always interrupted by Keisuke, as he said, his big bro’s sense always screwed your plans), first time and first everything. Despite becoming a couple, almost nothing changed, it was as if you two were friends, and you were happy. One of your most feared consequences of getting together with Tora, was completely ruining your bond, and you didn’t want it. 

Everyone was happy for both you two, even your brother, but as “punishment” he didn’t talk to you two for three days straight, it was adorable seeing him struggling to not say a word when you got on a date with Tora. Your step-mom, aka Kei’s mom, was happy to see you and Kazutora together, she always said you two were destined to be together, and she knew one day it will become true. It’s her mom sense, she giggled as she ruffled your hair, after you told her the news. 

The whole Toman was happy too, they congratulated Kazutora and teased your brother for almost three whole weeks, much to his displeasure. Emma and the girls, even Yuzuha who was surprised at the sight of you and Kazutora coming to a meeting hand-in-hand, demanded the whole story and without excluding any detail. 

Kazutora couldn’t believe how his life turned out, after you two kissed on that sunny day, he couldn’t express how much he was happy to have someone he can call home. He basked in the warmth and love you spoiled him with, for him, it was never enough. Years of being deprived of it, made him believe he was unfit to be loved or love, and yet you provide him wrong. He learned that love isn’t always something flashy or theatrical, love is waking up beside you and watch the dawn together, love is fighting like children while baking cakes, love is preparing each other’s coffee or tea. Love is cuddling while watching a terrible rom-com movies and hearing you ramble about it. Love is multiple things and not just ‘I love you’s.

Before you know it, you found yourself walking down the aisle, wearing the most beautiful wedding dress, the one you always drew when you were a small child, thanks to Mitsuya’s magic work. The one walking you down the aisle, wasn’t your father as the tradition wants, but it’s Keisuke, you asked him to do, and he accepted in a heartbeat. How he could deny it? Especially if it’s his baby sister? The one who asked to sleep together after a bad nightmare. Near the altar, Kazutora was waiting for you, and the lovesick look on his face was a true piece of art. The wedding was the best day of your life, it was a dream becoming true, everyone you loved was there, and you couldn’t ask more. You still remember the tears that Kazutora and you cried when you declared your love in front of family and friends. Another step of your life was done, but there were many more, and you couldn’t wait to face them.

“Papa! Wake up! Mama prepared a big big cake for you!” A voice reaches Kazutora, who was still deep in his sleep, then he feels something sitting on his back, patting his shoulder and murmuring softly in his ear the same sentence. Slowly, he opens an eye, seeing black hair and gold eyes looking at him with curiosity. It’s his daughter, his beloved Kotone, a five-years old little girl. 

“Papa, you’re awake! Let’s go to the kitchen! Kei is sleeping. Mama said that uncle Kei and uncle Fuyu will come too.” She giggles as she feels Kazutora taking her in his arms, getting up and going to the kitchen. Kazutora kisses her cheek as he listens to her recent dream, finally he enters the kitchen and a soft smile appears on his face. No matter how many times he sees you, for him, it will always be like the first time, your beauty will last forever. His smile grows even more when he sees you walking towards him with his son Kei in your arms, now awake, and even he got his black hair and golden eyes.

“It’s unfair that none of our kids has your eyes” He murmurs, voice still laced with sleep, as he bends over to kiss your forehead. Kotone and Kei squeal at the sight, giggling like the kids they are.

“I love that they have your eyes, it reminds me of your eyes on your 11th birthday. They were shining… Like now” You murmur, kissing him on the lips this time, closing your eyes. You feel his lips on yours, a chaste kiss, chaste and pure, like your love has always been for him.

“I want a love like mama and papa’s one! I want to kiss Hiro-kun like this” Kotone exclaims, her golden eyes shining with love, as you laughs at Tora’s expression, now he is pouting like a child. Kei babbles happily, seeing his father’s pale face, finding the situation funny.

Kazutora sighs before smiling at the sight of his little family, the family he always craved for. His most precious treasure.

​

[eddiemunsonappreciationsociety]

THIS IS OUR YEAR

Chapter Four: Bubblegum

We spent a lot of time together over the next few days. We share four classes, three smoke ups and a D&D session in our first week, it's all I needed to come to the conclusion Eddie Munson was possibly the best person I've ever met. Sweet, funny, polite, talented and charismatic to the point I want to climb the man like a tree.

"Am I still picking you up tonight?" Eddie asks as he leans against my car and lights a cigarette.

He was going to pick me up later and take me to a place called Skull Rock to meet the rest of his friends.

"Of course, are the children going to be there?"

"No, night off for daddy Munson" he beans at me.

Why do I like that so much?

"My sort of grown up friends will be there: Nancy, Steve, Robin and Johnathan."

"Should I bring anything?" I ask, starting to feel nervous.

"If you wanna bring something to drink, something to smoke if you're picky, and maybe something to burn-but all will be provided"

"Something to burn?"

"Campfire and drink and drugs are part of life Bubblegum"

He walks away, flicking his cigarette at a jock that strolls past and runs to his van, laughing manically.

---&---

"You're going to be cold" Eddie announces as I slide into the passenger seat of his van.

"Leave me alone, daddy munson" I bite back, smoothing down my dress.

A strange growl sounds comes from Eddie, which he covers with a cough. His eyes flash over to me and there's fire in them briefly.

"You look nice" he finally chokes out after we've driven in somewhat awkward silence.

"Thank you, so do you"

I'd changed eight times. I'd settled on a black pleated skirt, embellished with silver chains that jingled when I walked. I had thigh high socks on, paired with my chunky platform boots that went to my knee, baby pink with a black sole. The Joy Division shirt I'm wearing I dyed pink mysef. Despite having a black hoodie and   my pink leather jacket I worry about the cold. 

"You might have to hold on to me when we walk to our spot" Eddie murmurs, glancing at my shoes.

"Pfft you couldn't hold me up if I fell, you're lucky I can hike in these things."

"I could carry you and your huge, huge bag" he gestures to the pink gym bag on the floor by my feet.

"No, you could not. And I have some bottles and weed and old school assignments to burn"

"Party in a bag, love it.' he nods then glances at me sideways "You seem nervous"

I glance down and see my knee bouncing up and down, I hadn't even realised I was doing it.

"Being around new people can make me nervous, but I know what to do".

I dive into the bag and pull out a beer, twisting the top off and backing off half of it.

"You don't seem nervous around me "

"You don't feel new" I say before I can stop myself.

"I get that " he nods after another beat of silence as he ponders my words.

I lean and switch the radio on, switching between the stations before something heavy with electric guitar and drums appears and Eddie starts drumming the steering wheel.

I sing along to the bits I know and he stops drumming up stare at me.

"What you staring at?" I ask as the keeps his gaze on me.

"Your singing voice..."

"I may look like a chubby pink marshmallow, but I can sing and consume drugs like Stevie Nicks"

"You should come and practice with us"

"Are girls allowed?"

"Absolutely"

We pull over into a car park.

"Quick bowl?"

He's pulling out the stuff before I answer. He packs and passes me the pipe. Then sparks the lighter and I lean my pipe over to get closer he uses his other hand and brushes hair from my face, saving it from the flame.

I glance up at him and his fingers linger. Our gazes lock for a few seconds and I'm staring into the molten chocolate of his eyes, warmth surrounds me and pools in my stomach.

I snap out of it, light the pipe and lean away. My cheeks are flushed

[nelapanela94]

SAND CASTLES - Victims of heart crimes

tw: SMUT, One-night (day) stand.

wc: ~12K

Y/N lives in the moon. Levi’s feet are firmly anchored to Earth. But when the universe is disturbed, the devastating force pulls the planets and satelites out of orbit. They wander aimlessly until they collide.

Tch. Where did shitty glasses go?  

Levi scratches his temple and peers around with narrowed eyes for any sign of Hange or Onyankopon. Most likely, a revolutionary technology lured his scientist friend, and losing track of time, as usual, they ended up dragging their escort away against his own will.

Their escort.

What could go wrong?

Without them by his side at least he would not attract unwanted attention.

This place is hell. Families, merchants, tourists, people rushing. He is jostled, carried along by throngs of consumers, jammed and swayed around. 

“Good morning, sir!” A woman pops out from her stall, black, straight, silky hair, like his, fair skin and small, dark brown eyes.

Hizuru.

She leaps out from a kiosk with a small flask in hand. “Would you try this amazing anti-aging cream?” 

“I’m thirty-three.” He gruffly says, reeling away from the woman before she puts that bird poo on his face. Who understands these people? Not long ago a clown mistook him for a kid. Chills drill his skin by that cringy scene nagging his memories. 

“If you start the sooner, you’ll get better results.” Her accent is strong. “You’ll never guess my age.” Patting her cheek, she winks at him. “You could bring some home to your girlfriend.” 

Levi bobs his head like a pigeon, tugging at the wing of his hat, and stalks off.  

He grunts and without bothering to excuse himself for using his elbow, he barges through the hustle and bustle of the market sector. Rows of booths filled with local and imported goods seem to stretch to infinity. His eyes scoot around, jumping from stall to stall. An old granny threshes wheat with a hand mill while a girl packs the naked grains into jute bags, piling them on the stall.  

Bales of cotton are loaded on a freight wagon as two men shake hands. One doffs his hat, sucking in a long gust of smoke from his cigarette and blows it out in small wafts that rapidly dissolve in the air; the other tucks the wad of bills inside his jacket. 

The brassy horn from a docking ship disturbs the ravenette, and he swivels around towards the berths. A seashell imprinted on the flag of state waves proudly on the pole at the stern of the vessel.  

Continuing his aimless journey, a bilious smell drubs his nose. His breakfast sloshes in his stomach, making him gag at the stench in the fishmonger’s area. Dozens of men slice fish open and tear out the organs. Blood and other fluids trickle in gnarled strings that snake out in all directions. He sees the reflection of passersby in the brown puddles that formed on the craggy cobblestone floor. 

Boosting wide cheek-straining smiles, vendors pounce out of the stands slathering on his face their gaudy bric-a-bracs, and he demurs at any food sample they offered. The to-go meals establishments don't meet his hygiene standards.  

The noise, the dire mix of smells, the multitude and the jumble of languages daze him. The farmers’ market in Trost doesn’t come close to this place.  

After bumping into the sea of people, he finally reaches the shore. Levi adjusts his hat, fixes his tie and dusts off his jacket, and a yearned moment of relief swaddles him. The paper bag he carries in hand made it alive. At least, the odyssey wasn’t in vain. He got what he was looking for. And more.   

Rare herbs and spices from Hizuru and the middle east, as well as a fine teapot crafted somewhere south of Marley.   

The city is the nation’s largest port, the mecca of trade and commerce. Exotic goods cluster from around the world. He couldn’t let the opportunity slip through his fingers. From time to time, he deserves to pamper himself, too. Even if it meant spending almost all the money the Azumabitos gave him.  

Right, Azumabito.   

He must return to Kiyomi’s mansion, but he’s not familiar with his surroundings. Delving into his pockets, the sound of clashing coins reminds him of the money he squandered away on his indulging treats.   

“Tch."  

Hange. He needs to find them.  

Lost and penniless, he wanders around downtown in search of the brunette; though, half an hour later, he’s made no progress.   

Sweat trickles down his forehead, his soaked button-up shirt sticks to his back. He finds shade in a narrow alley, and rests against the bricky wall. His neck itches and sleek strands of hair are glued on his forehead. He loosens his tie and wrestles off the jacket, hanging it on his forearm, and takes his hat off to fan his clammy face.  

The scorching sun shows no mercy on that city.   

Drawing out a long breath, he runs his fingers through his hair, sweeping away the bothersome locks, and closes his eyes.   

* 

You’re running out of breath. Your legs burn and the heels are mauling your feet. Damn, those guys never get tired.   

"Miss. Y/N!" You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know they are hot on your trail. You can feel them breathing down your neck.   

A stray dog gets on your way, but you swerve at the last second, clinging to the wall so as not to lose your balance, and keep running. Their footsteps grow louder, and your heart is about to give up.   

"Excuse me! Sorry ‘bout that.” You mumble to the irritated people you stumble on, earning glares and irked glances.  

You’re breathless; running aimlessly to escape no longer sounds like a smart plan. You hiss through gritted teeth at the stabbing pain spreading below your ribcage. You have to find a hideout.   

Soon.  

At the next corner, you turn around and spot him. Defenseless and, most important, handsome.   

Your eyes open wide, and the most brilliant idea lights the bulb in your head. It’s all or nothing. You gamble on your last resource to escape from the claws of those men in black.  

Panting, you stop before him, clutch the collar of his shirt, and jerk him towards you. Your lips crash on his.  

It all takes one second.  

His eyes snap open–shaky gray orbs quailing under your jarred gaze–so wide it’s a miracle they don’t pop out and plunge down onto the sideway.  

You part slightly, your breath brushing his besieged lips. “Pin me against the wall,” you beseech.   

He gapes, lips trembling, and blinks several times at you as if he’s coming out of a fog. His thoughts scramble in a mesh he can’t unravel and his cognitive abilities wane fast. 

“You don’t have to kiss me, just don’t let them see my face." You huff, blanking your eyes. 

Levi topples back to reality when you squeeze at his waist, and his eyes flicker from your round urgent eyes to the corner from where you came out. He inwardly smacks his head and growls. Why does he have to help you? And what is he protecting you from?   

He seizes your wrist and, in the blink of an eye, your back is hitting the wall, your free arm wrapped around his neck. Hearts drumming. He doesn’t kiss you; his mouth rests a millimeter away from yours.   

"Tell me when they’re gone.” His breath fans over your fumbling lips, instigating your rowdy hormones to revolt against your neurons, unbinding a civil war in your system. 

You hum. Your toes curl up, your legs stiffen and your lips press together into a line as you try to hold your breath. 

That sultry whisper pierces through your ears and ripples down to your core. Your eyes tangle with his parted lips, and you muster all the strength and sanity to fight the urge to devour him. Notes of cardamom and cinnamon linger in his breath, flicking over your clamant mouth. You wait a few more seconds, or an eternity, basking in the heaviness of his body pressed against yours, his warmth oozing through the weave of his vest. It’s been quite some time since the last of your pursuers disappeared at the end of passage, yet your primal side clings to the fervor he elicits in your body. Your breasts and his chest fuse, your hearts beating with the same intensity. The grapple around your wrist is arousing. 

Your eyes close, and you drag in a sharp breath to etch in your memory his inebriating scent, a seductive blend of bergamot and lemon and him.   

"Oi!" he barks.

You wake up from your lewd daydream, your nose nuzzled in his linen-clad shoulder. Roiled and unsettled, he steps back before it’s too late and what’s under his pants gives him away. His quaggy brain attempts to process what just happened. He gulps and bends, grabbing his hat from the floor, dusts it off with the back of his hand and puts it on.   

His cheeks are tingling. It must be the weather; he wants to believe. He looks askance at you and frowns, wondering why you’re still standing there.   

You lean forward, eyes beaming, hands settled on your hips. The way you sweep your tongue over your lips is making him nervous.   

His heart is thumping, threatening to breach out of his ribcage, blood rushing hot through his veins. He tugs his hat down, shading his eyes, and bows his head slightly, wordlessly saying goodbye.   

But you refuse to let him go.  

"Wait!" You chime and grab his arm, feeling his muscles rippling under his clothes, and a heatwave sears your lower belly. It’s frightening and electrifying the effect he has on you.   

Levi freezes on the spot and scowls.   

"What!?” He bellows and turns around to face you, yanking your hand away.  

His nostrils flare, though his menacing glare doesn’t have any effect on you, not the one he forecasted. 

Your eyes narrow, bottom lip jutting out. You take one step closer, swinging your purse, and hit him on the chest.   

“Tch.” He sets his lips into a thin line, brows twitching, fists clenched and shaking at his sides. Steel gray orbs burn with rage; you can see the flames blazing in his trembling pupils. A flicker of irritation thrums through his veins. If looks could smelt people, you would’ve turned into slag. 

Suddenly, your boldness shatters, and dismay swarms you, twisting your entrails. Your jelly legs shrivel and you feel small under his intimidating eyes.  

Maybe you’ve gone too far.  

You jar and swallow the knot that seizes your throat, a bead of sweat gliding down your temple. Averting the eyes, you suck on your bottom lip.   

“Sorry.” You mutter, glancing at his feet.   

Levi takes in a deep breath and shakes his head, letting out a snort. Annoyance and displeasure falter away from his gaze. For some strange reason, he can’t get mad at you.   

You thread your fingers through your hair, your mouth curving into a crescent moon, the prettiest smile Levi’s ever seen.   

He holds his precious package close to his chest, and tries to dissimulate his eyes dawdling over your frame, from head to toe, and a prickle creeps from his cheeks to the tip of his ears. The royal blue sailor dress flares down from your waist to your knees, and the little white stripes that girdle above the hem of the short sleeves match the Mary Jane heels and the cloche hat.   

“Y/N."   

The bundle of silver bracelets clinks as you extend your hand before him. "Now you have to tell me your name,” you demand impatiently. 

A thin black eyebrow rises as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Do I?"  

Even with your brows drawn together, you look pretty.   

"I don’t kiss strangers.” You glower. Your arm goes numb, but you are determined to rip his name off of him.  

“There’s a first time for everything.” He smirks.  

“Where are you from then?"  

Shit. His shoulders tense, blank thoughts throng in his head. A bleak drop of sweat trails down his back, yet he makes a strenuous effort to keep his composure. You blink, tilting your head to the side.   

"Your accent. I’ve never heard it before."  

All the tension drains away through his toes and fingers. His airways unclog, letting the air fill his lungs again, restoring the color to his face.   

"Levi.” He takes and shakes your gloved hand, and a fleeting sensation like silk surges up through his arm. “The name’s Levi." You stared at each other for a long minute, without realizing that a red thread slithers and laces to your ring fingers. Earth stops spinning for sixty seconds, or an eternity, until you let go, and the clock ticks again. The rustling leaves, the buzzing passersby and the revving engings rewrap you.

"Levi, Levi, Levi.” You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, your dimple on full display. “Such a pretty name."  

His pulse quickens as he hears his name belching off your mouth like melted caramel. No one had ever pronounced his name as you did, with finesse and firmness at the same time. Levi carves that sound in his memory and stamps it in a corner of his heart.   

You approach, removing one linen glove, and rub your thumb over his smudged lips, sweeping off the red traces of your lipstick. A heartbeat, dry and intense, struck him, snatching his breath away. "Sorry about that.” You wink and draw out a handkerchief from your purse, wiping clean your finger.  

It’s the first time someone wreaks havoc inside him. Like a hurricane, you burst into his life, dragging the river out of course, razing the roofs and flooding the streets.  

“Are you ok?” You inch forward and set your lips into a thin line, patting his cheek.   

You’re too close. His jittery lips part to speak, but the words cramming in his throat, choke him.  

Crinkling your nose, you rub a hand on the back of your neck. “Let me take you to lunch.” You coyly ask, lowering the head as your eyes gaze up, ensnaring with his enthralling gray gems. “To thank you for what you did for me and the trouble I caused. You can choose the place.”  

He thinks twice.   

His pockets are inside out, and he is lost in a city he doesn’t know. Plus, you don’t look like a murderer, nor a kidnapper, nor a spy from Marley.  

You weave your fingers and bring your clasped hands to your chin, giving your big puppy eyes. Your last resource to convince him.   

It seems you won’t take a no for an answer.   

He raises a shoulder in half a shrug and admits defeat. “Alright.”  

“Yes!” You whoop, throwing your fists into the air. “Let’s go. But there’s something I need to do first.” You grab his hand and Levi wobbles as he is spun around.  

Apparently, in that city, the concept of personal space differs from that of the island. Though, he doesn’t feel uneasy about your closeness or sudden touches. They awake new sensations, and his insatiable skin covets more.  

Maybe we're just asteroids subjected to the force of attraction, conditioned by so many factors that if one of them alters, our orbit change, and eventually, we clash.  

“Who are those guys, and why were they following you?"  

"My bodyguards. I just wanted to take a stroll downtown, but dad doesn’t allow me to go out without escorts.” You blow out a cheek. “I hate he distrusts me."  

Spoiled brat. 

"And who wouldn’t if their daughter ends up kissing the first stranger she comes across?” He taunts. The nudge you blow on his arm hardly tickles him.  

“Don’t make me leave you stranded here." You threaten as a chortle seeps out of your lips.

You turn left at the end of the street and walk past a row of shops before stepping into a second-hand clothing store. The doorbell alerts the staff, and they turn their heads toward the door.

"Y/N!" Eddy and Lucy sing in unison and drop what they're doing, pouncing on you. They greet you tight and warmly, wrapping you in a deep hug. 

"It's been a while," you muse sheepishly.

Chocolate brown eyes flicker to your companion. "Is that your new bodyguard?" Lucy reels to you, waggling her chestnut brown eyebrows with derision. 

"Leave her alone, Lucy." Eddy nudges back his big rounded glasses along the bridge of his nose, the lenses glint over his icy blue eyes. 

"This is Levi." You push him by the shoulders and drag him before your friends. "He's... uh...uh," You slide next to him, fidgeting with your necklace. Steel gray orbs meet nervous (e/c) eyes.

"I am the son of one of Y/N's father's business partners. She offered to show me around the city." The black haired man clarifies.

 "Nice to meet you, I'm Lucy Fowler and this is Edmond Bates. We know Y/N from the book club. We meet the last Friday of every month at the coffee shop at the end of the street."

"Levi" his eyes dart around and borrows the name from the tag of a pair of pants perched on the railing. "Strauss. Glad to meet you too." He feels ridiculous. But the Azumabito advised him not to reveal his real name. The Ackermans are the biggest threat to Marley.

Lucy lets out a chuckle. "What a coincidence."

"So, I've been told."

Eddy gives him a wary look, arms tucked over his chest, then his eyes flick back to you. "The latest are on the back." He tosses a thumb over his shoulder and vanishes throught the labyrinths of clothes while Lucy folds behind the check-out counter.

You amble the aisles, fingering and picking dresses from the racks and shelves, Levi following with a basket in hand. Your eyes light up and gasps of joy flee of your mouth whenever you find a jewel, and toss it back over your head, crashing on Levi’s uninterested, deadpanned face. “This and this and this, and…” You scrutinize a blue garment, rising an eyebrow, inclining your head to the side. 

It looks like something a granny would wear.  

“What do you think of this?” You hum, a curled finger sits on your lips.  

Levi squints, shaking his head when you glance at him.  

It’s hideous.  

You can be rich, but you have a terrible fashion sense.  

“You’re right. It needs more color.”   

After trying on a dozen dresses, and receiving disapproving grimaces, you finally emerged from the fitting room with a sleeveless loose-fitting cotton dress, and white flat sandals. Running in heels had marred your feet. You whirl, the ruffle layers billow in the air around your knees. “I could blend with tourists.” Your lashes flutter in a coquettish manner, your hands settled on your waist.  

That sleazy, cheap red dress glitzes in you.  

Levi leans back on the couch and nods. A smile of satisfaction flashes on his lips.  

You disappear behind the curtains and come out wearing a wide-winged feathered hat.  

“I thought your intention was to go unnoticed.” He objects and approaches you to take that obnoxious thrift off.   

“This.” He picks from the exhibition a white cloche hat with a flashy red ribbon attached to the side and drags you in front of the mirror, placing his hands on your shoulders from behind.  

You chuckle and leer at him through the reflection. “Do I look that single and desperate to you?”   

“I don’t see a ring,” he mutters in your ear. He is doing it on purpose, you swear he does, and he is not oblivious to the chaos he provokes.  

You splay your bare hands before you, then swivel around, tilting your head to the side, your lips curved into a cocky smirk, arms folded over your chest. “It’s in the jewelry store. They’re polishing it.”   

His jaw sets, a hydraulic press crushes his chest. A tint of disappointment flashes in his eyes. He jerks his head to a different direction. 

“Sorry for giving your false hopes.” You pat his shoulder, jutting out your lower lip; immediately your gesture turns into a bemused smile, and your eyes glint with mockery. You cover your mouth with a hand and turn away, your giggles escalate to a guffaw that obliges you to bend and grip your knees, dragging people’s baffled glances. Your ribs began to hurt.   

A guffaw bubbles out from you.

Confusion and concern flood his gaze, it seems as if you are choking with your own laughter. His eyes flip through the customers then reel back to you. He squeezes your shoulder lightly.   

You’ve gone mad.   

“I’m sorry.” You manage to articulate between pants. A sharp breath slams to your lungs and you push it out through your mouth.   

You incorporate, the blazing red of your cheeks starts to drain. “You’re right, I’m single. But you should’ve seen your face,” you say with a derisive tone. You strewn a palm over the left side of his chest as you wipe off the tears of the crinkled corners of your eyes.   

A ‘tch’ falls from his lips.   

A feeling of relief sweeps through his body, though.   

“What’s this?” You raise an eyebrow at the hard object shielding him.  

Levi fumbles in the pocket inside his jacket and pulls out a spiral candy, with tinges of yellow, reds and purple frolicking and intertwining, like a whirring half rainbow.  

You pluck it of his hand, and your pupils twinkle. “I haven’t had once of this in years. Can I keep it?” You wheedle; then curiosity smacks you. You loll your head to the side by a fraction and squinted. “Where did you get this?” You query, swaying the lollipop before his eyes. “Only children get these.”    

“I stole it from a kid.” He growls, and pries it off your fingers, shoving it back into his pocket. “And no, it’s mine.” He huffs, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the exit. You stumble, your arm floundering in the air, fighting to keep your balance. You hold your hat in place before it flies away and wave good-bye at the staff who, flummoxed, watch you evanescing through the door.    

“Where are you taking me?” You struggle to follow his spry pace.   

Levi stops in his tracks and turns around without letting go of you. He just realizes it’s the first time he’s holding your bare hand. Warm and soft. He holds you tight as he’s intending to tattoo the creases and edges into his palm. He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the turmoil that consumes him.  

“Pizza,” he spouts.   

“Uh?”   

He tips his head to the side, pulls at the collar of his shirt and averts his gaze. He has never been a picky eater, but has been looking forward to eating that cheesy dough again since the time Nicolo prepared it back in the island.   

“Sure. I know the best place in town.” A fleeting touch of amusement burgeons at the corners of your lips. He doesn’t seem like a person who likes pizza.  

“This way.” Your grip tightens and you tow him.  

The raven-haired clutches his rumpled bag against his chest, under his jacket. He’s glad you walk before him, so you can’t see his flushed face. His eyes drift over your body and he fells the urge to pull you toward him and embrace you, to find out if your heart pounds as brisk as his.   

*

The smells of basil and garlic fills your lungs as you step in. The viny plants grapple to the naked brick walls, giving it a rustic touch and the low lightning offers a romantic atmosphere. A tall man, bald man, with a proud beer belly shuffles pizzas into the clay oven that burns at its highest.  

The host shows you into the main dining room and escorts you to the table. A booth next to the window, the logo silk-screen printed on the glass. ATALORIG you read from your side. You take a seat, unfurl the napkin and strewn it over your lap.

She places the menu in your hands. “The lunch special today is Pasta Palermo, baked ziti with chopped eggplant, black olives, and ricotta cheese, drizzled in our sauce. Your waiter will be right with you.” She casts a slight bow and swirls away. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” you say, patting your tummy. 

You flip the pages straight to the pizza section and rub your hands together while pouring over the appetizing options. “I’ll have burrata.” You close the menu and set it aside. Your eyes drift to him. “What sounds good to you?” 

Levi scans the menu, but faintly understands the scribble. He has not yet mastered the Marley alphabet. Plus, he doesn’t know most of the ingredients. 

"I’ll have the same as you." 

"No, you have to order something else so we can share." You swing a finger back and forth between the two. “That’s how pizza works.”  

Alright. If you say so. He sighs. "What’s your second favorite?"  

"Four-cheese." 

"Four-cheese, then."  

The waiter comes and you place your order. The freckled guy nods and jots down. He returns a few minutes later and pours the wine in your glasses.  

He looks at you, and there it is again, that odd intensity, the way his gaze holds yours with such resolve as if he's trying to shake out your thoughts. And read them.

Like if you didn't belong to the same species.

"What is it?" you ask, and he opens his mouth as to say something, but changes his course.

He shakes his head, and shuffles in his seat. He doesn't break the eye contact. "I'm just wondering, what do you see when you look at me?"

His voice is raspy, yet smooth like velvet. There's something in that question, hidden like a rock beneath the surface. Something he wants to corroborate, what a demon looks like.

"I see a guy with smooth black hair, mysterious eyes, grufly personality."

His eyebrows sink deep. "Is that all?" He harrumphs.

"There must be more." Your voice quavers, and your fingers curl around the stem of the glass, your eyes drawn by the sloshing drop at the bottom. "I mean, we kissed, but I don't know you yet."

"Yet," he grins and leans in.

"Yet." Your gaze flick back to him. You scan his face, the slight lines etched between his brows for furrowing too much, pretty lips lightly parted, broad shoulders, chest rising and falling steadily. You reel closer too, your attention wholly on him.

You squint. "I see a man who feels too much and cares too much. Someone who was entrusted with a great responsibility to carry on his shoulders."

Levi gulps, any trace of humor gone. He feels exposed, but he masks it so well you don't realize you were digging close to the truth.

You fill your glasses again, yours to the brim.

"And good-looking." You take a deep breath and let wine slide down your throat. You could blame alcohol for your faint blush.

"So you think I'm good looking." The ends of his mouth curve up.

"What about me?" You ask shyly, stirring your empty glass.

A whimsical girl who can't get no for an answer. And with a horrendous fashion sense.

He shakes his head. "I'm not good at reading people."

You talk about everything and nothing. With you everything seems easier. You always have something to say. You talk so much and he just limits himself to listen. He’s enraptured by your voice and the sparkles in your eyes and the dimple in your left cheek every time you smile. And your laugh, seriously your laugh is the most beautiful melody he'd ever heard, so sweet and sincere. A drug enlivened by the wine. 

A strange connection that both thrills him and frightens him flourishes sleekly between you, and his protection mechanism goads him, reminding him he must untie the knot before the next day. 

The waiter puts the plate of appetizers on the table, and you order a second bottle of wine. You don’t waste your time. You grab two bruschetta and place them on your plate, then bring a third one directly to your mouth. Levi watches you, with a brow arched, hoarding bread like a squirrel stashing nuts for the winter. 

“What?” You swallow. “Didn’t you hear me when I said I was starving?” 

“C’mere.” Levi curls a finger towards him. You furrow your brows, but lean forward anyway. One end of his lips curves up. “You’re a walking disaster,” he says and wipes off the crumbs of bread peeking at the corner of your mouth. A mild tingle robs any rational thought. How is that such a puny touch can be so ruinous?  

You sink back on your seat twiddling with your bracelets under the table. Your eyes linger the line of his jaw, his cheeks, the curves of his lips. His adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows. You have to dispel those filthy thoughts before you can no longer refrain yourself.  

You cross your your legs at your ankles, swinging your feet.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” You shoot. You take a long swig of your drink, and settle the glass in the table. Slanting forward, you fold your arms on the white-clothed surface.  

Your question disarms him. He opens his mouth to speak, but immediately shuts it close and pours more wine in his glass instead. 

“I mean, what’s your biggest dream?” You push, oblivious to his reaction. 

“My dream?” He takes a sip. Maybe more alcohol would loosen his tongue. 

You nodded, a wide smile crinkles the corners of your eyes. 

“What’s yours?” 

“That’s not fair, Levi. I asked first.”  

Dreams. It’s the first time someone asks such no sense. Dreams, just like the stars, were a luxury bereft from him when he was a child. 

He throws a quick glance at the crumpled paper bag resting at the end of the table in front of the window. 

“A tea shop. Running my own tea shop, that’s my dream.” It feels strange to let those words out of his mouth.   

“Can I work behind the counter?” You point a finger to your chest, smiling. Don’t your cheeks hurt for smiling all the time? Levi wonders. 

You continue, “with your face,” you push your brows downwards, mimicking a scowl, “you'll scare the customers away.” 

“Tch.” Levi frowns at you and crosses his arms over his chest “What would you know? I bet you’ve never worked a day in your life.” A small grin tugs at the end of his lips.  

“You were doing great, Levi. Now, you’re losing points with me.” You flick your tongue out. “At least, people like me. I'm a quick learner and I have a pretty smile.” 

He can’t reproach the latter.

“What’s that you’ve been carrying around all this time?”  

Without asking for permission, you reach out for the bag, and rummage through it. The mixture of spices and herbs strikes your nose. You purse your lips into a thin line, humming, trying to discern the aromas. 

“Oolong, jasmine, chai, cardamom.” Your eyes dart heavenward, “Anise, and...” 

“Vanilla.” 

"I knew that one, too!"

You then take out the teapot, wrapped in newspaper to protect it. “Wow!” Your eyes widen. “You do have a good taste. This is a Ricci, see?” You rub your finger over the ‘R’ ridged on the side, right above the bottom. “The Riccis have been forging glass for over a thousand years on an island south of Marley. They are the best craftsmen in the world. They even offer glass-blowing demonstrations, it’s such a performance. They pull the glass and crush it and pinch it and stripe it and lengthen it and cut.” You enthuse, simulating each action with your hands. “But the coolest part is when they blow it. They have to turn it fast to keep the symmetry. And there’s a museum too.” 

You wrap it and carefully put it back in the bag.  

Levi writes it down on his mental list of places to visit. In less than an hour, his knowledge of the outer world has broadened. The outer world. The bars of the prison where he dwells disintegrate one by one. And you, it seems, hold the world in your hands. 

“And what’s your dream?” He blurts, picking a bruschetta careful enough for the diced tomatoes not to fall. 

“I love traveling and taking photographs. I’d like to visit every corner of the world and immortalize my voyages in photos. Mom gave me a camera on my tenth birthday, and I've been passionate about photography ever since. As soon as I finish college, I'm going to get on the first boat and leave this place.”  

“What about your father? I thought he didn't let you out of your front door.”  

Your brows twitch, a lock of hair falls into your eyes and you blow it away, “He’s the reason I’m leaving.” Your hands clench around the hem of your dress.  "It's so easy to be a man. The world is designed by men and for men. Why is it that a single man is well regarded? A man of ideas who works for his dreams and leaves his mark in the world. But a woman who wants to live untethered is labeled as a whore."

Levi remains silent. It is true, though. Sexism is more entrenched in the outside world. Within the walls, it's not so blatant. Many women chose a life in the military without being frowned upon.

"Sorry for the rant," you sigh, rubbing your upper arm, sheepishly and embarrassed, eyes flicking down, then return to him. "I think Penelope can also leave Ithaca. I mean, the sea is also hers."

"And I think you're right."

You lurch, straightening your back and blinking several times. What is he? Disquiet falters from your face, and your lips curve into a smile.

The pizza arrives. You eat in silence, stealing glimpses at each other from time to time, letting out a shy smile, like two nervous teenagers on their first date. You are two funambulists, swinging on a rope, slowly getting closer. Each insidious glance, a step forward. Despite the height, it’s not scary. 

You cut a bite and shove it in front of him. Levi slings back. He blinks twice, bewildered, his eyes traveling from the chunk of food back to you. 

“You gotta try this!”  

Levi looks around to make sure no one is watching and leans forward to nab it. It’s good, but his choice outstrips yours in flavor. 

You pick panna cotta with strawberry jam for dessert. The cream melts in your mouth, the subtle flavor of vanilla lingers behind, and all your concerns vanish. Levi might not show it, but he too relishes on the silky giggly dessert. Why didn’t they have those things in the island? He’ll ask Nicolo to make a batch just for him. 

You stay in the restaurant for a while longer, waiting for the midday sun to stop being so pitiless to continue touring the city. Your chin props on your hand as you incline forward, beguiled in the conversation.  

Levi is getting used to you, to seeing you and having you around. To the tingling feeling your smile evokes. 

You slip off your sandal, and audacious, your foot sways, tapping his lightly before pulling away.  

Levi startles. He lifts the cloth a bit and peeks under the table. You bat your lashes flirtatiously when he finds your gaze again, sweeping your tongue over your bottom lip. Shit. Any little gesture in you is erotic. You drive him crazy.  

Levi scuffs his shoe off, and goes after you, caressing and lingering, and drifts away.  

With no set rules, your feet seek each other in turns, you to him; he to you while you talk about trivial things, your travels, steeping tea, photography, music, food. 

Unconsciously learning and teaching each other. 

And you don’t restrain yourselves to subtle strokes below your ankles. You, bolder, begin to climb, the instep of your foot running up and down, threatening to reach his calve. A chuckle dribbles off his mouth; it’s ticklish. He pushes your foot off, now it’s his toe roaming along your bare shin. The tension rises, like a fog that hangs in the air and that only you can see.   

It's no longer just the prickling in your belly, nor the unbridled heart, nor the warmth of your cheeks. Something in your core burns, flaring with every caress and every furtive glimpse. Desire is etched in his eyes too.  

You rub your thighs together.  

Before the pressure explodes, you request the bill. 

You don’t need words; your glances speak louder, tempting fate.  

You play a push-pull game, blind to the consequences.  

*

You walk around the city. Your hands occasionally brush and your fingers ache to entangle, but neither dare to take a step further. As you stride through the park, a buzz, like a swarm of bees, draws your attention. More and more people, some furious, others frightened, gather in the main square. In seconds, you get trapped in the multitude.  

Again, those Anti-Eldian radicals lodging the public spaces, yammering against the evildoers.  

You feel suffocated by the boisterous crowd. You wedge past, bumping into the throng, enveloped by rumbles of outrage. A short, gray-hairish man stands up in the center, harrumphs and begins to shout, "...waging war...demons of the island...eradicate." 

The crowd cheer at the end of every sentence and hiss whenever the word Eldian flee of his mouth.  

Levi grabs your hand, and makes his way through the irked flock. 

At the end of the street, you can finally breathe. You smooth down your hair as Levi tugs at his lapels. He pats his pockets to make sure everything is in place. 

“I’m sorry about that,” you say. “They pullulate like cockroaches.”  

Levi gulps. He turns his head toward the bunch of people, squinting. “And you, what do you think of the demons of Paradis?” 

“What would I know?” Your shoulders rise. “I’ve never seen one in my life. Sure they are like us or like those downtrodden in Liberio.” You blow out your cheeks and your eyes flick upward. Why is there so much hatred in the world if we live under the same sky and share the sun?  

The demons inhabit our hearts.  

“How can you hate something or someone you don't know?" Your lips twist to the side. " I'd like to go one day and see it with my own eyes. It must not be as bad as people portray it to be.”  

The weight he carried on his shoulders falters. 

A flashing light catches your attention. Befuddled, your head turns towards the direction where it came from, and a simper hatches on your lips. 

You haul Levi with you and now you’re posing in front of the camera. Awkwardly. You pull out a smile as Levi scratches his temple, looking away. You don’t know what to do with your arms. 

The man behind the lens narrows his eyes, and gives a flick of his hand, motioning to bring you closer to each other.  

You nibble on your lower lip and wind an arm around his waist. He clears his throat and grazes your waist; an electric shock sprints through your body. You imagine his voice whispering in your ear fueling the fire in your entrails.

The photographer, satisfied, gives you the thumbs up and covers his head under the black fabric.

The shot blinds Levi and ffter several blinks, the white spot dissipates. 

It takes approximately thirty minutes for the photograph to be printed and developed. You thank the old man and look closely at the picture, slapping a hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles.  

Levi’s eyes are closed.

You tear it in halves and save his side in your wallet. 

Then you search for Levi, but he'd vanished from where you left him. 

You crane your head over the people, looking in different directions. Nothing. A wasp stings your heart, and you wonder if he had abandoned you or if he had grown sick of you.

“Wai–” A sudden tug makes you scramble. “Hold on!”  Dismay ebbs away and relief wells up inside you when his hand twines with yours.

The temperature flops beneath the tree shade; you flump onto the bench, take your hat off and jerk your head backwards, tousling your hair. A sharp breath whizzes off your lips and your shoulders wilt.  

You roll your head over your shoulder, taking a glimpse through a sliver open eye. 

"Where were you?" You ask but he doesn’t reply. Your question is answered as you spot the green cross printed on the small paper bag he draws out of his pocket. 

Levi bends on one knee before you and takes your shoes off. He draws out the tiny flask as well as a package of band-aids, then removes the lid from the metallic container and scoops a wad of ointment, dabbing it on your bruises and little cuts. You slant forward, your hands gripping the edge of the bench, feeling your cheeks fizz hot. “You don’t have to do this.” You utter sheepishly, blushing as your heart decides to run a marathon.  

“Stay still.”  

“But it stings.” 

“Cry baby.” 

“Meanie.” 

After some winces and hisses, Levi covers the last wound and carefully slips your shoes on. However, he doesn’t stand right away. His eyes linger over your legs, fighting the sudden drive to press his lips on your shins and calves, scattering kisses on your luminous skin.

From the moment you assaulted him with that kiss, an unfamiliar force took over him, seizing his reason and his self-restrain. Levi never lets emotions or instinct cloud his judgment, but today his head is losing control. His skin burns, a buzzing sensation daubs below his navel. He swallows hard, trying to push away the primal thoughts. 

He sits next to you, your hands resting just a few inches apart. Neither speaks. You only peep sideways at each other, and when your gazes lock, you immediately avert the eyes. Your soft fingers, during an instant of impulsiveness, swallow up the distance that separates them from his, and as soon as they get in contact, a lightning bolt sluices from your hands straight to your hearts, causing a short circuit. Not convinced enough, Levi’s palm grazes your hand, squeezing, cleaving to you. His fingers sink between yours and he proves his greatest fear. 

It’s impossible to deny that in a short time, something blossomed between the two. Either lust, desire, curiosity, or worse, love at first sight. You still can't put a label on it. Whatever it is, it makes your hearts beat with the destructive force of a hurricane, threatening to obliterate everything.  

“This is yours.”

He pries the half of the photograph of your fingers. Even in sepia you are gorgeous. "The evidence of what we live today it's not a dream,” you say. He’s engrossed in the picture. “And if we happen to meet again, in this life or in another, if we are granted the opportunity, we will be able to recognize each other." 

Levi slips it into his jacket. "I don't know about you, but I won’t need a photograph to recognize you." 

Your head tilts down to hide the smile and your blushing cheeks.

“Levi.” Your pinky finger fiddles with his thumb. 

“Uh?” 

 "I want to show you my favorite place.”  

*

Barefoot, you saunter for an hour along the seashore. Levi rolled up his pants legs, his shoes dangle from his hand, and his socks stuck balled inside. Your sandals hang from your hooked index finger; and in your forearm, you tote a set of bucket and pail you'd bought at the beach where the tourists bathe.  

The briny air fills your lungs. Your skins laden with the gritty sand carried by the wind that presses and tugs at your clothes.  

The sun burns on your back leaving a prickling heat on your exposed napes. 

Sand slithers through your toes as the frothy water dwindles only to slosh back on your bare legs. The waves crash ashore and the fizzy foam spreads across the sand. You bask in the soothing melody of the ocean's whisper.  

You leave behind the red bellies and burned shoulders, abandoned flipflops and trolling vendors. Your only company are the skittering crabs and the seagulls diving into the water. With luck, they take flight with prey in their beaks.  

When you catch sight of the rock formation rising from afar, sunshine floods your soul.  

You nudge on his ribs softly. “Close your eyes.” 

“what?” 

“Close your eyes and don't cheat.”  

Levi follows you blindly. You could drag him to the end of the world if you want to. It's like a spur, as if his body had switched sides. It use to play for his brain, but now, it’s teamed up with his heart.  

You slow the pace to prevent Levi from tripping and falling and splintering his head as you continue along the path traced between the reef of rocks. Your hand binds to his wrist. 

All of the sudden, the inside of his eyelids turns from red to black; the temperature drops considerably. The sand doesn’t scald his soles anymore. You stand before him, rocking back and forth on your feet, pinkies hooked behind your back. “You can open them now.” Your voice echoes. 

Wide eyes and slacked jaw, Levi stares heavenward, awestruck by the grandeur and majesty of that cathedral dug by wind and water for millions of years, reminding him of the devastating power of nature. 

The spiral walls rise up to the ceiling forming a dome of oscillating rings of yellow white and orange, an explosion of colors so dazzling, it's hard to believe they weren’t painted by humans. A large arched entrance welcomes the sea, creating a private beach inside. 

The sunlight skews through the big eye above, that watches you from the center of the dome.  

“This is my temple. And you’re the first person I bring here.” 

You are a trunk of surprises. 

Levi wiggles off his jacket and vest and loosens his tie, and pile them up with the hats and shoes that roosts on the rocks at the back of the monumental shelter, so they won’t get wet in case it rains. His cherished teapot lays safe and sound on an improvised bed he made with his clothes. Levi rolls up his sleeves and half-unbuttons his shirt. The weather in this time of the year is unpredictable. The sun, ablaze and cruel, in the blink of an eye, can be suck up by a mantle of thick gray clouds. In that region of the world, there are only two seasons, one of torrential rains and the other of drought and unbearable humid swelter. 

You sit in front of the shore where the waves don’t stretch but the sand is wet, gouging sand and filling the bucket.   

At times, his veiny arms and his collarbones and chiseled chest steal peeks from you. The red shade of his face, kissed by the afternoon sun, stands out against his pallor. The white shirt clings to his skin, letting you sneak a glimpse at his sculpted abdomen, provoking a vortex of desire swirl in your belly. The slight bronzed of your face dissimulates your flushed cheeks; however, they char like wood in the bonfire.  

"Tell me a truth about yourself.” You break the silence. "What you love, what you hate, what you fear, or something you're proud of. I don't know, anything." You press down the sand and turn the bucket over, shimmering it a bit so the tower comes out in one piece. 

Levi just regards you. You look like a little girl brought to the sea for the first time.  

"Your turn. You have to build the other tower along this line." 

Levi emulates your movements. It’s the first time he builds a sand castle. He had seen some slumped on the shore while walking. 

“I hate the rain,” you spout. Cupping your hands, you mold a wall. “I hate the rain in this city, it brings back bad memories. That’s my truth.” 

He hands you back the plastic container, and shapes a wall too. He also carves windows and a door in his tower, just as you had done.  

As the hours pass, the sunlight advances towards the bottom of the cave. 

After giggles, collapsed towers and rebuilt, and splashes of water, you lay down on the sand, right on the ellipse the sun draws on the ground. You close your eyes, enveloped by the sounds of the sea and the wind. Without warnings, a roar pierce through the sky. Your eyes crack open; you didn’t realize at what moment the dark gray clouds swallowed the sun.   

A torrential downpour is unleashed. The waves gobble the pail and the bucket. A thick velvet curtain rises, blurring everything beyond the entrances. The noise is deafening and drowns your voices, so you have to bring your mouths close to each other's ear to communicate. Water gushes down through the hole, creating an inner cascade, splashing water all around. 

  You huddle against the boulders, near where you had left your clothes, waiting for the rain to appease. There’s no sign of lightning or thunder, only clouds mourning. 

You hug your legs, covering them with the skirt of your dress, tucking your chin in your knees. Levi takes a glimpse at your fiddling fingers, uneasiness drawn on your face. 

He stands, takes his shirt off, then his pants and toss them over the rocks. Only in briefs, he offers you a hand, and your eyes go round, a heat wave seizes you from head to toe. Something claws up your throat, bereaving you of any drop of sanity. A dry heartbeat whacks your chest, snagging your breath away, and with it, any speckle of prudery left in you. It takes a full minute of slacked-jaw ogling for you to yank back to reality, the burble of your exclusive waterfall smothers your ears again. Your eyes meander over the strained musculature of his chest, shoulders and abdomen and his thick calves.  

Broad shoulders, narrow waist.  

No matter how hard you try–it's not as if you're making your greatest effort–you can't take your eyes off of him. 

The rain dulls Levi's laughter as you indiscreetly bite your lips, lusting, whetting the need. Your antsy eyes threaten to bounce off the sockets.

You take his hand, and he urges you on your feet with a feeble haul. “Undress.” He mutters to your ear and pulls away right away, rendering ‌the tiny hairs behind your neck prickle. The drop of desire spreads within you. Every cell of your body falls victim of the fireball igniting in your stomach. Your gaze is fixed on his face as you slip your dress over your head.  

He smirks. 

It's a yes. 

Your heart beats so loud you’re doubtless he can hear it in the raucous deluge. Your hands shiver. It’s the first time you bare yourself before a man.  

His palms land on your waist and meander up and down, delicate and patient, as if he’s afraid to break you, and your hands press lightly on his cheeks, your thumbs stroking his cheekbones.  

He looks at you through droopy, intoxicated eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he mutters as if he’s thinking out loud.  

You tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, and skim your fingers along his jawline, memorizing his features. You stare at each other for a long moment. You see your eyes reflected in his. 

“You’re fucking beautiful, Y/N.”  

You can read his words in his lips. 

He looms closer, dragging his mouth to your ear. “Y/N.”  

“What?” Your voice fans over his earlobe. 

He approaches again. “I’m going to kiss you.” 

A spark ruptures in the air. 

He cups your face in his hands as yours rest on his shoulders. He comes closer and closer, tilting his head. He closes his eyes, and as soon as his lips brush yours the noise ceases, the cool air stops biting your skin. 

His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, and nibbles lightly, asking for permission. Your mouth eagerly slivers open. He tastes you, devours you, tongues entangling and swirling in a synchronized game.  

Your hands glide down his torso, relishing in his muscles that swish under your touch.  

Moans ramble off your mouths, he kisses you and you kiss him as if your purpose is to tear his lips apart. His fingers meet behind your back, wrangling with the clasps of your bra. The straps loosen. You step back, your mouths still connected as you jiggle your shoulders, and that meddlesome piece slips off. 

Levi inches back, bitsy breaths sweeping past his dewy lips, his chest heaving. “Fuck. Look at you,” he maffles, looking at you through heavy- lidded eyes. 

He fondles your breasts, squeezing firmly and tenderly, tweaking your hardened nubs, eliciting a sweet moan fall from your parted lips. You toss your head backward as all your muscles tense up. 

Your hands glide down his abdomen and anchor themselves in the waistband of his underwear; at the same time, his palms prowl over your waist and hips and navel, and then his artful fingers brush at the hem of your panties. Your eyes scoot back to him. Those beautiful gray orbs bore into you. Your heart is thrashing in your chest, and a pent-up breath whirs past your mouth. You press your lips together into a line and nod. Your legs shudder and your knees weaken as your knickers whisk down your thighs.  

You pull down his briefs too.  

Levi groans when he’s released from the repression.  

It’s pretty and girthy and pinkish.  

Your eyes drift downwards and a deep shade of red stains your face, all the way from your cheeks to your ears when you notice the black, glistening stain on the gray fabric.  

He finds your hand and brings it to his mouth, peppering your knuckles in kisses, both stepping out of the last pieces of clothing. 

Your cheeks flare up; your heart threatens to leap out of your chest. You shouldn’t want this.  

Neither of you should. 

But who is responsible for the crimes the heart commits? 

“Come with me.” His delish voice reverberates in your ear. 

“Where?”  

“Trust me.”  

He leads you under the cascade and kisses you again. Soaking wet, you stare at each other and break into laughter. The cold drops evaporate when they come in contact with your burning skins. You understand his intention. He wants you to fall in love with the rain and the next time the clouds weep, you smile remembering the sensations his hands and lips awaken. 

Between hungry kisses and caresses, you let yourselves fall on the wet sand. Sturdy beads hit his shoulders. Levi feels your body pressed under his, each curve, each movement turning him on a little more. He clutches every part of you he can grasp; everything he can fit into his palms.  

Your ceaseless hands explore his body, every corner, every edge, scorching his skin on the way. You hold onto his shoulders aching to melt with him, desperate, amid moans and gasps drowned by the water.  

You feel the tip stroking your entrance and you shrivel for what is about to happen. Lazily, as he kisses you, he enters you, but your body puts up resistance. Your eyes clamp shut; your jaw sets as if against the pain. You hold your breath and count to three. Now. You buck your hips up. A breaching pain twinges, surging through you, and you squirm. Your cry and tears are carried away by the rain. Levi presses his lips on the hollow of your collarbone as he fills you, his hands ploughing into the squishy sand. Color returned to your knuckles as your fingers unearth from his shoulders. He lolls his head back a bit, contemplating you, your misty eyes and your parted mouth and your lustrous lips. A picture worth for a museum, or to hang on the wall of his room where he could stand in front of and stare at it until he grows tired. Most likely never. Relief baths you when your body yields, getting used to him, and Levi begins to work himself in and out, sheathing himself fully within your swarming warmth.  

You can't tell where you end and he begins. 

His groans are waned by the clamorous storm. 

The bed of sand scrapes your back, but that’s the least of your concerns.  

Your legs embrace him and Levi’s heart is in the brink of explosion. The tension mounts between the two until it finally blows up.   

Panting, Levi gazes down at you. Drops of water dribble down from his face and dive on yours. Your eyes are shut as the rain prevents you from opening them. He drinks your image, your hair sprawled, your cheeks sizzling pink. Definitely the most beautiful image in the world. 

After a storm comes a calm, they say. In the belt of planet Earth, the dreadful rainfalls quick come and quick go. 

It comes to a halt, setting a mesmerizing stage of hues of yellows, oranges and purples and the sun’s last bite of the day paints in gold the gamboling clouds.  

You stand first, dredging off the sand of your back and bumps and legs, but it's grown roots. And then is when he notices it. His eyes snapped open at the smears of your lost maidenhood. Dry blood smudges your inner thighs as well as his half-hardened length.  

“Damn it” He rises to his feet. His face kindle with guilt and remorse. “You should’ve told me.” His hands land on your cheeks as he rests his forehead on yours. 

“Please, don’t. I regret nothing.” You plant an assuring peck on his lips. “You’re so sweet.” You purr. 

An old, bittersweet remembrance draws up the corner of his lips into a nostalgic smile. Sweet. You’re the second person in his life who’s called him sweet and he hardly recalls the sound of that long lost voice.  

Little is left in the chest of memories. 

He snuggles his face in the crook of your neck, and shakes his head. 

 “Are you alright?” you coo, lacing your fingers through his hair. 

He’s quivering against you. He holds you tight so you don’t see his tears.  

“Yeah.” He sniffs and props his chin in your shoulder. His glossy eyes lost in the infinite sea. 

It’s you and him and the soft murmur of the trifling waves dying on the shore.  

“Look to the ground and tell me what you see.” 

Levi squints, but does so.  

“Sand? a seashell? our feet? Your perfect pedicure?” 

You let out a chuckle. “It’s our paths running into each other.” 

He snorts. Each of your occurrences surprises him even more. Where do you stash so much light?  

Sometimes the stars conspired against us, breaking the schemes. The universe moves the strings of our lives at its own will like a puppeteer.

And it led him to you.  

And it led you to him.   

It’s phenomenon he can't fight.  

An adversary greater than himself. But eventually he would have face it. He can’t dwell in this lull forever.

You make his heart, used to wandering in an eerie world, alone and without shelter, beat a little faster and stronger. He feels it every time you look at him, when your skin brushes his, and silence screams to him that he is treading on dangerous ground. 

He promises himself to wake up from this dream before it’s too late. 

You drag him to the sea, but he stops right where the water skims his feet. You turn around, tilting your head to the side a little, a mocking grin flashing on your lips. 

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the sea?”  

Levi clicks his tongue, crossing his arms over the chest. He rolls the eyes. “I’m not afraid,” he snarls. “It’s…” He gazes down, crinkling his nose, then his eyes scoot to you. You float on your back without any burden afflicting you, water stirring at your flutter-kicks. 

“Shit.” He curses under his breath. It’s the only way to remove the chafing layer of sand of his body.  

He sighs and allows the sea to embrace him, flinching every time the cool water nips his warm skin until his chin is brushing the surface.  

Water splatters his head from behind. You’re giggling, readying yourself for another attack. But Levi is faster, and you hardly have time to turn your head away.  

If you want to play, Levi will play. 

You’re losing. He swoops more water, and you can’t dodge his bombarding on time. 

“No! Stop! Stop!” you shriek. You submerge, holding your palms in the air as a sign of surrender. You admit defeat. 

Where your castle stood proudly, now lies a knoll of sand. 

“We can build another.” You feel drops hitting your cheek. Levi is shaking his head, eyes clamped shut. He hisses, wiping the stinging water off with the heels of his hands.  

You stand naked next to each other on the shoal, allowing your bodies to air dry as the enthralling sunset absorbs you.

Beautiful, yet sad.

A reminder that the day is coming to an end.

You dress up, and bob your head forward, tossing the tuft of hair over. Your fingers sink through the tight weave, but they enmesh in the skein. Hopefully, your hat will dissimulate the disaster.

Surprisingly, the Band-Aids are still glued to your feet. 

You return to the bustling area of the city along a street flanked by palm trees. The lamps flicker before they light up completely. Your skin shines under their yellow glow.   

The wind wafts an appealing smell that makes your stomach grumble and you follow it. The roasted bell peppers and onions make you drool. The sizzling sounds of the grills and the hiss of steam coils with the children’s laugh and squeals, and the burble of a spate of conversations. Beer cans and wine bottles clank. Nomad performers enliven the evening with lively music. Groups of women dance in the middle as if there is no one else in the world.   

 You loop your arm through his, and walk past the food stalls. Two boys tussle around you. Their father is calling but they pretend not to listen. The youngest trips and falls on his bumps, and the other one, panicky, runs away, slinking through the crowd. You bend and offer a hand to the victim on the ground. He wipes off his tears with the sleeve and his chin stops trembling.   

“Do you like cotton-candy?” You ask with a warm smile.  

The kid nods. 

“Which color?” 

“Blue.” He replies timidly, but his deep brown eyes glint when you give him the sugary cloud in the stick.  

“Thanks” He waves. His treat melts in his mouth, painting his tongue blue.  

You roam around until stumbling upon a Middle East kiosk. In a foreign language, you order two skewers of lamb meat. Shish Kebab, Levi grasps. You drizzle a white sauce on yours, drawing a zig-zag pattern, before sticking your fangs in it. 

His nose crumples at the cold, fizzy drink tingling down his throat. It's too bubbly and sweet for his taste buds.  

Upon finishing dinner, you find an empty spot on the sidewalk. Levi grumbles, reluctant to take a seat, but eventually gives in. A jabbing pain lash through your sore legs, a payback after the day's toil.

Levi closes the eyes, inebriated by your voice as you rave about your last journey to the Middle East.

Hearing your voice with his eye shut is like visualizing all the colors at their highest intensity. 

Three young guys sit at the fountain ledge. Two of them unclasp their instrument cases. They tune the guitars and begin to strum a bold and elegant piece that brightens the night and invites people to dance on an improvised dance-floor. A third guy accompanies with a handclapping percussion. Some passersby drop coins in the open trunk.  

A twelve-year-old boy stands before you. Disdain flashes in his eyes as he glares at your black-haired companion. “Is that your boyfriend?” He asks with a scornful tone. He puffs up his chest and folds his arms over, lifting his chin. 

You’re intrigued by his boldness. 

“No,” You and Levi exchange glances, then your eyes flick to boy with chestnut brown eyes. “That’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Awesome.” His lips bow into a cheeky grin. “Would you dance with me?”  

“Sure!” You take his hand and leave your purse on Levi’s lap. 

“Tch.” 

You ditch him for a brat.  

He watches you from afar, and the corners of his lips quirks up. He wishes the night never ends, that he could live in an everlasting fairy tail. 

He loves the way you are, cheerful, giggly, spontaneous. With you he feels that the world holds a place for him.  

But the clock keeps ticking. It’s a reality he has to confront. 

*

You hail for a cab. 

You’ll drop Levi first at the Azumabito’s, then you’ll face your father and your punishment. Though, for Levi you’d endure all the lectures. 

Your eyes hitch in the rearview mirror and your legs touch all the ride. You draw hearts on his back and he reciprocates the gesture on your thigh.  

The automobile stops, and a vine with thorns begins to scrape your chest. 

Levi alights from the vehicle first and offers a hand. 

It’s time to say ‘see you never’ 

“Thanks for today.” You break the silence. 

He shakes his head. “Thank you.” His hand slithers behind your neck and he kisses you on the lips; a gentle, firm farewell kiss that sums up what his voice doesn’t dare. 

If the stars are lenient, in another life you’d build the castle together. 

You wave a hand from the window as the car drives away and skids around the corner, leaving a dense gray cloud lingering behind. 

Your heart is pounding with the desire to embrace him. 

To touch him. 

To kiss him until you can’t feel your lips anymore. 

To melt with him until you fall into surrender. 

Levi’s heart shrinks, and feels a force urge to hug you. To graze your mouth, and kiss you all night, to savor you. To weave his finger through your hair and nip your lips, and your neck, and everything else. Desire dashes over him, like turbulent waters brawling through the rocks. 

But this story, your story comes to an end. 

Or maybe not. 

Levi swivels around when he hears his name as you guzzle up the distance that keeps you apart. You hold onto him, capturing his mouth. 

The flesh is craving. 

“There’s a hotel down the street,” you mumble. 

You kiss and ravage your lips, stumbling and laughing and rolling over the walls. He pins you, and the next minute, it is his back pressed on the cold surface. 

Hands seek and find, exploiting any gap. 

People turn their faces away. Parents cover their kids’ eyes, indignantly, shaking their heads. Others change sidewalks. Society is in decline. Values and restraint abate along with the new generations. You can’t care less. The whistling and the ‘go get a room’ slip off. 

Your bodies long to coalesce again. 

You teeter into the room. 405. And Levi hangs the ‘Do not disturb' sign on the doorknob–though you might disturb the whole floor–and thumbs it shut with his back. 

He places the bag on the desk. Then both get rid of your clothes as if they itch your skin. 

You totter to the shower and Levi twists on the faucet handle. The salinity and the sticky layer dissolve. He makes you put your hands down and lathers your hair, his fingertips gently massaging your scalp, and then rinses it off. He hugs you from behind and kisses you under your ear, and a soft moan dangles of your lips. His fingers begin to trace circles on your skin with feather-like strokes that slid down to your chest. “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,” he whispers huskily, and a blissful tingle creeps over your lower belly. His hand continues down from your stomach to your navel as his lips draw a trail of dainty kisses across your shoulders and the back of your neck. Desire in form of fire ignites between your legs, stoking the flame as his unyielding fingertips reach your center. He caresses you, sweet but passionate, matching the intense rhythm of your breathing. With your eyes closed, and water thrickling down your body, you abandon yourself to pleasure. You let him spin you around, and through slivered open eyes, you find him.  

Fierce. Pure desire. His heat envelops you. 

 You can’t wait any longer. He raises you, your back fasten to the wall, your legs draped around his waist, his fingers dug into your tender hamstrings.   

He assaults your neck as he slips inside.  

Your sweet lewd sounds weave, and you feel complete again. Your tongues lace; your arms wrap around his neck. Steam inundates the shower, misting the sliding door.  

“Ah–Levi!”  

Your nails sink and rake his back, his muscles rippling under your touch.  

A loud moan surges down your throat as jolts of pleasure strike you, dashing from your core to the tip of your toes. Your legs shudder and tighten around his hips. Levi pumps a few more times, and a swarm of meteorites bursts behind his eyes.    

You towel-dry each other and let the fuzzy cloths plummet at your feet. Levi kisses you again and carries you to the bed.  

You shuffle towards the headboard and he crawls over you, hankering for your lips. 

He pulls away slightly and gazes down at you. White specks glint in your dilated pupils like the moonlight flickers on the sea. Fuck, you’re beautiful. So fucking perfect.  

He yearns for you so fervently; his heart is going to explode. But he needs tonight to last forever. That it’d never end. He needs to tattoo in his memory every second and every sensation and every crease in your skin. Everything he can retain. 

“I want to taste you,” he spews. He captures your mouth once more while his hands carry on the exploration over your body. You shrivel, and your moans and gasps die in his mouth. His lips trail down your chin, your jaw, and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. 

Your eyes are intoxicated with fervor and desire. Your cheeks glow with a subtle flush. Levi loves the way your body responds to his, writhing under his ardent fingertips.

His mouth runs over your body, planting kisses everywhere, heading down down down and the strong scent of your arousal turns him into a ravenous man, awakening the primal side he tucks in a safe for his own sake.  

His eyes stumble with yours and you watch him lapping his tongue along your slick folds.  

You squirm under his playful tongue and his ravish mouth, begging him amid sobs and moans to take your higher. Levi fills you, plunging a finger, then a second, though your greedy body itches for more. 

He swirls them and scissors them, jabbing that sweet spot while his mouth works magic on your bundle of nerves. Your chest heaves, and little puffs of air slip of your plump, moist lips. 

Just a little more, and you burst.  

His glazed lips curve into a smile, and he douses your inner thighs with kisses. 

He hovers over you; your dulls eyes piercing him. “Levi,” you stutter. “I want to taste you too, it’s just… I… I’ve never–“ 

He cuts you with a kiss and pulls back. “It’s alright.” He mutters. He rubs his nose on your cheek. “Just watch the teeth.”  

Levi sits on his heels, spreading his knees apart and you settle before him. He takes your hand and wraps it around his shaft. “Just like that.”

You nod. 

You move your hand, pulling down the foreskin. A muffled gasp throttles in his throat. The throbbing tip glistens with precum and you smear it over with your thumb, drawing circles on the back of the reddish head. 

Levi’s hips jerk violently, and he takes your wrist prisoner. “Too much.” 

You mouth a sorry.  

Levi stands on his knees and you drag your mouth to his length, sweeping your tongue along the swollen vein and wrap your lips around him. 

Levi moans, tipping his head backward as you bob your head, his cock easing in and out of your mouth. His collarbones poke through his strained flesh, threatening to splinter his skin open. He grasps a fistful of your hair for solace. You're a quick learner. You hollow your cheeks and hum and the vibration ripples down his legs, drawing an indent line along his outer thighs. Deadened pants spills of his mouth.

You clasp his hips and pace up. His muscles tauten across his belly. He glimpses down and he might come on the spot just by watching his cock disappearing in your mouth and how good you take him. Your gazes trip.  

Fuck.  

He throws his head back awain, a vain plumping on his neck, and a deep groan wrenches from somewhere deep in his chest. His seed spurts in your mouth and you flinch back, part of it splatters on your cheek.  

Both chuckle, and you wipe it off with a corner of the blanket.

“Was it really the first one?” He spews between pants.

You gape, throwing a fist on his shoulder.

He lays you down on your belly and flicks your hair away to kiss your nape and back. The tip of his nose traces down your spine. 

“Levi!” You jar when his teeth nip your butt, batting your legs. But he ignores your protests and keeps nibbling on your tender flesh.  

His hand slides under your pelvis to lift it. He presses a kiss on your cheek as he glides into your warmth, relishing in your velvety tight walls.  

Sweet noises trickle down your parted lips as your eyes remain close. In this position his cock prods the right place, driving you to the edge.

His groans and your moans compose a melody that floats in the room like a blissful mist.

You feel sorry for the guests in the 404 and 406, and the clerk who must put up with the complaints.

Clawing at the sheets, color drains off your knuckles.

“You feel–Ah!–you feel so good,” you babble. You’re choking in gasps and trembling as he pampers your shoulders in kisses.  

You’re loving as if that’s what your bodies were molded for.  

Walls! He needs to see your face when you come. He pulls out and turns you over. You don’t have time to cry at the emptiness because, next second, he’s shoving himself into your clenching hole again. 

The world keeps its course while within those four walls, where moans and gasps and pretty whines entangle, time stops. 

The volcano in you erupts again, the lava ripples from head to toe.

A loud grunt rumbles in his throat and breaches past his lips. White threads of cum spritz your mushy walls.  

He pants, resting his forehead on yours, not pulling out yet.

“My truth,” he coos, smothering your face in open-mouth kisses. “You’re the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me.”  

‌“Levi!” His lips tickle your skin. You tip your head back trying to escape from his onslaught, but your give him free access to your neck.  

‌Your giggles sweeten his ears and he longs to retain that honey-like chant. Only if he could hoard it into a jar.

‌“Please, stop!” You hoist the white flag. 

You love again and again and again, in every corner, on the desk, in the tub, on the vanity top. Unstitching the hem of every second.  

Fire runs through your veins. Your chemistry and desire and thirst carom wildly against the walls. Your rapacious bodies are addicted, craving and lusting, taking each other. He makes you more his and you make him more yours. With so much despair and frenzy. You are drenching on your farewell, savoring it in every caress, in every kiss, in every bite.  

It’s a never-ending goodbye. 

You succumb first; Levi seems inhumanly unflagging.  

You nestle by his side, resting your head on his chest, rejoicing in his run-over heartbeats until you fall asleep. 

Spending the day with you, exchanging time with one another has reminded him that after a storm comes the rainbow, that life sometimes amazes us with bliss and magic. You delighted him and surprised him and challenged him to keep his tide low.

He wants to stay. 

Yet he knows he can’t. 

Maybe in other circumstances, he could’ve written a different ending for your story. 

He contemplates you for the last time, and before it’s too late to change his mind, he plants a kiss on your shoulder.  

A good-bye kiss. 

*

Your bleary eyes flutter open, and you rub them with the back of your hands. You stretch your arms above your head, your jaw unhinging in a big yawn like a roaring lion. You sit, the quilt slides and crumples at your belly, and the cool morning air bites your bare chest and back. Your eyes drift to the side. A nostalgic smile grazes your lips; your eyelids sag. The smell of you both lingers in the sheets. The other half of the bed is empty. The pillow still holds the shape of him. You reach out for it, and hold it tight, nuzzling your face in it, and clinging onto the remnants of him. 

It only took a day for him to become part of you, part of your life like the stars and the planets are part of the universe. He left an indelible print on you, and even though you knew the outcome beforehand, you blindfolded yourself and covered your ears, and jumped into the void.

Now tears swamp your swollen eyes.

You both tried to deceive your hearts, to pretend it was a temporary feeling as if by opening your hand you could let the cord slip through your fingers. The words ‘only once’ struggled to not fade away.  

But everything in life is like that, ephemeral, fugacious and with expiration date.  

The rope slithers in your clenched hands. No matter how harrowing and torturous the burn is, you can’t let go. 

Now it’s you who pays for the heart’s misdeeds.  

| chapter 2

[coltsbitch]

figure it out ~ colt grice x reader

colt grice x reader; 6.5k words; nsfw summary: colt is determined to proving himself in any test, even if that means figuring out why you were staring at him...?

masterlist

“I suppose congratulations are in order.” You smile when Colt jumps slightly at the sound of your voice.

“So, you heard?”

“Magath made sure to come tell the rest of us after you got pulled from training. Wanted to remind us we’re still scum, maybe even a little bit more so since we weren’t chosen.”

It probably wasn’t the best thing to say, you can already see Colt feels badly, as he rubs his neck, “I’m sorry. You know, the Cart and Armor titan successors will be selected soon enough.”

“It’s okay Colt, it was never in the cards for me. Not being in your class and all.” You shrug, giving him a sly smile thinking of how hard he’s been training these last few years, desperate to redeem his family’s betrayal to Marley. But you suppose that’s something the current Beast titan has in common.

“I wouldn’t give up hope yet.” He flashes you a grin that makes you feel weak in the knees.

But with being so dedicated to inheriting a titan, you know Colt has never so much strayed an eye off his goal. No use dwelling on those smiles he sends your way.

“Well, I’m sure with being selected you can finally ease up on the studying and training that’s consumed your life, if you wanted to go get a soda or something?”

You already know your answer when Colt’s face screws up in that apologetic look he gets, “I’m supposed to be meeting with War Chief Zeke.”

“Really not waiting a moment for this training to begin, huh? Is he going to tell you all the secrets to being a titan?” You tease, hoping your disappointment is masked in your voice.

Colt laughs slightly, “Not sure, but he told me to bring a catcher’s mitt.” He gestures to the leather in his hand.

Speak of the devil, you see the War Chief rounding the corner, “Colt.” He calls out, not bothering to come any closer.

“Well, don’t let me keep you.”

Colt looks over his shoulder, and then back of you, seeing what maybe your mind is wanting to be a flash of regret in his eyes, “Another time, okay?”

You smile and nod as you watch his retreating form. But another time will probably never come, just like it hasn’t every other time he made that promise. It’s pathetic the way you throw yourself after him, every other warrior candidate thinks the same thing. You’re not sure if the ignorance or the whispers hurt more.

Whispers that Colt definitely has never heard, too focused to give petty gossip the time of day. Which you’re thankful for, you’re not sure how you would handle Colt knowing about your massive infatuation with him. But with the way things are going, it’s likely he never will.

Kicking a rock and huffing to yourself you turn down the street to return to Liberio.

…

“Who’s the girl?”

It’s been almost three months since Colt was selected to inherit the Beast Titan. And while Colt knows there’s still over two years until his terms starts, he wonders if there will ever be anything more than playing catch with War Chief Zeke.

Colt throws the ball back, “What do you mean?”

Zeke just raises an eyebrow, his eyes drifting to the line of warrior candidates where you stand, clearly sneaking peaks at the two.

“Oh, her?” Colt drops his hand, his focus on you instead of the ball heading his way, “Ouf!” He groans, bending over trying to catch his breath from where the ball had knocked it out.

“Never take your eye off the target.” Zeke is standing before Colt, hand outstretched.

“Right.” Colt stands grabbing the War Chief’s hand, his eyes drifting to you, where now you’re openly watching, concern on your face. Colt sends a smile, more of a grimace, your way before following Zeke.

Zeke puts a cigarette between his lips, lighting the end. He takes a deep inhale, smoke wafting around Colt’s face, “You never answered.”

“Oh. She’s just a friend from my warrior class.”

“Watches you a lot.”

Colt doesn’t respond because he doesn’t know what Zeke means by that. You don’t watch him, at least, not more than you watch any other person. Right?

“You don’t notice?” Colt shakes his head, “Well figure it out.”

“Sir?” Colt cocks his head.

“Part of being a Titan Warrior is being strategic. Knowing what the enemy is thinking before it even crosses their mind.”

“I’d assume she’s still hurt she wasn’t selected to inherit your titan.”

Zeke lets out a mixture of a laugh and scoff, “I’ve never talked to the girl and I already know that’s wrong. Consider this your first test. Report back to me tomorrow.”

Colt nods eagerly at the thought of impressing the War Chief tomorrow, now he just needs to find you and get an explanation, even if he isn’t too convinced you were even looking at him in the first place.

…

Colt waits for you outside the gates of the training grounds. He watches as you and another warrior candidate come closer, the smile on your face is a pleasant sight. He likes when your eyes crinkle because of how wide your smile can get. But that’s not the point right now. He needs to focus on the task at hand.

“Colt!” You call out as soon as you spot him leaning against the wall, waving your arm wildly.

He waves back as you split off from your friend.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” You’re a little breathless from jogging up to Colt, hoping you didn’t look too desperate to be in his presence.

Colt smiles and rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah. War Chief Zeke has me in a pretty tight schedule.”

“Well, you seem to be free now.” You comment off handedly, you know he’s probably on his way to another meeting or another training, just passing by and decided to say hi.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. I was hoping we could go for a walk or something?”

“Wait, really?” You ask incredulously, this man has never had a free minute in his life. And now that he does, he wants to spend it with you? You might faint.

“Unless you have somewhere to be.”

“No!” You shout, making Colt to jump slightly, “I mean, I’d love to.” Nodding too much, “How about you show me around the barracks? I’ve always wondered what it’s like to live in style.” You laugh.

“Okay but believe me when I tell you it’s not much.”

“Lead the way.”

Colt smiles and turns leading you down the block to the giant brick building.

The two of you catch up about the things he’s missed since being pulled from training. The different candidates that have dropped and joined. He tells you about all the things he’s learning, which isn’t much.

“It’s just a lot of playing catch.” Colt opens a door leading to his private dorm, “I mean we talk while we do it, but not how I imagined it going.”

You follow behind him into the sparse room, there’s the bare minimum of furniture, as most Eldians are lucky to even have. “Wow, you sure know how to decorate.”

Colt smiles, “I still try to go home as much as I can. My parents are proud, but I know Falco misses me more than he lets on.”

“A truly selfless big brother you are.” You nudge him with your elbow.

“Ah.” Colt grimaces, hand flying to where your elbow dug into his stomach.

“Are you alright?”

Colt huffs a laugh, rubbing is side, “War Chief Zeke’s throws sure pack a punch.”

“Was that from yesterday? When the ball caught you in the side?”

Colt nods, “It’s no big deal. Just a pretty nasty bruise.”

“Well at least let me look at it. I did rank higher than you in our first aid training.” You reach for his side before he turns away from you.

“Why were you staring at me yesterday?”

You freeze your movements and feel your face heat up, “What are you talking about?”

“War Chief Zeke says you were staring at me. Why?”

Mortification is all you can feel right now, “I wasn’t starring at you! And besides, I just felt bad that you got nailed in the stomach because you weren’t paying attention!” You all but stomp your foot. There’s no way he noticed you since he never has before. Which means War Chief Zeke must have pointed it out, which honestly might be worse than Colt noticing on his own.

“It was just a question. There’s no reason to get upset.”

“I’m not upset! And you’re being an idiot!” You know it wasn’t the best comeback, but you didn’t know what else to say. With that you turn around and fly down the hallway, ignoring Colt when he calls after you.

…

“She said she wasn’t starring at me.”

“Hmm?” Zeke doesn’t look up from the papers on his desk.

“Well, I tried to complete the test you assigned me yesterday, but she said she wasn’t staring at me, sir.”

Zeke looks up and studies Colt for a moment before sighing and leaning back in his chair, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. Colt feels a rock settle in his stomach. It’s the first time the War Chief has really asked anything of him aside from playing catch and he’s let him down. He’s going to be stripped of titan before he even gets it, and his family will be at risk, maybe even more so than before. Falco will have to become a warrior to save them now. That’s something he was hoping to avoid, but it could already be too late for Colt anyway.

Colt is broken from his thoughts when he realizes Zeke is laughing, “Sir?”

“Don’t tell me you outright asked her?”

“Well.” Colt trails off, “I figured a head on tactic would be most successful.”

Zeke laughs to himself, rising from his chair to open a window, “One of your highest marks was in tactical and strategic planning, but I guess that only applied to categories of war.” Zeke pulls a cigarette, “Have a seat, Colt.”

Colt sits as the War Chief rounds the desk, smoke clouds in his wake. “Do you know much of the person who possessed the Beast before me?” Zeke leans against the desk.

“Tom Ksaver, sir.”

“Yes. Tom helped me through some of the most difficult times in my life, was more of a father to me than Grisha ever was.” Zeke takes a long drag, “I’d like to help you that way in the years I have remaining.”

“Of course, sir. I’d truly appreciate it.” Colt nods.

“Well, let’s start with yesterday. How exactly did you figure out that she wasn’t staring?” Zeke has a smile on his face like he knows something Colt doesn’t. Which isn’t necessarily uncommon, but Colt feels like he’s missing something here he should know.

“Well, I had given her a tour of the barracks, and she was asking to examine the bruise on my side from playing catch and I asked why she was looking at me then anyway. As you pointed out, sir. And she told me she wasn’t.”

Zeke takes a last drag from his cigarette before putting it out in the ash tray, “Let me get this straight. The two of you were alone in your room?”

Colt’s eyes widen, “I’m sorry, sir. I should have asked for permission before bringing her in there.”

Zeke continues, not even acknowledging Colt’s apology, “And she was asking you to remove your shirt, which is when you decided was the best time to question her stares?”

“Yes.”

Zeke’s silence bares down on Colt, and he’s about to break the silence when Zeke let’s out a deep hearty laugh, “I’m assuming the years you’ve spent as a warrior candidate have had you focused on your training and nothing else.”

Colt nods, slightly confused, “Of course sir. I wanted to redeem my family’s sins against Marley.”

Zeke nods, understanding all too well, “And you’ve done it. The next inheritor of the Beast Titan. It’s safe to say the Grice family is in good standards.” Colt nods as Zeke continues, “And you’ll have plenty to learn now, and I’ll try my best to prepare you. Most will come on your own, long after I’m gone.” Zeke pauses to pick up the baseball that always sits on the edge of his desk. “Doesn’t mean now’s the time to slack off, but I’m sure a little excitement in your life could do you well.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“The brightest can truly be the densest.” Zeke mutters to himself, “If I were a betting man, I would say she has a schoolgirl crush on you.”

“What! Me?” Colt shouts.

“Who knows, might not be exactly schoolgirl either. I’m assuming you’re aware of the sexual innerworkings between individuals?”

Colt feels his face go red, this is not what he thought warrior training would entail.

“Colt. The second you were selected to inherit a titan, your life became a countdown. Don’t waste the moments you would regret.”

“I thought Warriors didn’t bother with things like that for the same reason exactly.”

Zeke hums, throwing his ball into the air a few times before placing it on the desk again, “Now that is something we can discuss at a later date. But as for now, I’d say take the day to make amends with your friend.”

“Are you sure, sir? I only just arrived.”

Zeke scoffs, “Please go.”

...

You barely had the energy to make it to the training grounds today. Laying in your bed all night replaying the Colt’s words in your head made sleep elusive. Not the typical thoughts of Colt that kept you up at night.

Never in your life had you been so embarrassed. Maybe you should drop out of the Warrior program all together. It’s not like you’ll ever inherit a titan anyway, and if you found a job in Liberio it would be easier to avoid Colt for the rest of your life.

Well, you suppose it would only to be about fifteen years of hiding, and then his term would come to an end anyway. The thought makes your stomach churn, and you wish it had never entered your brain in the first place.

The day drags on. When you’re finally free, you say quick goodbyes to your friends hoping to get home and crawl into your bed until you can erase the mortification from your consciousness.

But that’s going to be hard with Colt standing at the gates just like yesterday. Hoping to make yourself as small as possible you duck your head and try to hurry past without him noticing.

But your plan is unsuccessful when you hear your name being called behind you.

Stopping in your tracks you turn around, Colt just a step behind.

“Hey.” He says, “I wasn’t sure if you saw me back there.”

“Must have missed you.” You give a tight smile, “I’ll see you around though.”

Turning around you’ve decided you will be going home to curl up in a ball and die, but your hand is tugged back.

“I was hoping we could talk about yesterday.”

“What’s there to talk about?” You fight the heat building behind your cheeks.

“Well, I think I said some things that might have upset you, and I wanted to apologize.”

“You didn’t upset me. I just had remembered I needed to get home is all. Which is also where I need to be now. So, I’ll see you around Colt.”

“I was thinking we could go get that soda finally. I know I always say next time.” He gives you that lopsided grin when he knows he has someone caught, and you’re sure you’re actually going to go weak in the knees.

And a tiny part of you hates yourself for not being strong enough, “Okay.”

…

It’ll be sunset soon, and you know you should be getting home soon, but you’re laughing at Colt’s impression of Magath and you know these moments will be worth it even if you get shit from one of the gate guards.

“I am sorry if I upset you yesterday.” Colt says, abruptly.

You pause before answering, wishing Colt hadn’t brought this up again. “It’s okay. I might have overreacted anyway.”

He stares into your eyes, and you think he’s searching for something before looking back at the street in front of you two, sighing, “I’m just trying to do my best. And I feel like I’m falling behind, and that any second everyone will realize they should have picked someone else.”

You scoff, “Well that’s just wrong. You were basically the top of our class in every subject! I don’t think there was or will be anyone else who has dedicated so much time to the program.”

Colt doesn’t answer, eyes now at his hands, clearly lost in thought.

You nudge his shoulder, “You okay?”

“War Chief Zeke thinks you have a crush on me.”

You freeze, feeling your stomach dropped, “God! Do you believe everything he says?” You shout.

Colt jumps at your outburst, clearly not expecting it, “Wait!” He puts his hands out, like he was preparing for you to run away, “I didn’t mean it like that! I mean he did say that, but I was just wondering, I guess if you did?”

“What do you care anyway?” You fold your arms.

Colt groans, “I don’t know. War Chief Zeke basically told me to stop wasting my life and to figure it out.”

“So, do you want to know for yourself of because War Chief Zeke told you to?”

“Would it be bad if I said both?”

You roll your eyes and huff, “This is why you’ve never realized! You’ve always been so focused on inheriting a titan, that you never realized what was right in front of you!”

Colt frowns, “That’s not fair. You know why I’m doing this.”

You feel horrible for a second, “I didn’t mean it like that, Colt.” You whisper, sitting down again. You groan before dropping your head into your hands, “Everyone else has picked up on it. I’ve never even spoken to War Chief Zeke and he knows.” You meet his gaze, “I mean, am I that invisible?”

Colt opens and closes his mouth a few times, “I wouldn’t, I mean that’s not-” Colt trails off. “I’m clearly fucking this up.” He sighs, shoulders dropping.

You sit there in shame for having spilled your guts out and Colt can barely get a word out. Hiding for the rest of your life is starting to look better and better.

“I think you’re stunning.” You whip up your head, but Colt is still looking at his locked hands, “I think you’re intelligent, and so kind, and this amazing person.” He looks up at you, “I’m an idiot for ignoring that, and I want to try showing you how sorry I really am.”

“Oh.” You can barely whisper, mouth slightly parted.

Colt’s eyes flick between yours and your lips, “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

You nod, afraid to say anything that might break this moment. But your heart is thumping so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

His head leans in towards you, and your eyes flutter close waiting for his lips to touch yours. Instead, you feel a sharp pain on your forehead.

“Ow!” Rubbing your forehead, you see Colt is doing the same.

“Shit.” He mutters to himself, he looks up, face redder than you ever thought possible, “Sorry I’m so helpless.”

“Colt.” You press a hand into his cheek, this time guiding your mouth to his. And you don’t close your eyes until your lips are firmly pressing against his. He isn’t moving against you, more like he’s shocked still.

Taking the lead, you wrap your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He gasps at the feel of your tongue sliding against his lips, and you use the opportunity to slide it in.

This is about as far as you’ve gotten with anyone, so you aren’t quite sure what to do next. But Colt seems to have returned to the moment and has some intuition, because he meets your tongue in his mouth with his. Swiping his over yours several times that has a chill running down your spine.

You feel one of his hands grab at your thigh, pulling you closer while the other slides to cup your face. He continues wrestles your tongue with his and it’s making you a little dizzy. And suddenly you feel his teeth nip at your bottom lip that has you gasping a moan.

He pulls away, both of your chests heaving like you just ran laps around the training field.

“That was nice.” You say, cringing at how awkward you sound.

“Really nice.” He keeps fluttering his gaze between your eyes and lips like he wants to go back for more.

“So-” You trail off, not quite sure what to say.

“You know,” He starts, “It’s getting pretty dark out. You should probably just stay the night, that is if you want to?”

Your mouth drops slightly, “Yeah. Okay.” You give him a small smile.

His hand has moved from your thigh to grab your hand, and stands pulling you up along too, “Okay.”

You smile interlocking his fingers, “See? You’re not completely helpless.”

“What do you- oh. Oh.” Colt’s face flushes, “I didn’t mean it like that, I mean, unless you want to me to mean it like that.”

Squeezing his hand, you take a little pity on the boy, “Let’s just go.”

And now you’re sitting side by side on his bed, exchanging small kisses between giggles.

“Do you think this could be easier?” He asks between kisses.

You pull back, “What?”

“I mean, like if you sat in my lap, or something, I guess.” Colt trails off, embarrassed for even asking.

“Okay.” You push Colt to sit back further on his bed and straddle his hips, “Is this okay?”

Colt doesn’t answer. Can’t answer. He didn’t realize how warm you would feel in his lap, and how dim light from the single lamp would make your eyes seem more vibrant. But he does give a slight nod and you return your mouth to his.

Shifting slightly to reposition more comfortably, you feel his bulge brush against you. The sensation sends a tingle through you, so you try it again. Maybe a litter harder than last time because now Colt lets out a quick groan while bucking up into your body.

You gasp at his sudden movement, surprised that you elicited such a reaction.

Both of you pull back to look at each other. And there’s some unspoken communication happening between the two of you because he’s pulling you down on top of him and you’re reaching for the bottom of his shirt while he’s running his hands along you sides and kissing your neck.

After you get all his buttons undone, he pulls away for moment to tear of his shirt and pull the under one off over his head.

You sit back, feeling his hardness that seems to have grown press into your ass. You’d be more interested in exploring that, if you weren’t so memorized by all the skin Colt just exposed you to.

You flick your eyes up to Colt’s quickly, seeing he’s waiting for you to make the first move. So you begin your assault on his neck, running your tongue along his collar bone, biting at his skin that earns you a squeak.

Your hands have been tracing his stomach, scratching and rubbing at the hardened muscle. You continue to scoot further down his body, now straddling his thighs.

“Wait!” Colt straightens and grips your hand that was edging closer to his belt, “It’s just, I’ve never really done this before.”

You smile and shrug, “I figured, but I haven’t either.”

“No.” Colt says, his face grave, “Like I haven’t really even done things with myself, like that.” His cheeks are a dark pink and you can’t help but wonder what other parts of his body are flushed.

“Oh.” You straighten, realizing just what he meant, “So, you’ve never thought about things like this? Even at night?”

Colt flushes and grumbles, “Kind of hard when I shared a room with Falco.”

You smile, “That’s okay. I think I’ve thought about this enough for the both of us.” Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, and then continuing to his neck, enjoying the small whines pouring from his lips, “I’ll take care of you.” You whisper into his shoulder, loving the shiver that dances across his body.

Pushing gently on Colt’s shoulder, he lays back onto his elbows, his gaze never leaving you as you scoot further down his body until your face to face with his groin.

You check once more with hands on his belt buckle. When you get a small nod, your fingers have never undone a belt so quickly. You pull at his pants and briefs, Colt helping by lifting his hips just enough to free himself.

And then you’re met with the glorious sight of his erect cock, already leaking from the slit. You can’t help but run your fingers along the shaft.

Colt lets out a sharp gasp, grabbing at you, unsure if he wants to push you away or ask you to do that again.

You never believed the others who said boys would react that easily, surely it took more than a few soft touches. But here’s Colt, looking at you like you’ve single handedly tilted the world on its axis with that single movement.

You sit up on your knees and Colt whines, but he quickly appreciates the action as you start to unbutton your own shirt, throwing it onto the pile of growing clothes on the floor.

You tentatively reach for his cock, a hand wrapping around the base, “You’ll tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

“I’m pretty sure everything you do is going to be perfect.” Colt has his eyes on where your hand is grasping him. You smile at how transfixed he is. You lean down, still looking at his face waiting for him to make eye contact.

When he does you take the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue while still locked with his eyes.

Colt breaks first, throwing his head back, unable to feel and look at the same time.

You laugh slightly, sounding more muffled with your mouth full. You continue to suck, rotating your hand in tandem with your mouth. All while Colt moans helplessly.

“Wait, wait.” Colt gasps, his hands on the side of your head, gently pulling you back, “I don’t want to end it there.”

You smile coyly, “You want to fuck me, Colt?”

“I would, I mean, if that’s what you want to?” He’s still panting, looking quite the sight.

Nodding, you pull yourself up. And Colt reaches for you, kissing you deeply which surprises you because your mouth is filled with the taste of him.

His hands run up and down you side, squeezing you when he gets to your hips, “Are you going to take this off?”

“Okay.” Rolling off and onto your back, you shimmy out of your pants and throw them on the ground. You know Colt is staring at you. You feel a little shy under his gaze and avert your eyes to his clothing situation.

“Are you going to take yours off?”

“Shit.” He mutters, “Right.” Colt stands awkwardly pulling at his pants that makes you giggle and has Colt laughing with you.

When he’s completely naked, Colt joins you on the bed, capturing your lips. You feel his hardness pressing into your thigh with the way he’s straddling your leg. His kisses continue to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and trails down your neck until he comes to your bra.

Looking at you for permission, you nod and watch as he pushes the fabric off your shoulder and does the same to the other side. You reach behind yourself to undo the clasp, shyly pulling it off. You’ve never been so bare in your entire life.

“You’re beautiful.” Colt breaths, a hand coming up to cup your breast. He pushes up to his knees, his thigh brushing against your covered center, and the friction makes you moan and roll your hips back against the hard muscle.

You meet each other’s eyes, both a little startled at the reaction. Colt recovers quicker than you, pressing kisses to the top of your breast, a hand still pulling and massaging the other.

He presses his weight further into you, the pressure sending jolts of lighting straight through you.

A cry leaves your mouth that you try to cover with your hand, biting into the flesh of your palm.

His hand slip further down your body until it’s dancing at the edge of your panties.

“Take them off.” You whisper, eyes fixed on the ceiling above you.

You notice Colt pause his movements and then after a beat hooks his fingers on either side, slowly pulling them down your legs. His hot breath fans over your stomach, thighs, until he’s sitting back on his heels between your legs.

His cock still painfully erect, but he’s focused on you, eyes flittering between yours and your newly displayed cunt. He places his hands on your thighs, rubbing them up and down, closer and closer to where you both want them to be.

Colt hesitates, “Will you show me what to do?”

You nod taking his hand and guiding it between your legs with your own. Placing your fingers over his, you guide him in a circular motion, “This feels the best.”

He watches the motion of both your hands. And you have to hold back a laugh because his face is so intense like he’s studying for an upcoming exam.

You remove your hand, allowing Colt to find his own rhythm.

He rubs a few circles before looking back at you for your reaction. But you don’t have to say anything because the heaving of your chest and hand grasping at the sheets is all the answer he needs.

Colt continues rubbing you while returning his mouth to one of your breasts.

You can hardly breath with the way his fingers are pulsing at your nerves and his warm tongue sloppily flicking your nipple. You gasp when you feel a slight pinch that must have been teeth and cry out, “Fingers!” Colt’s face jumps up with confusion written across it, but he doesn’t stop his movements which makes it hard for you to explain, “You fingers. Put them in.” You’re rotating your hips in tandem with his hand, thrusting wishing for something to fill you up.

Colt must understand because a second later you feel a finger rubbing your opening. You’re about to complain again when Colt decides to take mercy and pushes one inside.

It’s all over for you there. The sudden stretching paired with his constant movements on your clit and warm body pressed into you, it sends you over the edge. Colt doesn’t stop though, lost in the look on your face. He couldn’t bear to move his eyes right now, not when you’re crying out like that because of him.

He can feel you pulsing around his fingers even though he’s barely moved them.

You cry out, trying to lock your legs together, but his body stops you from barely being able to move them, and you have to grip his wrist to rip his hand off of you, the stimulation being too much.

Panting heavily, you feel Colt withdraw his finger, and you whine at the loss. But then you see Colt sucking the finger into his mouth, wet with your slick. You almost cum again at the sight.

“Can I do what you did for me?”

You smile at his eagerness, “Maybe later? Right now, I really want you in me.”

His eyes widen at your boldness, “Oh, okay. Umm, how do you want to do it?”

Sitting up you grab his cheek for a kiss, the taste of yourself filling your senses. Gently pushing his shoulder, Colt lays down giving you the opportunity to swing a leg over his hip, “Is this okay?”

“More than okay.”

You smile before slowly grinding your slit along his cock. The feel of your slick coating him has Colt gasping for air. Reaching between the two of you, you grasp his cock, holding it as you line yourself up.

You slowly lower yourself on to the tip of his cock. The stretch burns more than you thought it would, and immediately pause the movement.

Colt freezes, going rigid under you that causes a pulse in your cunt, “Are you okay?”

It’s hard to find the words to explain the pain but also the pleasure and desire to go harder “You feel so big, Colt.” 

“Oh.” He blushes, which earns a giggle from you. And it’s a slow process after, only taking a little bit of him in at a time.

Colt can barely utter a word, too transfixed on all of you. From your wide eyes to tits in his face and cunt slowly sucking in his cock. He has to clench his eyes to avoid ending this all too soon.

You exhale sharply when he finally bottom’s out, his cock is splitting you in half. And he looks so sweet under you, so you can’t help but to caress the side of his face, fingers dancing along his cheek, “You’re doing so good.”

His jaw is dropped and digs his hands into the flesh of your hips to ground himself. “Please.” He whines, “Please move.”

“You have to be quiet for me baby.” You slowly rise on your knees, hands planted on his chest for balance, before slamming down harder than you meant to, both of you letting out a groan, his louder than yours. You lean down and let your lips brush over his ear, “Unless you want the other warriors to hear us?”

Colt’s eyes snap open and search yours frantically. It’s clear the thought turns him on if the twitching of his cock is anything to go by.

You hum as you rock forward, “Want everyone to know how good you’re giving it to me right now? On your first try and you already have me creaming all over your cock.”

Colt doesn’t answer, can’t answer. Captivated with sight of his cock repeatedly disappearing into your cunt, sucking him in over and over and over.

You use your free hands to pull at your nipples, twisting the sensitive nubs.

“Please.” He mutters, eyes screwing shut, “I think I’m going to cum.”

“Not yet baby.” You tilt your head back, you’re almost there, and it feels amazing. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum with Colt’s cock inside you. All the nights pretending it was your fingers could never match up to this.

“Slow down.” Colt holds your hips tighter, trying to change your movements, “You have to slow down.”

“Just a little bit longer.” You take his hands and hold them above his head, “Can you be good for me just a little bit longer?” Colt’s eyes are wide on yours as he gives a slight nod. You smile leaning down to capture his lips, tongue sliding along his. He groans into your mouth and you know you’re getting him closer and closer to his edge. And it really isn’t your fault when you clench around his cock, earning a strangled gasp he’s barely able to choke out.

The world shifts suddenly as you’re flipped onto your back with a squeak leaving your mouth.

Colt pulls out to stand on his knees before wrapping his hands into your thighs hard enough that it’ll surely bruise and buries himself back into the hilt, knocking the air out of you.

“I. Told. You. To. Slow. Down.” He punctuates every word with a hard thrust that has you seeing stars.

“Colt, please!” You cry, reaching for him to pull him into a kiss but he only grabs your hand, trapping it between his and the bed, getting a little more leverage as he continues to pound into you.

Colt doesn’t say much, focusing on holding off his impeding orgasm until he can get you there. He hitches your leg higher around his waist, giving it an almost stinging slap, but you get the message and wrap both your legs around him, locking your ankles.

He slides his hand downward until he reaches the bundle of nerves you showed him earlier, and presses begins pressing tight circles into it.

“Yes, yes!” You begin to pant, your legs starting to shake from the pressure building, “Don’t stop!” Suddenly you tense up, legs locking in place and eyes rolling into the back of your head. You feel Colt work you through the orgasm, stroking that spot inside you again and again that you swear makes you cum for a third time that night.

Going limp, you let your legs fall to the bed and head lull to the side. Colt’s thrust become more erratic before he pulls out, pumping his cock once, twice, and spills out. Warm ropes hit you stomach and breasts. You don’t even have time to think about it before Colt is collapsing on top of you, harshly panting into your neck.

You both lay there, sweat cooling on your skin that makes you shiver slightly.

“That was,” Colt trails off, still trying to piece his brain back together. It makes you smile to see him so off kilter for once.

Bringing your hands up to his jaw, you pull him back slightly, “Yeah, it was.” And press your lips to his, not really kissing since you’re both smiling too much.

And that smile stays on Colt’s face all through the night and next morning as he walks you back to the training grounds. Only widening after you press a kiss to his lips before quickly ducking into the building.

“So, you worked things out with your friend?” Colt looks up to see War Chief Zeke behind him smoking a cigarette, and Colt can’t help but blush at the fact Zeke might have just witnessed your goodbye, “No need to be flustered.” Zeke drops his cigarette on the ground, stomping out the embers, before tossing the extra catcher’s mitt into Colt’s hands, “Nowhere near as graphic as what we all had to endure last night.”

And only then is when Colt’s smile finally falls.

But maybe you can get it back later tonight.

[comfortwriting]

Ashtray Part 5 - D.M

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Draco x Gryffindor Fem Reader

This is part 5 of my mini-series 'Ashtray', please read all previous parts if you haven't already.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of nausea, mention of cigarettes.

Harry's world couldn't stop spinning around him, his palms clammy, his throat tight, Ron and Hermione couldn't shake him out of his thoughts or break him away from what he had seen.

"What do you mean he's back?!" Hermione gasped "You said-"

"I know what I said, Hermione!" Harry snapped back, raising his voice "Y/N is in trouble, Voldemort is going to get to her if we don't step in!"

Ron glared at Draco until his eyes finally shifted onto Harry, his hard face and piercing eyes finally softening.

"You said we need to work together," Draco finally spoke out, his fear of the dark lord and concern for your safety kicking in "Will that save her?"

Escape. Never to return. Train home. Never again.

Your heart split down the middle and separated into tiny pieces at the thought of Harry suffering silently whilst you dated his enemy - but how were you to know he had feelings for you? He never told you, he never hinted at such a thing.

You shook your head, trying to rid your mind of the gut-wrenching thoughts and feelings.

Focus, Y/N, focus. You'll be in that muggle school before you know it, sat in that exam hall without a care in the world about Hogwarts.

For the last time, you entered your dorm room, packing away your clothes, belongings, you even stuffed your empty box of cigarettes into your pocket - you couldn't believe that you wouldn't get to sleep in your four-poster bed again or watch the owls embark on their letter delivering journeys.

Taking a deep breath, you made your bed and picked up your trunk, walking out of your bedroom and making your way to Dumbledore's Office, your empty cigarette box falling out of your pocket - the only part of you to be left behind at Hogwarts.

Before you could knock, the door opened, Dumbledore standing before you in pure white robes, his half-moon spectacles shining against the light.

"I'm guessing you're ready to leave, Miss Y/L/N." Dumbledore widened his arm.

You hesitated for a moment and then linked your arm in his, nodding your head "Yes, I am."

"Well, we best be on our way." Dumbledore said softly, "Hold on tight."

Speed. Spinning. Swirling.

You held onto your headteacher, the spinning and rushing consuming you, everything around you turning into swirls of colour like paints being dragged out upon a canvas, you felt sick to your stomach and gripped onto Dumbledore harder, the lightheadedness making you feel off balance.

After what felt like a lifetime of travelling, the spinning finally stopped, the swirls of vibrant greens, hues of reds, and bold greys and black finally pooled into objects; hedges, lamp-posts, and cars.

You hunched over, feeling like you were about to throw up, the smell of the air helped settle you down - you knew where you were - you were home.

"I thought no one could Appiriate at Hogwarts?" you panted, slowly standing up.

"You've always had a good memory," Dumbledore smiled, "I'm surprised with just the scent of your surroundings you know where you are."

Dumbledore continued to walk further, members of the public either admiring his robes or giving him strange looks. The two of you followed a narrow path, surrounded by tall vibrant trees and tiny birds that flew past rather swiftly, not startled by your footsteps or voices.

"You can keep your wand, you might need it," Dumbledore said, the end of the trail nearing, the sight of a large house in sight.

Your eyebrows knitted together at his comment, "Why would I need it?" you asked quietly, "Underage magic is against the law isn't it?"

Dumbledore stayed quiet for a moment, standing in the driveway of your house "your parents are waiting for you," he said cooly "take care, Y/N."

Before you could ask or say anything else, Dumbledore left your trunk beside your feet and apparated, you were left with so many questions, so many worries and feelings.

You stared down at your wand, swallowing hard.

"You can keep your wand, you might need it."

"We need to hurry!" Hermione panicked, bursting into the common room, Ron and Harry behind her.

"Y/N!" she yelled, running up the stairs, "Y/N!"

"This is bloody scary, mate." Ron sighed, sitting down on the back of the sofa.

Harry didn't say anything, he stared into the flames, wanting nothing more than to see his uncles face pop through and help him through this, his vision replaying right in front of him.

"Pencils and pens down, your exam has finished." The invigilator announced loudly, his voice as clear as a bell.

Everyone placed their pens and pencils on their tiny desks, their exam papers staring up at them, you leaned back in your seat, yawning, shuffling in your chair and looking over your shoulder before feeling a sudden bout of worry and turning back to face the front.

The invigilators collected the exam papers from one desk to another, one with a pale face and deep silver eyes, and dressed in a black suit went over to your desk, he smirked at her, whispering inaudible lies before taking your paper and walking away.  

Now in the belly of the forest, the singing birds stopped instantly, the temperature dropping, the wind picking up and spreading the falling leaves towards you circling you at great force.

"Who's there!" you called out bravely, twirling around as the leaves started to slow down and drop beside your feet.

A loud hiss broke out, piercing Harry's scar, he clutched his head, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

"So it's true," the hoarse voice said, one that Harry recognised better than any other "You love the boy."

Your breath hitched in your throat.

You screamed.

The birds departed.

What happened? Harry didn't know.

Hermione felt her heart drop to her stomach when she found the dorm room silent and empty, your bed made and belongings gone.

Hurrying down the stairs and out of breath, the three of them found Draco pacing up and down the stairs, his eyes glassy, his hands shaking.

"Anything?" he asked, desperation in his voice.

"No," Ron replied, trying to remember to be less snappy.

"She's gone, everything of hers is gone." Hermione sighed, shaking her head, her eyes filling with tears.

"We need to go to Dumbledore," Harry stressed "He'll know-"

"I already tried," Draco cut him off, "He isn't there."

The four of them fell silent, the stairs continuing to move in the distance.

Draco dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out your crumpled cigarette packet, his hands shaking. "This is all we have."

taglist: @horrorxweasley @alwaysnforeverfangirl @inglourious-imagines @sebby-staan @lovegoodsgf @m4vdb @reeophidian @oldschoolkiddo @illiicitarts @sycathorn-slush @blackqueens01 @opalsheart @axgelre @fredshufflepuff @a-dusty-emerald @mmalfoyferret @marella322 @badass-yn @originalsoulcollector 

[xwing-baby]

Impulse: The Beginning (Javier Peña x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Peña as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong? 

Warnings: Nothing much! Mentions of misogyny/sexism, tobacco and alcohol use, show level violence, swearing 

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: BACK TO THE BEGINNING LADS LETS SEE WHERE THIS SHIT SHOW STARTED 

*Spanish translation at the end of the fic*

Have you read Part 1 yet? // Masterlist // Next Chapter -->

---

As one of only a few female agents in the DEA academy at the time, you had fought tooth and nail for your place from day one. Most of the men in your class thought you were useless and had campaigned on multiple occasions to get you taken out of the academy. This was mostly due to your success. You were a great agent already and were itching to get into some real action.

When the agency announced that they would be sending a couple of the highest achieving students from the graduating class out on a new placement program, you knew it was your chance. Incredibly, before you even got a chance to apply you were pulled aside by a professor and told you’d be selected. You were going to Colombia.

The fight in South America was all anyone spoke about. The tonnes they were hauling out was unmatched, it made Miami look like a small fry. A chance to go down there and help, maybe even take down some Narcos yourself, was one everyone dreamed of. Colombia alone had two of the biggest players, Pablo Escobar, and The Cali Cartel. Placement in that country would no doubt be the best learning experience you could ever get! Who knows, maybe you would be the one to catch Escobar!

It took a little convincing to your parents to let you go. They’d seen the news; they knew how dangerous it was and weren’t too keen on you going. Eventually, after a meeting with your coordinator they were convinced, you packed a bag and you flew down to Bogotá.

You were picked up at the airport and driven to the American embassy in the city to meet your mentor Agent Javier Peña. You hadn’t been told much about him other than he was from Texas and had been in Colombia for a while. Not a lot to go off. In your head you imagined some old cowboy, grumpy and hardened by the horrors of the world he had seen. He wouldn’t believe you when you appeared, would probably ask to have you removed immediately. You sighed, already resigning yourself to hate the man you were now forced to spend the next year with.

Your escort took you through the embassy, to the DEA’s office and promptly abandoned you at the door without another word. This was it. You pushed open the door and were instantly greeted by a cheery woman’s voice from behind a desk. Denise, according to her name plate, was filing her nails when you approached. She set the file down and smiled sweetly.

“Hey there, darling! What can I do for you?” Her voice had a strong southern twang to it, a quintessential southern belle with curled blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

“Hi, I’m here to see... Agent Peña,” You looked at that note in your hand to check you had the right person.

“‘Course sweetie, what’s your name?” She asked. You gave her your name and she told you to sit down in a seat opposite her desk for a moment while she called him. “So, you’re working with Peña?” She asked when she put the phone down again.

“Yeah,” You nodded, “What’s he like? I don’t really know what to expect,”

Denise giggled, “You’re certainly in for a treat darlin’. He’s something else,” You turned when her eyes watched someone through the window, “But I’m warning you now, don’t flirt with him,”

“I’m not-,” Your jaw dropped when the man in question walked past the window. Denise giggled, “Jesus Christ,” You muttered. He certainly was not the old man you had expected at all. He entered the room and you quickly shut your dropped jaw.

“Javier! Nice to see you,” Denise smiled at the man. You were shocked. Javier Peña was older, yes, but he was incredibly handsome. Tall, dark hair with dark eyes to match. He had a blue shirt on, unbuttoned just one too far. In such a professional environment it almost looked obscene. He smiled and your heart flipped.

“Denise,” Javier smiled charmingly at the assistant before turning to you, “who’s your friend?” Denise introduced you, “You’re the new kid?” He asked briefly looking you up and down, he shook your hand. Still a little dazed you smiled and nodded. “Quiet huh?”

“Sorry, uh it’s nice to meet you,” You pulled yourself out of your head, stumbling over your words as your brain caught up with what was actually going on.

“Let me show you round,” Javier chuckled, “I’ll see you later Denise,”

“See ya Javi,” She waved as you followed Agent Peña out of the office and down a new corridor.

“She’s cute. Is she your girlfriend?” You asked. Javier turned to you and shook his head.

“Never seen her before,” He smirked. You were glad he was walking ahead of you, as your jaw dropped. If he was like that with someone he had never met, what in hell was he like he was someone he liked?!

Javier took you around the office, showing the different places and meeting different people you would need to know. It seemed most people were exasperated by Javier; he was cocky and liked to get a rise out of people. He obviously didn’t really care for the bureaucracy of the job, much more an action guy than a paperwork guy. Despite your track record with these types previously, you got on well with Javier. He was easy to talk to and his confidence wasn’t arrogant.

You followed him around from room to room, making small talk about where you were from, how you’d been enjoying the academy and such. All the while you were trying to remember where everything was but ultimately failing. The place was a maze. Eventually you came to a small office tucked away in the corner of the building.

“And this, is where we live!” Javier said as he opened the room. The room was small, barely enough room for the two desks and row of cabinets inside. Behind one desk, engrossed in a manila file was a blonde man. He looked up when you entered, giving Javier a questioning look, “This is the Rookie,”

“Y/n,” You added. You were pretty sure he had forgotten your name, introducing you as Rookie to the last three people you had met.

“That's what I meant to say,” He replied, waving you off.

“Nice to meet you Rookie,” The blonde man grinned and chuckled, “Steve Murphy,”

“Nice to meet you sir,” You reached over the messy desk and shook his hand.

“Sir? I could get used to that! Bit of respect round here would be nice,” Steve laughed. “Steve will work just fine,”

“Or pendejo, he does respond to that too,” Javier added.

“Real funny Peña,” Steve snapped back. You chuckled. You stood in the doorway for a moment, watching as Javier chaotically cleared a space for you at his desk by moving a pile of paper from one surface to another.

“We’re moving out of here soon,” He explained, you nodded. He offered a chair, and a cigarette. You took both. “Did you have any trouble at the airport?” Javier asked. You shook your head.

“Nope. Bat my eyelashes and they don’t seem to worry,” You laughed to yourself. Javier raised an eyebrow.

“You get a lot of things done that way?” He asked. Your smile dropped quickly.

“No. I got here on credit, didn’t fuck my way to the top of that’s what your asking Agent Peña,” You said seriously, “Get that straight now. I’m just as good as any man, in fact I’m better. I don’t deal well with sexist assholes,”

“Out of line, I got it,” He threw his hands up in defence, leaning back on his chair. You turned to Murphy, who shrugged.

“All good,”

“Good,” you confirmed, “I don’t want you to think I’m rude, I just have to make it clear,”

“Crystal,”

The rest of the day was a blur, shipped about from one office to another getting badges and meeting important people. You were exhausted. Despite the copious amounts of coffee, you consumed, you had to force your eyes to stay open during the car ride home with Javier. You had been awake for more than twenty-four hours and added to the stress of a new job; you were ready to crash.

You said thanks to your mentor and dragged yourself up the stairs to your own apartment. You had only been inside your apartment briefly to drop off your bag earlier in the day. You could barely remember what it looked like.

The apartment was small and dark. There was a good-sized living room with a lumpy looking couch and a tv set. A small kitchen sat next to the entry door, separated by a half to the living room. Three doors came off the living room walls, one to a small closet, one to a tiny pink tiled bathroom and the last to a bedroom. The bedroom had a large window looking out over the street and the city beyond. There was a dresser with handles that were falling off and a double bed. The covers were old, and the colour had faded, the whole structure creaked when you sat down. The whole apartment seemed faded and old, but it would do.

You lay down, fully clothed, and smiled up at the ceiling. You had made it. You had done it! You were in Colombia, working for the DEA fighting Pablo freaking Escobar! You had succeeded beyond anyone’s expectation and you were excited to prove everyone who had ever doubted you wrong.

--

You hit the ground running the next day. Between moving the office to a new location, learning the ropes of the job, and catching up on ongoing investigations you felt like you never stopped. You had been home only to sleep for a few hours. You’d change your outfit, shower, and head straight back to work. You had quickly learnt that Javier was not going to be what you imagined your mentor would be, he was much more of ‘do as I say not as I do’ kind of teacher. In one week, you had already seen things that would have you kicked out of the academy if you were caught doing it. You had realised this experience would be much more of an experience to reflect on later than learn any real textbook things from day to day.

Friday was here. You knew you could get at least a few hours rest tomorrow, hoping that you wouldn’t be called in. You’d steadily been making your way through case notes, trying to make some sort of system so the immense amount of information through your desk wouldn’t get lost. You hadn’t noticed Steve and Javier call you, until Javier tapped on the desk next to you. You looked up.

“Rookie! Come on,” He motioned over to Steve who was waiting at the door, Kevlar vest in hand. You were going out on a raid!

“Seriously?” Your eyes lit up and you jumped up. You rushed to get your gun from the draw and raced after the two agents. Finally, you were getting to see some action. You were itching with excitement to finally be able to go into the field. All your training was leading up to this! A moment which for most agents didn’t happen for years! You ran to the courtyard and jumped into the backseat Javier’s truck

Javier fiddled with a radio on the dash until audible orders could be heard, barked through the walkie-talkie giving the plan for the raid. It was the house of a known sicario, not a big player in the grand scheme of things but they would have valuable information. 

“When we get out there, you’re staying in here, got it?” Javier said once the orders were given.

“I don’t want to be left on the side-lines and watch! How am I meant to learn anything sitting in a truck?”

“You can stand outside the truck,” Javi offered. You

“Come on!” You begged, “Steve?”

“It’s not my call, Rookie,” Steve shrugged. You sighed.

“So, I’m meant to stand around and watch you have all the fun?”

“Quit whining,” Peña replied, glancing at you in the rear-view mirror. You frowned and settled back in your seat, your excitement dying a little.

After a few minutes of driving through the city, the convoy stopped outside a large house on the corner of a street. Javier parked and the two men jumped out of the vehicle slipping on their vests as they did. You took a deep breath, calming yourself, before stepping outside to join them.

Men started piling out of the cars and taking their places cordoning off the area. Steve was the first to get stuck in, immediately walking over to the man you assumed was in charge. You followed him, just to hear how raids were set up. Not so you could get involved, of course.

“Where are you going?” Javier asked as you walked past him.

“With Steve?” You replied cautiously, motioning over to the blonde a few paces ahead. Javi raised a brow.

“Rookie…” He warned.

“Javier…?” You replied in the same tone, as if you didn’t know exactly what he was going to say.

“Stay,” He said firmly, holding his hand up like a command given to a dog. You frowned.

“I’m not a dog,” You argued, Javi grinned and patted you on the head.

“Good girl,” You scowled at him, making him laugh again before he walked away to join his partner.

“Jerk,” You called after him. You complied, reluctantly, leaning back on the hood of the truck and watching from afar. You knew that it was a dangerous situation and you didn’t have much experience yet; you weren’t going to be seeing any up-close action for a while. It was for your own safety and everyone else's.

But it was boring.

After a short while of preparations and what seemed a lot like just milling about. The team entered the building. Those who were left outside visibly relaxed. Now any superior officers had gone out of sight, the soldiers huddled in groups chatting amongst themselves keeping one eye on their post but mostly watching you.

None of them spoke to you, but you could hear them. They assumed you didn’t speak Spanish, like Steve, so spoke without a filter whilst within earshot. How attractive they thought you were, wondering about how you got your role and whether you’d show them how you got it if they got you drunk. It was disgusting, but not new. Men are the same world over, it seemed.

You leant against the hood of the truck and turned your attention to the matter at hand. You weren’t here to make friends after all. You were here to learn, here to work. If you couldn’t follow into the raid you could learn as much as you could from the outside.

Gunfire and shouting erupted from the building suddenly, making you jump in surprise. Nobody else seemed to take any notice, barely looking up. You watched intently following shadows in the windows. Then, out the corner of your eye you saw a man race from the building. You looked over at the men, still stood around, and back to the man from the building who had started to slow down, and nobody was chasing him. They didn’t see anything. This was your chance. Before anyone could stop you, you ran down the street after the escapee.

He spotted you instantly and began to run faster down the hill and around a corner. You kept up well until the corner revealed a large crowd of people between shops. Market stalls lined the streets and your target disappeared in the blink of an eye. You followed into the people, making sure to keep your gun down to avoid mass panic. You didn’t need more of a scene to let the guy escape

You skidded to a halt and looked around, immediately overwhelmed by the amount of people and directions the man could have gone. You walked to the middle of the intersection and looked left, nothing unusual, right, nothing. Your heart hammered into your ribcage as you tried to collect yourself. It was hard to concentrate under the sun. He couldn’t have gone far, you lost him for two seconds! Losing hope of a dramatic first arrest, you looked up another street, and couldn’t spot your target. You moved to slip your gun back into your holster until you turned and saw a man leant against a wall heaving for breath halfway back up the hill you had just run down. He thought he’d lost you.

You collected yourself with a slow breath and pursued the man again, this time slowly so you didn’t catch his attention. He hadn’t spotted you as you exited the crowd of the market and walked up the hill opposite side of the street, dipping your head so not to catch his eye. You reached for your gun, just ten feet away from him when he finally noticed and jumped up.

“Fuck!” You cursed out loud as you chased him once more. The steep hill made your legs burn, but unlike the man in your pursuit you could bare it. He was visibly flagging and by the time he reached the top of the hill he had given up and you had caught up.

You shoved him against the wall, keeping your gun to his back and leg round his to keep him still. Your heart was hammering in your chest, you laughed to yourself as the adrenaline swept you up.

“Te mataré,” The man spat at you, “puta,” You swiftly lifted your knee, kicking him in the balls making the man yelp.  Was it necessary? No. But it felt brilliant.

“Shut up,” You replied. You smugly smiled until you realised you were now stuck. You had no handcuffs so had no way to move him. You had not thought this through at all. You looked around and to your surprise you had just run around the block and ended up on a few feet from where your chase had begun.

You watched the raid exit the house, dragging a few men in cuffs with them. You spotted Murphy and Peña, who quickly noticed that you were gone. You watched them look for you for a minute before calling out. 

“Over here!” You called loud enough for the men to hear you. Murphy was the first to spot you and ran over quickly, with a few soldiers in tow.

“Thought we told you to stay by the truck,” He said.

“You missed one,” You replied. You removed yourself from your prisoner and stuck your gun back into the holster on your hip.

“Good job,” He praised you, clapping you on the back. “Bring him up,”

With handcuffs on, the two soldiers took the man into custody. You followed Steve back over to the trucks. You beamed with pride. You’re first ever arrest! You spotted Javier watching you as you approached, a smirk set on his lips and an eyebrow raised. Your pride wavered a little. Just as you got back to the truck, prepared to get berated by your mentor, a man in a green uniform stormed over to you. You dropped your smile quickly.

“Quien es ella?!” He asked, spitting out the words at Javier. “Porque esta ella aqui?” Despite him asking about you, the man never looked at you. His attitude immediately aggravated you and before Javier could open his mouth to reply you jumped in for him.

“Yo trabajo con Murphy y Peña,” You replied for him, a sarcastic smile on your face, driving home the point that you did understand what he was saying and that he couldn’t ignore you so blatantly.

“Carrillo this is Y/n L/n, Rookie this is Commander Carrillo,” Javier introduced you to Carrillo. Javier gave you a warning look, as if that was going to stop your temper. Carrillo looked you up and down then sneered.

“Eres un poco joven?” He turned to you. You scoffed.

“It’s a new placement programme the agency is trialling,” Peña jumped in again, “Don’t worry about it,”

“Oh, so my war is a place for you to test your kids huh?” Carrillo rolled his eyes, “Fucking gringos. I don’t want some girl here,” He waved you away, turning on his heel and walking away. You scoffed, anger taking over.

“Sir, with all due respect. Fuck you,” You called after him. Carrillo stopped walking, half turned back, shocked at the audacity of what you were saying, “If I wasn’t here that guy would have run off and it would have taken you another month to find him again. Personally, I think a thank you is in order,”

“Okay! In the truck, Rookie,” Steve finally stepped in, before Carrillo could reply. He grabbed you and pulled you out the way and back to the truck. Javier stood in the way of Carrillo, so he didn’t follow.

“What a jerk,” You grumbled as you slammed your door. You glowered in the backseat, watching Javier and Carrillo talk.

“About sums it up,” Murphy agreed.

“He looks pissed,” You commented as you watched Javier part with Carrillo and join you and Murphy ready to leave.

“He always looks like that,” Steve replied, making you chuckle. You were still nervous; you had completely stepped out of line saying that stuff to the commander. No doubt Javier was going to be just as mad. You picked at the loose thread on your shirt, staying quiet when Javier opened the door. “Good?” Steve asked.

“All good,” Javier replied as he shut the truck door. Steve started up the engine and pulled away from the scene.

“Seriously?” You were shocked.

“Oh no he hates you now, but he hated Steve for a while there too so don’t take it too personally,” Javier said, Steve chuckled. “You certainly know how to make a good first impression,”

“I’m not in trouble?”

“I’m a little worried you might be insane; I don’t think I would even say that shit to Carrillo!” Javier said, “But I will say you did a good job with that sicario so, I’ll buy you a drink to celebrate the occasion when we get back,”

Javier turned to look at you quickly, giving you a cheeky smirk. You grinned back. You’d done awesome today, a week into this placement and you’d already made an arrest. One bad guy off the street, all by yourself! You’d pissed off Carrillo, and while you were sure it would probably bite you in the ass further down the road, you had made an unforgettable impression and you couldn’t really bring yourself to care that he hated you.

That evening Javier kept his promise and brought you a drink at the bar after work. Sat with Murphy and Javier in a booth, listening as the two of them bickered like an old married couple, you couldn’t stop smiling.

“To Rookie!” Steve drunkenly called out, raising his beer up. “May you keep on ignoring orders and kicking ass!” You cackled with laughter and cheersed your teammates.

This was going to be a great year.

--

Next Chapter -->

See! I CAN be nice!!!

translations (as always i am learning PLEASE correct me if these are wrong!)

Te mataré - I will kill you 

puta - bitch

Quien es ella? - who is she

porque esta ella aqui? - why is she here?

yo trabajo con Murphy y Peña - i work with Murphy and Peña

eres un poco joven - aren’t you a little young?

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