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shellshocklove · 1 year ago

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i wanna be your lover | joel miller

pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female reader

summary: miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 23, joel is in his early 30s, swearing, misogyny (bc of the times™), accuracies and inaccuracies about the 70s, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes (it’s the 70s alright), mentions of a bad previous sexual encounter and losing your virginity, use of pet names, porn (obviously lmao), sextoys, only one bed, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: i had fun with this one, but it turned out to be longer than i first intended. i hope people will like it still! also big thank you to @dustydaddyyy, for proofreading this

main masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Under a pink and orange Los Angeles sky, your platforms clicked against the sidewalk. Day left an hour ago, dipping behind the green hills of Laurel Canyon. Walking down The Strip, arms linked with your friend Deborah, the street bustled in the awakening night. Music spilled from clubs and bars, seducing the dressed-up crowd passing by this Friday night.

“Do a little dance, make a little love,”

“This,” Deborah emphasized, coming to a stop outside a club, “is exactly what you need tonight to get your mind off everything.”

She clutched your arm tighter to her body, almost like she was afraid you’d run off, and maybe she had good reason to think you would. You weren’t exactly in the right mood to party. Only a few hours ago, you’d gotten fired from your job. Three years as Mr. Cooper’s personal assistant down the drain.

Mr. Cooper was the creative director, and one of the partners at the advertisement agency where you’d worked. He was an important man, and he’d dealt with all kinds of clients on a daily basis. For you, it had been a learning curve of a job. You had no prior experience as a personal assistant, and it had been intimidating.

You’d only just moved to the City of Angels when you’d gotten the job. With next to no money, having left behind your family and your small town, you were desperate for a job. When you’d seen the ad in the newspaper, left behind on the table of a café near your apartment, you’d stepped out on the sidewalk immediately to find a payphone. During the interview Mr. Cooper had looked you up and down and scowled as he’d read your resume. You’d shrank in your seat under his gaze, but even with your lacking resume, Mr. Cooper had hired you on the spot.

Later, during your first full week at your new job, you’d come to discover why Mr. Cooper had hired you so quickly – he’d been desperate for a new assistant. Overhearing some of the other ladies whispering to each other during lunch, you’d been able to piece together exactly why. Apparently, Mr. Cooper and his former personal assistant had been having an affair. He’d gotten her pregnant and wanted nothing to do with her or the baby – he was a married man after all. This was where the story had gotten hazy, and the grape vine sang different songs. One version of the story said he’d forced her to get an abortion and riddled with grief over the dead baby and their failing relationship, she’d quit her job and moved back to her parents in Maine. While the other version of the story said that, rightfully angry at Mr. Cooper for not taking any responsibility over their situation, she’d gone to visit his wife at home to tell her about what’s been going on. Which story was the truth, you don’t know. What you did know, was that Mr. Cooper was still married, and his previous assistant was no longer working for him.

Even if the job had been intimidating at first, you’d quickly gotten used to it. You stayed on top of everything: Mr. Copper’s clients, his calls, his schedule. Ordered flowers for his wife, and even sent boxes of chocolates to his various paramours. You’d made sure the bar in his office was always stacked with his favorite bourbon, and most importantly: you’d made sure to be seen and not heard. It’s what he told you, in the job interview, that he wanted.

You had thought you were doing a good job, but clearly, Mr. Cooper had been laboring under a different impression…

Your day had started like every other day – normal. You’d arrived at work fifteen minutes before Mr. Cooper, like always. Dutifully greeting him with a sweet “Good morning, sir!” at your desk, and served him his morning coffee minutes later. The day continued like normal, occupied with calls and speaking to clients, you had no idea what shocking message you’d receive at the end of your day.

Outside the club, you gave Deborah a meek smile which faded when you saw the line snaking its way down the street, “Sure, but… we’ll never get in.”

“Get down tonight, get down tonight,”

The words of KC And The Sunshine Band traveled through the open club door, the music filled the warm summer air.

“Don’t worry, babes!” she beamed, “I know the owner.” With an overdramatic wink and a giggle, she pulled you towards the bouncer.

“Baby, baby, I'll meet you, same place, same time,”

“How exactly do you know the owner of this place?” you queried, as you passed through the door of the club while the music got louder and louder.

“Where we can get together, and ease up our mind,”

“Let’s just say we had a weekend together…,” she giggled, “and I got to know him very… intimately.”

Your eyes widened at her implications, and Deborah giggled even louder.

“Don’t look so surprised!” she laughed, “I’m all about free love,” she joked, putting up a peace sign.

A heat burned your cheeks. Still, after three years in LA you needed to constantly remind yourself that you weren’t in your small rural hometown anymore. No one was going to arrest you for talking about sex. Nevertheless, the habit was hard to shake, and the roots of the rules you’d grown up with – the ones that had taught you to be the perfect student and the perfect daughter – stayed embedded in your mind.

“So…” Deborah started, her back against the bar while she took her first sip of her Apple Martini. She’d ordered you some fruity cocktail you’d never had before that she swore you’d like. “What exactly did that sad excuse of a man say to you when he fired you?”

With a scrunch of your nose, you turned your attention to your drink, taking a sip. It tasted sugary, but fresh, one of those dangerous drinks where you couldn’t taste the alcohol.

“Let’s not talk about it?” you sighed, shooting Deborah another meek smile.

She returned your smile, but it was full of pity. “You’re right! Let’s not– Let’s forget that fucker,” she said, taking a generous sip of her drink, “you’ll easily get a new job! I know it!” she smiled.

Not soon after Deborah had finished her first drink, a man interrupted your conversation. The man was tall, with black wild hair, pork chops and a matching mustache. He was wearing a flower-patterned shirt tucked into a pair of brown bell-bottoms. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing dark chest hair and a gold chain. He wasn’t bad looking.

His hand on Deborah’s back didn’t seem to bother her, quite the opposite, she jumped excitedly, throwing her hands around his neck in greeting. You couldn’t hear what he whispered in her ear over the music, but it made her laugh.

“This is Tommy! He owns the club,” Deborah introduced you.

With a friendly smile, you shook Tommy’s hand and introduced yourself. His grip was firm, not like those people that made shaking their hand feel like gripping a dead fish. You decided that it was a good sign.

“So– are ya enjoyin’ yourselves, ladies?” he asked with a charming smile.

“Oh, yes!” Deborah smiled, her painted nails landing on his bicep, “But I think we’d enjoy ourselves even more after another drink.”

With a knowing smile and an easy laugh, Tommy ushered the bartender closer. “’nother round for these two beautiful ladies,” he ordered, “and… they’re drinkin’ on the house for the rest of the night,” he added, sending Deborah a wink.

The bartender served you your second drink just as Tommy convinced Deborah to dance with him. Quickly, she downed her Apple Martini before she turned to you, guilt written all over her face.

“You okay by yourself for a little bit?”

“Yeah– sure!” you nodded, “Go have fun!”

With a sorry smile and a promise to be right back, Deborah left you at the bar, dragged out on the dancefloor by Tommy.

Left to your own devices, you still felt a little awkward. This was supposed to be a girls night. Pushing off the bar, you turned to lean your back against it. You bopped your head to the music, trying to not look so out of place. In your hands, your drink was slippery from the condensation around the glass. Out on the dancefloor, the crowd looked like it moved in slow motion through the blinking lights, bodies twisting their hips and grooving to the beat. You took another sip.

It’s a strange feeling, feeling so alone, while surrounded by a crowd of people. To your, a couple gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes as they passed a cigarette back and forth, a ribbon of smoky white, clouded them in a love fog. They leaned closer, sharing a kiss. You quickly averted your eyes, desperate for something else to rest your eyes on.

Instead, they fell on a man.

You locked eyes with him from across the room. Clad in tight denim he sat casually in a booth in the corner, legs spread slightly. His hand was wrapped around a whisky glass, with a cigarette pinched between his fingers. With a shy smile, you quickly looked away again, eyes back to watching the bodies on the dancefloor. You took another sip of your drink, trying to act casual.

He wasn’t watching you, was he? Why would he? No one usually looked at you twice.

You were no good at this. Flirting. You were painfully awful at it to be completely honest. Too shy to be sexy, and never interesting enough, or pretty enough for a second date.

Your experience with dating didn’t really go further than the few dates you’d gone on with John, from accounting. He’d acted so sweet: opened doors for you, held out your chair, kissed you at your doorstep at the end of the night. He had been a dream. Then on your third date, he’d invited you back to his place for a nightcap. One thing led to another, and soon you were laying under him as he thrusted inside you. It was your first time – and he hadn’t known. It had hurt so much; you’d turned your face away so he wouldn’t see your tears. After, he’d called you a cab, not bothering to even kiss you goodbye. In the office the next day, he’d pretended like you’d never even existed: no more tender kisses, no more door opening, no more smiles. Your dream had turned into a nightmare.

He’d pulled you aside during lunch and told you it wouldn’t work out between the two of you. You were just such different people. You’d deflated like a balloon at his words, sinking into your chair as you watched him walk down the corridor back to his cubicle. To make matters worse you’d overheard him say, to some of his colleges by the watercooler, how awful in bed you’d been. It had been humiliating. And now, every time you as much as attempted to flirt with someone, a bell of shame rang in your ears.

The man couldn’t have looked at you. He’d for sure only looked in the direction of the bar. But something burned your cheek, and you couldn’t fight your eyes from trailing back in his direction.

Dark hair and a tidy mustache. Lips pulled up into a cheeky smile as you locked eyes with him again. He took a drag of his cigarette, and the fire lit up his handsome face. You felt something pool in your stomach. His gaze still on you as he exhaled, challenging you with a raised eyebrow. Again, your cheeks burned, and you had to look away. Suddenly, your own platform shoes looked extremely interesting.

“I remember when rock was young, me and Susie had so much fun,”

The sound of Elton John was the perfect distraction from the alluring stranger. You were sure that if you looked back at him again, you’d only embarrass yourself. You always did. Slurping up the rest of your drink, you pushed off the bar, and headed towards the dancefloor.

“Holding hands and skimming stones. Had an old gold Chevy, and a place of my own,”

Moving your hips to the beat you vanished in the bodies. And soon you were “hopping and bopping” to the Crocodile Rock, singing loudly along with the crowd to “Laa, la-la-la-la-laa”.

The air was clammy and stuffy, and sweat clung to your skin, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You were here to leave your shitty day behind. To dance it away. You moved through the crowd; a smile bright on your face while your feet couldn’t stay still. The handsome stranger in the booth, already forgotten.

As the song faded out, a new song faded in. It was slower. A slightly erotic, but melodic guitar filled the room, accompanied by a luring salsa rhythm. You slowed down your dancing. It felt like you were threading through water.

“Ain't got nobody that I can depend on. Ain't got nobody that I can depend on,”

A pair of hands landed on your hips, making you jump. Behind you, you heard the deep chuckle of a man.

“Relax, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear, moving your hips in time with his.

You leaned back against his body; head tipped back against his broad chest to get a look at the man. Your stranger from the booth. He wore a cocky smirk, but he didn’t come across as full of himself. He was confident. Confident in the way he held your body – big hands splayed over your hips. Confident in the way he danced, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and he did.

“Ain't got no one (no tengo a nadie). That I know of (no tengo a nadie). That I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

You let him move your body, turning you around to take your hand in his, pulling you closer to his chest. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne. He’d been watching you, you realized, not the bar. Interested enough in you to follow you out on the dancefloor. It intimidated you, but under the intimidation it also excited you.

He led your movements. You were no dancer, but he made it so easy, spinning you around with ease before pulling you back towards his body. The eye contact was intense, like he was searching for your soul. Santana’s wailing guitar and the stranger’s hand at your waist was the only thing grounding you to the moment.

“I ain't got nobody, that I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

The song reached its climactic end. The man spun you one last time before he pulled you tight against his chest. It was like the song’s ending had broken a spell over the two of you, the air of sensuality was gone, and replaced by his genuine smile and breathy laugh.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked you over the funky bassline of Eagles’ One of These Nights.

Wide-eyed, “Please,” was the only thing you could utter.

With a hand resting at the small of your back he led you through the crowd towards the bar, where he got the bartender’s attention immediately.

“An Old Fashioned for me Doug, and…” he looked towards you with a smile.

“Um… a Tequila Sunrise?” you said with a shy smile.

“A Tequila Sunrise, for this beautiful lady,” he told the bartender.

Grabbing one of the bar stools he sat down and gestured for you to do the same. You’d just about sat down before he leaned forward, grabbed a hold of your stool, and pulled you closer to him. A squeal escaped you before it turned into a giddy laugh.

“Thank you, Doug!” he told the bartender when he returned with your drinks.

“On a first name basis with the bartender– you here often?” you asked him, taking a sip of your drink.

“Not as often as I’d liked– it’s my lil’ brother’s club,” he told you, taking a sip of his own drink.

“You’re Tommy’s brother?” you wondered with a frown, a little shocked.

“You know Tommy?” he asked, equally shocked.

You shrugged, “Yes– well… not really.”

He took another sip of his drink, eyes urging you to go on.

“I met him earlier– he’s… well,” you didn’t know how to explain it, “I’m here with my friend Deborah, and I guess her and Tommy are…” you trailed off.

“Fuckin’?” he finished for you, grin wide on his face.

You only nodded, swallowing down another sip of your drink.

“Yeah, I’ve heard all about Deborah…” he trailed off with a look on his face like he knew a secret, “… but nothing about her beautiful friend.”

You huffed out a laugh and turned your head, heat traveling up your neck to your cheeks, “I’m not sure there’s much to know.”

“How about your name?” he suggested.

You turned back to look at him, really look at him.

Had Deborah set him up for this?

You wouldn’t put it past her if she had. She was always urging you to go out with her. To clubs, to parties in The Hills, on double dates. You wanted to go, you really did, but a voice in the back of your head always held you back. You’d thought moving to LA would be the remedy. All alone in a big city would surely help you come out of your shell, right? The harsh reality had been that LA hadn’t magically fixed you. You’d thought you’d be a completely different person here, but you’d packed your insecurities in your baggage. The only person who was gonna help you out of your shell, you’d started to realize… was you.

Putting on a brave face, disguised as a friendly smile, you gave him your name. The man was silent for a moment, nodding as he brought his lips to the rim of his glass again, taking another sip of his drink. It made you hold your breath.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said eventually with an easy grin. His compliment sent a warmth to your cheeks, while you fought an urge to squinch your face with embarrassment.

After a second of silence, you raised a brave eyebrow at him, “What about your name? Or shall I just call you Tommy’s brother?”

He chuckled lightly, eyes glinting, before he cleared his throat, “Name’s Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeated with a nod, making his cocky smile wider. Tasting his name on your tongue, you decided it sounded pleasant on your lips.

“So– you’re Deb’s friend?” Joel started, to which you confirmed with a nod. “How come she’s never brought you ‘round before?” he wondered with a sip of his drink.

You gave him a relaxed shrug, “I’m not much of a drinker– if I’m honest.”

He leaned forward, like he was about to whisper a secret to you, “You are aware of the fact that you’re in a club, aren’t you?” he teased.

Your mouth dropped open before you playfully rolled your eyes at him, “Shut up,” you said, “I’m not usually much of a drinker… at least not without good reason.”

“So, what’s the good reason?” Joel asked, raising a single eyebrow, “Boyfriend dumped ya?”

“Boss dumped me, actually…” you corrected, “I got fired.”

Joel sucked some air between his teeth, “Ouch… you better get another drink, then.” He turned his body towards the bar to casually raise a hand, getting the attention of Doug.

You let out a scoffing laugh, shaking your head at his teasing tone, “Maybe I will.”

As you finish your Tequila Sunrise, Joel ordered you another one, and one for himself. You felt hot to the touch. The alcohol coursed through your body like liquid courage, it traveled through your bloodstream, greasing the part of yourself where your confidence laid dormant.

“What did you work as?” he asked, sipping his own Tequila Sunrise.

“I am–was…” you corrected, “a personal assistant.”

“A good one?” Joel wondered.

Taking a large sip of your drink, you tried to swallow down your failure.

“You’d have to ask my boss,” you breathed out.

“The one that fired ya?” he returned with a cocky smile, and you fought an urge to roll your eyes.

Sitting up a little straighter you narrowed your eyes at him, “What do you do, then? If you’re so good at your job?”

“Never said I was good at it,” he shrugged, cocky grin not going anywhere.

“You gonna make me ask you again?” you deadpanned, your shyness shedding with every sip of your drink.

Joel looked amused, like he was in on a secret only he knew. You continued to stare at him, raising a challenging eyebrow at his continued silence.

“I’m an actor,” he confessed.

You couldn’t hide the impressed look that crossed your face. Sure, you’d been in LA for three years, he wasn’t the first actor you’d met, and he for sure wouldn’t be the last, but it was something about the way he said it.

“A good one?” you used his own words against him, making him chuckle.

He took another sip of his drink, “I’d like to think so,” he smiled, looking at you over the rim of his glass.

“Anything I’d know?” you wondered, watching him put his glass down.

The corners of his mouth twitched into what looked like an ironic smirk, “God, I kinda of hope not,” he said, eyes trailing the scratches and dents in the dark wood of the bar.

You both went quiet, as you sipped your drinks. You’d started to wonder if you’d maybe said something wrong, when Joel cleared his throat.

“Not to mix business with pleasure–” he started, turning towards you, mouth twitching again at the innuendo, “but I happen to be looking for an assistant.”

“Oh, really?” you deadpanned, convinced he was pulling your leg.

“You don’t believe me?” he breathed out a chuckle.

“Let’s see: a strange man dances with me in a club,” you held up a finger, “then buys me a drink, then offers me a job? I may not be from around here, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that one.” You laughed with a shake of your head.

As you laughed, it hit you how easily you found it to jest with Joel. Usually, you were the quiet one. The one observing or just listening, always too shy to joke freely, especially with people you didn’t know, but somehow, in this moment you felt free. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was getting fired. Or maybe… it was Joel.

“Well, believe it or not, I ain’t fibbin’… it really depends on how much you need a job,” he took another sip of his drink.

“I just got fired,” you said matter of factly.

Joel gave you an infuriatingly innocent shrug, “Then you better start believing me when I say I’m looking for an assistant.”

You couldn’t do anything other than scoff in disbelief. “So what?” you asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow, “You’re just gonna offer me a job after knowing me for barely an hour? No interview or nothing?”

“Do I need to be interviewin’ ya?” he wondered innocently.

“It’s a job!” you spluttered, “You always interview people before you give them a job!”

He gave you a nonchalant shrug. “Then I guess I will… so what can you tell me about yourself? What makes you a good assistant?” he asked, tone genuine as he placed an elbow on the bar counter and rested his head in his hand.

“I don’t mean now!” you let out in a nervous squeak, and Joel seemed to enjoy the way you shifted nervously in your seat.

He shrugged, “Alright then… you got time for coffee? Say… tomorrow mornin’?”

Ten to ten the next morning you met Joel for coffee.

Wanting to give him a good and professional impression – he could be your new employer after all – you’d worn your brown three pieced suit with a purple paisley shirt under your suit vest. It made you feel strong– well usually, right now you couldn’t seem to shake the pre-interview nerves… Anyway, you were hoping your outfit would make Joel think you had your shit together – at least put together enough for him to hire you.

With eyes scanning the café, you found him at a table by the window, smoking a cigarette. When you approached him, heels clicking against the hardwood floor, he checked his watch.

“Ten minutes early!” he remarked with a grin.

“Reliability and punctuality are good qualities in a new employee, I’ve heard.” You shot him a shy smile before you placed your bag on the floor by your chair.

He hummed, watching you with an easy smile as you sat down opposite him while shedding your jacket. The white smoke danced in front of his face like coiling ribbons. Clad in a striped polo with a Johnny collar he’d tucked into a pair of Levi’s jeans, he relaxed in his chair, shifting slightly, and spreading his legs wider. The movement, like a reflex, drew your eyes to his lower half. His Levi’s were tight, held in place by a big western belt buckle, but it wasn’t his belt buckle that caught your attention.

“So…” he started. His voice startled you, and you flicked your eyes back to his face. His playful smile told you he’s caught you checking him out. Embarrassed, you looked past him, not daring to make eye contact as you fought the urge to cringe.

“How are ya?” he took another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth.

“I’m–I’m good thank you,” you gave him a nervous smile, the confidence from last night gone with the rise of the sun, “how are you?”

“I’m good too, sweetheart,” he nodded, “wanna have this interview…? Or should I just tell you now you’re hired?”

Perplexed, your eyebrows met in a furrow, “What do you mean?”

“Honey, I already decided last night I’d hire you,” he grinned with another drag of his cigarette.

“I–… I mean are you sure?” you stuttered, “I brought my resume and references and everything– don’t you want to take a look at them?” you wondered, a hand dropping to your bag to fish out your newly typed resume and references. You tapped the papers against the table before placing them neatly in front of him.

Retracting your hands, you rested them in your lap, while you watched him. He placed his cigarette in his mouth before he picked up your resume. His eyes scanned the paper, his head nodding slightly.

“Graduated high school in 1970… A year as a cashier at Piggly Wiggly…” he started listing, his cigarette dipping with each word, “A year at Greasy Motors?”.

“Um– yes!” you peeped, “It’s my uncle’s garage shop– I worked as their secretary,” you told him, picking at the skin around your nails.

“You any good with cars?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he took one last drag of his cigarette.

“No–No not really… I just spoke to the customers, answered the phone and stuff like that.”

You’d wanted to learn some of the basics, but you’d quickly given up. None of the guys had taken you seriously, and they had made sure to let you know where your place was – it was not with your hands deep in an engine.

Joel hummed at your answer and stubbed out his cigarette. “And Mr. Cooper’s the one that fired ya?” he asked.

You gave him a short nod. Your pointer finger burned with pain as you pulled at a piece of skin you’d picked loose around your nail.

“Why?”,

“The honest answer?” you sighed, and he nodded.

“I don’t know,” you told him, “he just called me into his office at the end of the day and told me he was gonna have to let me go– I was honestly too shocked to ask him why.”

“Oof,” Joel frowned.

“Yeah,” you sighed, you didn’t know what else to say.

“Well… you’ve given me a great impression, both last night and right now, so you’ve got the job, sweetheart– if you want it.” He leaned back in his chair, letting your resume fall from his hands.

“It can’t be that easy, can it?” the words fell from your lips before you had time to think. Joel raised a curious eyebrow at you. “I mean what’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch.”

He seemed to think about it for a beat, “Unless there is…” Joel’s lips tugged at the corners as he leaned over the table, “Remember I said I was an actor?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

You gave him a skeptical nod.

“I’m an adult actor…” he lowered his voice, “You understand?” he asked before he leaned back in his seat again.

An adult actor. Your eyes widened with realization.

“Wait… you mean,” you looked around you before you leaned forward over the table like he’d just done, “you’re a pornstar?” you whispered, feeling your cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.

“Is that a problem for you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Was it? Was it a problem for you?

The question tugged at the back of your neck. Tugged on your childhood, on your upbringing. You’d escaped; had your own apartment now, made your own money. You were trying to come into your own, to finally be your own person.

With teeth digging into your bottom lip, you looked at Joel. He watched you expectantly, head tipping slightly to the right as he studied you. There was no malice in his eyes, and nothing about him seemed grimy or obscene… Nothing about him screamed pornstar. If someone like him could do something so… unusual, for a job, maybe wasn’t so bad.

“No,” you decided, “it’s not a problem.”

“Groovy!” he grinned, “I’ll have my manager draw up a contract for you.”

And just like that you were officially Joel Miller’s, aka the infamous Joel Packer, personal assistant.

Joel sat on the tiled steps outside his house, smoking a cigarette, when you pulled up to the curb. He perked up when he saw you, grabbing his worn leather duffel bag before he waltzed down his driveway.

“Cab for Miller?” you joked through the rolled down window, ducking your head to peek up at him.

He chuckled at your joke, pinching his cigarette between two fingers for one last drag, before putting it out with a twist of his shoe. The smog laid low over LA this morning, like a blanket. It was gonna be a long day, and a long drive.

Letting out a small grunt, Joel got in your car. The smell of cigarettes and cologne – the smell of him – filled the space between you. He twisted around tossing his duffel bag into the backseat, and your eyes couldn’t help but land on his bicep, watching the way his muscles flexed under the weight. You felt a sudden urge to roll down the window a little further.

When he turned back around, the smooth wood of your steering wheel looked extremely interesting.

“Thanks for drivin’, sweetheart. My car’s still in the shop for ‘nother few days.”

The corner of your mouth twisted into a small smile, “No problem, Joel.”

“Are we all set?” he breathed out his question before his hands landed on his thighs with a dull smack!

“Um, yes, it’s just…” you turned to look at him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a Steely Dan concert tee – All-American Tour ’74 – with his yellow tinted pilot sunglasses tucked into his neckline.

“Just what, sweetheart?”,

“I picked up a package for you– it’s in the backseat,” you cocked your head in the direction.

“What is it?” he twisted back around, one hand searching for the cardboard box behind his seat.

Even in the smoldering LA heat, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks heat up. “Um… it’s your package.”

“Yeah, I got that, honey– but what is it?” he asked again, twisting his hand back and placing the cardboard box in his lap.

You let out a small whine, “Don’t make me say it Joel– it’s your package.” You gestured a hand over your nether region.

Joel looked at you with a mischievous smile spreading across his face, “Oh, now I really wanna hear you say it,” he teased, hooking his finger under the tape.

“It’syourdick,” you said quickly, “–the dildo.”

In another step towards furthering Joel Packer’s success, he’d been asked to model for a sextoy. It’s no surprise he’d been asked. With the women’s liberation movement gaining more and more followers every day, more women had been exploring their own sexuality. Joel was popular with both men and women. He was like a chameleon when it came to porn. He knew just what to give, whether that would be hardcore porn, tossing his scene partners around and making them come until they couldn’t anymore; or doing full frontal nudity for a centerfold for Playgirl.

With a drag of the tape, Joel laughed, his shoulders shaking. “I can’t believe you’re still shy about that stuff, sweetheart. You’ve been workin’ for me for how long now, huh? And you still can’t say dick to my face– what do you say to my business partners? Wiener?”

“I’m not shy,” you denied rather unconvincingly, making him shoot you an unimpressed look making you flutter. “I don’t know… it’s just different saying it to you!”

“Why?” he asked, pulling out the box with the dildo he’d modeled for.

Your eyes followed his hands, running over the pink packaging, the handsome photo they’d used of him on the front.

“I-I don’t know… it just is.”

A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he hummed – not convinced. Instead, he opened the box, pulling out the sextoy. The company had sent him one before they’d hit the shelves at the end of the month. They were being advertised in Playgirl first – to build up the hype. The sextoy looked exactly like him, and at the same time, nothing like him. The size and shape were true to life (8 inches like they’d advertised on the box), but the color was wrong.

“This is so fuckin’ weird,” he laughed, turning it in his hand, “��s this what I look like?”

“The color looks wrong,” you pointed out. He looked over at you for a beat and then back to the sextoy.

“’s a little… plastic-y,” he commented, “and weird lookin’ without the balls…”

He put the dildo back in the box before he handed it to you. You shook your head and turned the car key, “Just put it back in the backseat.”

“No, ‘s not what I meant,” he nudged your arm with the box, “you have it.”

You were glad the car stood still because the shock of his words would’ve made you get in a car accident.

“Why?” you said, a little flustered.

“Exactly what do women do with a dildo, I wonder?” he teased, nudging your arm again.

“No, Joel, that’s just weird– you’re my boss.” You nudged him back before you put the car in drive.

“You prefer the real thing, then?” a teasing lilt still wrapped around his words.

“Shut up,” you huffed, focusing on driving instead.

“I’m just messin’, sweetheart!” he laughed and threw the box messily behind him.

Leaning forward, Joel pushed the play button on your car radio. The cassette deck whirled before a twangy sound of piano filled your car as you started cruising down the road. A few seconds later Joni Mitchell sang the opening lines of the title track ‘Court and Spark’.

“I need you in charge of the map,” you broke the silence between you after a few minutes, “I don’t know where the house is.”

He opened your glove compartment, pulling out your map of California. You focused on the road while he studied the map.

“Looks like we need to get on the 101– it should take about three hours, Ronald said.”

You hummed. Ronald was Joel’s manager. He’d represented Joel for as long as Joel’s been in porn. Ronald was sleazy, and gross, and you tried to only be in his presence when it was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, for you, Ronald was a good manager, and the reason why Joel Packer was as popular a pornstar as he was.

“When we get to Pismo Beach we’ll just stop and ask around for the address.” Joel said, folding the map.

Usually, Ronald was the one who came along to set with Joel. His reasoning being that there was business to attend to, and that he was supportive of his client, but you knew the real (pervy) reason. You on the other hand had only come along to set a few times. Quick to embarrassment, you’d quickly hid yourself away in Joel’s dressing room, claiming you had work you’d neglected to do.

This time, Ronald couldn’t make it because of scheduling conflicts. Joel was gonna go alone, but then his car had broken down on the 405. He needed a ride, and who else to ask other than the person he paid to help him out. The shoot was taking place at a beach house somewhere in Pismo Beach. You’d never been to Pismo Beach before, and neither had Joel. The booking agent had told you it was nice enough and secluded. Perfect for shooting a porno without bringing too much attention.

Three hours later, you and Joel arrived at the shoot. The beach house was busy and filled with people working like ants to get the film set ready. The shoot was scheduled to last for one day, and as the time flew past 10am, you were starting to get short on time.

As soon as you stepped inside, they ushered Joel straight to make-up and wardrobe. Careful not to be in anybody’s way, you took a look around the house. It was beautiful. Newly built, not more than ten years old you guessed, and right on the beach. Warm wood tones lined the walls and floors, and on the ceilings, sturdy beams met in the middle. A leather couch with matching chairs was turned towards the big floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, and a cowhide rug decorated the floor. They’d set up a step ladder by the windows, all ready for the first scene.

You found Joel a moment later in one of the bedrooms sitting, in a chair as he got his make-up done. You noticed he’d already changed into his costume. A pair of overalls with nothing underneath, and a toolbelt hanging from his hips.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted, his eyes trailing your body.

“Hi,” you smiled, “How you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

He looked at you, a pregnant pause passing between the two of you, “No, not right now.”

“Oh, okay!” you nodded, teeth catching your bottom lip, “Just let me know if there’s anything.”

You moved over to the bed where his clothes were spewed across the bedding. Trying to make yourself useful, you picked them up to fold them.

“D’you know if Tess is ready?” you heard him ask.

Tess was Joel’s scene partner for the day, and also his most frequent scene partner. They’d been in more films together over the past years than you could count, their chemistry always electric. Everything they did was just hot, and this time would be no exception. Tess was playing a neglected housewife all alone in her big beach house until carpenter Joel arrived to help her feel less alone with his tool(s).

“Um, no… I haven’t seen her at all– but I can go find out if you want?” you said, placing his folded t-shirt neatly on the bed.

“No, bless your heart, it’s okay,” he spoke slowly, watching the make-up artist pack up her things before telling him he’s all set.

Left alone with Joel he spoke again, “You gonna watch today?”

His question kicked your heart into gear, stuttering along like a teenager who can’t drive stick. “I-I don’t know yet,” you folded his jeans, “… do you want me to?”

You felt him move closer, but he didn’t answer you. Gathering your courage, you met his eyes. He was watching you with a soft look in his eye, a look he’d sent you more and more often lately.

Grabbing your wrist, his calloused fingers like a warm bracelet, he took his jeans from your hand and placed them down next to his t-shirt.

“I’d like that.”

He said it with a smile, and you couldn’t do anything other than nod.

Joel had started to make you feel lots of things lately. Warm fuzzy feelings bubbled under your skin, just like the warmth from his hand on your wrist right now. Joel was a flirt, cocky and confident. Your complete opposite. You weren’t as shy as you’d been at the start of your job, but you couldn’t help but still be shy around Joel sometimes. Especially when he smiled at you the way he was right now, or when you felt his touch on your body.

The first scene they shot was the intro. A cheesy scene where Joel got invited into Tess the housewife’s home. One too many innuendos about ‘tools’ later, you’d slipped away before lunch time to find the catering table, fixing up a plate for Joel and one for yourself. After lunch, the fun began as the director had said.

“Hey, sweetheart?” Joel’s fingers brushed over the back of your arm, getting your attention. You were about to go sit in his director’s chair, to watch as you’d promised.

“Yeah, Joel?” you looked at him through your lashes, your face curious. You tried very hard to keep them on his face, and not to let them wander to the outline of his hard cock through his overalls.

“Could you go get me some lube?” he asked you, eyes pleading.

“Oh! Um–” you nervously perked up, “Yes, of course,” you nodded, turning around yourself on the spot like you were already on the lookout.

“Thanks!” His hand landed on your shoulder, turning you to focus back on him, fingers rubbed over the material of your shirt. He was smiling at you, a small glint in his eye as he took you in. It made something inside you flutter, your eyes eclipsing over.

“OK guys! Quiet on set!” the director called, pulling you and Joel from your moment. His hand fell from your shoulder, a sorry smile draped across his face.

Slipping away, you went on a hunt for lube. When you came back you were met with the deep grunts of Joel as he got his cock sucked. He was fully naked, standing at the edge of the bed with Tess naked and dutifully on her knees for him – pleasuring him to heaven by the looks of it.

“There you go, baby,” he praised Tess, his big hand entangled in her hair as he pushed himself deeper down her throat. “You like sucking cock, don’t you? Like cheating on your husband like the dirty fuckin’ whore you are, huh?”

You knew he was just reading off his lines, but he said them like he hadn’t practiced at all, it was all so natural. Stumbling backwards towards his director’s chair, you sat down. You felt drawn to the scene before you, caught up in the moment, in the sounds of Joel’s moans and Tess’ spluttering around his cock. Never had you allowed yourself to watch him this openly before – it sent an electric pulse to your core.

Tess gave him head for a few minutes more, filth and praises fell from Joel’s mouth as the cameraman dutifully got every angle. Mesmerized by the scene playing out before you, a small pit started to form in your stomach – a mixture of pleasure and… jealousy. You shifted in the chair at the thought of you on your knees for him instead, pleasuring him and pulling those moans from his lips. Wondering if the praising words he told Tess, would sound different if it was you he told them to instead. You didn’t realize how caught up in the sight in front of you until you heard someone call your name.

It was Joel.

Shaking yourself from your fantasy daydreaming, you pulled yourself together. They’d changed positions while the cameraman changed the film. Joel was now sat on his knees on the bed with his cock standing to attention. On her back, he had Tess’ legs parted and splayed open in front of him.

Why was he talking to you?

He called your name again, figuring you hadn’t heard him over the humming of conversation now filling up the set. You hopped off the chair and nervously scurried over to him.

“What’s up?” you whispered. Your eyes were glued to his face, not daring to glide them even an inch downwards.

He hooked his fingers around your thumb. On his face he was wearing the widest grin, “Could you grab me some water?”

His touch sent your brain into overdrive, your eyes blinking around his question, “Y-yes– I’ll be right back.” His touch fell, and you scurried away to find him some water before they started filming again.

Back, and with a bottle of water in your hand you allowed yourself one quick look at his naked body. His broad chest, the way his muscles moved underneath his tan skin. Your eyes raked over his body, down his stomach, trailing the happy trial down to his impressive cock.

“Okay, everybody– we’re all set!” The loud voice of the director made you jump. Joel handed back the bottled water, a rough hand wiping the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

If he’d clocked you checking him out, he didn’t show it. Instead, he got ready while you made your way back to his director’s chair. Tess said something you couldn’t quite catch, but it got his attention. He grinned from ear to ear, a quick look in your direction, before he playfully shook his head at her.

The next scene had you squirming in your seat.

With his head between her legs, Joel used both his mouth and fingers to pleasure her – and Tess was clearly enjoying herself. Her hands were digging into his hair, pushing him greedily down onto her pussy. High pitched, pornographic moans and whimpers escaped her. Joel was clearly enjoying himself too, moaning and groaning into her pussy as he ate her out greedily, making sure to pull every ounce of pleasure from her.

Tess came with a cry, withering breathlessly as she squirmed in Joel’s hold. He held her shaking legs in a tight grip, not letting up his licking and sucking until he’d pulled another orgasm from her. With a breathless laugh she pushed him away, big wide smile spreading as he peppered kisses to the inside of her thigh. You shifted slightly in your seat. An unmistakable wetness had gathered in your panties. You crossed your leg over the other, subtly.

With a tap to her thigh Joel encouraged Tess to turn over. He sat up, resting back on his heels as he stroked his cock languidly. Tess moved onto all fours, arching her back and putting herself on display for him. The camera moved in closer, a watchful eye, as Joel ran a finger through her folds.

“So wet for me, baby,” he said, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. “This pussy’s been neglected, hasn’t it? ‘s just dying to be fucked.”

He thrusted inside her, burying himself in her pussy, moans and groans falling from both their lips. You felt the air stand still for a beat, before he pulled back and thrusted back inside. They quickly built up a rhythm, skin slap slap slapping, as their moans held the tune. They moved in sync. Joel kept up the pace, hands holding her waist firmly, while Tess met them with a breathy moan. When she gripped the sheets in pleasure, you wondered if it really felt as good as she let on, or if it was all just part of the show.

“Face the camera,” the director interrupted suddenly. He wanted a close up of Tess getting fucked.

Joel slipped out of her, the bright lights catching on his glistening cock. The sight of Tess’ arousal reminded you, and the bottle of lube in your lap, about your insignificancy. Joel quickly slipped back inside Tess, a hand gripping her shoulder as he picked up the pace again.

“Just like that, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.”

You felt silly, the reality of what you’d just done settling in. Why on earth would you agree to watch Joel? Pornstar or not, he’s still your boss. Your longing for him to be something else, would never erase that fact.

Disappointment was a heavy rope tying you down. You needed to get out of there before you hurt your own feelings. Sliding out of the chair, you left the bottle of lube. Straightening out your suede skirt, let out a quiet sigh. You didn’t want to look at him, but something drew you to him either way.

You locked eyes immediately, his eyes were dark and intense. He picked up the pace, Tess almost screaming with pleasure underneath him, but his eyes still didn’t leave yours. You couldn’t look away. The world narrowed until the only thing you could see was him.

With a grunt and a firm thrust, Joel came inside her, mouth parted in pleasure and eyes never leaving yours.

Squeezed into a flimsy plastic chair, feet planted steadily in front of him, Joel sat smoking a cigarette by the pool. Ripples of blue swam across his face, before giving way to the soft warmth of the burning cigarette. He looked deep in thought as you got out of your car, a plastic bag of take-out swinging from your hand. You slammed the door shut, jolting Joel from his thoughts. The evening wind softly kissed your bare arms as you walked across the parking lot to the fenced in pool area.

The shoot had run long and by the time it was over, it was late. Joel was tired, and when he’d suggested you stay at a motel for the night, you’d been quick to agree. Watching the darkening sky, you’d started to dread the three-hour drive back to LA – you’d rather wait for daylight.

Situated right off the main road Joel had spotted a Motel 6 with the neon ‘Vacancy’ light humming. With tired steps you’d walked together towards the lobby, and the lady at the desk didn’t look up from her magazine when you and Joel approached. Behind her, coming through the door to the back office, you heard a laugh track.

Joel turned on his southern charm, “’Scuse me, ma’am.”

The receptionist still didn’t look up from her magazine.

“Do y’all have two rooms vacant?”

With a sigh, the woman looked up at him, peering over her glasses. “We only have one Queen left.” She smacked her lips together obnoxiously as she spoke, a piece of gum visible in her teeth.

Joel looked over at you, one eyebrow raised. Crossing your arms over your chest, you didn’t know what to say. If they only had one room, they only had one room. You tapped your foot restlessly, made a face like you were thinking it over before you gave Joel a short but affirmative nod. He watched you for another beat, before he turned back around to say, “We’ll take it.”

The room was nothing much; a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, two chairs and a table tucked into one corner, and a door leading to a small bathroom. First thing Joel did was find a place to put his bag. You didn’t have a bag, only your handbag, you hadn’t planned on not sleeping in your own bed tonight. Joel, on the other hand, always brought a change of clothes to set. He’d told you once he didn’t like to leave in the same clothes he’d arrived in.

As you closed in on Joel by the pool you realized he was still wearing his clothes from this morning. He’d told you he wanted to shower, so you’d gone out to get you both some dinner to give him some privacy. Now you wondered if he’d even had his shower.

“Hungry?” you asked, putting the plastic bag down on the round table beside him.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, watching you through a cheeky smile, “Starvin’.”

“The only thing open was the roadside diner, so I’m afraid it’s greasy burgers.”

Joel gave you a shrug as you sat down, “Works for me.”

You ate in silence – sloshing coming from the pool and the cicadas hiding in the bushes, filled the air instead. When Joel finished his burger, and started on his fries, he looked up at you.

“So, what’d you think?” he asked you. You were silent for a second, before you looked down at the burger in your hand.

“Er...” you hesitated, not sure what he wanted you to say, “It’s not bad... meat’s a little dry, but–”

Joel interrupted your train of thought with a deep chuckle.

“I meant the porno, darlin’,” he said, using one of the napkins to wipe the corners of his mouth, “not the burger.” A smile pulled at his lips.

“Oh,” you said, and felt your cheeks fire up in embarrassment. You swallowed, buying yourself some time before you gave him a shrug.

“Was good,” you said, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I’m sure your fans will love it!”

“I wasn’t askin’ about them,” Joel said. His gaze felt like it was piercing through you, “Was askin’ you, wasn’t I? Did you like it?”

Despite the desperate embarrassment firing through your veins, you raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me about porn over dinner?”

“Fair point,” he said with a nod, “You’re deflecting, though.”

A small chuckle escaped you, a smile tugging on the corner of your mouth as you shook your head and looked away for a second.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked him, looking back at him, “It’s porn, I’m human... of course I liked it.”

Bingo.

You can see from the corners of Joel’s smile that he’s happy with that answer, and he lets out an agreeing hum.

“See?” he said, his tone teasing, “Was that so hard to admit?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you said through a small scoff, pushing your styrofoam container away from you as you fell back in your chair.

“I am–… what was your favorite part?”

He was grinning hard now. He dug a hand in his back pocket, fishing out his packet of cigarettes and his lighter. You watched him with your head tilted, waiting for him to let you off the hook like he usually did. Instead, he grinned even wider, small splutters of breathy giggles making the cigarette dip as he tried to light it.

“Gimmie that!” you commanded, reaching out your hand for his cigarette. With a surprised eyebrow he took a quick drag before he handed it over. He watched you quietly as you took a breath. Savoring the first tar-y breath filling up your lungs.

“I liked the way you…” you took another drag and exhaled through your nose, “I don’t know…” you handed him the cigarette.

“I’m waitin’,” he teased, making you playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Well,” you sighed, “I liked the way you’re so attentive and made sure she’s feeling good even though it’s acting and everything… Even when you’re like throwing her around, all in charge and stuff.” You waved away the words.

“Yeah, well, that is the most important part of sex,” he gave you a look. Suddenly, he was a little serious. “It’s not fun if she’s not havin’ fun.”

“Not every guy thinks like that, you know,” you spoke, “it’s really nice that you do.”

Joel hummed at your words before a comfortable silence fell over you. You listened to the buzzing cicadas and the burning of Joel’s cigarette every time he took a drag.

“And… the dirty talk was hot too– you’re good at that,” you mused after a moment, breaking the silence, feeling comfortable enough with Joel to tell him the truth. He doesn’t judge you about what you think was sexy, and you realized it felt nice to open up to somebody, to let your suffocating shame die.

“Now, darlin’,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “now you’re just strokin’ my ego.”

“I can stroke more than your ego.”

Joel choked on his cigarette, coughing around the smoke before he looked over at you with wide eyes. “Am I goin’ crazy, or did you just tell a dirty joke?”

Your giggle filled the air between you before you leaned forward for his cigarette again. You brought it to your mouth as you impishly shrugged. Inside, you buzzed with a fluttery feeling.

You smiled at him. “I don’t know– you tell me.”

He playfully narrowed his eyes at you, leaning over the table to get a good look at you, “I’m not sure I’m likin’ this… where’s my sweet girl, huh?”

My sweet girl.

Your heart skipped like stones over water, and you had to look away. A smile blooming across your face. You heard him let out a sweet chuckle before he stood from his chair. The plastic feet scraping ever so slightly against the concrete. You watched him as he stepped before you, squatting down to be at eye level with you, his big hand landing on your exposed knee to steady himself.

“She’s still here,” you whispered after a moment. The cigarette between your fingers was burning out, but your whole body felt like it was on fire, a burning spreading from under his touch.

“I know she is, sweetheart,” he whispered back, his fingers rubbing gently over your skin. Joel looked at you with attentive eyes, “I love how shy you get for me.”

Before you had time to process his words, he pinched the cigarette from your fingers and stood to his feet. “Let’s call it a night?” he asked you, offering up his hand for you to take.

Feeling brave, you took his hand. It dwarfed your own, but it was strong, and warm in your hold. You watched as Joel finished off the cigarette, and stumped it out in the ashtray on the table, before gathering up your trash. You walked back to your room, hands intertwined and swinging between you. You couldn’t shake the thought of how you wished he’d kissed you.

Back inside your room he let you use the bathroom first. It was small, and the air was damp. You could see droplets of water clinging to the shower curtain. Joel did shower after all, he’d rinsed the day off into the drain. With no toiletries, you made do with what the motel offered. A bar of soap was sufficient enough to remove your make-up, but you knew your skin would punish you for it later. After brushing your teeth, you stepped back out where Joel waited for you on the bed.

“I’ve got a spare shirt if you wanna borrow it.” He held up his hand, handing you the clean cotton shirt he’d packed.

“Thanks,” you smiled shyly.

He watched you for a beat, his eyes soft, but tired. “And I’ll sleep in one of the chairs– don’t want ya worryin’ about nothin’.”

Shaking your head, you protested, “No, Joel, you’ve had a long day! I’ll sleep in the chair!”

This time he shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his mouth, “No, darlin’, you’re drivin’ tomorrow, remember? You’ll need your rest.”

Your eyebrows met in a furrow. He was right; you couldn’t do the drive back to LA tomorrow on no sleep, but you couldn’t live with yourself if he didn’t get any sleep either.

“Let’s just…” you trailed off, “You’re tired, I’m tired– let’s both sleep in the bed?” you suggested.

Crawling under the sheets clad in only your underwear and Joel’s t-shirt, you wondered if you were being unprofessional. This was technically a work trip. Joel was still your boss. You looked over at him where he sat on the edge with his back turned, fiddling with the alarm clock. Your eyes trailed over his bare back, tan and strong. You knew you could stare at him all night.

It was official: you’d left professional at the door.

Finally, the alarm clock set for tomorrow morning, Joel put it back on the nightstand. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he caught your eyes on his body. It made him smile.

“Joel? Can I ask you something?”

He got under the sheets, his foot grazing against yours as he got comfortable. “Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Can you turn off the light?”

“You needn’t ask me if you can ask me, to turn off the light,” he laughed, “you can just say ‘Joel, turn off the light’.”

You scrunched your face together. This was coming out all wrong. “No, I mean… I don’t think I can ask you my question with the lights still on.”

He looked you over with a warm smile before he leaned over and turned off the light on his nightstand. “There… what you want to ask me?”

Even bathed in darkness, you hesitated to speak. “Um… I guess…” you started, not knowing how to ask what you wanted to ask. You turned over on your back and stared at the ceiling, cursing the return of your shyness.

Joel waited for you patiently to gather your courage.

“How much… of porn, is fake?” you finally uttered.

Joel turned to his side, facing you, “What do you mean?”

“Like… when– when the girls…” You couldn’t say it.

“Come?”, he helped.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “is that real or… like– do they actually like it?”

“Right…”

Joel thought about your question, “’s hard to say… I mean mostly it’s real– at least in my experience– like I can feel it around my cock or fingers… but everybody has off days, and not everybody can come from penetration.”

Mostly it’s real. You went quiet, silently thinking about his answer as you stared a hole in the ceiling. Not everybody can come from penetration.

“Why you askin’ me this, sweetheart?” He shifted a little closer.

You pulled your hands from under the sheets, resting them over your chest. Your thumb on your right hand found your thumb on the left where it picked at the skin.

“Huh?”

“I– I don’t know… it’s silly.”

“No, ‘s not– you’re not silly, sweetheart.” He shifted a little closer, a reassuring hand falling over your own and stopping you from picking at your fingers.

You didn’t say anything, and you didn’t look at him either. You felt silly. You’d just complimented him earlier about how attentive he comes across in bed, and now you’re asking him if any of it was even real.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Joel asked, breaking the silence between you.

Nodding your head, you hummed.

“Are you a virgin?”

His question almost made you jump. Suddenly, his previously calming hands over yours felt heavy. A fire started in your cheeks. You were mortified, and it felt crazy. If you were back home right now, you’d be mortified to tell anyone you weren’t a virgin seeing as you were unmarried. Now, with Joel, you felt mortified he thought you were one.

“No,” you peeped. It would’ve sounded like a lie if it wasn’t the truth. “W-what makes you say that?” You finally looked at him, your eyes wide as saucers.

Unconvinced, he gave you a lopsided smile, “How many have you slept with?”

“How many have you slept with?” you mumbled.

“Honey, we both know that I’ve slept with way too many to count.” He said it with a teasing lilt to his voice, and a comforting rub of his thumb over the back of your hand. His small touch was enough to relax you, to bring you back from the ledge of mortification. This was Joel for god’s sake. He would never judge you; you knew that.

“One…” you whispered, “Only one person.”

With a hum, Joel shifted over to lay on his back, but his thumb still rubbed circles over your skin. “So– you’re asking me this ‘cause it was bad?” he mused.

“I don’t know… maybe,” you whispered.

“You don’t know if it was bad– or you don’t know why you’re askin’ me if women enjoy sex?”

“The latter,”

“So, it was bad,” he concluded, before he whispered, mostly to himself.

The silence was back, speaking loudly between the two of you as you both processed what the other had just said. After a beat Joel turned back on his side to face you again.

“Tell me– how bad was it?” He said it softly, a tenderness in his voice you hadn’t heard before.

“It just… it hurt.”

You sighed, and for the first time since the light went out you turned your head to look at him. “John–” your face scrunched up in a grimace as you spoke his name, like you couldn’t believe you were telling him this story. “He worked in accounting, and we were going around, you know? Went on a few dates. He was a sweet guy. After the third date we went back to his place, for a drink. He kissed me– and then we were making out, and during everything I just thought ‘This might as well happen’. I thought I wanted to lose my virginity… and I liked John– so why not. But then he just… pulled off my underwear, didn’t even touch me and… went to town.”

Joel sucked a breath through his teeth, his hand gripping yours a little tighter. “Did you– have you ever had an orgasm?”

You shifted uncomfortably under his question and turned your head back towards the ceiling again. “Yes,” you whispered.

Joel moved a little closer, and you felt your body dip towards him from his weight against the mattress. His hand resting over yours traveled down your arm, and under the sheet.

“By your own hand then,” he said it more like a statement than a question.

You felt your heart beat out of your chest, as something in the air between you shifted. Underneath the covers your body burned. Sucking in a breath, you held it for a moment before you nodded.

“Show me.”

His hand grazed over your waist, fingers dancing over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of your panties. You reveled in it, his touch, his proximity, his gentle kiss to your shoulder. You looked at him, searched his face for any indication that he was just messing with you.

“No? Ain’t feelin’ it?” He’d watched you too, you realized.

He withdrew his hand from your waist, and you panicked, “No!”

He stopped, instead hovering his hand over your body. “No, you ain’t feelin’ it, or no, don’t stop?” he asked you.

You panicked again. “Yes!” you said before your eyebrows met in a furrow, “I-I’m sorry, this isn’t very sexy.”

Joel withdrew his hand from your body, and your disappointment sank like a rock in water, but then he cupped your jaw and you forgot to breathe.

“Forget about sexy, sweetheart,” he told you, a calloused thumb rubbing against your skin, “not that you ain’t sexy– you are, but I need you to relax, okay?”

You nodded, and a smile spread wide across his face,

“Good girl.”

You almost mewled at the praise, and he noticed, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

“You liked that, huh?” he teased, rubbing his thumb softly over your lower lip, “Y’like being a good girl for me?”

You found it hard to think with him so close, breathless when he touched you like this. You nodded slowly; moony eyes fixated on him. Like a reflex, your legs rubbed together under the sheets, aching to relieve the pressure building.

“You’re so sweet, baby– and shy,” his voice was low, like he was afraid someone would hear him. Slowly he leaned closer, pressing the softest kiss to your neck. A quiet whimper fell from your lips.

You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, teeth nipping as he pressed kiss after kiss to your sensitive skin. “You make my cock so fuckin’ hard.”

“Joel,” you finally choked out, a wet patch already soiling your panties.

“Yes?” he took your earlobe in his mouth, gently biting down on it before letting it go. You couldn’t think – at least not about something that wasn’t Joel and his touch.

“P-please kiss me?” you tried, your hand landing on his shoulder.

His breath puffed against your skin in a small chuckle, before he lifted his face from his new home in the crook of your neck. He found your blown out face, watching you with a tenderness in his eye. A beat passed and then he leaned closer, brushing his lips over yours. Your hand on his shoulder followed his neck to cup his face, keeping him close to you. His hand pushed gently at the sheets, revealing your upper body to him. The kiss was tender and slow, your noses pressed together. He pulled you apart and then put you together again. One of his hands trailed along the hem of your – his – t-shirt where he pushed at the fabric, bunching it just below your breasts. You broke apart.

“Was that all you wanted, sweet girl? Just a kiss?” His forehead touched your own, words low and taunting. You slowly shook your head, eyes still locked with Joel’s. His hand moved methodically, trailing down your stomach until it reached…

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“No?” he asked with a teasing grin, “What do you want then, sweetheart?”.

He already knew. His open palm cupped you over your soaked panties, the breadth of it pressing firmly down on your clit. You mewled under him, hips bucking up to meet his hand.

“Nah-ah,” he lifted his head from your forehead, dark eyes boring into yours. “You need to show me.”

Joel had started a dangerous fire inside of you. It lapped at your insides, burned away your insecurities, and replaced them with lust. With a shaky hand, your hand found Joel’s. His eyes were still locked on you – his gaze burning your cheek and branding you his.

“There you go,” he praised, letting you guide his hand up and down your clothed cunt, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric, “good girl.”

You guided him to your clit, pressing the pads of his finger down on it in tight circles. You were so sensitive – on edge since you watched him filming earlier – a small moan fell from your lips.

“Feels good doesn’t it, baby, getting your clit rubbed.”

“Yes…” Joel drew another moan from you.

Your grip around his hand loosened, and Joel took over. With a practiced hand he circled his fingers just right. He started with a steady pace and tight circles, before he put more pressure on your aching bud. He was bringing you closer and closer to the edge, coaxing small whimpers and breathy moans from your lips as you got more and more lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

“Have you ever fingered yourself, sweetheart?” he asked you, dipping his hand beneath your panties. A bold finger ran through your folds, a finger teasing at your entrance.

Your front teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite down to suppress a moan. It was hard to concentrate on what he was asking you when he was touching you like that.

“Y-yes, but…” you trailed off, feeling his finger, now coated in your arousal, back on your clit. It made your brain go blank.

“But what, sweet girl?” he pulled his hand from your panties, and you whined.

A wet trail followed him up your stomach. When you made no move to answer, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Leaning closer he pressed a short but tender kiss to your lips; his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow.

“It’s too messy,” you said when he pulled back, shaking your head.

“Yeah? You’ve got a messy pussy, sweetheart?”

Joel leaned down again, pressing soft fluttering kisses down your throat. When he reached the collar of your shirt, he pulled at the fabric, exposing your collarbone to his kisses. Your hands found his hair, tethering you to the moment.

“Yes,” you whispered, heat burning your cheeks at the confession he pulled from you.

With a wide grin, Joel sat up. His fingers found the hem of your shirt. He helped you pull it over your head, exposing your naked chest to him. Not even a second later he was back to kissing his way down your body, worshiping you with every press. You burned under him, every kiss like a small death.

Shifting on the bed, he settled between your legs. His mustache tickled the skin on your tummy, making you giggle. You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, at the sound of your fluttering laugh. He let his lips brush over your skin, trailing downwards to the top of your panties where he pressed a kiss, teeth pulling at the small bow like you were a present to be unwrapped, before his fingers hooked around the elastic. With a lift of your hips, you let him pull off your panties. The wet spot in the center clung to your cunt, as he peeled them off.

“Fuck,” he cursed, “wanna taste you, baby, wanna taste that messy pussy.”

With his fingers back on your cunt, you jumped a little under his touch. The air filled with a slick sound of your arousal as he ran them through your folds, a finger teasing your entrance.

“Relax for me baby,” he soothed, gently pressing kisses to the soft skin of your inner thigh, “I’ll take care of you.”

Looking down at him between your legs, you let yourself go. His eyes bored into yours. Warmth and lust, and nothing but affection behind them.

You nodded, “Please.”

A wide grin blossomed across Joel’s face as he leaned down, hovering just above your clit. He ducked forward, pressing the softest kiss to your clit, taking it slow and easing you into it with slow licks. You couldn’t help the whimpers escaping you, a needy sound desperate for more – more Joel. He pinned you down with his arm splayed over your tummy, keeping you right where he wanted you, turning you into a withering moaning mess under him.

Joel continued exploring you with his tongue. Changing between flicking and lapping at your clit, circling it just right, and wrapping his lips around it, giving it gentle sucks. He lapped at your folds, the hook of his nose catching on your clit as he tasted you properly. You felt yourself pushed closer and closer towards the edge, coxed by Joel.

Two careful fingers spread you apart, gliding up and down, coated in your arousal. He easily found your entrance to push a finger carefully inside. You felt yourself clench down on him; you couldn’t help it. You were so sensitive and so close. Dropping your mouth open, a breathy moan escaped.

“Oh, fuck,”

Joel hummed against your pussy, the vibrations traveling straight to the coil tightening in your tummy. Slowly, he started thrusting his finger inside, rewarded by a slick sound, telling him just how wet and desperate you were for him. With a moan your head rolled back into the pillow – you were so close.

“Joel,” you panted.

His tongue continued his assault on your clit, and you lost yourself in him. You clamped down on his finger with every thrust. You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Joel was so focused on you, so attentive, so responsive. Between your legs he drank in every twist of pleasure and whimpering moan.

“Joel,” you panted again.

“You’re gonna come for me aren’t you, sweetheart? Be a good girl and make a mess on my face.” he coaxed.

Joel quickly withdrew his finger to slip in another, and the new stretch had your legs shaking. His tongue circled your clit, sucking it with just the right amount of pressure. Underneath him you squirmed, breathy moans hitching in your throat.

“Oh, god,”

You couldn’t answer him. Couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t take it anymore.

With a silent cry, you came. His strong arm over your tummy held you down, as you twitched against the mattress, legs shaking. You’d never felt anything like this before. A pleasure so all-consuming you couldn’t remember your name, or where you were – only Joel. He helped you through it. His fingers kept up their pace, pads brushing right up against that spot of bliss, as you clenched down hard around them. You gripped the sheets, desperate for a lifeline as you came down.

Joel slowed down his fingers, pressing soft kisses to your clit. Your pleasure turning to overstimulation – now you definitely couldn’t take it anymore. Fragile and sensitive, you pushed him away with a shaky hand.

He let you push him around, his lips finding the inside of your thighs instead, where his mustache teased the sensitive skin. With one last kiss, Joel pulled away. You almost didn’t register the dip in the mattress as he laid down beside you. You were somewhere else entirely, floating away on a post-orgasm-cloud.

“Joel, shit, I…” you tried to speak, your voice hoarse with exhaustion.

“I know, sweetheart,” Joel answered. He pulled you closer, wrapping a hand around you. Slowly, you turned to your side, engulfed in Joel’s embrace.

“D-did you want to–”

You could feel the presence of his hard clothed cock pressed against your ass, but his big safe arms around you told you a different story. He nosed at the back of your neck, pressing fluttering kisses to the skin, making goosebumps erupt.

“No, darlin’, not tonight,” his voice was just above a whisper, the bass vibrating against your ear.

“Are you sure? I-I mean– we can if you want to,” you spluttered. He’d just given you the best orgasm in your life, he shouldn’t have to go to bed without one for himself.

“Not tonight,” he said, pressing a kiss behind your ear, “It’s been a long day– I’m tired, you’re tired… let’s just sleep, my sweet girl.”

“S-should we talk about this?” you asked, your hand slipping into his, pressing it against your naked chest.

“In the mornin’,” he hummed, voice coated in sleep.

With heavy eyelids, you fell asleep in Joel’s arms. The safety of being wrapped up in him, lulled you into a peaceful slumber. The motel bed was hard and uncomfortable, and the pillow thin and flimsy, but it didn’t matter in Joel’s arms.

Morning came too quickly, and with a screeching sound of an alarm clock that pulled you from heaven. Jolting awake behind you, Joel groaned. His hands slipped from your body; the warmth exchanged with prickling goosebumps. You shifted over on your back, watching as Joel turned off the alarm. The beeping stopped, and with a tired grunt Joel laid down back beside you. When he looked at you – his tired eyes glinting – a sleepy smile pulled at his lips.

“Mornin’,”

“Good morning, Joel” you smiled back.

“It is a good mornin’, isn’t it?” he hummed, turning on his side.

You mirrored him, shifting closer and resting your head on his pillow. He snaked a hand over the dip in your waist, big hand splaying over your naked back.

“It is,” you agreed, locking eyes with him.

Rubbing in slow circles, his hand on your back was soothing. You reveled in it, reveled in Joel, in the bliss of being so close to him. You shifted even closer, resting your forehead to his chest.

“You should probably fire me,” you mumbled into his skin, “I’ve been extremely unprofessional.”

A chuckle came from deep inside Joel, it vibrated through his skin, where you felt it under your fingertips.

“I ain’t firin’ my best employee,” he laughed, placing a dry kiss to the top of your head.

You pulled away with a frown, head back on your own pillow. “This is like the cliché of clichés, Joel– sleeping with your assistant…”

In the bright light of the day, you cursed yourself for your late-night moment of weakness. You’ve never done anything like this before. What if this will be all that Joel wants from you from now on? You don’t think your heart could take it if it was.

Joel’s laugh died in his throat, his eyebrows meeting in a frown. “Who said anything about sleepin’ with my assistant?”

Your eyes widened with mortification. Shit. A hand came up to rub at your face, as you sat up, pulling the sheets around you.

“Hey, no, sweetheart,” Joel grabbed at your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

You couldn’t look at him – afraid tears would push behind your eyes. He’s a pornstar, what were you thinking? You were just a girl. A girl to warm his bed for a night. How could you put your job on the line for something like this?

The sheets rustled as he shifted closer, “Please, lay down, I need to talk to you.”

“Joel, I-I’m sorry– w-we can just forget about it– I’ll quit, don’t worry about it– me, don’t worry about me,” you stuttered out, your back still turned.

“I ain’t forgettin’ about nothin’, sweetheart– shit, d’you think I do this often?”

His question made you turn around. He was propped up on his elbow, carefully watching you.

You nodded, and he sighed.

“It’s been years since I’ve slept with someone outside of work,” he confessed, “Shit, I don’t even seek it out, I ain’t interested in it.”

“I-I’m sorry Joel, I–” you started, but he cut you off,

“You’re not listenin’,” he shook his head, “what I’m sayin’ is: I wanna sleep with you.”

Your face scrunched up in a confused frown, “Because I’m someone from work?”

Joel let out a breathless chuckle, “No, sweetheart, ‘s because I think you’re beautiful.”

His words almost didn’t register.

“What?”

This time his laugh is loud and golden, coated in happiness. He pulled at your hand, and you fell, your back hitting the sheets.

“You are…” he emphasized, cupping your cheek, and guiding you back in his embrace. “And you’re a shy little thing, aren’t you? But so smart, and kind, and caring– someone you can’t help but fall in love with.”

“Fall in love with?” you repeated, you couldn’t believe what he was telling you.

“Yeah, sweet girl,” he smiled at you, all teeth, and crinkles around his eyes in the morning light.

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” he laughed, guiding your face closer to his, his lips brushing over yours, “wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

His kiss stole your breath and twisted you up inside. He licked at the seam, and you opened yourself to him. He licked into your mouth, one arm snaked around your body, drawing you closer, pulling whine after desperate whine from you and stealing your breath.

Landing on your hip, his hand traveled downwards – over the thick of your thigh, and down the inside in smooth motions. He tugged on your leg, pulling it to rest over his hip, his hard cock rutting into your bare heat. His kiss got more desperate; his tongue melded with yours. It was hot, and dizzying and all-consuming all at the same time.

You grinded against him, feeling his hard cock against you. The fabric of his underwear caught on your clit, rubbing it just right, your arousal darkening the fabric. You moaned into his mouth, a desperate need for Joel building deep in your stomach.

With a rut of his hips, he broke away from your kiss. “You want me to fill up this perfect little pussy, don’t you baby?” His hand on your cheek disappeared between your bodies.

“Yes,” you tried to say, but the words got stuck in your throat when you felt the head of Joel’s cock rub up and down your folds. Your heavy breathing, the slick sound of your arousal the only sound in the room.

“Listen’ baby, y’hear how wet you are for me?” he whispered in awe, the head of his cock caught on your clit. You braced yourself with a hand to his shoulder, breathy pants the only sounds leaving your lips.

“You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” he chuckled. He let go of the grip around his cock, the sound of it slapping against his stomach obscene. A beat later he swiped his fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal before drawing tight circles to your clit.

Your face squeezed shut in pleasure, your fingers dug into his shoulder. He eased a finger inside, before he quickly pulled out and added another. The stretch of his fingers was easy, your arousal dripping over his knuckles as he thrusted them inside with ease.

You grinded down on his hand, meeting his thrusts, forcing his fingers deeper inside. Always so attentive, Joel curled his fingers where they hit your spot perfectly, just like he’d done last night. A breathy squeal fell from your lips.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let me hear you,” he egged you on.

“Joel, please,” you panted. Sparks traveled through your body, collecting in a pit in your stomach where it coiled in on itself, aching for release.

He curled his fingers again, and hit your spot – his palm snug against your throbbing clit, “Fuckin’ perfect you are, darlin’, so tight and wet around my fingers.”

“Shit,”

He pushed you straight for the edge, your walls fluttered around his fingers. Your panting got heavier, your eyes squeezed shut, you’re so close. Joel chuckled, his breath puffing your face and he… pulled away.

You whined at the emptiness, opening your eyes to see him staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

He cupped your jaw, “Poor baby,” he pouted before he pulled you in for a kiss. You sighed into him, desperate to feel him anyway he wanted.

“Turn around,” he ordered against your lips, his hand letting go of your jaw to tap at the top of your hip.

You did as he told you, turning around in his hold to press your ass against him, feeling his hard cock pressed against you. Behind you, you heard him let out a deep and guttural groan. His hand hooked under your thigh, lifting it to your chest and exposing your wet and desperate cunt for him. You let him manhandle you into the position he wants, trusting him to know what’ll feel the best.

He guided the tip of his cock through your soaked folds coating it in your arousal before grazing it over your throbbing clit.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he whispered in your ear, like a hiss. He lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you, and himself.

“I-I need it, Joel, please,” you begged, a hand clinging to the sheets.

“Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need this big cock to fill you up?” he asked, pushing just the tip inside.

“Joel, please, please,” you whimpered, almost a squeak. In one fluid motion he pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt inside you. The stretch of him was overwhelming, but the angle had you seeing stars.

“Ah– fuck,” you cried, your eyes immediately squeezing shut. Your hand searched for his where it held your leg to your chest. You needed to anchor yourself to him, afraid you’d fall apart right there and then.

“You alright sweetheart?” you heard him whisper in your ear, and you nodded slightly, “Feel good?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whimpered, mouth dipping open in pleasure.

Behind you he groaned into your ear, cursing in hushed whispers. “That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all that cock inside,” he pulled out nearly all the way, taking his time with it, moving with practiced motions.

“Shit,” you mewled as he bottomed out inside for the second time. Grinding against your ass, he pushed himself as deep as he possible could – you felt him in your fucking stomach, he was so deep.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” he told you, pulling out and thrusting back inside.

Picking up the pace, Joel started fucking into you deep and hard. With each grind of his hips against your ass, with every thrust, he made sure to bury his thick cock as deep inside as he could, angling his cock expertly so the head rubbed up against your spot. Behind you he grunted and moaned in your ear. It was sweaty and hot, and sticky between your legs.

He let go of your leg, ordering you to press it to your chest, as his hand traveled downwards to brush his fingers over your throbbing clit.

“Joel,” you mewled. He pulled a symphony of whimpers and moans from you with every thrust.

“This pussy’s so fuckin’ tight– shit,” he panted in your ear, “You’re so good for me baby, takin’ that cock so well.”

His fingers pressed down on your clit, drawing tight circles, pushing you towards the edge of bliss. You squirmed against him, hips meeting his with every thrust as you start to chase your fast approaching orgasm.

“Need you to come for me, sweetheart– squeeze that cock like a good girl.”

“Joel,” you cried and let go. Your walls fluttered around his cock as you came, back arching off his chest, as your body squirmed and shook in his arms. Breathy gasps and pathetic whimpers left your lips as he kept up his unrelenting pace, fucking you through it, and prolonging your high.

You were far away. Blissed and fucked out as you came down from your moment of ecstasy. Behind you Joel’s grunts bordered on desperate, as his thrusts started to become sloppy.

“Shit, sweetheart– m’close, so fuckin’ close.”

“Come for me Joel,” you pleaded.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he pulled out.

His hand was on you in an instance, pushing you to your stomach as he turned you around. He knelt over you, fisting his cock desperately. Turning your head, you pushed off the bed to look over your shoulder where you found his eyes, locking them with his. Joel came with a guttural moan, the muscles in his stomach tightening and loosening as he coated your ass in his cum. It was hot and sticky on your back, feeling it drip slowly down the side of your waist.

“God damn,” he breathed out through a chuckle. His breath was heavy, like he’d just climbed ten stories.

You turned to your side to look up at him properly. He looked beautiful; his hair messy from sleep, broad chest heaving, a content smile pulling at his lips as you gave him a smile.

“Took the words straight out of my mouth.”

i hope you liked this! part two -> here

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #dom!joel miller #the last of us smut #tlou smut #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal #inexperienced!reader #70s AU

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dixons-sunshine · 4 months ago

Text

Accidents Happen | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: It wasn’t supposed to happen. Daryl was only picking you up from work. He didn’t want the night to end with the both of you in the hospital with no clue if you’d be okay.

Genre: Hurt/comfort.

Era: Pre Apocalypse.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: Blood, injuries, allusions to drunk driving, car accident.

Word count: 2.4k.

A/N: A few facts surrounding the rescue is probably not accurate. I didn’t have any internet while writing this so I winged it. Just a quick warning before you read! There are more than likely inaccuracies in this!

“Hey, Dar,” you greeted your husband with a smile, hopping into the old truck Daryl had taken to work for the day. You settled back into the worn leather, letting out a big sigh of relief. You were relieved that the day was over. Being at work at past seven pm should be illegal, you thought to yourself.

Daryl gave you a small smile. “Hey, Peach.” He started up the truck once he saw you were settled and pulled out of the parking lot. “Long day, huh?”

“God, you don’t even know the half of it,” you groaned. It had indeed been a long day; from parent-teacher conferences to meetings you couldn’t care less about, on top of having to break up multiple fights throughout the day, it was safe to say that you were exhausted.

Daryl chuckled and absentmindedly started chewing on his thumbnail as he pulled onto the back road that would make for a faster route back to your apartment than braving the traffic on the highway. “‘Least s’Friday. Two days’a freedom, huh?”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Nope. I need to work on some stupid report. All the teachers have to. We need to have it done by Monday.” You sighed and reached for your husband’s hand and interlaced you fingers through his, something you subconsciously did whenever you noticed him chewing on his thumbnail.

Daryl rubbed his thumb over your knuckles affectionately. “Ya’ll be alright. I don’ have anythin’ planned for the weekend anyways so I’mma be at yer beck and call. Anythin’ ya need, okay?”

You smiled at him. However, before you could say anything, the flashing of another car’s lights caught your attention. The car was in the wrong lane; it was beelining straight for Daryl’s truck. “Shit! Daryl, look out!”

Your words barely registered in the air before Daryl was gripping the steering wheel, trying to swerve out of the maniac’s way. However, by doing so, Daryl lost control of the vehicle, and the car swerved away from the road and into the treeline.

The last thing that you remember was an immense feeling of dread. And then...

It all went black.

Daryl gasped as he regained consciousness. His mind was hazy. His head was pounding. His body was aching, and he very quickly became extremely aware of the fact that he was pinned beneath a piece of debris. What had happened? Why the hell wasn’t he at home? Why was he still in his truck? Why was he pinned beneath his truck’s dashboard?

However, as his mind started to catch up with him, he became acutely aware of what had happened. Another car had been driving on the wrong side of the road, forcing him to have to swerve his truck. The same truck Merle had given to him years ago. The same truck he had used to pick you up from work.

Daryl’s eyes widened and he quickly looked over to his right, praying for the first time in his life. However, he had no idea if his prayers were answered when he saw the state you, the love of his life, were in. You were unconscious, with blood noticably gushing in rivers from your head.

“Shit, Y/N!” Daryl called to you hoarsely, a sharp pain shooting through his upper body when he tried to turn and reach you. He probably had a broken rib. A bruised one, if he was that lucky. “Y/N, oh my god. Darlin’? Peach, please wake up,” he called desperately. He tried his hardest to get to you, but with his body being pinned beneath the dashboard, his attempts were proven to be futile.

To say Daryl was terrified would be an understatement. Other than the pain shooting from his ribcage when he tried to move and the incessant pounding in his head, he was relatively fine. You, on the other hand, looked terrible. He didn’t know what to make of the fact that he couldn’t seem to wake you. His mind was wandering to places he didn’t like. He wouldn’t let his mind accept that you were dead. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t survive if you passed away. The mere thought of having to bury you sent his mind into a spiral, and he started hyperventilating. “Oh god, Peach, please talk to me. Please!”

“Sir, please calm down. Everything is going to be alright.”

The sound of someone’s voice had Daryl snapping his head back to look to his left. His cerulean eyes locked with what appeared to be a police officer, two firemen standing next to him. As Daryl’s mind started to process this new bit of information, he realized that a bunch of police vehicles and an ambulance surrounded the area, as well as a few news reporters. Fucking vultures, Daryl thought about the reporters as his eyes flickered back to the police officer. However, in his place, he found two paramedics, carrying a stretcher. Daryl had barely even realized that the dashboard had been lifted from him. However, before the paramedics could lift him onto the stretcher, Daryl was resisting.

“Nah, get her first,” Daryl basically pleaded with the men in front of him. “Get her first. Please. Take care’a her first.”

“Sir, please remain calm. Just focus on your breathing, okay?”

“Get her first!” Daryl exclaimed as he felt his breathing become more erratic. He was pushing the hands of the men off of him. “God, please. Don’ let her die. Please.”

One of the paramedics signalled something over his shoulder, and soon, the door to your side was being pried open and two other paramedics were tending to you and lifting you out of the car and onto a separate stretcher. Daryl let out a sigh of relief. Good. You were being taken care of. He could relax somewhat. However, his relief was short-lived when the paramedics started moving at a more frantic pace, his worry reappeared.

“What? What’s wrong?!” Daryl exclaimed in a panicked tone. Please don’t let her die, Daryl silently begged to whatever higher power was willing to listen to him.

“Sir, please remain calm. We’ll do everything in our power to ensure your wife’s well-being,” one of the paramedics reassured him. He then beckoned the other paramedic closer and together, began to lift Daryl onto his own stretcher.

Daryl didn’t fight back this time. There was no use to do so. You weren’t in the car anymore. You were being wheeled away to the ambulance. His only option at that moment in time was to co-operate. You’d want him to. He knew that.

As he was wheeled into the ambulance—thankfully the same one that you were in—he turned his head to look at you. The sight that beheld him made him want to burst into tears, but he didn’t. He needed to be strong and hope that your stubbornness prevailed in the face of death, that you’d flip death the bird and live to see another few decades.

You had to be fine. You just had to.

“M’not sure. I think it was a blue car? Was definitely a blueish-black car. One’a the headlights had this weird ass green colourin’ to it and the hood had its paint scraped off. Was white underneath, I think. M’sorry. S’all I remember.”

“It’s okay. Every bit of information helps. We’ll try our best to track the perpetrator down,” a police officer—Deputy Henderson or Hallmark or something—told Daryl, sending him his version of a reassuring smile.

To be quite honest, Daryl could hardly believe that he had retained even that slightest bit of information on the asshole that had caused the car wreck. Everything had happened so fast. Everything had gone to hell in a mere second.

Daryl nodded at the officer and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “S’it alright if I go now?”

The deputy nodded in understanding. “We’ll be sure to keep you updated. Go be with your wife.”

With that, Daryl turned around and walked back towards room 207—the room where you were laying unconscious. As Daryl slowly lowered himself into the chair next to your bed, an action he had done since late the previous evening, ever mindful of his bruised ribs—one lucky thing that had come from the accident, a mere bruised rib—and leaned forward to gingerly take your hand in his, and that was the position he stayed in for nearly two hours. According to the doctors, you would be alright. You suffered from a broken leg, a really horrible concussion, multiple bruises and two deep cuts that needed stitches, but you were otherwise okay.

Daryl didn’t believe in miracles, but in that moment, there was no other word that could describe it. You had looked terrible when the paramedics had rolled you into the ambulance, and Daryl had been convinced that the injuries you had sustained would be far more lethal. It was truly a miracle that you had gotten of relatively okay. However, Daryl still got off better than you, and he felt terrible about that. He would much rather have been suffering in that bed in your place than have to witness you he hurt ever again.

“If you think any harder, you’ll burn a hole right through your head.”

Daryl’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice. A wave of relief crashed over him, and had it not been for the state you were in, he would have crushed you to him in a hug. However, he settled on tightening his grip on your hand, his cerulean blue eyes staring deeply into your own. “Yer awake,” he whispered, almost disbelievingly.

You nodded and sent him a small smile, albeit a little strained due to the pain that shot through your body when you tried to move. The drugs pumping through your system helped numb most of the pain, but not all of it, however. “I’m awake,” you confirmed, lacing your fingers through his, just like you had done the night before. However, once your eyes focused more, you could see the very prominent bruising on his face and around his eye, making you gasp. “Oh my god, Daryl... What happened?”

Daryl sighed and looked down at the bed, intentionally shielding his injury from you as to not make you worry more. “Car accident,” he began to explain in a quiet tone of voice. “Some asshole was drivin’ in the wrong lane. I had to swerve and then lost control’a the truck. We crashed into a tree.”

You frowned and looked at Daryl in concern. “Are you okay? That bruise—”

Daryl involuntarily let out a small chuckle at your concern. Leave it to you to worry more about other people than yourself, even when you were supposed to worry about yourself. Some things never change. “Yeah, m’fine, Princess. I promise.” Daryl stopped for a moment, swallowing at the lump that formed in his throat, before continuing. “M’so goddamn sorry, Sweetheart. I didn’t mean to cause all’a this.” He gestured to your battered and bruised body for added emphasis. “I was an idiot. I should’a jus’ drove into the other lane. I shouldn’t’a swerved into the fuckin’ treeline. M’so sorry. I—”

“Stop apologizing,” you cut him off with a stern yet gentle voice. “It’s not your fault, you hear me?” Daryl went to protest, but you continued before he could. “It is not your fault. You were placed in an impossible situation and you didn’t have time to think of a plan. You had to act fast, and you did. Imagine if you hadn’t swerved and we collided with that car. We would’ve been worse off. Sure, I’m a little broken and bruised in some places, but I’m fine. I’m alive. There’s absolutely nothing to feel guilty over. You understand?”

Daryl understood. He just didn’t really believe it. However, he wasn’t about to start an argument with you when you were in such a fragile condition. Besides, deep down, Daryl could admit that there was some truth to your words. But he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself until that asshole that caused this was caught for his crimes.

Daryl brought your hand up to his mouth, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your knuckles. “Okay,” he finally conceded. “M’jus’ real glad yer alive. When I woke up in the truck and saw ya passed out and ya wouldn’t wake up... I thought I had lost ya.” Unwillingly, a few tears fell from your husband’s eyes. He didn’t even notice.

Your heart ached for Daryl. Had the roles been reversed, and he was the one laying in that bed, you’d probably have reacted the same way. You gently rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, silently willing the man to look at you. “I’m here. It’s gonna take a whole lot more than that to take me away from you, I promise.” When Daryl didn’t respond, you took it upon yourself to attempt to lighten up the air. You could tell your husband needed a distraction. “You think they’ll give me an extension on that report? I’m not gonna have it done by Monday.”

By some stroke of luck, that had managed to get a small smile from Daryl. He shook his head and looked at you affectionately. “If they don’t give ya that extension, m’personally gonna shoot each and every one’a ‘em.”

You chuckled and sent him a small smile. “I love you so much, you know that?”

Daryl’s smile turned more genuine at your words. “I love ya more, Sunshine.” Before you could respond with your typical “impossible” or “I love you the most”, Daryl’s phone rang. It was the deputy from earlier. Frowning, he answered the phone. “Hello?”

You couldn’t hear what the other person was saying, but if Daryl’s suddenly relieved facial expression was anything to go off of, it was good news. The conversation was short and to the point, and when the call ended, you spoke up. “Who was that?”

“Was the deputy,” Daryl explained, a small smile on his face. “They got the son of a bitch.”

You smiled at him and beckoned him over for a hug. Daryl complied and very gently, almost as if you’d break under any sort of pressure, hugged you. Sure, the two of you would have to go and identify the man they had captured’s car, but there was no doubt in Daryl’s mind that the man responsible would soon be behind bars. For once, the legal system hadn’t failed him. You’d get the justice you deserve.

And for the first time since everything had gone down, Daryl was at peace.

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paterson-blue · 4 years ago

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Honey, You're Familiar (Like My Mirror Years Ago); Part 3

Part 3: The Date

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5

Summary: Things don't go exactly to plan. Clyde stresses.

Word Count: 4,010

Warnings: fluff, spice, grumpy Clyde Logan, pouty boy (but he's still in love), sentimentalism, sickly sweet pet names, smoochin', grindin', oral sex (male receiving), cum on body (not in!), original female character–let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: Thanks again to @paper-n-ashes for being my beta reader & quelling all my writing jitters. You're the absolute best!

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

It’s a fuckin’ disaster.

Starts out nice. Juniper shows up on his doorstep wearin’ a slinky little black dress, one that shows off her curves and makes Clyde’s mouth go dry. She tells him he looks handsome and he feels giddy. He sweeps his newly styled hair out of his face, sayin’ she looks absolutely stunnin’. Juniper beams, grabs his hand, tells him they better get a move on ‘fore they’re late.

They’re late. They’re later than late.

They aren’ five minutes outta town when lightenin’ starts to streak across the sky. Clyde shifts uneasily, eyes cast upward towards the swirling heavens. It’s rainin’ cats and dogs in no time and Juniper has to slow to half the speed limit to drive safely. Clyde’s thoughts go to the river up ahead, the one the road crew was still tryna’ re-stabilize since the last storm flooded it.

Fifteen minutes from their destination and they have t’pull to a stop on the highway, suddenly blocked in a jam. Flashin’ red and blue lights indicate an accident up front, and while Clyde spares a thought to whoever was involved, he can’t help but check the time. They aren’ gonna make their reservation, he just knows it.

The car behind ‘em lays on its horn, the sound makin’ both Clyde & Juniper jump. The driver either doesn’ seem to understand the concept of bein’ stuck or plain just don’ care. Clyde clenches his jaw, glowerin’ into the rear view mirror—he can only see the driver’s silhouette behind the bright glow of the headlights. He’s keepin’ his cool until the driver reaches his arm out, in the pourin’ rain an’ all, just t’give Juniper the finger.

Clyde’s unbucklin’ his belt quick as can be, chest heavin’ as he reaches for the door handle. He’s ‘bout ready to stomp to the car and yank the man out.Teach ‘im a lesson on manners, teach ‘im t’treat a lady like—

“Clyde.” Juniper stops him in his tracks with just his name on her lips. He looks over at her from under his hair, expression tense. She reaches up to caress his cheek, holdin’ his face in her little palm so sweetly, thumb brushin’ over the sharp line of his jaw. “Leave him be. It’s not worth gettin’ into trouble.”

Clyde deflates, honey brown eyes downcast. He sounds miserable when he speaks. “… We’re gonna miss dinner.”

“I know, sugar. It’s okay.”

His heart flutters in his broad chest despite his distress. She’d called him ‘sugar.’ He likes that; wants to hear it again real soon.

By the time they get through all the traffic and make it to the restaurant, their reservation is indeed gone, table havin’ been given away. They stand together just outside the building, under the little awning in an attempt to stay out of the rain.

Clyde huffs, so morose that he’s unable to enjoy the way she was pressed up against his side. “M’sorry.”

Juniper frowns, reachin’ up to pat his stomach gently. “You stop that. You haven’t done anything to be sorry for.”

Clyde shakes his head sadly, heavin’ out a sigh. “It’s the Logan Family Curse.”

She looks up at him, brows arched, her hand still settled on his belly. “Oh is it now?”

He nods, brows pinched together. Juniper reaches for his hand, pulling it to her lips and pressin’ a kiss to his knuckles. “You aren’t cursed, Clyde Logan. And if you are, I’m perfectly happy to be cursed right along with you.”

Clyde doesn’ quite know how to respond to that, but luckily, he doesn’t have to right away. Juniper moves her lips to the pads of his large fingers, kissin’ ‘em gently before lettin’ him pull his hand away. Clyde cradles her pretty face in his palm, takin’ the time to admire her. Finally, he speaks. “Thank you, darlin’. That’s mighty nice of you t’say.”

Juniper nuzzles into his touch, sighin’ happily; it makes Clyde feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“I’m only saying what’s true. Now c’mon. I know it’s a Friday night but there’s bound to be somewhere we can eat.”

They end up findin’ an old fashioned drive-in burger place, somewhere they can park and eat in the car out of the rain. It’s not where Clyde wants to take her; she deserves to be wined and dined all proper, not greasy burgers and milkshakes. But Juniper doesn’ seem to mind; as soon as they’re parked she’s squintin’ up at the menu, a big smile on her face.

“This all sounds so fucking good.” She giggles, lookin’ over at him. It makes the disappointment in Clyde’s chest fade away, and he leans over the center console to peer out the window to see what choices they were offered. It puts him in her space, and Juniper leans in to press a gentle kiss to his temple. He blushes, his cheeks only getttin’ hotter when she brushes some of his hair out of his face. He desperately wants to kiss her but he doesn’ know if it’s the right time.

He’s finally acceptin’ the night’s change of plans—finally acceptin’ that this might be good, burgers and fries while dressed up nice, watchin’ the rain pour from the safety of Juniper’s little Corolla—when the carhop comes out to tend to them. Clyde’s already diggin’ into his wallet as Juniper rattles off their order; he holds his debit card out, arm reachin’ over Juniper’s lap.

The carhop doesn’ move for the card. Instead, they say “Card machine’s down. Cash only.” in what Clyde thinks is possibly the most bored tone they could muster. He tries not to bristle as he fumbles with his wallet for a second time, patience already worn thin from the night’s events. He’s only got a fifty in his billfold. The fifty.

Their fifty.

He hesitates, even though he knows it’s irrational; Jimmy always did tell him he was too damn sentimental for his own good. Juniper must realize—she always does, Clyde never seems to have to explain himself to her—because she grabs her purse from the floorboard. Clyde stops her, shakin’ his head as he tugs the fifty dollar bill out. “S’alright, darlin’. Y’told me t’save it for a rainy day.”

Juniper’s face softens at his words, and Clyde hands the money over to the carhop, who looks like they want to be literally anywhere else. Soon Clyde’s been given his change, and he quickly puts it back up. As soon as he’s done Juniper’s reachin’ for him, pullin’ him in by his collar. Clyde goes willingly, twistin’ in his seat to move his prosthetic to the middle of her back, arm wrapped around her.

“I’ll give you another one.” She tells him firmly, and Clyde huffs out a laugh.

“Well that’d be awful silly of ya, Junebug. You’ll run outta money real quick if y’keep givin’ it all t’me.” He tries to soothe her with a joke, wantin’ to let her know that it was alright. Sure, it had been special to him—reminded him of their meetin’—but it was just a piece a’ paper. What was a piece a’ paper when he had the most important thing right here in front a’ him?

He wants to curl up further into her, but their positions don’t allow for it—the vehicle doesn’ exactly allow for him to move his long limbs much a’ anywhere. If this was as close as he could get, he was satisfied. Juniper shifts suddenly, eyes trained on him as she leans closer. They share a breath, then two, and then she’s pressin’ her mouth against his.

It’s nothin’ if not chaste. Clyde gets the feelin’ she doesn’ exactly want to neck in the front seat of her car like teenagers—at least not in plain view of the drive-in’s staff and other patrons. Just a gentle kiss, a little more than a peck; firm and lingerin’ just enough that he knows it happened. Juniper follows it up with another one at the corner of mouth, their noses pressin’ against one another’s cheeks.

It’s more than enough for Clyde; more than enough to get his pulse to sky rocket. He can’t remember the last time he’s been treated so gently, so much love in such a small movement. She gives him a smile when she pulls away, and they both sit back in their seats, starin’ all heart-eyed at one another. She takes the metal of his hand in hers, holdin’ it, and Clyde thinks maybe he should reconsider the whole curse thing.

They head back home after finishin’ their meal, the storm slowly peterin’ off as they get closer to Clyde’s trailer. Juniper walks him to his door, gigglin’ when she offers him her arm to escort him. He takes it, grinnin’ like a fool as they stomp up the front steps. They stand there under the yellow porch light, humid heat surroundin’ ‘em. Clyde usually hated the humidity, but not when it was like this, creatin’ such a hazy, intimate bubble around ‘em. Juniper drops her arm, but only to reach for Clyde’s flesh hand, holdin’ it in both of hers.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Clyde. Best date I’ve ever been on—and I mean that.”

Clyde can feel himself blushin’, a pleased smile turnin’ his lips up. “I had a good time, too. Wouldja—wouldja wanna do it again? Sometime soon?”

“Yes.” She answers almost before he can finish askin’, and they both laugh. There’s a beat, a pause, a breath, and then Juniper is leanin’ up the same moment Clyde’s leanin’ down. It’s a relief when their lips touch, like the first drink a’ water in the mornin’. Clyde thinks he’s been parched his whole life and never even knew it.

Juniper’s the one who deepens it, the one who drops his hand to lean into him, to thread her fingers through his thick hair, holdin’ him close. And fuck, Clyde isn’ gonna fight it. He wraps his arm around her, prosthetic against her back as his hand moves to hold her face. His palm envelops her cheek, thumb under her chin to keep her head lifted. They kiss and kiss, and when she makes a little whine in the back of her throat Clyde swears he’s floatin’.

When she pulls away to breathe he makes a sound of his own, a disappointed little groan that she huffs out a laugh at. He’d be embarrassed if she wasn’ nuzzlin’ her nose against his cheek like she can’t get enough.

“Those lips a’ yours aren’t fair.” She murmurs, and Clyde hums, strokin’ his thumb along her jawline. He doesn’ want this to end, he thinks for possibly the thousandth time that night. He doesn’ wanna let her get back in her car an’ drive across town, over the train tracks, past the antique shop, until she gets to the bed & breakfast.

He wants her right here, and he’s never been the one in this position, but he doesn’ hesitate when he asks her, “D’y’wanna come in?”

She nods, and it sets his chest aflame. They straighten up, untanglin’ themselves from one another even as she leans into his side, not wantin’ t’be too far. Clyde’s hands shake as he unlocks the front door but he doesn’ care if she sees. He wants her to see, wants her to know what she’s doin’ t’him. Maybe then...maybe she won’t leave.

Clyde flicks on the lights, closin’ the door behind both of ‘em. He watches as Juniper assesses his things: his clumsily cleaned living area, the small kitchenette that was (thankfully) decluttered. The hallway leads back to the bathroom, and then his bedroom, but Clyde doesn’ dare look towards it, much less lead her that way. Instead, he steps towards the fridge, hand reachin’ out to brush against the door.

“Want anythin’ t’drink?” He asks, voice quiet, as if nervous to disturb the silence. Juniper shoots him a smile, shakin’ her head as she perches on the couch.

“No, I’m okay, thank you.”

Clyde nods, lingerin’ there even though he doesn’ want a drink neither. Her eyes look him over, amusement showin’ in them.

“Why don’t you c’mere? If you want, of course.”

He wants. Oh, how he wants. So he goes, movin’ across the distance between them in three long strides until he can sit himself next to her. He’s stock straight, heart thrummin’ in his chest; his nice button-down feels all tight against his skin, too itchy. He thinks only her touch’ll soothe it, but doesn’ wanna ask her. Juniper, however, reads his mind; she always can. She smoothes a hand over his jean-clad thigh, leanin’ in ever so slowly, like she’s gonna startle him if she moves too fast. Clyde’s breath catches in his throat as she kisses him again, and it's heaven, it's heaven.

It’s different from in the car, from on the porch. This time there’s more purpose to it. Juniper’s kissin’ him—tastin’ him— like he belongs to her, and Clyde thinks maybe it's because she knows he does. He’s tryna’ angle his body just right, tryin’ t’lean down without puttin’ a crick in his neck. Not that he’d care much, if he did--a crick was worth this, worth the feelin’ of her tongue brushin’ against his bottom lip, against his teeth.

Juniper makes a frustrated little noise, pullin’ back, and Clyde’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Wha--Wha’s--?” He stammers out, flesh hand flexin’ on her waist, the silky fabric of her dress feelin’ so soft and cool against his skin. Juniper’s lips are plush and kiss bitten; Clyde tries to take a picture of ‘em in his memory, eyes trained on their pretty color. He almost misses her question. Scratch that, he does miss her question; has to very ineloquently say “huh?” to get her to repeat it. She ducks her head, voice shy.

“Can I, uh--get in your lap?”

Shit. Shit. Clyde nearly feels dizzy for all the blood rushin’ down south. It makes him a little self-conscious; she’s not gonna want t’sit on his lap and have his cock pressin’ into her all demandin’ like. But damn, his little Junebug looks so eager, her eyes darker than he’s ever seen ‘em, and like he’d said: he wants. So he just nods, barely breathin’.

Juniper shifts, pushin’ him into the back of the couch and he goes easily, willingly. She hikes her dress up her legs and Clyde gets a barely there peek of dark green lace before she’s straddlin’ his lap. He moans, can’t fuckin’ help it, and Juniper dives in to capture the sound with her mouth. Her hands are on his face, in his hair, fingers rubbin’ the shells of his ears—he’s surrounded, he’s drownin’, suffocatin’. He’s never felt so alive.

His own hands are placed chastely on either one of her hips, though he knows his flesh hand must be grippin’ her somethin’ fierce. The thought flashes in his mind, of him leavin’ little fingerprint shaped bruises on her skin for her to feel the next day. It makes him shiver underneath her.

Juniper takes and takes, and Clyde lets her. Clyde wants to be taken, in whatever way she’ll have him. Suddenly she’s pullin’ away just enough to suck in a little air, lips still brushin’ against his. He presses his long nose into the soft skin of her cheek, breath hot between them. When Juniper speaks, her voice is strained.

“Touch me, Clyde. Please.”

He doesn’ hesitate. His good hand moves from her hip to her ass, grabbin’, kneadin’ as he pulls her tighter against him. She lets out the prettiest noise Clyde thinks he’s ever heard, and his lips find her neck as his other arm comes around to hold her close. God, she tastes so good; her perfume fills his head until he feels dizzy with it.

She's pressed flush to him like this, grindin’ her hips against his. Clyde’s hard and leakin’ in his brand new jeans and the only thing he can think of is hearin’ her little noises again. Her hands are back in his hair, pullin’ at it, sweepin’ it away from his face so he doesn’ get tangled in it as his mouth makes a hot path down the neckline of her dress.

It feels so damn good that Clyde doesn’ realize she’s tryin’ to get his attention until she yanks on his tresses, his scalp burnin’ from it. Honestly he thinks he groans, rough and wild in his throat, the pain shootin’ straight to his cock. But it makes him look at her, and she holds him from divin’ back into her skin.

“Clyde I wanna—I wanna taste you. Is that okay? Can I?”

Lord Almighty above. That should be his line, it really should. But how can he argue with her? He’d give her anythin’ she wanted, anythin’. And she wanted—wanted to put her mouth on him. Clyde spares a thought for all the trimmed and proper men he’s seen in porn, how much nicer they looked, how Juniper deserved the best. West coast mean surely didn’ look the way he did. But then,“Yes,” he’s sayin’, voice ragged, “yes.”

And she’s slippin’ out of his lap onto the floor between his legs. Clyde’s heart pinches, and he leans forward to pick her right back up. To say “oh, darlin’, y’don’ need to be on the hard floor like that. Lemme stand an’ you c’n sit right back on these here pillows.” But before he can get his legs under him she's pressin’ her face between ‘em, nuzzlin’ into the scratchy fabric of his jeans, right up against his cock. Clyde’s brain short circuits.

“Been wantin’ this.” Juniper murmurs, small hands workin’ at his belt, and Clyde arches his hips up, tryin’ t’help her get his jeans off. He can’t believe this—can’t believe this is happenin’. She tugs his jeans and pants down his legs, just enough that his cock is revealed. Clyde clumsily unbuttons the first couple buttons at the bottom of his shirt, not wantin’ to get the new fabric messy. Juniper seems to like his idea; she sighs and leans forward to press her lips to the bare skin of his stomach.

“Sweetheart.” Clyde whispers, voice all trembly. He stretches out a little, givin’ her more access to his pale abdomen. Her lips are so soft against his skin, against the dark trail of hair leadin’ down, down, down. She follows it, nosin’ to the crook of his thigh, teeth scrapin’ deliciously ‘fore she turns her attention to his cock—already plump and stiff, and very interested in her ministrations. She wraps a hand around it and Clyde’s breath catches in his throat. She studies his cock, gives it a gentle stroke, thumb rubbin’ at the velvety head.

“You’re so big.” Her voice is quiet, but it startles Clyde all the same—he’s been transfixed by the vision in front of him.

“O-Oh, I-m, uh—“

He’s attemptin’ to apologize—his first instinct, really. But his brain isn’t really functionin’ all that well, and then she’s leanin’ in to lave her tongue over his slit. Clyde groans, a sound comin’ deep from his chest as he zeros in on the pretty pink of her soft, wet tongue. Juniper hums as if she’s pleased, a little smile on her face, and then she’s slippin’ her mouth over his cock in earnest.

Clyde’s head drops back against the couch pillow, lungs strugglin’ to suck in air. Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck—it felt so good. She was gorgeous, she was perfect, she was a fucking angel doin’ this for him. She couldn’ take all of him into her mouth but goddamn she was tryin’. It didn’ matter—even if she wasn’ usin’ her hand to make up the difference, Clyde thinks he could cum just from seein’ her there between his legs, her silky soft lips on his skin.

He moves with her—not in a way where he’s pushin’ her or askin’ for more, but in a way where she’s pullin’ him; she’s the ebb and flow of the tide and he follows her willingly. His back arches, toes curlin’ up in his boots; his prosthetic settles on top of her free hand where it was grippin’ one of his large thighs. His other hand is too busy grippin’ the couch cushions to do much else. He’s lost to it—to her—an’ he doesn’ wanna be found.

It’s over far too quickly, embarrassingly so—it even surprises him. He’s ridin’ the high of his pleasure and his orgasm hits him so hard and fast that Clyde barely has any time t’warn her. All he can do is make a frantic noise, her name garbled in his throat as he quickly tries to push her off a’ him. But it’s too late—he’s cummin’ the same time that she’s pullin’ away, and Clyde can only watch in an odd mix of both arousal and horror as his cum paints her chin, neck, and cleavage.

Juniper’s mouth is held open in a surprised little ‘o’ shape, brows arched, and Clyde feels fuckin’ humiliated.

“J-Juniper, darlin’, m’so sorry, I—“ He scrabbles behind him for the throw blanket layin’ across the back of the couch, tuggin’ it into his lap so he can clean his mess off a’ her skin. He’s quick to tend to the spend on her cleavage first, hyperaware of how close it was to the fabric of her pretty black dress. “I’m sorry, I tried t’warn ya but it was too—“

“Clyde, it’s okay.” Her voice is all raspy and Clyde bites back a moan at the sound of it. She was so fuckin’ sexy, fuckin’ flawless. He’d cum all over her, messy and wild, and she was still lookin’ at him like he’d hung the damn moon. She pulls herself to standin’, and Clyde’s gaze dips down to where her knees were all red from kneelin’. Just another thing he didn’ know he found hot until now.

“But I guess it’s a little dangerous to keep this on, huh?”

His gaze snaps up to her face when she speaks, and she’s wearin’ a grin, eyes alight. Then she’s twistin’ her arms around, wrigglin’ out of that cute little dress until it graces the linoleum floor. She bends down to pick it up, drapin’ it carefully over one of the kitchen chairs. She moves like it’s nothin; like the sight of her in her heels and underwear ain’ makin’ his cock try to thicken up again.

“Yer so beautiful.” He tells her, gaze trained on her as she walks back over to him. Clyde feels so small with her standin’ in front of him; feels vulnerable even if he was still mostly dressed. Juniper steps out of her heels slowly, placin’ them to the side before leanin’ in, restin’ her hands on the back of the couch on either side of his head so she can kiss him.

Clyde runs his flesh hand over her bare waist, down the swell of her hip, toyin’ with the band of her underwear. He doesn’t push it down; he won’t without her permission. It’s enough to kiss her like this, soft and lazy, feelin’ her skin underneath his. He feels all gooey and happy from his orgasm, even if it had come sooner than he’d have liked.

He sighs into her mouth, content; chases her lips when she pulls away. Juniper starts to work on the buttons of his shirt, and he sits up to help her ease it off a’ his shoulders. She folds it neatly, settin’ it to the side; Clyde forces himself to speak, tryin’ to get his brain back in workin’ order. “D’y’wanna—wanna go back to the bedroom? You c’n lay down and I’ll—I’ll take care a’ ya.”

He thinks he sounds all awkward and silly, but Juniper gives him a warm smile, and his insecurities fade. She was always comfortin’ him, whether she knew it or not. She places one last lingerin’ kiss to his lips before noddin’ at him. “I’d like that.”

______________________________________________________________

taglist friends!

@paper-n-ashes @glassbxttless @mariesackler @leatherboundbirate @millenialcatlady @jynzandtonic @peachyproserpina

#clyde logan #clyde logan fic #clyde logan x ofc #logan lucky #clyde logan smut #clyde logan fluff #clyde logan x oc #adcu #feedback always welcome & appreciated!#clyde logan x original female character #tori writes

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selfwriting-sugarquills · 4 years ago

Text

Something more infinite Chapter 7 [FINAL]. If your last words aren’t “I love you too,” I’m personally gonna go to the afterlife, bring you back and kill you again.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

A/n: Sorry this took literally months to get finished. What a ride it's been. Hope you're all well.

warnings: Oh it's angsty. Descriptions of death, injury and violence.

word count: 2.6K

This was really happening. You have to remind yourself for the third time just tonight, here huddled together with dozens of your former fellow students and friends in the room of requirement. You’d known it was coming, the end of the war. It had to end at some point, and your family had kept up with the portable radio you’d brought with you on the run (you’d taken to wander the surroundings of your tent and have your father relay the information to you, as to avoid listening to the voice of George, which caused a flurry of emotions in you that you simply didn’t have the time or energy for in the freezing English countryside)

Once ‘River’ had started to hint at the coming battle, you’d dug out your old DA coin. You’d grown quite attached to it, as it reminded you of a simpler time, where your biggest concern had been coming up with witty comebacks to George, not how to survive should you be caught by a snatcher or death eater. And when said coin began to heat up in your pocket, in the wee hours of the morning on May 2nd, you knew it. It was happening. The directions on the coin were plain and short:

Get to the Hog’s Head. Seek Aberforth.

You didn’t really feel like you had a choice in the matter, though something tugged at you as you climbed through the portrait hole. George. There was no way he wouldn’t have gotten the call from the DA too. Would he be there? and if he was, would he care that you were? Trying to push your more sentimental thoughts of the ginger to the back of your mind, you focus instead on trying not to fall as you feel your way through the tunnel until there’s a smell of coffee and heat from a fireplace and the murmur of voices greeting you as you reach the room of requirement. Friends greet you, make small talk and embrace you. More people arrive after you, and there’s a nice moment of relieved sighs and laughter as friends speak face to face for the first time in months. It’s quiet but the most genuinely happy most of you have felt in a long time. Finally, resisting the urge to ask for him, you look around to try and spot him.

But he’s not there. One of your friends must have noticed you looking around, for they inform you that him, Fred, Lee and other members of the order won’t be here until later, something had held them up, you don’t hear much through your disappointment, which was silly, you knew that. But a part of you had really hoped to be able to see him before everything goes down.

As Harry, Ron and Hermione arrive with Neville there’s an even bigger wave of emotion going through the room, one big enough to break the silence completely with cheers and applause for the scruffy-looking kids who look more tired and wrung out than anyone their age ever should in your opinion. They ask for your help, all of you, to help them find the Horcruxes. The last pieces of the puzzle.

What are they? They don’t know.

Not good.

Where are they? They don’t know that either.

Really not good.

“We think it’s hidden somewhere in the castle, but that’s all we have to go on, for now, so we’ll just have to search everywhere,” Says Harry, clearly unhappy with the conditions of the hunt himself,

“Well that’s not exactly going to be easy,” Says Seamus,

“No but it won’t be impossible,” counters Ginny, who looks determined. And so you all split up, searching everywhere, you ended up talking to a portrait for possible clues at the hospital wing,

“Well fancy seeing you here,”

You pull out your wand by pure instinct. Months of being on edge have made you somewhat jittery, your fingers knowing the motion of grabbing your wand and pointing it at any unexpected noise all too well.

It’s only when you take in his face, his eyes, the bright red, unmistakable hair that you let your hand fall to your side.

“George,” You say, heart pounding.

And there he is, in the flesh. He looks a little scruffy, very tired (as do you and you really can’t blame him) but he’s there! He’s breathing! And now you’re slapping pathetically at him while tears of rage fill your eyes,

“Ow! Y/n- Hey!” He wrestles himself free from you, holding you at an arm's length,

“Months!” You shriek, “It’s been bloody months since we’ve spoken and that’s what you say?!” Maybe it’s the fatigue or the paranoia or maybe the unresolved business between you but you’re sobbing now, wiping at your face with your sleeves, sure that they only smudge the dirt on your face. He tries to pull you toward him but you jerk away from him, you don’t want him to be soft now, you don’t have time for the conversation you both need to have right now, you remind yourself to pull yourself together, there’s a war going on for Godrick’s sake!

“Don’t worry about me,” you tell him courtly, though your sniffling makes it less credible, his brown eyes are soft as they look you over,

“Just,” you gesture around you, “not now,” he looks confused for a split second, then nods.

“What are you doing?” He asks then and it’s clear in his intonation that he really wants to ask how you’re doing, you pretend you don’t notice that and instead point to the painting,

“We’re searching for the last Horcrux, I’ve been asking the portraits if they know anything,”

“Any luck?” He asks, crossing his arms,

“Nope,” You pucker your lips in annoyance,

“Would you like some help?” He asks, a ghost of the sly smile that’s haunted you for months sneaking onto his lips, You sigh,

“As much as it pains me, yes, George, I could use your help,”

He looks far too pleased with that response, you think to yourself as he begins to chat with a portrait further down the hall.

Asking the portraits leads you nowhere, and so you end up back in the room of requirement along with several others who’ve had no such luck either.

You and George wait together while people file into the room announcing that they’ve not found anything.

“So, about that night,” He begins, though he halts at the look you shoot him, his brows raise, “not yet?”

You gesture around, “does it look like the war is over yet?”

“Well, we don’t know how long that will take,” He counters, “So I think we should talk about it now before it’s too late,” You roll your eyes, you’d once heard him use a similar excuse to chat up a girl at a party once, “What if the world ends tomorrow?” it hadn’t worked then, and it wasn’t working now,

“I’d rather we don’t, George,” You say,

“Why not?” He asks, grabbing your attention with the sudden change of tone in his voice, which is now quiet but demanding, “Are you so against us being happy together? Really?”

“Yes, I am,” You say, feeling heat rise to your cheeks,

“Why?” He demands,

“Because, George, we don’t do happy, we’ve hated each other for years, I don’t think one shag is going to change the fact that we haven’t been compatible for nearly a decade,” you say,

“Oh I wouldn’t say we weren’t compatible,” he grumbles, and when you’re about to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean there’s a voice booming through the room announcing that you all need to come to the great hall,

“Something’s happening!”

The next moments are difficult to place, hazy through the adrenaline fog that fills your body and brain, the great hall, Snape leaving, Voldemort’s voice echoing through the halls like an angry phantom haunting the castle’s inhabitants, the sullen look you share with George as it becomes clear to all present: This ends tonight, and it’s not going to be pretty.

Somehow George stays by your side as the fighting starts, you don’t know how he manages to keep track of you. You move at a fast pace from place to place, hoping it will help you stay alive but somehow there’s never a moment where you’re caught in a fight where George isn’t there, it’s first later that you realise it’s because he knows you, he knows all your routes through the castle.

You shoot a jinx at a death eater, paralyzing him before you,

“Nice one,” he says,

You allow a quick smile at him, “thanks,” then as if on queue, a sharp pain hits your chest, and you fall to the ground, the pain pounds and seems to vibrate inside you, sending waves of pain out through your limbs like an electric current. From the cold stone floors of the corridor you used to wander so often as a child, you hear the echoes of shouts and the sound of curses and spells being thrown through the air, the impact of them hitting flesh and the impact of bodies hitting the ground,

Then he’s by your side. You’re laying hopelessly and it hurts, even more, to see his expression as he examines your body, a look of exasperation on his face. He grabs your hand, and places his other hand behind your back, pulling you closer to him. You’re sure the battle isn’t over but somehow it’s quiet in the corridor there, with just you and him together, the same you had been for years and years, the thoughts of yours and his rivalry only makes the tears flow easier,

“I really wish I wasn’t crying,” you say behind gritted teeth, “I want you to remember me as the cool person I was, the one who could fully kick your ass not... this,” you gesture vaguely down your body. George lets out a quiet laugh as a tear trickles down his face leaving a trail of clean skin through his sooted and dust-covered face,

“oh, not you too,” you say as more warm tears spill out down your cheeks, they tickle your ears and caress your hair and you don’t try to stop them anymore, you find you somehow don’t have the power to fight them, which sends a wave of anxiety through you. Your breath hitches and you gasp for air, trying desperately to keep your breathing steady, but it feels as if someone’s put a foot on your chest letting it bear more and more of their weight, and George’s eyes widen,

“Oh no, you don’t get to die on me, not now, not like this,” he says, grabbing at your body as if hoping to find a cure hidden somewhere, “Y/n, I mean it, don’t-” his voice breaks off and he bites his lip hard, he doesn’t even sense how hard until he tastes his own blood,

“Don’t leave me,” if you weren’t already crying the sound of his voice sounding so fragile and desperate and almost childlike certainly would have you bawling by now but you’re more occupied with your eyes which insist on closing despite you wanting to look George in the eye more than anything,

“It can’t end like this,” he says, pleading to no one in particular, “it’s not supposed to be like this. You’re supposed to be here always, we were supposed to be together,” he says, sniffling to contain the sobs that are aching to burst from his chest, you muster a small smile at the dark blob with ginger hair in front of you, eyes half-closed,

“Gee, Weasley, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you love me or something,” you don’t recognise the wispy voice that speaks but you know the teasing intonation is your own,

“I do,” he says, you feel a large hand tighten on your shoulder as he pulls you even closer to him, “I love you so bloody much that you can’t even fathom it,” now he sobs as the reality of the situation settles on him. Your lip quivers somewhat uncontrollably, and you want to reach up and touch his face because of course, this stupid boy loves you, just like you love him, even if he’s also your worst nightmare he’s yours nevertheless, and you wouldn’t want to live a day without him annoying you endlessly. Yes. That’s what your relationship is supposed to be: endless. Endless teasing, but just beneath it a more infinite affection, a love as endless as your bickering.

“Do you? that’s funny,” you say, your head falls back onto his arm. You can’t see anymore, something tucks at your navel, something unlike like how apparating tucks at you, where it pulls you in hastily, this feeling gropes at your very core, beckons you to come with its long fingers, seducing you into its darkness. Infinite darkness. Weren’t you just thinking about something infinite? a loud, almost animal cry echoes through the dark to you and you free yourself from the tugging feeling just enough to feel George’s chest shake as he weeps,

“Because I love you too.” You say before you succumb and dive into oblivion.

***

The first thing you hear is a beep. Then another. Again. Beep. Beep. Beep. it speeds up as you think to yourself just how irritating that beep is. Just like the darkness tugged you into itself, it seems to have spat you out again. No matter how much you long to escape the beeping and snuggle back into the vast darkness, you find yourself just staring at your own eyelids instead. Much less interesting darkness indeed. You open them, blinking a few times before you realise that you’re in a hospital, which explains the beeping but doesn’t make it any less annoying.

“You’re awake,” the sound of his voice startles you. You lock eyes. Yours wide in shock, his are swollen and tired. You let yourself rest back onto your pillow with a sigh, closing your eyes again to shield them from the stark hospital lighting,

“You always were sharp, George,” you say, your voice grainy and raw. Speaking brings tears to your eyes and you realise how thirsty you are. You feel the mattress dip under his weight as he sits down on the side of your bed. You feel his fingers move a piece of hair away from your face and most unusually, you don’t slap his hands away or scowl at him. You smile. When you do open your eyes he’s smiling at you too, and you take in this different version of George. This George is not young, bursting with energy with a gleam in his eyes. This George is older, somehow aged beyond his 23 years of age, with ginger stubble on his unshaven, pale face, his eyes are dark and covered by a shadow of exhaust. His hair is ruffled and messy as if he’s run several hands through it. You long to touch it, to touch him. You have hardly touched him in an affectionate manner and it’s all too exciting,

“You look like shit, Weasley,” you say, smirking. He looks shocked for a split second before a ghost of his old grin shapes itself on his face,

“And I was just about to offer a truce,” he says,

You stick out your tongue at him, “I shall never stand down, you know that by now,” he leans in, and just before your lips meet, he whispers, “Believe me, I know.”

_____________________________________________________________

taglist: @schlongbottom-neville @cardboardbenmazzello @unseensilver @mochamiilk @quie-pls @sarcasticalphaofthelooserspack

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #fred and george #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #weasley twins x reader #george weasley oneshot #hp #harry potter #george weasley x y/n #fred and george weasley #harry potter imagine #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfic #george weasley headcanon #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic

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themilky-way · 4 years ago

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like water {din djarin}

gif credit: no-droids

pairing: the mandalorian/din djarin x fem!reader

summary: when the one person he cares about is threatened, he lets himself indulge in the aftermath of defending them.

warnings: some violence in the beginning, choking (not in the fun way), depictions of scratches, punches, and minor abrasions; the reader is hurt basically. oh and mando’s gun bc yeah❤️umm that’s it i think? nothing too horrible tho but if this thing triggers you, please don’t read !!

author’s note: not to be conceited or anything (is that even the right word for it lol?) but im super proud of how this turned out! requests are open btw for anyone who wishes to submit anything (if unsure, just ask which fandoms)!

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cyar’ika-> darling, sweetheart

nothing in that exact moment had made much sense. one minute the most precious thing to ever exist to him was snatched away, and the next his hands were gripping the treasure beneath his holster. his knuckles were lily-white at this point, holding the gun as hard as his body would allow him to without crushing underneath him, and the urge to cock it made him visibly shake. he’d been given a command, and out of all the merciless men in the filthy galaxy, he needed to follow it, so his weapon of preference stayed where it needed to.

the meager specks of emotion that still lived within him betrayed his prominent composure, the view in front of him blocked by the sudden glaze of his eyes. the small drops of saltwater puddled together in his now hazy orbs, holding on until it was nearly impossible to stay put and then rivered down his cheeks. the cause? well, you.

you were filling up the mandalorian’s line of vision, his eyes darting between you and the bounty that had gone wrong. an alienated hand was wrapped around your innocent throat, your feeble hands wrapped around its wrist in a dumb attempt to break free. the ground you were roaming on before appeared to be never ending, and in the same way, the darkened sky absorbed you whole. vertigo was now in full effect; any quick movement caused you to shut your eyes tightly and hope to the maker you’d get through it. it took a few seconds for you to regain your balance, a sharp pain pinging around your neck forcing you to find it. you half expected to be back on the mud again, to have the man you had spent the past year flying around with pulling you to safety. instead, you found din frozen in place, an instinctive action rooted in the steel handle of his pistol. he wasn’t moving, too scared to blink as if you’d disappear if he did.

perhaps you were; someone like you seemed too good to be true. in all actuality, it may be that you were a fever dream, a celestial that had come down from the sanctity of your home to finally rescue him from his burdens. amidst his frantic glances, he reminisced every second he’d spent with you since your unforeseen arrival, and that somehow worked for him. the gears in his brain started to turn again, and with every ounce of his strength, he pounced on the quarry and did what he should’ve done the instant you were taken from him. anger took over his worry, the effects illustrating themselves in a collage of mitted fists and blood. the pistol residing on din’s waist was useless compared to his hits; the softened position of his jawbone was locked firmly as a result of his gritted teeth and he was going to need more than your delicate hand on his shoulders to ground his senses.

the mandalorian never expected to succumb to anyone, nor to feel remotely joyful upon hearing someone’s laugh. the idea of kindling a relationship was ludicrous, utterly impossible if only he weren’t bound to the chains of his creed. oftentimes, he wondered if someone would one day traverse his path and make him question every moral he’d been taught. din had dismissed the thought, as any other member of his intricate society would have, but the wondrous insight depicting a different lifestyle always lingered faintly in his mind.

today, the very same visions behind his recurrent insomnia framed themselves in a frail art piece. din’s focus laid directly ahead, the fingers navigating the center controls as tight as they’d been on his gun. his eyes deserved to rest, perhaps take in the splashes of color nature was offering him, but he landed them on the same lovely sculpture adorning his cockpit.

you were seated in the chair adjacent from the pilot’s, with your knees closely tucked to your chest. one large scrape designed itself on your leg-a dull reminder of the ordeal you were involved in hours earlier-with flakes of arid blood protecting the wound. bouncing off the skin of your throat were shades of red and purple, now properly mixing into a deeper complexion that’d require you to hide it for some time. besides the scattered nicks living on your face, and the other couple dozen on your arms and legs, the outcome wasn’t as terrible as the one your attacker received. it was a rule of thumb to not mess with a mandalorian, much less with the pretty little lady clutching his arm as if it were second nature. the foolest of fools wouldn’t even have done such a foul thing, and this particular creature came to know the punishment for harming what wasn’t rightfully his.

it truly amazed him; the way you seemed to be so unphased by a traumatic circumstance. the woman beside him-the same one who couldn’t sleep unless a window was open-had endured pain, and the marks on her skin proved themselves in jagged indications of it. through the darkened screen of his visor, din could make out your hands neatly intertwined around your folded knees, your chin simultaneously resting on top. you’d been as observant as you always were, hardly missing his actions as he navigated his newfound family to a safe stop. sure, you were unaware of the loving term he considered of you and the baby, but it didn’t hurt to keep it a secret, right?

“hey.” it came out more hoarse than he intended it to, but the emotion behind it flowed out nonetheless. “you okay?”

not really. i don’t feel good. it was easy to say exactly that, to speak the truth, but it was even easier to lie. for the sake of his own worry, at most. your eyes were still glued to his armor, taking in the rough outline of where you imagined his skin would be underneath, or moreso the abstract idea of feeling it with your hands. reflections of your yearning came and went like the mandalorian’s missions, almost impulsively at times, and the curious, teasing tilts his helmet would bid you only encouraged that craving. much like now; the black “T” of his expressionless face leaned to the side, asking you to earnestly respond. “mm, yeah. ‘m kinda tired, though,” you mumbled.

you threw him a lie and he caught it. “don’t lie to me.” din swiveled his chair to accordingly match the peripheral of yours, his elbows coming to rest on top of his beskar-clad legs. “can you look at me?” he inquired softly. then, his intent fell on the slow shift of your head and how it turned to face him, your cheek settling on your unscathed knee. a breath fell from his lips at the doting admiration swimming in your stare. “there she is,” he confirmed with an upward curl of his lips. “is there anything i can do?” it was sincere; a genuine concern to accompany his question. you hummed in response, fearful to accidentally voice the confessions you hid from him. you blinked once, twice, until his question became a plea. “please, cyar’ika.”

reasonably, you were too busy exploring the shape of his helmet, permitting your creative imagination to paint images of the man next to you; so when your ears perceived his sudden name of endearment, there was nothing amongst the stars that you could’ve possibly denied him from. “you’ve never called me that before,” you smiled, all big and brilliant.

“i’ve wanted to,” the man replied. what resembled ages of pent up stress released with a few curated words. his muscles relaxed, something he never believed to be attainable given his vigorous profession. “god, i’ve wanted to.”

he followed it with a humble laugh. a sound so familiar and warm, so genuine that it empowered your grin to spread higher. “by all means, keep saying it.” now it was your turn to nervously giggle, and him who embraced the noise with everything he could. a mutual infatuation, so wonderfully obvious, yet it was refused acknowledgment. “i think there is something you can do, though.” silence advised you to continue, “can i sleep with you tonight?”

the misguided pieces of your minds’, maybe even your souls’, reattached themselves that very same night. as the both of you slept, hands, calloused and smooth, intimately merged against the cushions of the warrior’s bed. tender kisses planted to your forehead left electricity in their wake, and the dark ambiance of his dwelling favored the entanglement of your tired bodies.

“i wish i could see you, din,” you sighed. the manner in which it was expressed, full of sleep and everything akin, urged him to lift your weightless wrist to his lips.

“you’ll get to one day, cyar’ika. for now just let me hold you, yeah?”

#not me writing fanfiction better than ap literature essays #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #star wars #pedro pascal #my writing!

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blouisparadise · 4 years ago

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Although most of us aren’t able to go on vacation at the moment, we hope this rec list will make everyone feel a bit better than that. Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Harry, Louis, or both boys go on vacation at some point during the fic. Happy reading!

1) This Is Where I Sleep | Explicit | 3678 words

Harry and Louis go camping while on break and make some memories.

2) Under the Vanilla Sky | Explicit | 8006 words

Who the hell wears a hat like that on a yacht? That's one of the things Louis thinks when he sees Harry from across the deck of the most expensive, ridiculous boat he's ever been on. He also thinks he'd like to get closer. Just to see what's under those aviators. Just to verify that, yes, in fact, those white swim trunks might be a little see-through when wet. Just to see if someone could really be that hot in real life. On a yacht. In the Caribbean sea just off the coast of St. Barts.

Here's what really happened on that yacht.

Or, my opinion, at least.

3) Rather This Than Live Without You | Explicit | 10715 words

Harry decides to give it all up. Louis refuses to be left behind.

4) Ready To Run | Explicit | 11940 words

After being left at the alter by his boyfriend of five years, Louis goes on a vacation to try and clear his head and fill the empty spaces in his heart. On the way, he meets a new group of life-long friends, and maybe a little more than that.

5) I Know You Have A Heavy Heart (I Can Feel It When We Kiss) | Explicit | 14489 words | Sequel

In which Louis is spending New Year’s alone in France but he’s definitely not running away, and Harry is a french florist with an ever present smile who cares a lot. They meet a cold night in the outskirts of Paris.

6) Don’t Put Out The Glow | Not Rated | 15007 words

"He fists out a pair of skinny jeans and a plain black tee. Nothing wrong there. Then he sees an atrocious Hawaiian shirt in Zayn’s hand and he starts digging through the bag urgently, pulling out more and more items that don’t belong to him."

7) Pleasure Over Matter | Explicit | 152014 words

Harry is a bit out of his element, and an unsuspecting stranger provides him temporary relief.

8) All I Want Is To Fall With You | Mature | 16254 words

The weekend ski trip where omega Louis discovers that he can’t change a tire and his skiing skills are debatable but still manages to find the alpha who will change his life.

9) Some Flowers In Your Hair | Explicit | 23015 words

A magical camping AU in which Louis is jealous of Harry's magic, Liam's a little too enthusiastic about surviving in the wilderness, and Niall might have misunderstood the rules.

10) Force of Nature | Mature | 25672 words

Louis is a shy, young musician who doesn't want to go to Harvard.

Harry is a confident, second year athlete who likes to have a good time.

When their paths cross while their families are vacationing at the same lake resort, what begins as a summer of fun becomes a defining journey that might just change everything.

11) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27085 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

12) Rivers ‘Til I Reach You | Explicit | 29315 words

AU. Louis studies astronomy; Harry studies Louis. They spend their summers on the water and it shouldn't be complicated (spoiler: it is).

13) The List | Mature | 32094 words

'In the weeks that follow, Harry opens his old journal more than he has in the past two years each time he remembers Venice or thinks about Louis. He always flips to the same random page in the middle of the book, marked by the picture of himself that Louis sent him a few days after they got home. There’s a message on the back that says, ‘Spontaneous looks good on you! See you soon,’ and it makes Harry’s chest warm each time he reads it. He wedges their list out from between the worn pages, and it feels silly staring down at a folded up piece of paper with a strange sense of nostalgia for experiences they’ve yet to have; for places they’ve never even been.'

14) (Your Heartbeat) Rang True Inside My Bones | Explicit | 32945 words

Harry goes as Louis' date for a weekend wedding. He ends up taking the role a bit too seriously.

15) Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat | Explicit | 34572 words

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

16) And Touch Me Like You | Explicit | 35971 words

The one where Harry and Louis agree to be each other's New Year's kiss and it ends up being a lot more than they bargained for.

17) A Red-Dusted Planet | Explicit | 38265 words

A one-night stand in a small town in Australia turns into a weekend that Harry could've never predicted with a boy he may never forget.

18) A Rhythm In Rush | Explicit | 40010 words

Harry is a WWF journalist with big dreams and Louis is a glaciologist that flies helicopters for fun. Greenland is an odd place to spend Christmas, but just maybe, the perfect place to fall headfirst into love.

19) Nobody Does It Like You | Not Rated | 58520 words

Louis isn't looking for a home, but he finds one in Harry.

20) Waiting For The Tides To Meet | Explicit | 59873 words

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

21) Tug-Of-War | Explicit | 63000

Louis' husband dies suddenly and he is left with nothing. Well, not really nothing. He has Harry. And a St. Bernard puppy named Link, whom his late husband left behind for him. Louis takes care of Link and Harry takes care of Louis. Everything is okay until suddenly, it isn't.

22) This Wicked Game | Explicit | 70010 words

An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

23) Don’t Tell the Gods (We Left a Mess) | Explicit | 71556 words

After a misunderstanding with Liam’s mother, Louis agrees to accompany his best friend to a family wedding and pretend to be the world’s best boyfriend. But their simple plan goes awry when he learns that Harry, ex-boyfriend/ex-love of Louis’ life, will also be in attendance. (aka: fake!boyfriends with a twist ft. bromance, romance and cake.)

24) Perfect Storm | Explicit | 80230 words

What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding.

Harry and Louis choose the latter.

25) Nothing Worsens, Nothing Grows | Explicit | 102528 words

Another roadtrip au featuring Harry as the misunderstood hipster, Louis as the bitter psych major, Liam as the one with the secret boyfriend, and Niall as the one who just wants everyone to be happy.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #vacation au #fic recs #blp #blp fic recs #larry

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not-from-the-absence-of-violence · 4 years ago

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And tell me if somehow some of it remained.

Thank you so much to @drowninginstarlights for editing!! <3 and to spoilers for ep 91 of skyjacks!

When you drop a stone into water the water ripples out from it, and the ripples are new and different and yet in so many ways the same.

or small moments where deep down Margaret and Travis knew they had found eachother again.

Travis knew it from the moment he’d seen her. There was no mistaking his Margaret. She seemed almost untouched by time, the same hazel brown eyes, the same curly brown hair, his Margaret dressed in white and green and gray.

For a moment, he called to her as if no time had passed. She looked at him with the same curious glance he had known so well. He felt a pang in his chest as she asked him who he was, and he shook the past off. It’s just fate playing cruel tricks on him.

Besides. It’d been almost two centuries, it’s possible his brain was simply projecting what he remembered of her onto the first person he saw that vaguely reminded him of her. That hurt, of course. He remembered a time when he believed that he could’ve recognized his wife blind or bound, by her smile or her voice.

But it certainly wasn’t a coincidence. He wasn't sure what luminary was behind this new twist, but at least it’s original. It doesn’t matter she has the same mole on her cheek, the same spring in her step, the same laugh.

Travis has become really good at not seeing what’s right in front of him.

Margaret doesn’t register that something is different for a while. Travis is an intriguing man, certainly brought to her for a reason. He’s special and broken and she’ss curious and a black lily.

It’s not, in fact, until they are sitting together, weaving a spell, and she asks for his name. There are plenty of people in the world who do not go by their names, and certainly it isn't odd for a man like Travis Matagot to have a pseudonym. She knows he’s lying before the fragile spell breaks, but doesn’t strike her too badly, she’s good at her job.

There’s a moment then she thinks: William. Right before he says it out loud.

The spell strengthens and she feels odd in her chest. Like a tight, old knot that she hadn't been paying attention to suddenly unravels.

Magic is weird sometimes, she thinks, dismissing it. In a way, she’s right.

Margaret’s childhood has always been spotty. As long as she can remember, it’d felt like hazy static. There are flashes of something, a river bank, a forest, the familiar laugh of Rusalka. There’s no pain tied to it, though, and she’d learnt to accept that sometimes things surrounding luminaries were incomprehensible.

Of course, even if she wasn’t sure exactly what role Rusalka or the River played in her life, but it remained one of the few things she was sure of, and so she would be known in the town she found herself to be a young woman

“Ah, the river's daughter,” they’d tell her, with a slight wary apprehension.

“My name is Margaret,” she would say pleasantly, never knowing who gave her that name but knowing with bone deep certainty it was hers. She always managed to endear herself to most people she met.

She traveled quickly to Aurum, looking for work and purpose. She was, even then, already quite adept with magic and charm, aside from being deeply attuned to other people's emotions. When she learned of the teachings of black lilies, not only a job, but a belief and a way of life, she was immediately sold. It quickly became her life's work and passion. She believed that everyone deserved care, to heal. Her training went well, those years she spent more time becoming aware of her own emotions.

That’s when she realised the grief that she carried, like a gaping hole in her chest. It had always been there, but she was learning that everyone carried around pain that felt like an open wound. It was frustrating, this grief that felt more like longing, no reason for it, just… there. After so long, it had become almost comforting, like a gentle tether, even if she didn’t know to what.

She asked the luminaries for guidance one day, if they could clue her in on the reason for her longing. Three cards she pulled from the deck: The Changeling, The River, The Union.

It felt like an odd combination to understand her grief. The Union and The River could speak of a barrier to a connection of some kind? The Changeling perhaps signifying desire, an impulse?

She was not aware, then, how the cards mocked her in the simplicity of the answer. There was no way for young Margaret to see what was right before her.

So she learned to live with a cobbled together knot of feelings in her chest. She didn’t repress it, she accepted it as a fact of living. It was simply like a melody she had always known.

When they kiss again for the first time something in their souls sings, and Travis knows. The kiss is light, warm, it manages to be just on the good side of desperate. It should hurt, but instead it just feels like coming back to a warm home after spending a day in the bitter rain. It can never be quite what it was once, when they were young and believed they were unstoppable, but Travis still looks at her and for a second he manages to forget where they are, when they are.

The pieces don't quite fall together, not yet, but somewhere in the man that has become Travis Matagot, William sings as they are together once more.

Margaret has kissed many people before. She’s even kissed people she harboured a great deal of affection towards, and every kiss is different— they always are. There’s a familiarity in this kiss, it's easy, it's well worn. It’s new all over again in its own way. Travis is the kind of man to worm himself into your heart despite yourself and despite himself.

She doesn’t register the unraveling of thread in her chest, she exhales and it goes away and it's all just as natural as breathing.

The days in Nordia go by quickly, and with the looming threat of the Mariner and the swiftness with which the ritual needs to be performed there’s no time to examine their own feelings towards each other.

But there are glimpses. There are always glimpses.

There’s the moment when Travis says “Her name was Margaret.” She can’t quite get over the way he says her name.

There’s the moment when Travis hears her laugh and knows that it’s still the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

There’s a moment when they cross a river and Margaret who has never been afraid of water, never water but always, always drowning, feels a quiet and deep fear. There’s Travis' hand in hers and his determined promise: “I won’t let go of your hand.” She trusts him, wholly and completely. There’s a moment where he trusts her, which lets her cast her spell and protect them from the water. This time, this time they cross.

It’s on the Uhuru that the moments become more frequent. By then, Travis has become an expert at keeping the two Margarets separate from each other in his mind. One still hurts to think about and the other is right in front of him, he takes what he can get. When you drop a stone into water the water ripples out from it, and the ripples are new and different and yet in so many ways the same.

They sit on the floor together. It’s night and most people are asleep, but Travis’ sleeping schedule has never been what you’d call normal, and being human at night has shattered the last of the routine altogether. It’s a quiet night, Margaret stays up with him for no real reason. They’re both pleasantly tipsy.

He’s tired, in the nice, well worn way that follows a good day, and he’s smiling openly in a way that’s so rare for him. They’re talking about something that will be inconsequential in the morning, and what matters is that there is a strand of hair loose from Travis’ ponytail.

Almost absentmindedly, she reaches to tuck it behind his ear, and when he realises what she’s doing, he giggles. She almost can’t believe it, Travis Matagot giggling. She holds her hand to his cheek and presses a kiss right beneath his eye.

He smiles at her. “What was that for?”

She’s not sure herself, so she just sighs. “For being cute sometimes.”

His offended look doesn’t quite achieve what he’s hoping because of the creeping blush on his neck.

Sometimes there are parties on the Uhuru. They’re corsairs on their way to collect a lot of money, but it’s a long journey and they’ve got to do something. The crew get antsy otherwise. So parties it is.

This time Travis is moping on the side. Gable has given up on convincing him to join and has opted instead to spin around with Jonnit in their arms. Sometimes Travis just gets in the mood to be contrary and there is no fighting him on it.

Or well, that’s what everyone else thinks, but Margaret is stubborn and not above using unorthodox methods for Travis to have a good time.

“Come on, Travis,” she says taking his hand.

“I don’t want to,” he says, pouting.

She knows he’s lying, being frustrating on purpose. She fights the eyeroll and smirks instead. She brings his hand to her mouth and kisses his knuckles softly.

“I know you’re just being difficult,” she says softly, enjoying seeing his brain short circuiting for a moment. The way he looks at her, just a little wide eyed. She presses a kiss on his palm before gently tugging him. “Are you going to stop being such a killjoy, dear?”

Travis can only think how he was never able to say no to that look of hers. He stands up reluctantly and makes a big show of sighing and whining about it.

They fall into a dance that feels familiar, but they still have to learn the steps all over again. They twirl around, holding each other's hands, and tripping over each other's feet. He smiles despite himself.

“Wow,” Jonnit comments, as the party progresses, “You made Travis change his mind, Margaret, I don’t know if you’re aware how hard that is.”

She sees Travis turn bright red. He tries to pull her away, dance somewhere away from his friends, but she’s stronger than he is.

“Oh, I am aware,” she says.

“How did you do that?” says Gable, sounding genuinely impressed.

“Who’s to say?” Travis says, just a little too quickly.

After the fire, after Dref, they’re all sitting in Dref’s office together. It’s night and Jonnit is practically asleep in Gable’s lap, as they sit in quiet contemplation.

Travis is lounging on a chair, legs propped up on the armrest and he’s picking at the skin around his nails. Margaret is drumming her fingers on the desk, vaguely unnerved by Travis pulling at his skin so vigorously.

“Could you stop doing that, Travis?” she says, not unkindly.

“Hmm?” he says, not stopping.

“You could get a small infection, you know,” she tries.

He rolls his eyes. “You always say that to me, Margaret, and as always, it won't matter in a few hours.”

She knows her pet peeve is slightly illogical, and she knows how the argument will go, has always gone. He’ll be difficult, she won’t quite be able to explain why it bothers her.

“I haven’t ever heard her say that that to you,” Gable remarks distractedly.

She sighs. “I just don’t like to see you hurt yourself,” she says. It's a quiet confession, as she’s aware that he isn’t really hurting at all, it's just a silly little thing that makes her uneasy.

He stares at her for a little too long, and he doesn’t sigh or roll his eyes. And this time the outcome changes. This time, he grabs his deck of cards and starts shuffling them instead.

They don’t say anything, but they lock eyes, and there is a small moment of acknowledgement between them.

They’ve changed, mostly for the better.

He transforms with such ease these days, bearing the pain so much better than he used to.

He wouldn’t let anyone see him, before, and certainly not his Margaret. There’s nothing worse than the grief of standing helpless to prevent the pain of someone you love, and he wouldn’t let inflict that on her. She always convinced him to let her hold him afterwards, though, as he sat again in a body that didn’t quite feel his.

Now the night comes and it never even creeps into his mind to ask her to leave.

“Does it still hurt?” she asks.

He rolls his brand new shoulders, the bones cracking a little.

“Well it's not what I would call fun, but.” he says, then shrugs.

She lays a hand on his shoulder, a not quite sad smile on her face.

“Well, at least it’s better now.”

A lot is better now, he thinks.

“Stop moving so much,” Margaret says, with a smile in her voice.

Travis sighs. He enjoys the bright colour and tiny detailing she’s applying on his nails but he’s also allergic to sitting still.

“I always do it much faster,” he complains.

“Well, you do have to do it every day, I suppose.”

“That’s exactly why letting you draw black lilies in them was a mistake,” he says “They’ll be gone by the morning!”

She doesn’t look up from her precise handiwork. “Even if they aren’t permanent doesn’t mean they don’t have value now, love.”

That phrase sinks into Travis’ mind, as he stares at Margaret slightly bent over, tongue sticking out, agonizing over a black lily motif on his nails.

He’s fallen in love with her again. Somehow the thought doesn’t make him flinch.

There isn’t a single, thundering moment where Travis starts thinking of Margaret as a constant. It had been a creeping thing, so slow Travis hadn’t even realized.

The closest there had been was an unassuming conversation.

It’s a warm day and Margaret has long since given up reading the book in her hands. Travis is coiled around her neck in snake form, distracting her.

“Do we have any plans, after N’goni, I mean?” she says.

“Well it’s not my ship, now is it, Margaret,” Travis says.

“Well pardon me for imagining there might be places you still want to visit,” she says, grinning up at his face on her shoulder.

“I did promise Jonnit, I would go to Akaron with him. So we’ll go there, I suppose,” he says, eventually.

“Never heard of that one before.”

“It’s his hometown.”

“Aw, Matagot,” she says teasingly, “That is almost uncharacteristically sweet of you.”

Snakes can’t blush, but Travis coils around her tighter and hides his gaze in her hair. “I thought I was going to be mortal soon, okay?” he mumbles into her hair.

She runs her hands down the scales closer to her. “Well I am sure we will have a lovely time there,” she says, smiling. “I’m glad my work can be done everywhere.”

A comfortable silence washes over them, eventually Margaret goes back to reading, and Travis basks in her warmth and comfort.

If there have been another person in the room, they might have called the two of them out on the amount of times they’d used the word “we”. But it's just the two of them, not quite realising the thing they have been quietly rebuilding together. Not quite realising it finally feels like they can breathe again.

Margaret can’t quite remember it, but she knows, she knows on their wedding day they had made a promise.

Margaret hadn’t been aware she was dead, only aware she was still fighting a river, a different river and she was fighting it in soul if not in body. The current was unbelievably strong, but she wasn’t going to be pulled down and away by the Mariner, of all things. She’d fought with tooth and claw, holding onto her promise to William like a liveline, a tether. Anchoring her to her life and feeling. She wasn’t ready to go, and she was ready to move heavens or raise hell for it.

Sometimes if you fight long enough, strong enough, determined enough, even a puny little mortal caught between life and death on a technicality could catch the gaze of lumin’s eye.

“Do you wish to see him again, is that it? Trying to move us with a tale of spurned love?”

She’s not sure who’s asking.

She isn’t quite sure about anything anymore.

She is losing herself, but if she knows something it’s that she will get out and that she’s Margaret and she’s in love.

“You misunderstand,” she manages to choke out, “He’s the one keeping me here, helping me fight, he’s my rope upon which I will climb out of here.”

He never truly let go of her hand.

Something, someone, many things laugh.

Time has no meaning in the river, and yet it still manages to feel like an eternity before she pulls herself out of the river at the edge of a forest.

It's always in the quiet moments of solitary contemplation that you’re able to confront things.

Margaret stares out of the window in her room of the Goose. She doesn't break down crying, but she lets the cold shock wash over her like waves. Her William had been out there all this time, and all this time he hadn't let her go.

He didn’t have to hold on so tight anymore. She was here now, with the tight thread of a promise still between them. He would find her, when he was ready, when he could.

She was going to take some time off, to think. For years now, she’d been secure in her life, but this is different. New and old. Complicated and yet simple. It would certainly be a fun set of threads to unravel, if they were not her own.

She smiles down at the letter anyway. She trusts Travis, she trusts herself, and she knows that there’s no force on Speir that could come between them.

Travis finally lets himself know what’s been there in back of his mind for a long time. He’s been so very good at not looking at it.

Alone in his bunk, he raises his fingers to his mouth where she had kissed him, and with trembling fingers he brushes his lips. His long lost lover. He tugs lose the hair ribbon she’d given to him and stares at it.

A million emotions he's never had the words for flood him. He's relieved! He's happy she's out there, that she knows that he'll come look for her when he’s able to. He's afraid of losing her again, he's terrified he’s already lost her. There’s a century of grief he hasn't quite yet processed, he's worried about the fact that this might all be a trick, but also, he’s in love, ecstatic thundering love in his chest. It almost erases all other thoughts from his brain.

Tonight, they each look up at the same sky. There are so many worn promises strung between them and now, this brand new one joins their ranks, fragile and full of hope for the future.

He looks out onto the chaos of the starry night outside, tears full of so many things falling from his eyes. Finally, he exhales.

He isn't drowning anymore, and either is she.

#skyjacks #campaign podcast #campaign skyjacks #travis matagot #margaret skyjacks #changelilly #my writing #fic

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glitterblazercalum · 4 years ago

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got a river for a soul, and baby, you’re a boat

or: Oh, fuck. We showed up wearing matching couples’ costumes to this party by accident and now everyone thinks we’re together.” + cashton

hello and happy halloween everyone!! giant thank u to ainslee @ashesonthefloor for putting this event together!! and for forcing me to actually get this fic done, looking it over, and generally being a major source of serotonin in my life. another huge thank u to bella @clumsyclifford for being one of my favorite people and loving frat boys enough that it made me want to write a fic about them to annoy her <3 love you both <3

here is the link to the event masterpost bc I highly recommend checking out all of the other amazing fics:

https://ashesonthefloor.tumblr.com/post/633534107120549888/hello-welcome-to-my-halloween-fic-event

warnings: mentions of alcohol

word count: 2,872

without further ado, please enjoy the fic I wrote mostly all last night while looping drag me down for thirteen hours straight :))

Calum doesn’t know what fuckhead came up with the idea of having a joint Halloween party for Sigma Nu and Sigma Pi this year, but he really wants to fight them. He thinks he’d probably have a lot of people on his side, considering how much Sig Nu and and Sig Pi hate each other, so he tucks the idea of interfraternity war away in his head as a contingency plan in case the party goes to shit, as joint parties with any other frat always seem to. And it’s not like it’s a one night thing, because all three days of the “Halloweekend,” as Michael refuses to stop calling it, are supposedly going to be spent with Sig Nu, one party at their own house, and two at the shithole that he assumes is the Sig Nu house, in some deranged attempt at bonding. He’ll be lucky to make it out alive, probably.

Before college, he really never did anything of his own for Halloween, mainly used to being used as a prop or side character for his sister Mali-Koa’s elaborate costumes, or, after she’d moved out, sticking a pair of fake fangs in his mouth to hand out candy to the few kids who rang the doorbell despite his efforts to keep all the lights in the house off. Last year, as a freshman, he’d gotten roped into a group costume with some of the other Sig Pi pledges, and while his memories are...hazy at best, he vaguely remembers falling asleep in a Teletubbies onesie at the end of the night.

This year, though, no one has tried to tell him what to dress up as, so it’s now a few hours before the first of the three parties, and Calum still has no ideas for what he should dress up as. A quick Google search for “cheap easy costumes” hadn’t really been all that helpful, so he decides to ignore the problem and take a nap until he actually has to leave.

A few hours later, Michael barges into the room to drag him out of bed, and looks around for a few seconds before asking, “You don’t have a costume, do you?”

Calum groans, pulling himself out of bed and wracking his brain for an idea that he can plausibly bullshit in the next few seconds, because he can’t let Michael be right and have something to tease him about, so he blurts, “I’m going to be a salt shaker.”

Michael gapes at him a bit for a few seconds before asking, “What the fuck? What kind of costume is that? What are you even going to wear for that?”

Calum mentally kicks himself in the shin, as hard as possible, because he really hasn’t thought this through. Why couldn’t he have just said cat or cowboy or something even slightly in the realm of normal Halloween costumes?

“Uhhh.. y’know that baseball tee I have? The one with the black sleeves and white middle?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s in my closet, but continue.”

“What the fuck, dude? Give it back!”

“You haven’t noticed that it’s missing for like three weeks, I just assumed it was mine now. Tell me what the rest of the costume is,” Michael demands.

“I’ll just tape a piece of paper with a big ‘S’ on it to the front of my shirt, and then put one of those pots with the holes on my head. Bam! Salt shaker!” Calum says, moderately impressed with his ability to pull stuff out of his ass this quickly.

“What makes you think we even have a colander?” Michael asks, crossing his arms.

Calum gives him a blank stare. “A what?”

“That’s what the pots with the holes are called, you idiot.”

“You think Harry would live anywhere that didn’t have a fully-stocked kitchen? There’s bound to be one in one of the cabinets or something.”

“Fine. I’ll go get the shirt while you look for the colander.” Before Calum can object, suggest that he look through Michael’s closet himself and steal back any of his other clothes that have somehow wound up there, Michael’s already halfway down the hallway.

Sighing, he trudges down the stairs towards the kitchen, where one of the seniors, Niall, is sitting with his head in his hands, dressed as a pirate.

“Hey, dude, nice costume,” Calum offers as a greeting. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find a colander, would you? I know Harry—”

“Do not talk to me about Harry right now,” Niall says, and Calum stops his search for a moment to send him a concerned look.

“What happ—”

“That needy-ass motherfucker thinks that just because I didn’t want to do a couples’ costume with him, it means I don’t love him anymore! Never mind the fact that he literally mentioned this idea to me yesterday, well past the point where everyone finalizes their costumes.”

Calum offers him a sympathetic look and offers, “Couples’ costumes are boring and cheesy anyways. Neither of you are missing out on anything, at least in my opinion.”

Niall lifts his head up from where he’d been repeatedly hitting it on the table to smirk at Calum and ask, “Have a lot of experience with couples’ costumes, do you?”

Luckily, Calum has finally found the colander, so he opts to ignore the question and just leave the kitchen entirely.

When he gets back upstairs, Michael’s in his room, unabashedly checking himself out in the mirror that’s on the back of the closet door. “Yeah, yeah, your anime character of the year looks great, now get out and let me get ready.”

Michael scoffs, “Get ready, as if you’re even doing anything,” but moves towards the door anyway.

Michael’s right, the costume is ridiculously easy to throw together, and two minutes later, they’re both out the door, walking across Fraternity Row to get to the Sig Nu house, where the music is already blaring and strobe lights throw red, then green, then blue shadows across everyone’s faces. On his way to the kitchen to grab a drink, he sees Niall and Harry walk into the house, holding hands and laughing together, so he assumes that their fight has blown over as quickly as all of their other fights always seem to.

He sees a few different trays of shots and decides he might as well take one to get the night started off right. After, he realizes that he probably shouldn’t grab a beer now, Mali’s rule about sticking to one color of booze for the night ringing in his head, so he settles for filling up a Solo cup with whatever glow in the dark gin concoction is in all the punch bowls. He wouldn’t put it past the Sig Nus to poison the drink on purpose, but it tastes relatively normal, so he grabs another cup for Michael and attempts to leave the kitchen, steering around the couple sloppily making out in the doorway.

It’s harder to spot Michael than it usually is, considering that at least half the people at the party are wearing some type of wig, but Calum eventually makes his way back over to him. He’s talking to Niall and Harry, and they both offer him a smile before continuing on with the conversation. Once that reaches a lull, Niall leans closer to Calum and says, “Mate, you didn’t need to lie to me about couples’ costumes.”

Calum has no idea what Niall is talking about, so he shakes his head and asks, “What are you talking about?”

Niall cackles, and Harry turns to look at him adoringly before going back to talking to Michael, and Calum is more confused than ever. Niall grabs his shoulder and spins him around and points in the direction of a clump of people. “You’re salt and he’s pepper, right? That’s such an obvious couples’ costume, although you two do seem to have a bit of a disconnect on how much effort you put in. That guy really went all out. And dude, why haven’t you told us that you have a boyfriend? You know we’d want to know about that, give him the Sig Pi seal of approval and all that. Wait. Unless he’s a Sig Nu, in which case, I don’t want to know because I’d probably have to kick you out. That’s a joke, by the way.”

Calum barely has the presence of mind to mumble, “He’s not my boyfriend,” before crossing the room to get to the guy in the hyper-realistic pepper grinder costume.

The guy smiles as Calum approaches, and despite the costume covering most of his body, Calum can tell that he’s cute. “Why so salty?” Pepper Guy greets, the sunshiney smile still on his face.

Calum smirks and replies, “Maybe I just need some more spice in my life.” Pepper Guy laughs, and just like everything else about him, it’s cute, and Calum wants to hear it again. “I’m Calum, by the way.”

“Ashton. Nice to meet you, man.”

Calum leans a little closer so that it’s easier to hold a conversation over the loud music and asks, “What’s the deal with the super realistic pepper grinder costume?”

Ashton makes a strange noise, somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and says, “I got it off some random sketchy website, but it was supposed to be a chess piece. Something clearly went wrong somewhere in production, and my friend Luke said that I might as well sharpie a “P” onto it and just go with it.”

Calum makes a noise of agreement, mind stuck on a dumb idea. Before he can reconsider, he sends Michael a quick text that says if u’ve already taken over as dj, can u play that come grind w me song? and a few seconds later, he hears the opening notes and grins.

“Hey, Ashton?”

“Yeah?” Ashton replies, as realization slips across his face.

Right in time with the singer’s voice, Calum says, “Come grind with me,” and he laughingly pulls Ashton towards the makeshift dance floor. Neither of them can really dance, so it’s a mess of laughter and limbs flopping around, but Calum feels an unmistakable electricity between them too, and once the song is over, they stay for the next few, enraptured by each other. When they finally exhaust themselves with all the laughing and mock-twerking, Ashton asks Calum if he wants a refill, and when Calum nods, he grabs his hand and starts pulling him towards the kitchen.

Once they’re there, Calum goes for another serving of the glow in the dark punch, which is steadily dimming as the glow sticks run out of light. Since that’s really the only light source in the kitchen, Calum doesn’t see Ashton until he’s turning around and Ashton is right in front of him, reaching around him for a cup. Calum’s kind of trapped with his back against the counter, Ashton’s pepper grinder costume tall enough to really block out the view of the rest of the party, and the world narrows, all of it contained in where their eyes connect, and then, after Calum has safely set his drink back on the counter, that narrow point expands just a bit to where their mouths land on each other’s. The colander gets knocked off Calum’s head as he lifts himself up to sit on the counter, wrapping his legs around Ashton’s waist to pull him closer, as close as he can possibly get him.

Ashton’s sucking a mark into Calum’s neck when Calum has his first coherent thought of the past few minutes and pulls back, breathlessly asking “Wait, wait, you’re not a Sig Nu, are you?” fully expecting the answer to be no.

Ashton steps back a little too, and it takes him a second to register the question before he groans, “Of course you’re a fucking Sig Pi, that’s the only explanation that makes sense for me never seeing you anywhere before. You’re too hot for me to not notice otherwise.”

Calum flushes and mentally curses out whatever idiots had started the rivalry between Sig Nu and Sig Pi before he grabs his stupid colander off the ground and gives Ashton an awkward wave goodbye.

Once he’s out of the kitchen, he quickly glances around in search of Michael, and when he can’t immediately find him, he just gives up and leaves entirely. Fuck Sig Nu.

He spends most of the next day bitching about his hangover, and then, a few hours later, bitching about his hangover while helping to set up the house for that night’s party.

He doesn’t really have much more of a costume for tonight, throwing on a gray shirt and sharpie-ing some whiskers on his face. Michael takes pity on him and makes him a headband with an approximation of what they both think mouse ears are, and Calum is mildly entertained by going up to everyone and saying, “I’m a mouse, duh.”

His heart’s really not in the right place to party tonight, which is probably breaking the cardinal rule of being in a frat, so he sticks close to Michael, who has taken over the role of DJ, once again. Zayn from Alpha Sig strolls over after about half an hour, devil horns askew, and quietly says to Calum, “Cat and mouse, huh? Didn’t think you had it in you, Hood, that’s proper cute. Not as cute as me and Lou, mind you, but still, I respect the effort.”

Calum is reluctant to look up and see who he’s accidentally matching with today, because, with his luck, it’s probably another guy from Sig Nu. When he does eventually look up, he immediately makes eye contact with Ashton, who happens to be walking by, dressed in all black and with whiskers sharpie’d onto his face too. Calum wants to bang his head into a wall because the universe clearly hates him if it’s having him match with Ashton again. Even beyond that, Ashton looks so good out of the stupid pepper grinder and in all black that Calum wants to make out with him again.

Ashton is clearly having similar thoughts when he gestures Calum over and leads them towards a little pocket of quiet space in one of the lesser used hallways.

Calum really wants to hook his thumb into one of Ashton’s belt loops, so he does, as Ashton looks him up and down a few times. “Is the mouse costume your way of telling me you want me to chase you?”

Calum murmurs, “Shut up,” before leaning in to kiss him, frat rivalry be damned. It’s just as good as it was the night before, maybe even more so, now that the pepper costume isn’t in their way. At this point, there’s no denying the chemistry. It can’t be blamed on being drunk since Calum’s been nursing the same beer all night, and the part of his brain that’s protesting against being this close to a Sig Nu is getting smaller and smaller as he and Ashton continue to kiss.

They stay in that hallway for the rest of the night, eventually sliding down to sit on the ground, legs pressed together, sharing stupid stories about their respective frats. Calum’s surprised when the music shuts off because it feels like it’s only been an hour at most, that’s how easy it is to talk to Ashton. Ashton heaves himself up and reaches both hands down to help Calum up, too.

“I don’t think there’s any way you can match your costume to mine tomorrow, but I’ll come find you anyways,” Ashton says, as he leaves Calum with a kiss on the cheek.

Calum’s too wired to sleep much, so he opts to help clean up the house instead, and that takes up enough of his day that when nighttime rolls around, he’s stood staring at his closet without a costume idea for the third time in as many days. After ten minutes of consideration, he digs through one of his drawers to pull out the fake vampire fangs that he had somehow remembered to bring with him, and he goes down the hall to ask Jack to put some fake blood on his mouth and neck. Jack always goes all out for Halloween.

Once he’s at the party, he doesn’t have to wait long to find Ashton, who looks incredibly good in his werewolf costume. There’s fake blood on him too, which is really the only way their costumes could be understood to be matching, or so Calum thinks. Tonight, Jack and Alex are the ones to tease him, “You know what, I agree. Jacob and Edward should have ended up together, Bella was boring as shit.”

Calum’s really not bothered by the comments at all, so much so that he’s already thinking of couples’ costumes ideas for next year when he finds his way over to Ashton and whispers, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Are you trying to make a move on me? I’m a respectable Sigma Nu, I don’t know if I can allow that.”

Calum laughs and tugs him out the door, “Told you I wanted some more spice in my life.”

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thecassadilla · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Look Back

Pairing: Kristanna

Rated: M

Word Count: 2,945/AO3

Summary: After their separation is prophesied by a strange woman, Kristoff goes on a quest to the underworld to save Anna.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is my contribution for Kristanna Week Day 5 - Blue! I wasn’t originally going to write a spin on the Orpheus and Eurydice myth for this day, but the idea came to me last night and I just had to write it out. I also apologize if I messed up any of the mythology, it’s been nearly 10 years since I last read this story and I kind of adapted it to suit the needs of the fic. I’m not really crazy about it because it’s a little different than all of the other stuff I’ve written but what am I gonna do? I hope you enjoy it despite it's weirdness!! (Sorry for all the asterisks, tumblr is finnicky with language and tags) *Please note that this fic is rated M for light s*xual content and temporary character d*ath*

There were few things rarer in the world than true love, and Anna and Kristoff had been lucky enough to find it with each other. In the beginning, they hid their feelings, and for far too long, they danced around the possibility of being together. When they finally came together, what grew between them was beautiful and rare.

In no time at all, they were blissfully married, and spending nearly every waking moment together. On this particular day, they’d gone for a stroll in the park, as the weather was getting colder by the day, and soon being outside would become unbearable. They walked hand in hand, bundled up in their winter attire, and walked along a wooded path. For such a brisk day, there were plenty of people out and about - children and families, joggers, dog walkers. They chatted about their upcoming plans and current events as they walked, damp leaves crunching beneath their shoes. Just as they were getting ready to leave, a wiry grey-haired woman approached them.

“There is very bad energy here,” the old woman warned, eyes widened with fear. “You will not last together.”

“Excuse me?” Kristoff asked, wrapping a protective arm around Anna’s shoulders.

“You’ll be torn apart,” she hissed and waved her hands around manically, before wandering up to another unsuspecting group of people.

“What does she know?” Anna scoffed, rolling her eyes.

He wasn’t the superstitious type, but there was something about what the woman said that managed to rub him the wrong way. “That was...strange.”

She looked up at him, and frowned. “Are you actually worried?”

“No,” he lied, though it was useless - Anna was exceptional at reading his face.

“Nothing can tear us apart, my love,” she promised him, stroking his cheek with her soft, delicate fingers. “Nothing can come between us. Especially not a crazy old lady in a park.”

She’d said it with such confidence that he was able to temporarily brush off the overwhelming sense of doom that the old woman had managed to stir up in him. It wasn’t until they got home that evening that the anxiety returned. He normally kept a calm and level head, but losing Anna was his greatest fear and the sheer thought of it was enough to make his stomach turn. He was quiet throughout dinner as she blathered away and she didn’t bring up his unusual silence until they were lying on the couch.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he sighed.

“Something is bothering you.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” she assured him. “But I’m all ears if you change your mind.”

“It’s not a big deal, I just need to relax.”

“How about a bath?” she suggested, squeezing his arm. “I can’t think of anything more relaxing than that.”

He smiled at the thought of it and just a little while later, they were submerged in a tub of warm water and bubbles, her bare back pressed up against his solid chest. He pressed kisses to her neck and her ear, caressing her breasts with one hand and slipping his other hand to tease the sensitive area between her legs all while she giggled and moaned from his touch. They moved from the tub to their bed after they pruned up, eager to please each other and put the stress of the day behind them. It was so easy for him to get lost in her bright blue eyes as she looked up at him with adoration, biting her lip and digging her nails into his back as he thrust into her.

Long after they were both satisfied, he cradled her in his arm and she rested her head on his shoulder, drawing lazy circles on his bare chest.

“I hope you feel better now,” she mumbled. “Because I know I do.”

“I do,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to her hairline. “Taking a bath together was a great idea.”

“We should do it more often,” she smiled, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “You should get some sleep.”

He watched as her eyes fluttered closed and her body relaxed against his, and he sighed contently, closing his own eyes and drifting away.

He didn’t remember waking up the following morning, but the sunlight streaming in through their curtains had created a weird, hazy effect. Just as he had expected, she was still lying next to him, practically glowing in the morning light.

“I have to go,” she said suddenly.

“You should stay,” he whispered in her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

She managed to free herself from his grasp and turned to face him, dragging her hand from his face to his chest and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “You know that I have to go, but I’ll be back soon and we can pick up from where we left off.”

After one last passionate kiss, she crawled out of bed and he propped himself up on his elbows, watching as she padded across the bedroom floor. She looked back to give him a flirtatious smile before closing the bathroom door. He didn’t even know where she had to go, but with a grin of his own, he flopped back onto the pillows and tossed his arm over his face, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky.

Until she didn’t come home.

Though their separation had been prophesied by the lady in the park, his heart was shattered and he was overcome with grief - god, the grief was unbearable. He’d lost his beautiful wife, the most important person in his life, the person he truly loved and who loved him back, unconditionally. He cried over her pale body for days, wishing that his tears would bring her back but knowing deep down that his sadness had no power in determining her fate.

But, he’d heard of someone who did have that kind of power - the god of the underworld, Hades, who had a penchant for collecting souls. If the mythology was true, then there had to be a way to find the underworld and convince Hades that Anna needed to be earthside with him. They belonged together, and there was no one - human or god - who could tell him otherwise.

He did as much research as he could, scouring books and maps, trying to figure out a way to get to the underworld - to get Anna back. He didn’t care how far he had to travel, or whether it was by land or by sea, but he had to get to her.

So he did, setting off on a long journey across the world before finally coming across the dark cave that had been described in every piece of literature he’d gotten his hands on. A discarded boat on the banks of the river attracted his attention, and he climbed in, picking up the ore in his hands and rowing towards the cave. As he rowed, the water beneath the boat changed from translucent and blue to an oily, black sludge.

When he finally descended into the dark cavern, he found that he was no longer rowing the boat, but that control of the water had been taken over by a force behind him. He turned around and there was a tall, gangly man standing at the back of the boat, guiding them through the rough waters. He could tell from first glance that the man was not human, but that was to be expected - he was going to the underworld, after all. He’d read about this particular man; a ferryman who escorted the souls of the d*ceased to the underworld, though he certainly wasn’t escorting the d*ad in this case.

The journey to the underworld was a long and dangerous one, and he knew they had reached a crucial area when a fog began to form across the sides of the cavern - souls. Everything that surrounded them was d*ad; shriveled leaves and withered trees shrouded in darkness. Finally, the boat collided with a dock and Kristoff turned around to find that the ferryman was gone. He took a deep breath before climbing out of the boat, more determined than ever to find Hades and bring his wife home.

Being surrounded by death created an unsettling, eerie feeling. Kristoff could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he wandered aimlessly through the darkness, surrounded by the foggy mist. Despite the fact that he was most definitely alone, he didn’t feel alone. He felt as if he were walking along a busy sidewalk in a major city, dodging tourists and workers, rushing to their destination.

Finally, he came upon a looming, black castle and he knew that he had made it to his own destination. With all of the determination that he could muster up, he marched toward it; through the gates, down the cobblestone path, and into the palace that belonged to the god of the underworld. Hades had a bride of his own, and together they sat in matching thrones at the end of the long hallway.

“You’re not welcome in the underworld, mortal,” Hades’ threatening voice boomed.

Kristoff was not going to take no for an answer; he hadn’t made it this far to give up. “I’m here for my wife and I refuse to leave without her.”

“You don’t get to make demands.”

“I need my wife,” he pleaded. “I can’t live without her. I won’t leave without her.”

The threatening creature moved to stand from his throne, but his wife held out her arm, which caused him to pause. She leaned toward him, her long, dark tresses moving in a fluid motion with her body. Her hand flexed over the distance between her mouth and his ear as she whispered to him. Kristoff gulped, unsure of what her actions meant, though he hoped it was an act of mercy.

When she finally pulled away, Hades mischievously narrowed his eyes. “How about we make a deal?”

“Anything,” Kristoff blurted desperately.

“You may have your wife back,” Hades offered, “But, you may not see her until you return to your realm. You will be guided by the ferryman and she'll be in your boat, and once you’ve reached the earthside, she’s yours. If you look back at her before you’ve reached the earthside, then she stays in the underworld permanently.”

“Deal,” he answered without hesitation.

When he blinked, he was back in the boat. He didn’t remember leaving the castle or walking back through the depths of the underworld. He was petrified to look anywhere but straight ahead, and when the boat started moving, he called out to her. “Anna, are you here?”

Miraculously, she responded. “Yes, honey, I’m here.”

Hearing her voice nearly caused him to combust - god, how he missed the sound of her voice. It was almost enough for him to lose control and turn around. “I need to see you.”

“Don’t turn around,” Anna begged. “If you look back at me, then I can’t come home with you. Don’t look back.”

“How can I trust that this isn’t a trick?” he cried. “I need to know that you’re here.”

“I’m here,” she promised. “Keep your eyes closed until it’s safe.”

“How will I know when it’s safe?”

“I’ll tell you. Don’t open them until I say so, okay? Promise me that you won’t open your eyes until I tell you to.”

“I promise,” he agreed, trembling from the stress. He closed his eyes, unsure of what he would do if he lost her yet again. The one thing he was certain of was that he couldn’t live without her. If he had to take drastic measures to ensure they would be together, then he would do so.

For a long time, the boat ride was quiet. In the short span of time that he’d spent in the underworld, he managed to forget how long and treacherous the journey there was. It was difficult to resist the temptation of turning around and checking to make sure that the god of death had made good on his promise, that the woman he loved was actually in the boat with him.

After what felt like an eternity, she spoke again. “We’re almost there, but don’t look back yet.”

“Okay,” he said, hardly able to hear her over the sound of his pounding heart.

Suddenly, a pair of arms came down around his neck, and soft lips were pressing a kiss to his cheek. He didn’t dare to open his eyes - he couldn’t risk it. If this was some kind of test or trick from the god of the underworld and he opened his eyes, she’d be gone for good.

“You can open your eyes,” she said, pressing her cheek against his. “We’re safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’re back on earth,” she assured him. “We’re here, together. I’m alive.”

“Are you sure?” he repeated, his voice strained. “Because if you’re not sure, we’re both going to end up back in the underworld.”

“Touch me,” she begged, freeing her grasp from his neck and bringing his arm up to her face. “It’s me. I’m real.”

Through his touch, he recognized her features; her perfectly smooth skin, the slope of her petite nose, and her plump, kissable lips. “It’s really you?”

“It’s me,” she confirmed with a sniffle. “You can look.”

He slowly blinked his eyes open and the first thing that he noticed was that the water beneath the boat had transformed from black sludge to clear and blue. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see strands of her brilliant red hair, and he heaved a sigh of relief; she was here. He hadn’t been tricked by Hades.

She climbed onto his lap and cupped his jaw with her hands before leaning her forehead against his. “You saved me.”

His arms reflexively wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, and he momentarily forgot how to breathe; she was alive, and he was touching her, and god, she was even more gorgeous than he remembered. “Oh, Anna, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she whimpered, tears cascading down her cheeks. “So much.”

He could feel a lump growing in his throat as he fought to hold back his own tears. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

“Good,” she sobbed, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He placed a hand on the back of her head, and gently rubbed her back, the boat bobbing from side to side beneath them. When she finally looked up at him with reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks, she asked, “Can we go home now?”

And then he awoke with a start - he was in their bedroom, unsure of if he had ever really left it. Was it really possible that he dreamt the entire thing? He wasn’t sure - it had felt so real.

Anna was leaning over him, brushing his hair out of his face. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re okay?”

“Of course I’m okay,” she laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

He blinked rapidly as he looked around the room, and sure enough, they were still tangled up in their sheets like they had been when they fell asleep the night before. He could feel her body pushed up against him and he knew she was real, but he couldn’t shake the nightmare that had plagued him a few moments prior. “I don’t know...I think I had a bad dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“You d*ed,” he answered shakily. “And I went to the underworld to save you.”

“Oh,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows together. “Did you?”

“I did.”

“That’s good,” she smiled. “You’re a hero.”

“It felt so real, though. It was so vivid, and colorful, and...real. I don’t even know where the entire underworld thing came from - I haven’t read anything related to mythology since I was in, like, high school.”

“Our dreams don’t always make sense,” she assured him. “Last night I dreamt that I was late to take a test, which is funny because I haven’t taken a test since I was in college.”

“It’s just...I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Anna, I really don’t.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that because I’m not going anywhere. And if I do die first, I’m going to come back and haunt you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” he chuckled. “I think that lady in the park yesterday really freaked me out.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get a kick out of this; there was an article about her in the local paper this morning - she got arrested for harassing people in the park. It’s not the first time she’s been arrested for it, either.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah, I can even show you the article.” She moved to grab her phone, but he placed his hand over her arm, stopping her.

“It’s okay, I believe you,” he said in a low voice, diverting his eyes away from her.

“It’s really bothering you, huh?”

“A little,” he confessed with a sigh. “It’s such a scary thought.”

“I promise, I’m not going anywhere.” She smiled coyly before sliding her leg over his waist and pushing herself on top of him, so they were lying chest to chest. “Even if you change your mind and decide that you want to get rid of me.”

He reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I definitely don’t want to do that.”

Her lips ghosted against his as she whispered, “Then we have nothing to worry about.”

#kristannaweek2020 #kristanna week 2020 #kristanna #anna #kristoff bjorgman #frozen #frozen fic #my writing

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

Text

Best Part of Me- Chapter 85

Warnings: profanity, violence, mentions of blood, mild torture, very minor references to rape

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @tragiclyhip

He briefly loses consciousness, succumbing to shock and blood loss. When he comes to he’s disoriented. Head swimming and vision blurred; vaguely aware of combined smells of sweat, urine, and pure filth. A lone voice to his right; volume muted and its words garbled, making him feel as if he’s attempting to listen and decipher while being submerged underwater. He feels groggy and weak; head swaying back and forth and from side to side, eyes repeatedly blinking in an attempt to acknowledge and recognize his surroundings. At first he thinks he’s back on the Sultana Kamal Bridge, leaning back against the side of an abandoned and bullet ridden sedan. Right leg rendered useless and the strong metallic taste of blood in his mouth; crimson rivers escaping his lips and trickling down his chin. Chest feeling as if it’s on fire; sheer agony created by a sniper’s bullet that ripped through his back and plunged into his chest. The tightness in his left lung; the distinct rattling and wheezing noise he makes every time he attempts to draw a breath.

It’s seven years ago and he’s back on that bridge. Exhausted and in pain; feeling all semblance of strength and hope...of LIFE...seeping out of him. But there’s no visions this time; no delirious moment where he sees the blurry yet unmistakable image of his dead son. He can hear laughter though. Faint yet musical; a beautiful sound that somehow cuts through the grogginess and the thick fog of pain and manages to bring a weak smile to his face. And their voices; happy and excited as they call to him. His oldest daughter and his twin boys; giggling as they encourage him to follow them. To run and play and throw them over his head; that blind faith and trust that he’ll always be there to catch them.

Another voice now. Older and deeper. And he tightly squeezes his eyes shut and tries to identify it. Rich in tone and possessing a slow, Southern drawl; a discernible twang that evokes the smell of leather and cheap whisky. A chuckle accompanies it; one that’s both menacing and amused. It’s followed by the shuffle of boots along dirty and cracked cement; a sound that grows as it slowly approaches him. He opens his eyes when senses their presence; a hazy figure briefly standing at his side before crouching down to his level. And as the grogginess begins to lift and his consciousness begins to return, he expects to see fourteen year old Ovi next to him; clad in a dirty t-shirt that is monstrous on his tall, slender frame and jeans a few sizes too big. The words are on the tip of his tongue -“You see that helicopter? I need you to run as fast as you can for it”- but they never leave his lips; forming in his brain yet no sound emerging. But it isn’t a kind, comforting hand that reaches for his now. It's one that is rough and callused and violently yanks his head up by his hair.

“Wake up!” Nathan snarls, and tosses a cup of dirty water in his face. “I’m nowhere near through with you.”

The pain is intense. Beginning at the small of his back and travelling the entire length of spine. Some of the feeling has returned to his legs; extremely limited mobility, but he’s able to move his feet ever so slightly and weakly wiggle his toes. He can smell the blood; sharp and metallic. It soaks his left shoulder and stretches from one hip to the other; aware that it drips down his arm and off his fingers and trickles down his legs. And as he becomes more lucid, the reality of the situation and his environment returns. Able to recall the moments before he passed out. The phone call from his wife and the concern and panic in her voice as she told him about the letter -the REAL letter- from the Marine Corps; her pleading for him to just walk away and let them handle the situation. It was too late by then. By the time hung up, Nathan was already on the move; free of the restraints around his wrists, a revolver in his hand. And something wicked in his eyes and something even more sinister that dripped from his words; a smirk tugging at his lips as he wasted no time in pulling the trigger.

Tyler struggles against the hand firmly gripping his hair; thrashing his head from side to side, his legs feebly attempting to push himself away from the dirty surface his stomach is pressed against. It’s futile; he can barely feel anything from the waist down and his arms are out of commission; tightly restrained behind back, the plastic of the zip ties cutting into his skin. He tries to call out for help, but all words are held back; stopped by the soiled rag that has been crudely stuffed into his mouth. A mixture of blood and sweat drips into his eyes. A large, vicious gash across the top of his right eyebrow; the result of catching his face on the door frame when the gunshot had pitched his body forward.

He’s able to register his surroundings. Captive in the locker that previously held Neysa and Aarev; face down on the soiled mattress. The odour hits him at full strength now; a combination of old sweat, stale piss, feces, and puke. His stomach lurches; chest heaving and retching, eyes watering and this throat burning when he’s forced to swallow his own vomit; unable to properly expel it with the makeshift gag shoved in his mouth.

“You’re just a mess, aren’t ya,” Nathan chuckles, then releases the grip from Tyler’s hair; shoving his face into the mattress and holding it there until he’s struggling to breathe and squirming against both the bonds around his wrists and the hand pressing down on the back of his head. “Not so tough now, are ya? So much for the big, bad Tyler Rake. You’re losing your touch; nothing thinking as quick as you used to. Turning your back like that? Maybe your brain is more fucked up than everyone thinks.”

“Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit!” The words are muffled against the fabric in his mouth, and Nathan gives a smirk of both annoyance and amusement. Then uses his index and middle fingers to shove the rag even further; until it touches the back of Tyler’s throat, making him gag and retch once more.

“Used to be a time where people were afraid of you or admired you,” Nathan muses. “I don't think they’ll feel either of those now; kind of hard to be afraid of someone that’s been reduced to such a pathetic piece of shit. How does it feel? To be knocked off that pedestal of yours?”

He once more struggles against the restraints. Curling his hands into tight fists and tightening his forearms; attempting to yank his wrists apart with enough force to break the heavy plastic. Relegated to dropping his forehead against the mattress and groaning into it with a mix of frustration, rage, and pain.

“You don’t give up, I’ll give you that much. Apparently it takes a lot more than shooting you in the back to take you out of the game. Guess you’ve got a bit of fight left in you after all.”

Tyler feels the mattress sink and sway underneath him as Nathan looms over him; one knee alongside of him as the other hovers over the small of his back and a hand once more grips his hair. And he screams into both the gag and the mattress when the younger man presses his knee against the fresh bullet wound; his entire body weight coming down on the injured area. The pain is intense; sharp and agonizing, causing his entire body to lock up as a defence mechanism. His vision blurs and his head swims; the numbness in his feet increasing and mobility worsening in his legs. Yet he manages to fight back; thrashing wildly against the mattress as he attempts to shake the former Marine off of him.

“You got some balls, Rake, I’ll give you that,” Nathan smirks, and finally removes his knee from Tyler’s back. “Guess you haven’t learned your lesson, huh? You fuck with the wrong people, this is what happens. It catches up to you; sooner or later. Now do me a favour...look up…” he yanks Tyler’s head back by the hair. “...you see that?” he nods at the cell phone perched on a chair at the foot of the mattress. “See what I’m doing there? We’re gonna save this little moment of ours. For prosperity. So I can look back on this moment fondly. WHILE I’m pissing on your grave. And fucking that cute little wife of yours.”

“Fuck you!”

“What was that?” Nathan yanks the rag from Tyler’s mouth. “Did you just say ‘fuck you’? Is that what you said? I think you’ve got this all wrong. I’m going fuck HER. Whether she wants me to or not. And there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it.”

“I will fucking kill you!” Tyler rages “With my bare fucking hands! If you go anywhere near my wife, I will fucking bury you!”

“You’re not exactly in the position to be making threats. I seem to be the one in control here. And trust me, when she sees this little video of you? When she sees what a pathetic little bitch she’s married to? She’s going to ask me for it; beg for it from a real man.”

“I swear to God, if you go anywhere near her…”

“You know, now that I think of it, that little girl of yours is quite the looker. Blond hair, blue eyes, cute little smile. She’s actually more my type. I prefer them a bit older, but I’d be willing to make an exception.”

“You motherfucker! You touch her...you go anywhere near her…and I will kill you and everyone you love! I will hunt them down one by one and put a bullet in their heads! You stay away from my daughter, you stay away from my wife, or…”

“Or? Or what? You won’t be around to protect them. And it’s not just me you have to worry about. There’s more of us out there. Mahajan’s been more than generous with the money. Everyone has a price, Rake. Except for holier than thou, self righteous you, of course. You had the chance; to be rich. All you had to do was give up the kid and the girl. But you didn’t take it. All because you had to be a hero.”

“I’m no hero. I’m just not a psychotic piece of shit. Who am I talking to right now? Which one of your personalities? Which one of your imaginary friends?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Or WHO you’re talking to.”

“I’m talking to a fucking psycho. A little bitch who couldn’t beat me in a fair fight so he shot me from behind. That’s a change for you, yeah? Seeing as you spent the last week and a half taking it from behind.”

Nathan scowls, then shoves two fingers deep into the bullet hole at the small of Tyler’s back.

He bites back the scream that threatens to erupt, but can’t control the tears of agony that stream down his face.

“Pathetic piece of shit,” Nathan laughs, then rummages through the pockets on the back of Tyler’s vest; searching until he finds the knife. “You’ve always been pretty popular with the ladies, I heard. The muscles, the pretty blue eyes, the voice. Even Nik was quite smitten with you at one point from what she told me. She’s a nice girl; that Nik. Smart, beautiful, wicked body. Not that great in bed, but…” he shrugs. “...you can teach ‘em and train ‘em, right? Did you know she was in love with you? That she was willing to slum for you? That she would have been more than happy to spend the rest of her life completely devoted to you, waiting on you hand and foot, giving you babies. That must have been a hard decision; Nik or Esme. I don’t envy you for having to make it.”

“There was no decision to make. It was always Esme. It always WILL be her.”

“You broke Nik’s heart you know; picking her friend over her. I don’t think you ever quite appreciated just how she felt about you. Everything she was willing to give up for you. And I get it, I do. You had to make a choice. Believe me, I think you made the right one. The little ones are the freaks in bed, am I right?”

“Fuck you,” Tyler retorts. “Don’t talk about my wife like that. Don’t even say her name. Get your name out of your fucking mouth.”

“Defending your woman at all costs. I like that. I admire it, actually. But…” Nathan moves up the makeshift bed, straddling Tyler’s body and then sitting down on his upper back, pinning him to the mattress. “...I still think you need to be taught a lesson. Nik deserves that.”

He sees the flint that comes off the blade of the knife as Nathan brings it into view. Hand moving towards his face and bringing the tip to rest under his right eye; pressed against the middle of his orbital bone. When he feels it puncture the skin, he attempts to fight back; summoning the will to dig the toes of his boots into the mattress, hips raising slightly and then giving out. Not enough power or mobility; the blood loss and the bullet lodged somewhere in his lower spine robbing him of any semblance of strength. And as the knife presses even further and the tip touches bone, he vows not to scream; biting down on his tongue instead as a brutally deep and slow slice is made from the middle of his eye to his temple.

Once the damage is inflicted, Nathan calmly cleans the bloody blade on the back of Tyler’s shirt, then returns the knife to the pocket on his vest. “You know, I did like you at first,” he says, as climbs off the mattress, momentarily abandoning his prey. “I liked you a lot, actually.”

The lightheadedness returns; that groggy sensation that comes from blood loss and when your system starts to go into shock. And despite the pain coursing through him and the weakness that envelopes him, Tyler manages to roll himself onto his back. His vision is blurred; a combination of the haziness that comes before passing out, sweat, and the blood that now covers his face. It coats his lips; the metallic taste strong on his tongue. And he lies there in the middle of the soiled and filthy mattress; eyes closed as he draws in rapid, ragged breaths. Arms still struggling to free his wrists from the plastic ties that hold them together.

“Don’t pass out on me now,” Nathan says, as he once more kneels on the mattress, a crowbar in his hand. “I’m not done having fun with you yet. I want to make sure Mahajan gets his money’s worth. “

“He’s dead. Mahajan. He died about half an hour ago.”

“Bullshit.”

“Anil killed him. We planned it; he’d kill Mahajan while we made our way in here.”

“You’re lying.”

“He put two in the old man’s head. In the shower room at the prison. It’s over. And if you haven’t gotten paid yet, you never will. There’s not going to be any money.”

“You’re fucking lying!” Nathan snarls, and with an end of the crowbar in each hand, leans over Tyler and attempts to press it into his throat.

Tyler immediately reacts. Smashing his forehead into the younger man’s face; immediately shattering his nose and knocking out his top front teeth. Then he draws both knees into his body and slams them into Nathan’s chest, breaking several ribs and sending him sprawling onto the floor. He seizes the opportunity as the former Marine curls into a fetal position and bellows in pain; using the last of his strength to push himself up into a sit. His legs are operating at half power -if not less- and his feet are almost completely numb, but he manages to push himself off the mattress and onto the cement below; forcing himself up onto his knees and then shuffling on them towards the door.

“You stupid prick!” Nathan rages, and lands a kick to the back of Tyler’s head.

His vision momentarily goes black and his forehead and nose collide with the cement; a sickening crunch echoing through the room. And he’s unable to control the scream that erupts from his mouth when the crowbar connects with the back of his right thigh, fracturing the femur. He has nothing left; sight blinded by the impending loss of consciousness and a blanket of blood. His entire body is useless now; sheer agony ripping through every inch of him, all feeling now absent in both legs. And he's gasping and panting for breath when Nathan once more leans over him; the cell phone directly in front of his face and the muzzle of his own gun pressed against the back of his head.

“Do you have anything to say?” Nathan asks. “To your wife? To your kids? Look at the camera. Let them see you alive for one last time.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Look at them!” the younger man orders, and slams his heel down onto the bullet wound in Tyler’s back. “I said fucking look at them! Say something!”

“No. I won’t. I won’t do it. I have nothing to say. She knows. She already knows. She’s always known.”

“At least say goodbye. They deserve that, don’t you think? A goodbye?”

“I don’t say that word. WE don’t say it. We never say it.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much anyway. You’ll get to see your wife and kids soon. That’s if you all end up in the same place. And not before me and the other guys have some with your wife and your little girls.”

“You fucking prick! You’ll pay for this. I promise you that. You’ll fucking pay.”

“You first,” Nathan says, and moves the gun to Tyler’s temple. “Fitting, huh? How it all begins and ends in Dhaka?”

Through his blurred and weakening vision he sees it. Mere inches from his face. Toes and soles of dirty combat boots in the doorway and the tattered and weathered fabric of cargo pants. The gunshot is deafening within the locker, and when the full weight of Nathan’s body falls onto his, the pain and the darkness finally take over. Eyes closing and cheek colliding with the floor.

*****

When Tyler comes to he’s once more in the back of the panel van; lying on his left side with a bucket -half full of expelled stomach contents- tipped towards his face. He can feel the telltale stickiness; the blood on his face and lips quickly drying. It’s worse than before; both the pain and the all over weakness. His vision blurry and his head swimming; no feeling or movement in either of his legs. If he had the energy he’d be terrified; panicking at the inability to even wiggle his toes or move his feet within his boots. But he has nothing left; no strength, no will, no hope. All his limbs and his head feel impossibly heavy; eyes and brain unable to focus on what is going on around him.

Voices. Koen and Rata. They’ve abandoned their usual banter and their off hand and cutting remarks; both serious as they talk in low, even tones that do little to hide the fear and worry. And he can hear the rumble of the engine and the crunch of tires on gravel; each light bump or hard brake feeling as if he’s being rocked to his very core.

“What the fuck…” he manages, and attempts to sit up; his surroundings spinning out of control around him.

“Whoa...whoa…” Koen lays a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to lie down. “...easy now, mate. Easy. Don’t move too much. Don’t want to make things worse. We got ya.”

“My legs…I can’t feel my legs...” he raises his head and looks down at the limbs in question; eyes narrowing in confusion at the sight of an unknown object sticking out his thigh; thick and jagged, tearing straight through the fabric of his pants. And his head pounds and spins when the horror sets in; the realization that he’s staring down at a piece of his shattered femur protruding from his body. “What the fuck is that? What….?”

Rata gives a grim, almost apologetic smile and then yanks his shirt over his head; using it to cover Tyler’s thigh.

“Why can’t I feel my legs? Why the fuck is there a bone sticking out of them? What the hell…?”

“You took one to the back,” Koen explains. “Pretty low down. And your right leg is broken up pretty good. Probably just the shock; the reason you can’t feel anything.”

“What the fuck is going on? What happened? What…?”

“Just try and relax,” Rata says, and shuffles closer to him; using a makeshift towel made from a torn up t-shirt to stem the flow of blood that comes from the cut across Tyler’s face. “We’re almost there. Just hang in there, mate. Won’t be much longer.”

“Chopper?” he asks.

“Hospital.”

“I can’t go to the fucking hospital! Not here. Not Dhaka. Mumbai.”

“There’s no time to get to Mumbai,” Koen informs him, and presses a rag to the gunshot wound in Tyler’s lower back. “You’ll be dead before we get there. You’ll bleed out.”

“Bleed out?” The confusion and disorientation make his head throb. “What happened? Did we get them? Neysa and Aarev?”

“They’re safe,” Rata assures him. “You got them out. They’re safe now.”

“I can’t stop it,” Koen anxiously frets. “There’s just too fucking much of it! It just keeps coming and I can’t stop it!”

“Is it bad?” Tyler weakly inquires. “How bad is it? My back.”

“Don’t you even worry about it. We’ll get you to the hospital and get you taken care of.”

“I asked how bad it was!” His hands begin patting his stomach and sides down, searching for an exit wound. “Is it my liver? Did it hit my liver?”

“Could have nicked it,” Koen says. “No way of telling for sure. Just lie still and let us take care of you. Let us get you to the hospital.”

“My phone. I need my phone. Where’s my phone?”

“You don’t need your goddamn phone!” Koen snarls. “What the hell would you need that for?”

“You need to get it. My phone. There’s a video. He took it. Nathan. He was going to send it to her. I need you to get it. My phone.”

Koen reaches into the side pocket of his own cargo pants, pulling out the item in question.

“Check it,” Tyler tells him. “Check the last message sent. And the email. Check if he sent it.”

Koen does what he’s told, then shakes his head. “Nothing. There’s nothing been sent.”

“Erase it. She can’t see it. She can NEVER see it. Get rid of it. You gotta erase it. I don’t want her seeing that.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Koen assures him, and his eyes narrow when he finds the file in question; jaw clenching with rage as he watches the first thirty seconds before quickly deleting it. “That sick mother fucker”

“Call her,” Tyler instructs. “I need to talk to her.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, mate. I don’t think…”

“Call her,” he insists. “I need you to call her. I need to make sure she’s okay. I need to hear her voice. Call her.”

Sighing heavily, Koen reluctantly dials the first number in the call history, then holds the phone to his friend’s ear.

“Tyler?” She answers on the second ring, voice frantic. “Oh my God...Tyler…”

“Hey, baby…” he manages, the mere sound of her voice causing a smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. “Are you okay? Everything’s good there?”

“I’m okay. Things are fine here. Quiet.”

“What about the kids? Did you hear from them? Did you call them? Are they alright?”

“Nik called a little ago and said they’re okay. Not even a single scare or even the slightest threat in Mumbai. She said it was just like any other day. That the kids were outside playing with Ovi and Kyle; Addie was taking a nap. Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m not okay,” he admits, and chokes back a sob. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. What happened? How bad is it? How bad are YOU?”

“Pretty bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I can’t come and get you.”

“Tyler…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...you’re going to be okay...you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think so, baby. Not this time.”

“Don’t say that,” Esme gently scolds. “Don’t talk like that. You don’t give up, remember? You don’t know the meaning of those words. You never have. You survived seven years ago and you’ll survive now. I know you will.”

“I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry. I didn’t want it to end this way.”

“Nothing is ending. It’s nowhere close to the end. You’re going to be fine. You’ll get looked at it and you’ll be fine. You’re always fine.”

“Tell the kids I love them. That I’ll always love them. And tell Ovi too. And that I’m so fucking proud of him. Tell them all that I wish it could have been different.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t you dare do this. Don’t you say your goodbyes. You NEVER say that word. You don’t believe in that word, remember?”

“I’ve always loved you. I always will. I need you to know that. It’s important that you know that.”

“I DO know. I’ve always known. And I love you. So much. I’ll get there as soon as I can, I promise. You just hang in there, okay? I’ll get to you. Somehow. Just don’t give up, alright? You’re not allowed to give up, Tyler Rake.”

“I gotta go.”

“No. Don’t,” Esme tearfully pleads. “Don’t hang up. Please don’t hang up. Tyler…”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and disconnects the call. Phone dropping from his hand as he once more slips into unconsciousness.

*****

She’s unsure of how long she’s been pacing the floor; bare feet repeatedly shuffling against the polished tiles in the kitchen. Cell phone clutched tightly in one hand, the other moving over the top and sides of the small -but very visible- baby bump. It’s comforting regardless how far along she is or how much she is -or isn’t- showing; palm travelling over her stomach in slow, smooth circles.

“Hang in there little bean,” Esme pleads aloud. “I need you to stay calm and hang in there, alright? Because now is NOT the time to be giving me issues. We need to stay calm. Or try to. Daddy needs us to be okay…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...daddy needs you to hang in there. Because once he’s all better, he’s going to watch you grow and rub my tummy and talk to you all the time. He’s going to teach you all about surfing and you tell you what life is like in Australia. And before you know it, you’ll recognize his voice; just like all your brothers and sisters did. And it’s a nice voice. A VERY nice voice. And you’ll kick and squirm for him every time he talks to you. So you HAVE to hang in there. Daddy needs another surfing buddy. He always says he can never have too many of those. Or maybe it’s a football team he’s trying to build. Maybe THAT’S why he wants so many kids. I’m onto him.”

The cell phone beeps in her hand, alerting her to a text message. Nik. Asking her if she’s heard anything yet. It’s only been ten minutes since the last time the woman checked in, and the answer remains the same. No calls, no texts. Tyler’s phones -both SAT and personal- immediately going to voicemail. Esme has left several messages; everything from stressed yet calm, to worried and tearful, and then ending with irrational and frantic. Begging him…begging ANYONE...to let her know what the hell is going on.

Her stomach flutters and grumbles; nerves had kept her from eating all morning. Constant butterflies that are more painful than pleasant, and accompanied by incessant nausea that holds the promise of disappearing as soon as she forces herself to be sick, but only continues to gnaw at her insides. Rationally she knows that now is not the time to be thinking about food; her phone could start coming to life any minute or Koen and Rata could come barging through the door to whisk her away to a hospital to be by Tyler’s side.

Or they could show up with the worst possible news; that the brief phone call with him was in fact the last time she’d ever hear his voice. That whatever happened to him…whatever had gone down at that storage facility...had just been too much for an already damaged body, vulnerable mind, and near broken spirit to withstand. Yet he hadn’t sounded THAT bad; exhausted and weak but certainly not close to death. She would have been able to pick up on that. Surely there would have been something in his voice or in his words. She’d heard pain and fear and worry, but hadn’t heard DEATH.

It’s something she’s accustomed with; many a first hand experience as people lay dying around her in the Middle East. She’s held countless hands as fellow Marines and even strangers - innocent civilians- took their last breaths. That rattle they make; the last of the air being expelled from failing lungs. The desperation and the pleading in their voices; requests for comfort and miraculous healing and eventual mercy. She didn’t hear any of that. And what she did hear could have been nothing more than the byproduct of fear and concern; a man in physical agony that didn’t truly believe he was dying, but was desperate for relief.

“No,” she orders into the quiet of the kitchen. “No. He's fine. He’s going to be fine. He’s always fine.”

She attempts to distract herself from fatalistic thoughts, moving now to the fridge and throwing the door wide open. Rummaging through the fully stocked shelves and compartments and finding nothing appealing and growing more frustrated with each passing second. The futile search and the determined growling of her stomach suddenly becomes too much to bear and profanities spill from her mouth as tears stream down her face. Angrily slamming the fridge door shut; its contents rattling noisily in response.

“Esme?” Koen stands in the doorway; the front of his shirt and the thighs of his cargo pants saturated in blood. It stains his hands as well; caught in every crevice and crack and gathered around his calluses and under his nails. His face is grim; eyes dark, fresh bruises and cuts decorating both cheeks and under one eye.

“Tell me he’s okay,” she pleads, one hand tightening around her phone, the other once more finding her baby bump. “Please tell me he’s okay.”

“I…” Koen begins, then clamps his mouth shut and slowly shakes his head.

“No.” The sob is choked as it comes out of her mouth. “No. You’re not here to tell me this. You’re not here for THAT. I know you’re not here for THAT.”

“Esme...”

“No,” she firmly repeats, and suddenly the room feels as if it’s spinning. Panic settles in, making her feel nauseous and lightheaded. Her entire body swaying as she takes a step towards him. “No. It can’t be THAT. It can’t be.”

The next step she takes is wobbly; her legs threatening to give out from underneath her. And she finds herself caught in her friend’s strong embrace; his body warm and soothing as he pulls her tightly into him. A comforting hand on the middle of her back, the other resting in her hair.

“This can’t be happening,” she sobs into his shoulder. “This isn’t happening. Please tell me it’s not. Tell me he’s not dead. Tell me he’s okay.”

“He’s not dead. But he’s not okay either.”

“How bad is he?”

“I don’t even know.”

“How bad does he look?”

“Pretty damn bad.”

“Where is he now?”

“Still here. In Dhaka.”

She frowns. “Why not Mumbai? You guys have a chopper. Why not get him out of here? Get him somewhere safe? Mumbai would have been a better choice. Why didn’t…?”

“There was no time.”

“Where is he?”

“Evercare Hospital. It’s one of the private ones. Run by that doctor that Anil sent over the night. He’s in good hands there; best care he can get, I promise. When I left he was still in the ER. They were looking after him and trying to figure out what tests they needed to do; so they could figure out what they’re looking at and how to take care of him. He was breathing on his own, though. No tubes. At least not yet.”

“But it isn’t safe here,” Esme argues. “In Dhaka. The bounty….”

“There’s no more bounty. It’s been lifted.”

“It’s over?”

“It’s all over. Asif’s people are dead. So is Mahajan. There’s no one left.”

“What about Neysa and Aarev?”

“Safe. He got them out.”

“And Nathan? He’s the one who did this, right? He’s the one who hurt Tyler?”

Koen nods.

“Is he dead? Tell me he’s dead.”

“He’s dead. I made sure of it.”

“You killed him?”

“I emptied an entire magazine in his head and face.”

“Good,” she says, and defiantly holds back a flood of tears. “Thank you. For doing that for Tyler. Thank you.”

Koen once more embraces her tightly, hands slowly running up and down her back.

“And he was breathing?" Esme asks. “On his own? He didn’t need to be intubated?”

“Needed a bit of oxygen; through those tubes that go in your nose. Doctor was pretty surprised; said he’s never seen someone that torn up that didn’t need more help. That’s a good sign, yeah? That he didn’t need more help? Shows how strong he is.”

“Or stubborn. Or both. You’ll take me there? To Tyler?”

“That’s what I’m here for. Are you okay? You gonna be alright?”

“Probably not,” she admits. “But I guess I have to be. For him. He needs me to be alright. You know how Tyler is. Even when he’s at his worst or he’s suffering and in pain, all he worries about is me. Never himself. Just me.”

“Well he’s a fool in love. What do you expect?”

“I’ll have to find my things. I have no idea where anything is. My purse, my shoes…”

“Saw both out in the front hall.”

“My phone.”

He grins. “It’s in your hand.”

Esme glances down. “Oh fuck. I AM losing it.”

“Come here, kiddo.” Koen draws her into another tight hug, a hand on the back of her head, guiding it down to his shoulder. “He’s gonna pull through. He always does. He’s a tough little bastard. Well maybe not so little. But tough. And a bastard.”

She manages a small laugh.

“And when he opens his eyes, your face is going to be the first thing he sees. Just like seven years ago. And trust me; there ain’t no better medicine than that.”

“I need him to be okay. I need him to get through this. For me, For the kids. For this baby. I need him, Koen. I can’t lose him.”

“You won’t,” he promises, and gives her a tight, reassuring squeeze and drops a kiss on the top of her head. With a comforting smile, he places a hand on the small of her back and leads her from the room.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction #Extraction 2020 #Extraction fan fiction #Best Part of Me #Chris Hemsworth character

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emaspin · 4 years ago

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Sankta Anastasia

@grishaversebigbang

Materialki

@luvidlovearts

https://luvidlovearts.tumblr.com/post/628438192931110912/piece-i-did-for-the-grishaversebigbang-for-the

@lady-ekatherina-de-mika

https://lady-ekatherina-de-mika.tumblr.com/post/628551127583064064/galena-for-the-grishaversebigbang-our-dear

@sammiemai

https://sammiemai.tumblr.com/post/628419233060126720/some-more-grishaversebigbang-content-these-are

Corporalki

@booklovingturtle

The story behind Sankta Anastasia has been forgotten over the years. Like many Saints she has slipped into folklore. Here is the story of the love and revenge that led Sankta Anastasia’s life.

Chapter 1 Galena placed the dried herbs into little tin boxes. She was proud of the new little system she had come up with. It was much better than her mother’s old messy cabinets. Galena liked to think that she did everything just a little bit better than her mother. Her mother worked hard but Galena worked with talent, maybe that was the difference. Galena kept up her organization for most of the afternoon, she was lost in sorting the dried herbs when a single knock sounded at her front door. Feliks walked in without announcing himself, he knew that he was always welcome. He admired her system for a minute without a word. She kept sorting.

“Have you been working on this all day? Feliks held one of the little tins up to his eye level. Feliks was always tinkering with things. He liked to know how people used all sorts of tools, he was known around the town for being able to fix a farmers plow faster than everyone else. It was a skill the Galena knew would serve them well when they had their own little business, although repair shops and healing shops didn’t normally go together she saw something almost poetic in the notion of repair of body and equipment. At the end of the day they were the same, she knew that they would be very happy together once he realized that he loved her.

“Basically, I slept in a little bit but other than that this is all I’ve done.”

“Impressive, I couldn’t sit in one place that long.” he fidgeted with the tin box that he was still holding.

“Careful, you’re going to spill the rosemary in there.” Feliks put the tin down.

“Oh,” his face lit up like he had just remembered something, “have you heard about the family that just moved in?”

“No. Who are they?”

“The Kravtsovs. They have a teenage daughter. I think she's a year older than you.” he nodded his chin in her direction, “I’ve heard that Mr.Kravtsov makes his money mining, so he’s away a lot. Maybe we’ll see them at church?” Galena hoped she would, there wasn’t anybody in the whole town that she didn’t know. She wasn’t about to let the new people ruin that.

Galena and Feliks spent the rest of the afternoon talking and sorting dried medicine ingredients. Galena adored the easy conversation they fell into. She loved the perfect famileraty she felt when she was with Feliks, Feliks was the main constant in her world. Everything she did was a step towards their future. Galena looked up at him, she sun filtered through his dirty blonde hair and hit his light eyelashes in a stunning array of shading. His caramel colored freckles were growing like an infestation across his cheeks and nose. She could look at him in the hazy sunlight forever. She knew that someday she would get to glimpse him with messy hair and sleep still in his eyes. Someday she might get to gaze on a baby that had his big brown eyes and her own warm chestnut hair. Someday, someday soon. He looked up and his eyes met hers.

“What?” It wasn’t a declaration of love but she could wait.

“You have dirt on your cheek.” she shook her hard as she stood and dunked a washcloth in the tepid water sitting in the sink. Galena tossed it to Feliks. “Has that been on your face all day? What were you doing this morning?”

He furrowed his brow, “fixing an old wagon.” She rolled her eyes skyward.

“You're like a toddler, you would be completely lost without me.” he looked like he wanted to argue in his own defence but she put her hands on her hips and gave him a look that told him not to bother. Something glazed in his eyes. He seemed to struggle not to say something for a second, then he stood.

“Church is starting in about an hour, I’m going home to eat.” he left before she could ask if the invitation extended to her. He must be tired, some time to himself would probably do him well. Galena decided to look extra pretty for the service this evening. She picked out the flowy pale blue dress and braided her hair into a crown around her head, letting small sections hang down to frame her face. She felt pretty. She pinched her cheeks to add some colour. She made food for her mother and herself as her mother quickly bathed and dressed. Galena packed a small jar of berries to share with Feliks when she got there. She was excited for tonight, things were changing. Galena could sense it humming in the air like an incoming storm.

Chapter 2 Galena held the jar of berries with two spoons and scanned the crowd for Feliks. When she finally spotted him she waved. He didn’t notice her, he was talking with a girl who had long raven black hair, it fell to her waist in soft curls, Galena’s own hair only fell to her mid back. The girl's blush pink dress matched the shade of pink growing across her cheeks as she made conversation with Feliks, Feliks grinned brilliantly at something she had said and her pink blush turned to a much deeper red. Galena’s gut twisted, who was this girl? Didn’t she know that Feliks was hers? She must have been the girl who just moved because Galena didn’t recognize her. Galena elbowed her way through the people talking before the service started. She stood right next to Feliks and linked her arm with his.

“Hi Feliks!” Her greeting was loud and she had interrupted the new girl mid sentence. She could barely stifel her smirk.

“Galena,” Feliks' voice was strange and it almost seemed like he had cringed when she had linked their arms, “This is Anastasia. She just moved here.”

“Hi.” Anastasia said with a stunning smile. Galena didn’t like her.

“How long have you two known each other?” Galena addressed both of them but the only person that she actually wanted to hear from was Feliks.

“Oh, we just met. Feliks was kind enough to come and talk with me. He was helping me avoid looking like the weird new girl with no friends.” Anastasia was animated when she talked, it annoyed Galena how engaging she was. Feliks was quiet.

“Yeah, Feliks is so nice like that.” Her voice was colder than she had intended. Anastasia blinked, confused, then she smiled again and the look made Galena’s stomach curtle.

Galena smiled back and was relieved to hear the preacher calling everyone to their seats. Galena led Feliks away before Anastasia could ask to sit with them, Galena saw her walking with who she guessed was her mother. She offered Feliks some of her berries but he denied her offer. She was annoyed with how he was acting. What had him so weird, he seemed fine when he was talking with Anastasia. The sermon passed quickly while Galena contemplated what could possibly be wrong with Feliks. She had decided that he was probably tired. They bowed their heads when the preacher said the prayers, they prayed mostly for the Plague that was bringing havoc to neighboring towns. The prayer ended and Galena turned to Feliks

“You should go home and sleep, you’ve seemed weird all day. You must be tired.” Feliks looked annoyed.

“I’m not a child, I’d know if I were tired. I don’t need you to tell me what to do or how to feel.” he turned away. Wow, he was really grouchy.

Galena turned to go home, her mother had left during the service to attend to a woman who was giving birth and she would meet Galena at home. Galena decided to talk the long way home, the walk would take her by the river and seeing the water shine in the setting sun was always beautiful. She walked for about fifteen minutes and was finally near the river. She had stopped to take off her shoes and dip her feet in the water. She sat there for a little while, daydreaming about a future with Feliks when she heard laughter coming down the trail behind her. It took her a second to recognize Feliks’ voice. When she did she snached up her shoes and shoved them on to her still wet feet. She ran into the bushes surrounding the path as quickly and quietly as she could. Crouching down so they couldn’t see her as she listened.

“So Galena, she seems like fun.” Galena couldn’t tell if it were her own dislike but she couldn’t bring herself to see anything good in Anastasia’s tone.

“Yeah, she’s a joy.” Galena could all but see Felik’s eyes roll. She chewed on her cheek in an effort to keep quiet. “She’s a little bit controlling, but she’s my closest friend so what can you do?” What did that mean? Before she could puzzle out what Feliks was trying to say Anastasia spoke.

“You know you don’t have to let her boss you around.” a small plunk sounded and Galena couldn’t tell which one of them had thrown a stone into the river.

“She doesn't always pick up on the subtler hints I throw her.” were they only here to insult her character? Galena picked at her nails and retreated into her thoughts for a minute, she zoned back into their conversation when she heard their laughs. She gritted her teeth, she wasn’t going to sit here for their whole conversation, but she couldn’t get up without revealing that she had heard the whole thing. They seemed deep enough in conversation for her to go unnoticed if she crawled through the bush and came out further up the path. Once she had emerged from the bramble she felt tempted to go back down the path and push Anastasia into the river. Instead she walked back towards the church and went home. She wasn’t sure what had happened with Feliks but she knew one thing, he was hers, he would always be hers. She would deal with it in the morning. Right now she had twigs in her hair and dirt all over her knees. Only she knew of the blow her dignity took tonight but she still felt embarrassed. She crashed into bed as soon as she got home. Galena was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Chapter 3 Galena was confused by the conversation she had overheard the other night, it had churned over and over in her mind all day. It taunted her and she couldn’t find a solution that made sense. It put her on edge. She had still been thinking about the whole dreadful ordeal when Feliks walked into her house.

“Hey, how has your day been? Healed anyone?” Feliks question was so shockingly casual it caught Galena off guard. She glared at him, did he take her for an idiot? His friendliness dropped and nervous energy overtook him. “What do you know?” his question proved that he hadn’t spotted her in the bushes last night.

“Why were you talking to the new girl about me?” Galena crossed her arms over her chest.

“I was just getting to know her, how did you even know I was talking to her after the service?”

“I’m not stupid Feliks.”

“I never said you were.” his shoulders were tense and he looked exhausted. Galena had no idea why he was exhausted. She was the one dealing with a stupid teenaged boy.

“What do you even see in her anyway? What makes her worth your time?”

“Are you listening to yourself? She's a person ,Galena. She deserves some basic respect. I’m sorry if I was being too nice to her when she's new and knows nobody.” Feliks snapped. Galena had rarely heard him raise his voice like this. She had always assumed that he never really got mad. Maybe he was more passionate than she had given him credit for.

“You’re being unreasonable.” something flashed in Felik’s eyes and it made Galena’s blood run cold, she would regret saying that.

“Don’t just dismiss me, don’t just dismiss how I feel.” Feliks looked at her and she could tell she had made a hugely personal mistake. “I’m entitled to feel things, Galena, I’m entitled to feel things that you haven't assigned to me.” Galena was struck hard by that. She did not assign him emotions. Maybe she had a plan for her life that involved him but it wasn’t like he had any other options. In her mind they were soulmates, destined by fate to be together, all of her plans for her future revolved around them, together. She had a plan, but that wasn’t telling him what to feel. So what the hell was he going on about? Galena clenched her fist and looke Feliks dead in the eyes.

“Feliks, we are meant to be together. It just hurts me to see you with her.” Feliks let out a dry laugh and Galena knew he didn’t actually find anything remotely funny. His reaction stung like a wasp bite. She could almost feel the venom leaching away at her hope.

“You don’t get to decide that for me.” his galre felt like a sharp shard of shattered glass cutting open her skin. She expected herself to cry but instead anger bubbled up her throat. She choked on it and could barely form a coherent thought. “I like Anastasia. I don’t really care how you feel about it because it's my life. I get to live it.” he didn’t look away from her when he delivered this blow. It was cold and vicious and all she wanted to do was cross the room and slap him. Simply to get some power, some control, back into her grasp. She was used to holding all the power in their friendship and it was jarring to see how easily he had taken it. Like he had let her hold it in the past, like he could have taken it at any moment. Her heart hurt, but more than that she felt rage. It burned her skin and vision until she couldn’t hold it back anymore. She crossed the room and picked up the teapot on the counter. Galena threw it on the floor as hard as she could. It shattered across the kitchen. She was about to turn to Feliks when she heard him speak.

“I’m not staying here and watching you throw a tantrum. Get it together Galena.” Then he turned and left. The rage boiled over again and Galena had destroyed four more plates before she could think rationally. She stood in the kitchen surrounded by shattered glass gulping down breaths.

She recounted the whole argument while she swept the floor. She hadn't said anything she didn’t truly believe. Galena wasn’t sure what had come over Feliks but she was sure it had something to do with Anastasia. He had said that he liked her. Galena was sure that he meant in a romantic sense. Fine, if he needed to have a relationship with her before he accepted that he and Galena were made for eachother then so be it. She could wait, but it still stung like a poisonous nettle. Galena didn’t like taking hits to her pride and this definitely was one. She was so angry at Feliks. She was completely astounded at the way he was acting. This was a direct attack on her plans. This was a direct attack on her. Galena could hardly breathe as another wave a rage crashed over her. Did he even understand what he had said to her? Did he understand all that he had thrown away? Thrown in her face. He had thrown her plans in her face. He taunted her with her perfect plan, then ripped it away. She hated him, yet Galena knew that she would do anything, absolutely anything to get him back. It would let her get her life plan back. Her direction was entirely pinned on Feliks. There was no way she was giving that up, there was no way in hell she was surrendering that direction to Anastasia. She hated Anastasia more than she hated Feliks. Galena turned and slammed the door with the beginnings of a new plan on her mind.

Chapter 4 Galena’s steps smacked hard on the ground as she made her way to the river. She knew that Feliks and Anastasia would be there. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to hold her temper and avoid pushing Anastasia into the river this time. If she were lucky Anastasia would get dragged in by a under current and drown. One could wish, maybe she should get a big stick to hit Anastasia upside the head just to be sure. Galena’s thoughts of murder filtered away as she got closer to the river. She knew that hoping for Anastasia’s death was awful and at this point she had settled on worming her way into their alone time together and making it awkward for both of them.

Galena heard their voices, Laughing and joking. Anastasia’s giggle was nauseating. She clenched her fists and her jaw, nearly biting into her cheek. She kicked a rock down the path and it went rolling down the river bank. Feliks noticed her then.

“Galena, what can I help you with?” his voice was cold. There was less emotion than there had been when they had fought. She still trembled with the rage from that argument and it was disconcerting how quickly he got over it. Or maybe he wasn't over it. She still had hope that he cared. Maybe the laughing she had heard was faked for Anastasia’s sake. The smile on Anastasia’s face made her doubt that.

“I just came to spend some time with you two.” Galena felt sure that Feliks hadn’t told Anastasia about their fight, it would paint him in a bad light and afterall, if he liked her he would want to seem his best in front of her.

The annoyance in Feliks eyes was piercing but Galena had thicker skin than most people would give her credit for. She glared right back. Then to add insult to injury she smiled coldly at Anastasia. Anastasia looked confused, she chewed on her lower lip with nerves. Galena thought that was the stupidest thing she had ever seen. Who has a habit of chewing their lips? Was she flirting with Feliks that shamelessly? Was she making it extra obvious because Galena was here? Galena set her resolve higher, she would push Anastasia in the river if she had to, but she could be sneaker, more clever, more underhanded than that. She didn’t need to resort to obvious violence. She smiled when she sat down, she made sure to sit closer to Feliks than she sat to Anastasia and the subtle annoyance that showed on Anastasia’s face for just a moment let Galena know that it was working. Anastasia wasn’t perfect after all. If she could just push enough of her buttons she could expose a ugly, spiteful girl to Feliks and he wouldn’t be interested anymore. Hopefully he wouldn't see the spite in her own actions, but everything she was doing was for them, it was all for him. They were made for eachother and all she was doing was pulling out a weed in his life while it still had shallow roots. This would be good for him in the end. Galena was confident that he would see that reason. She felt confident that he would come back and apologize for his hurtful words once he realized that what she was doing was for his best interest. She loved him, it was all for him. For their future.

“I didn’t know you kept tabs on him so tightly.” The comment from Anastasia was so unexpected that it took Galena a second to even process that she had said it at all. Apparently Anastasia wasn’t here to play around either. Galena almost missed Feliks subtle smile.

“Well it's a good thing I do.” Galena had the chance to not say what she was about to say, but she desperately wanted to put Anastasia in her place. “The two of you sneaking off to the woods alone, people talk in this town. You have no idea what kind of rumors might spread.” she prayed that Feliks had missed the underhanded threat. She knew that Anastasia would hear it.

“Would you really do that to Feliks? You know how much that would hurt him, how much it would hurt anyone. I’m trying to see good in you Galena, but you can’t even joke about starting a rumor like that. Lies like that start bigger issues than you can imagine.” Anastasia spoke passionately. Angry disbelief blazed in her eyes.

Galena almost thought that she had gotten away with her threat without Feliks noticing when she saw Anastasia’s words register on his face. Oh no. He turned to her, appalled.

“Galena, you wouldn’t.”

“I would,” she snarled before she could stop herself. “I could spin all sorts of tales that wouldn’t even put you at risk.”

“Please, if you ruined my reputation nobody but you would ever consider me worthy of talking to ever again. That's what you want isn't it?” Feliks spat the words at her with pure disgust.

Galena took half a second too long to answer. She expected Feliks to be livid, and he was. What she hadn't expected was Anastasia's rage. Anastasia curled her fist then threw her hand to the ground.

“People would believe anything about you, nobody knows you!” she knew she had made a huge mistake as soon as the words came out of her mouth. She had never seen Feliks look so angry. He jumped up and tackled her to the ground. Only, as he did this Galena’s foot slipped on the wet earth and they both fell into the river.

The cold water hit like a stone and Galena plunged deep into the river. It didn’t help that they had fallen into the deepest, fastest, most unpredictable part of the river. Galena trashed but she couldn't find up. The current was strong. And an undercurrent pulled her down. She desperately pushed up but it was useless. Her boot caught on a rock at the bottom of the river. No, she couldn’t be this deep already. Her lungs screamed. Her head pounded. The current started to pull her back. Galena wanted to scream, but then the current was pulling her upwards. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to the surface. She broke the surface and coughed out water while at the same time she took the deepest breath of her life. How? That was all her delirious brain could fit together. Feliks was clinging to the river bank in a much shallower part of the river. He was shivering and looked badly shaken. Galena didn’t think that she looked much better. How? How was it possible for both of them to survive? Galena looked up and got her answer. Anastasia was redirecting the current around her so she could safely swim to shore. Anastasia looked exhausted, no doubt holding back a current that strong took a lot of effort. Galena didn’t wish to challenge luck again, she swam to the shallows with Feliks as fast as she could. They dredged themselves out of the water together. Anastasia ran to meet them. Her skin was glowing, she looked bright and luminescent and the look that Feliks was giving her made Galena want to throw a rock at her head, even if Anastasia had just saved her life.

“Oh my goodness! Are you okay? Are you guys hurt?” Anastasia’s panic was tangible. Her eyes were wide and fear was choking out of her. “Please tell me you’re okay.” Anastasia was crying. Galena felt awful. It was what she had said that got them into this situation. It was her jealousy and actions. Before her guilt could borrow any further she realized with a start that Anastasia could manipulate water. Galena now knew someone else with supernatural gifts beside herself. Shocked, she stood and gaped up at her. Feliks barely reacted and Galena questioned if she had already told him about her abilities. His grateful smile confirmed her suspicions. Galena looked at Anastasia again. Abilities like this would have her hunted down and killed for witchcraft. There was no way that, if Galena was in Anastasia’s shoes, she would have exposed herself like Anastasia just did. Maybe that made Anastasia a better person than her. Galena had always been grateful for her gift, it was easy to keep hidden and whenever she used it to heal people she knew they wouldn’t go running to the church. For half a second the thought crossed Galena’s mind, she could expose Anastasia to the church. She knew that Feliks would never love her if she did that. So she discarded it as a plan. Galena had been so lost in thought she hadn’t noticed that Feliks and Anastasia had been talking for a while now.

“Its okay, nobody saw, and nobody will find out.” Feliks had his hands on Anastasisa’s shoulders. “Right?” he added as he turned to her.

“Right.” she nodded dumbly. Anastasia looked panicked.

“Are you absolutely sure that nobody saw?” her face was pale and her hands trembled slightly. Galena couldn’t bring herself to feel any pity for her, she hadn’t been the one to take a plunge into the deep end of the river.

“Yes, if anyone saw Galena and I fall in they would be yelling, nobody in their right mind would sit back and quietly wait to see what you would do.” Anastasia giggled nervously at that. Galena was shocked to see how hard Feliks was working to calm her down. He had never bothered to take such personal stock in her emotions. Galena clenched her fists.

“You do understand why you can’t tell anybody right?” Anastasia had turned to her and Galena would have been offended by the question if not for the raw emotion in Anastasia’s voice. It caught her off guard and delayed her response. “I need you to keep this to yourself, I could get accused of witchcraft, I know you don’t care about me all that much, but if you told someone you would be putting yourself in danger too. I’m not one hundred percent sure how people would react, but worst case scenario you could be in trouble too.”Galena’s blood went cold. She knew how badly this would affect Anastasia but she hadn’t considered that it would have impacts on herself too. Feliks looked at her and she knew how badly it would hurt him if she betrayed Anastasia. She wouldn’t tell anyone about today. It made a difference though, a big difference. Galena now held something over Anastasia, something that Anastasia had foolishly handed to her. She could hardly imagine what she could hold over Anastasia with this turn of events.

Chapter 5 Galena knew that the man her mother had dragged into the kitchen of their home was dying. He wasn’t dead quite yet but there was very little chance for him. It had been three days since Galena’s encounter with Anastasia and Feliks at the river. She hadn’t seen either of them since. Galena was glad for the distraction the man on their table held. Her thought had centered around Anastasia and Feliks every waking minute since the fight. Galena stood gathering towles and bandages for the man. Her bathroom had buckets of boiling water that made the space stuffy and humid. She heard her door open and footsteps come in. Galena’s mother was far too busy working to notice that someone had walked in. Galena paid little attention until she looked up and saw Feliks standing in the doorway.

“We need to talk.” Feliks looked her in the face, he wore little expression and that startled Galena.

“What makes you like her so much? What does she have that I don’t?” Pleading and anger were spilling out of Galena as she stood in the cramped and stuffy bathroom clutching the bloody towels to her chest. She didn't care if the blood got on her, hell, it already was all over her. Her mother was desperately attending to the bleeding man on their kitchen table and Galena was supposed to be getting more water and bandages. Instead she was fighting with Feliks.

“Anastasia is smart, she’s beautiful, and she’s powerful. She’ll be a living saint one day.” Feliks looked like he wanted to continue but rage tore through Galena and she couldn't hold back her words.

“Oh so just because she can manipulate water she’s suddenly a saint. I’m not normal either Feliks.”

“Galena you’re just a healer. You bandage the injured. That's not anywhere near what Anastasia can do.” she thought her anger had been at its limit but it bubbled like a pot of water boiling over. Power rippled through her and she turned out of the bathroom. Feliks followed. She pushed open the door to the kitchen and her mother looked up at her. Galena shoved her aside, she glared at Feliks with pure and undiluted rage and slammed her palms down on top of the knife wound in the man's chest. His flesh began to knit together from the inside out. The chambers of his heart reunited and it started to beat. The tissue slowly closed and he was left with a long scar across his chest. He was still asleep on the table. Galena’s mother was gawking at her in shock and awe. Of course she knew about Galena’s gift, and so had Feliks but they hadn't known the extent of it. They had seen Galena heal small cuts and bruises. If Galena was being honest she wasn't sure she could have saved that man without her anger as a crutch. She looked up at Feliks and was shocked to find that his expression had not changed.

“Anastasia doesn't use her power to prove a point.” He turned and walked out. Galena was exhausted, emotionally and physically. She turned and ran to her room. Hardly getting past the door frame before the tears came. She changed out of her blood soaked dress and into a light blue one. Her hair had been braided away from her face and secured in a tight knot at the nape of her neck. She took out the pins keeping it in place and undid the braids around her face. She was still crying, although the tears came less forcefully. Her eyes were puffy and her nose was running. She ran her fingers along her sore, swollen eyes and they returned to normal. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, it itched for a minute and then stopped running.

Everything had been concrete her whole life. She had been in love with her best friend and simply waiting for him to feel the same. All that had changed when Anastasia Kravtsov had moved to town. Galena hated how quickly everything had changed. She loathed how fragile her relationship with Feliks had been. She didn’t believe they were soulmates anymore. Galena wasn’t sure she believed in soulmates now. She did still believe in power. Galena knew that no matter what changed in the world, power would always be attractive. If Feliks wanted a saint, then Galena would give him a saint. Galena was out the door a moment later and had walked into the town's marketplace blindly. An old, weary looking man was sitting in the shade. He was coughing when Galena approached him. Without a word she placed her hands on his shoulders. Her palms were warm as she called forward her healing abilities. The man had stopped coughing but his eyes held panic.

“What did you do?” his voice was raspy, as if he hadn’t used it in days. His eyes were wide as he stared up at her.

“You are healed. Spread the word, tell everyone that the world strongest healer lives in this very village.” she hoped that sounded saintly enough for Feliks. The man stared at her incredulously.

Galena spread her palms outward and turned to the gathering crowd. A small boy had a scraped knee and Galena made her way towards him. She was almost to him when an older boy stepped in front of him, a brother maybe? He pushed his arms in front of himself to add distance between the little boy and Galena.

“We don’t want any of your witchcraft.” his snarl was jarring. Galena had never thought anybody would view her gift like that. In anger she clenched her fists at her side. The older boy's face went pale in panic. He grasped at his throat, desperately clawing with wide, anxious eyes. Galena didn’t even realize that she was collapsing his windpipe until a woman cried out,

“She’s strangling him!”

“Witch!” another man cried as a small stone hit her shoulder.

Galena unclenched her fist and the boy took a deep, shuddering breath. The panic was still in his gaze.

“What’s your name?” his voice was trembling but still held a bite.��

Galena hesitated for a moment. An idea sparked in her head, it was a long shot but she had spoken before she could reconsider. “Anastasia, my name is Anastasia Kravtsov.” The immediate guilt that clawed at her stomach made the lie harder to accept as a thing that she had actually done. The boy looked her in the eye and she knew she had just sentenced Anastasia to death.

Chapter 6 Galena had sprinted into the woods in an attempt to get away. She had cautiously followed the sound of angry yelling to the town square. What she found shocked her. Everyone was gathered in the town square, around a wooden box on which stood Anastasia. The real Anastasia, not Galena, who had been the one who had gotten her into this deadly situation. Anastasia had tears running down her face. Galena’s gut twisted as guilt burned her throat. She had made a mess that she couldn’t fix. The yelling had been refined into a single chant, over and over again it rang like a bell in Galena’s ears.

“Burn. The. Witch. Burn. The. Witch. Burn. The. Witch.” Galena was surprised to find herself crying. It was getting harder and harder to breathe properly. Her hands were shaking. Her breaths were thin when a hand landed on her shoulder. She jumped, certain that she was about to be thrown into the crowd and put to death. Instead she turned and faced Feliks.

“What did you do?” his voice was cold but livid fury flashed in his eyes.

“I-” Galena started but had to force down a deep breath before she could get any words out. “I made a mistake.”

“A mistake? And that's why Anastasia, the healer, is getting put to death?” so he had heard about what she had done.

“I wasn’t thinking, Feliks, don't be upset.” she was reaching out her hand to touch his arm but he snached her wrist midair and held it tightly.

“I have every right to be upset, but I’ll keep it together long enough to help Anastasia, and so will you.” Galena knew now that there was nothing she could do to fix how badly she had broken her relationship with Feliks. Even friendship was off the table now. Galena was hurt by the way he was looking at her, but the panic of the situation she had put them in masked it.

They hurried across the edges of the crowd and watched as Anastasia was bound and thrown into the back of a wagon. The men who were driving it down the worn path weren't paying much attention as Galena and Feliks took the only chance they would get. They rushed forward as soon as the cart was out of town. The men had stopped to move a log that had fallen across the path. Feliks cut the rope tying Anastasia down and Galena helped her out of the ropes holding her wrists behind her back. They ran into the woods and Feliks guided them back to his house. These moments came in quick flashes of focused energy. Galena’s panic brought her attention to only freeing Anastasia. Feliks’ large family made their living farming, he found a wagon easily. It was packed with the most basic supplies and tools within minutes. With a small goodbye he and Anastasia were off into the night. Feliks hadn’t told her where they were going, Galena wasn’t sure he even knew. He was doing the right thing, leaving was smart. But Galena couldn’t help feel that they had abandoned her.

Her head buzzed with the same thoughts that had been plaguing her for the past week. Her mother wasn’t there when she walked into the house. Galena couldn’t bring herself to care where she might be. She hadn’t noticed that she was packing until she was nearly done. Almost as if she were in a trance she finished stuffing all that she would need in bags and found herself on the road. Galena had managed to talk a farmer delivering stock to a nearby town into giving her a ride. She didn't sleep as she stared out at the road ahead. Wondering where Feliks and Anastasia would be.Galena wished she was in Anastasia’s place, horrific as it might be seeing as her own actions had nearly gotten Anastasia killed. At least Anastasia had Feliks. They stopped in the next town. Galena had healed three people before she realized that she was leaving a trail for people to find. She didn’t care, at least she was leading Witch Hunters away from Feliks and Anastasia. She owed them that much.

Chapter 7 Galena hadn’t been in that town long before she moved on to the next. She was at that one an even shorter time. She went on traveling, healing in each town. Weeks blurred together and in what felt like a blink, time slipped through her fingertips. It had been nearly two months since the night she ran, she hadn’t stopped running and the constant movement left her hollow and alone. Galena’s reputation grew and the number of people asking for healing grew with each town she passed through. The irony that she was occasionally called a saint wasn’t lost on her.

She mostly healed people who were sick with the highly contagious plague. She had gotten even better with her gift as she continued to work on the illness. She was familiar with how it worked now. With that experience had grown fame. People traveled while in the worst of the plague just to see her. They said she was the only one capable of healing it. Galena hoped that Feliks and Anastasia heard about the healings and knew it was her. That petty thought grew stronger and stronger at each town she stopped in. She hoped they regretted everything that had happened, how they had pushed her to act. She had felt guilty that first night but as the weeks passed the guilt twisted and contorted into anger. They had abandoned her. Anastasia had stolen Feliks from her and then they both left her. She didn’t feel guilty anymore.

Galena had just healed the last plague victim, a young boy with sunny blonde hair, and was about to set out on the road again when she saw seven large and heavily armed men talking with heads bent in the shade of a building.

“Sankta!” a young woman to her left called out as Galena passed. The praise would have made Galena smile if one of the men hadn’t snapped his gaze up to stare at her. A deep chill flooded Galena’s blood. She desperately shushed the woman but she was preoccupied with chattering about Galena’s power. The man who had looked up at her was working his way towards her through the crowded streets and Galena snapped the woman’s vocal cords shut with a pinch of her fingers. The woman gasped and held her hand to her throat, the same panic that had flooded the boy she had stopped the heart of filtered into her gaze. The tall man was walking toward her even faster now. As if she had just confirmed his suspicions. Galena knew that this wouldn’t be an easy situation to get out of. She ran. Her feet hit the road hard and the crowd that had gathered to watch her heal got in her way at every turn. She swept her arms out, palms open. Forcing the crowd to part. Outraged cries echoed behind her.

I can use my powers to heal the plague infested, but the second I use them to keep myself safe everyone is offended? Galena thought bitterly. She glanced behind her, she was losing the man who had originally moved towards her, just as she was starting to feel proud of herself she noticed another man coming from her left. She turned right, as fast as she could, into an ally. Galena barely kept her bag from flying off of her shoulder. The ally was dark and shadowed and she didn’t notice the man until she had run into him. His hands gripped her shoulders then quickly pulled her hands behind her back before she could even think to stop his heart. Rage boiled deep in Galena. They had herded her right into this ally. She tried to stomp on his foot but he spun and pushed her, face first against the brick wall.

“Don’t try anything foolish, witch” He spat the word witch with so much hatred that Galena shuddered. “Don’t talk either, I’ll slit your throat before I’ll let you talk your way to freedom.” he knew what he was doing, he had probably hunted others gifted like her. A weak, desperate plan was stirring in her head. She knew it was a long shot, and if he figured out what she was doing he very well would slit her throat but she didn’t have any other options. His grip on her wrists didn’t restraign her fingers. With a twitch she sent a muscle in his calf spasming. He reached down to grab his leg, a grimace on his face. Galena snached her hands away from him and before he could react, stopped his heart. He paled and fell to the ground. Galena didn’t allow herself to stop, she had to keep moving. She sprained out of the ally the same way she had come in. She moved through the crowd without parting them, she blended in much better than she had before and was able to avoid the rest of the men by keeping her head down. She was on the outskirts of the town within minutes and was able to find a merchant that had come to see her who was willing to give her a ride to the next town. She cried that night. She hadn’t realized the danger she was in, she hadn’t known she was being hunted. She wondered now, how long until they caught up with her again. The man who she was traveling with informed her that there was only one town in the area. She was stuck with an extremely traceable path. Galena resolved herself to stay a couple days in that town, if she were lucky the hunters would assume that nobody was stupid enough to stay in a town they knew she would be in and move on ahead of her. She didn’t know what she would do after that, or what she would do if they found her. Galena didn’t sleep that night. Everytime she started to drift off she felt herself run into the man in the alley again, she felt his cold words again, she felt his heart stop at her hand again. She stared blankly behind the carriage the whole night.

Chapter 8 Galena had arrived in Arkesk almost two days ago, she had healed too many people to count. She had slept and dined on the generosity of people who called her Sankta and gazed at her with wide, adoring eyes. She felt the creeping sense that someone was following her all of the time. Constantly looking over her shoulder to find nothing, the feeling only grew as time went on.

The anxiety that had been flooding her was at an all time high when she heard about the wedding. The first time the wedding was mentioned an old woman had suggested that she attend and bless the couple. Galena had dismissed the idea, not caring about a couple she didn’t know. Then she heard the bride’s name, Anastasia. She knew then that she had stumbled into the town where Feliks and Anastasia fled to. There was of course the chance that it was just another young woman named Anastasia but her luck was never that good. She had decided at that moment that she would go to the wedding. She had to stay in Arkesk for three more days to attend the wedding. Her anxiety had dissipated as soon as she learned that it was Feliks’ and Anastasia’s wedding.

The next three days passed in a blur. Galena spent most of the time healing others. The plague, which had been especially bad in Arkesk, had almost disappeared due to her tireless work. People were more appreciative here as well, it boosted her confidence and the whispers of worship that followed her brought a pleased pride to her spirit. She was sure that Feliks and Anastasia had heard of the Sankta healer; she figured that they were avoiding her. The town was small and it wouldn’t have been that unlikely to run into them. Galena wondered if they would be surprised to see her at their wedding, she thought it would have shocked her if she were in Anastasia’s place but Anastasia had always seemed to have a better grasp on what Galena was doing than Galena did on her. She shouldn’t care, she should have moved on past both of them. Galena had renown and followers. They called her the healing saint, cries of “Sankta” followed her from town to town. People knew who she was. Nobody, or at least nobody outside of this small town knew who Anastasia and Feliks were. She still wanted Feliks though. And that thought that Anastasia had taken him from her was inferating. They were engaged to be married, but the wedding hadn’t come yet, she still had a chance to steal him back.

When the day of the wedding finally came Galena marched to the church with furious determination. There was nothing and no one who would stop her from taking back what rightfully belonged to her; Feliks. She was seated alone in a pew against the back wall of the church. Alone, staring straight at the altar, with her arms crossed and her anger boiling she went surprisingly unnoticed. She expected that she would have made more of a stir, with the whole, ridding the town of the plague thing. Once again Anastasia overshadowed her. The thought made her anger pitch even hotter. Her anger only raised more as the wedding party made their way down the aisle. Feliks stood at the front of the church, grinning, it made Galena want to hurl. The music changed and Anastasia was floating down the aisle like an angel. That made Galena want to hurl even more. It also made her want to stand up and tear the stunning white gown off of Anastasia. She didn’t. Her anger cemented her to her seat. Anastasia took her place at the front and smiled a wide, radiant smile at Feliks. Galena’s hands curled into fists at her sides. They started their vows. Galena tuned them out. Lost in her own thoughts, until she saw the first of the tears slip from Feliks eyes. She was shocked. Galena had known Feliks for years and she had never once seen him cry. He had seemed to feel life in an apathetic way, never reacting very strongly to anything. In the time he had met Anastasia she had seen that change in him. She knew for certain that Anastasia had somehow taught him that it was okay to free his feelings. Galena had only ever taught him to lock them up. That small realization acted like a key, opening a locked door full of truths that she didn’t want to face. Before she had even realized it was happening her anger slipped away. Galena watched, entranced as tears flowed freely from Feliks. He held Anastasia’s hands like they were sacred jewels. Anastasia herself was smiling the most beautiful, all encompassing, joyful smile Galena had ever seen. She was glowing, glowing with pure undiluted happiness. Galena realized then that Anastasia gave Feliks something that she had never given him. Anastasia was home for Feliks, and he was home for Anastasia. Galena’s heart hurt, in part because of the pain that Feliks would never look at her the way he was gazing at Anastasia, but mostly because she had caused Feliks pain for so many years and had never even realized it. She hadn't noticed her own tears until a fat drop rolled down her cheek. Feliks was saying his vows in a wobbly emotional voice. He was gazing at Anastasia like she was a brilliant sun set. Galena knew then that she had been wrong. Wrong on so many occasions. Feliks and Anastasia belonged together. It was time for her to stop interfering. She didn’t have the slightest idea what to do now, she just knew she needed to stay long enough to apologize to both of them.

Galena was in a similar awe-like state the rest of the ceremony. Feliks and Anastasia shared a joyful glow that lit the whole room. Galena stumbled along with the crowd of guests as they made their way into the church’s basement for the dinner. Feliks and Anastasia joined them a moment later. A short girl with dark hair and eyes who was bouncing with excitement chattered to the room about Anastasia and Feliks. Galena was standing against the back wall. The girl’s bubbly monologue was fumbled as her attention caught on a tall man who was whispering something to Feliks. The look on Feliks face made Galena’s stomach drop. Then she heard it for herself, the crisp military voices echoing from the top floor of the church. Witch Hunters.

Chapter 9 Panic was flooding Galena’s blood. The Witch Hunters were her for her no doubt, but if they knew about Anastasia they would take her too. Judging from the tall man and short girls concerned expressions they thought that it was possible the hunter were here for Anastasia.

Well, a very sidetracked part of Galena’s mind mused, it’s good that Anastasia and Feliks have made close friends since moving. The sudden and sharp sound of footsteps on the stairs yanked Galena’s attention back to the matter at hand. The small girl was now pushing through the crowd in the way only the very short could, Anastasia and Feliks trailing behind her with the tall man at their backs. Galena followed their movements without thinking. She was almost stopped in her tracks when she saw one of the men who had herded her like cattle in one of the last villages.

“I’m looking for the bride,” his voice boomed with authority, “I’m looking for the girl named Anastasia.” it took Galena a moment to wrap her head around the statement. His band of Hunters had been looking for her last she knew, they had followed her from her own home town if she guessed correctly. Then it struck her, a memory painful like a slap to the face. She had given Anastasia’s name. These men were hunting Anastasia as surely as they were hunting her.

By the time they reached the small door that led off to a side room the wedding guests were stampeding for the door. Galena slipped inside after Anastasia and Feliks. The short girl and tall man were gone with the crowd. It was just Galena, Feliks, and Anastasia in the room. Feliks had his head half in the fireplace that took up one wall of the small room.

“Galena?” Anastasia’s voice was shocked. Had she really not realized that Galena was in attendance?

“Hello Anastasia, Feliks.” she nodded to Feliks who had turned from the fireplace very suddenly. “I’m going to help you escape,” she added when neither of them spoke.

She heard the footsteps on the other side of the door and without thinking whirled and, gazing through the window curled her hand into a fist. She saw the man tumble to the ground. Anastasia gawked at her. Galena’s mind was spinning. If the Hunters broke the door down and saw Anastasia in her wedding dress they would kill her as well as Galena.

Feliks gasped and pulled Anastasia toward the fireplace.

“We can climb up the fireplace. It's the only way out.” he was urgently ushering her into the fireplace. Anastasia tried twice to climb into it but her skirts were too full to fit in the narrow passage. The idea came to Galena,

“Trade dressed with me,” Galena said. Anastasia looked at her for a moment before the panic cleared and she understood. Anastasia nodded. She turned to Feliks.

“Go, please, climb up first and I’ll meet you at the top.” he shook his head fiercely.

“I won't leave you.”

“Don’t be stupid. You’d be wasting time, we're wasting time even now.” This seemed to convince him. He was already climbing the chimney as Galena and Anastasia traded clothing. As Galena pulled off her dress and handed it to Anastasia.

“I’m sorry, Oh Anastasia, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” Anastasia shook her head but she didn’t know the extent of Galena’s betrayal. She didn’t know that Galena had named her as a witch and caused all of these problems to begin with. “It is, all of it. I’m sorry. I could say it everyday for the rest of my life and it wouldn’t be enough.” Anastasia was helping her button up the back now. “He really loves you, I’ve never seen him love anyone or anything so much. You are his whole world. Please cherish him. I know he will always cherish you.” Anastasia was crying, silent tears and nodding. Galena knew that Anastasia was well aware of what she planned to do. Galena whirled away from her then. “Go, please. I can't open the door until you’re climbing up.”

“Thank you” that was all Anastasia said before she turned and started climbing up the chimney.

It took Galena a moment to work up the courage to open the door. There were men in the basement of the church. They had been searching the rooms and it had been by pure luck that they hadn’t checked the room she had just come from. Well, at least one of them had. Maybe the only luck she had was that he hadn’t screamed when she stopped his heart. One of the men whirled to look at her. Before she could think he was sprinting to her. Viciously grabbing her wrists and yanking them behind her back. The other hunters were on her too. They marched her up the stairs, Anastasia was taller than Galena and she kept tripping on the skirts. To her luck they didn’t pay much mind to her wardrobe malfunction. She was shoved to her knees outside of the church. People had gathered around. Cries and chants of “witch, witch, witch” echoed in the town. It was funny to her, Galena thought as the hunters tied her hands very tightly, that one day she was Sankta, and the next she was Witch. The hunter had tied her hands very thoroughly. Going as far as to tie her palms together so she couldn’t use her power. He tied her ankles next, then threw her into a wagon. She was too tired to fight. Too exhausted and humiliated and hurt by her own actions to make herself stand up. She could do nothing but hope that Anastasia and Feliks had made their way out of the town. She bounced in the back of the wagon, tied up like a hog for hours. She was almost asleep when she heard the yipping and snarling. She suspected wolves. The snarling and howling were getting closer. She finally let herself scream.

Chapter 10 Anastasia stood at the steps of the church and looked lovingly at her husband as he ran down the steps after the clumsy, chubby cheeked toddler. Their clumsy, chubby cheeked toddler. Feliks and Anastasia had been married seven years ago. Every anniversary they made their way to a church to remember Galena. She had been sanctified three years after her death. They called her Sankta Anastasia, which always made Anastasia cringe. She wished more than almost anything in the world that Galena was remembered in her own name. The only two things that soothed this was that Feliks remembered Galena, and that the image painted and crafted in stained glass windows was entirely Galena. It held her image, kind and merciful, with serene wisdom on her face. That was not how Anastasia had known Galena for most of the time they had been acquainted but it perfectly encompassed how she had been right before she died. Anastasia was grateful every moment of everyday for Galena’s sacrifice. If she hadn’t made her sacrifices Feliks and Ananstasia could have never been as they were now. Anastasia looked down at their son again, he was only here because of Galena’s sacrifice.

It was Anastasia’s goal as a mother to raise her son into a man that Galena would have been proud to die for. The wise mature Galena who had made a decision so hard that Anastasia doubted she herself would have been able to make the same one.

“Gotcha!” Feliks grabbed their son and swung him up onto his shoulders. Anastasia beamed. Anastasia had caught up to the boys and slipped her hand into Feliks. “I love you Ana.” He said as he brushed a kiss to her temple. He had called her Ana almost the whole time he had known her. The only other person who had ever called her Ana was her mother.

“I love you too Feliks.” He had loved her, every moment they had been together, just as Galena had said he would. An all encompassing love, as if nobody else in the world mattered more than her. At least, until their son was born.

Anastasia ran her hand over her round belly. She was about seven months along with her second baby and it was their biggest source of excitement nowadays. The baby, another miracle that they could thank Galena for. Anastasia knew that she would spend the rest of her life counting things she could thank Galena for, her children, eventually her grandchildren, to be able to see Feliks’ hair slowly pepper into grey, to be able to hold her son when he told her of falling in love with a girl, to gather flowers for her children’s weddings. So many moments, big and small, that she would only have Galena to thank for. She turned to look at the church again, the stained glass image of Galena caught the setting sun and she glowed a soft gold.

Thank you, thank you for all of it. Anastasia turned her gaze to Feliks. Thank you for him most of all.

#grishabigbang20 #grishaverse #gvbbfic20 #gvbb2020 #leigh bardugo #shadow and bone

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chocafe · 5 years ago

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the rhythms of summer — lee eunsang

summary: eunsang isn’t like the other spirits. one touch of the human skin will cause him to obliterate into the summer haze, and that’s enough to frighten you and your love for him. genre: romance, angst, fantasy, friends to lovers word count: 4.3k a/n: inspired by the animation movie, hotarubi no mori e.

Eunsang is everything the world admires. He is the bittersweet aroma of coffee beans. He is the warmth that summer possess. He is the hope that everyone longs for. He is simply everything. However, he is not human.

“Eunsang, are you out there?” You call out into the empty forest, gliding your bare hands against the rusty tree trunks.

“I’m here!” Eunsang says with excitement as he magically pops up in front of your eyes.

“Oh my gosh! You scared the living out of me!” No matter how many times you meet Eunsang, you will never get used to him popping in and out whenever he pleases to. Sometimes, you wished that he could walk normal like others, but then you remembered, he isn’t normal ─ Eunsang isn’t even a proper human being. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that little quirk of yours.”

His lips stretch into a smile and you’re sure it was the prettiest thing you have ever seen. “That’s what happens when you’re friends with a spirit like me.”

“I’m friends with a spirit that I can only see in the summer.” You notice how Eunsang’s smile quickly disappears by your comment. “B-But you’re the best friend anyone could ever ask for! Seeing you in the summer is the highlight of my year!” In between each word, your voice trembles as you try your best to bring up Eunsang’s confidence and liveliness.

“You really think so?”

“I know for sure.” You take your hand to wipe the sweat off of your forehead. It sure is hot in the summer. “It’s wonderful that this forest is right next to my grandparents house, but is hours away from my actual house in the city. Maybe when I get older, I can get a job over in this area, just so I can see you whenever I want to.”

“I would really like that.”

Actually, Eunsang would love that.

Your and Eunsang’s happiness was measured in the amount of laughters you two shared and the amount of days spent in the hazy summer season.

There’s something about Eunsang that soothes your heart. You don’t know how he does it and what it is about him. What you do know is that he’s purely the epitome of comfort.

Ever since you shared how you’ve been encountering endless numbers of sleepless nights, Eunsang begins to sing you a serene lullaby, causing you to fall asleep within the open meadow field. Despite always being eager to see you, Eunsang doesn’t mind the fact that you’re sleeping when you should be spending time with him. He cares for your overall well-being and if sleep is what seems the best for you, then he’ll choose that over swimming laps in the river.

Within the time being, Eunsang manages to braid the stems of flowers together to form a handmade floral bracelet. “All done!” He shouts in excitement, only to immediately close his mouth right after as he remembers that you’re sleeping peacefully beside him. Rather than continuing his conversation with himself, he chooses to smile instead because he’s extremely excited to show you the bracelet he had made for you.

He takes a quick moment to look at you and ends up staring at your face for a whole minute. Were humans always this pretty when they were sleeping? Were you always this pretty when you were sleeping? His heart skips a beat and he wants to remember this image of you forever.

Oh, how Eunsang wishes he had the ability to see you every single season, every day, every minute and every second; But the two of you were only limited to seeing one another in the summer.

Eunsang wants to watch you underneath the spring cherry blossom trees. He wants to jump on dried leaves and drink seasonal pumpkin spice lattes with you. He wants to play out in the angelic snow and perhaps, kiss you underneath the mistletoe.

“What are you thinking?” Eunsang questions as he lightly slaps himself in the face, trying his best to stop all of the upcoming thoughts of passionately kissing you. Nevertheless, no matter how hard he tries, he can’t stop imagining as his cheeks flush into a peachy shade of embarrassment.

Once more, he gazes right back at you and then at your lips.

“Y/N is sleeping, so they won’t know.” Eunsang thinks as he hovers his face above yours.

The urge to kiss you takes over Eunsang’s body as there was only a five centimeter gap in between your lips and his very own lips. He was so close, yet so far.

He pulls himself back to his original sitting position. “I can’t.” There was a certain heaviness in his heart, but a marked lightness in his soft tone of voice.

Eunsang can’t kiss you.

He can’t even lay a single finger on you.

One touch of the human skin and Eunsang will obliterate into the dying hot sun.

It’s not funny, but Eunsang awkwardly laughs and it rings through his bones like an unwanted phone call. “Why would you even try, you idiot.” He takes a big deep breath before sighing.

As he proceeds to drown himself in daydreams, he soon hears the sounds of you whimpering in your sleep. Sweat is dripping down your skin, your breathing pattern becomes peculiar, and Eunsang is terrified at the sight. You must be having a nightmare.

“Y/N.” Eunsang constantly calls out your name. “Y/N, wake up!”

No matter how loud he screams out, it wouldn’t be loud enough for you to wake up. In a rush, Eunsang speedily grabs a piece of wood and hits your open forehead. It was his last resort and the only thing he could potentially think of in a nervous state like his.

Your dream cuts to an end without receiving a proper ending roll credit and you wake up in pain. You were dazed, confused, head throbbing and the first thing you wanted to do was to yell at Eunsang in pure furiousness. “What is your problem? Why would you hit me with a stick while I’m sleeping?”

“Y-You” His voice began to shake since he wasn’t used to you yelling at him. “You were shaking in your sleep. It seemed like you were having a nightmare, so I thought it would be better to wake you up instead of letting you suffer.”

“You could’ve just called out my name instead, you know.”

“I did. I tried, multiple times.”

You couldn’t help, but to compare Eunsang to your mother. On the mornings where you’re too tired to wake up, your mother would barge into your room and profusely shake your arm until you were wide awake. Eunsang isn’t like your mother because your mother is human and Eunsang is a spirit who could not touch a single soul.

He’s different and you’re sorry.

It takes you a moment to realize that he couldn’t physically touch you to wake you up. “I’m sorry for getting angry when you were merely trying to help me.” The tone of your voice suddenly changes as you become apologetic in the snap of a finger.

“Hey, it’s okay!” Eunsang isn’t the type to hold grudges. “Do you remember what you were dreaming of?”

“Yeah, I do.” You scratch the back of your neck due to feeling uncomfortable because of the so-called dream that felt way too real.

“What was it? Was it a nightmare? Actually, you don’t need to tell me about it if it’s a little traumatizing.”

Moments before, you had dreamt of Eunsang disappearing into the void. It’s a constant nightmare of yours that remains to shake you to the core.

You don’t have the heart to genuinely tell Eunsang your biggest fear, so you tell him a white lie. “It was the worst nightmare. I dreamt that I was back at school and there was suddenly a test I didn’t study for!”

Eunsang tilts his head and raises an eyebrow that says really? Either you’re lying or you seriously hate school, and Eunsang chooses to believe the second option.

“Oh! Since you’re up─” He grabs a hold of the flower bracelet he made while you were asleep. “Look at what I made for you!”

Naturally, you brought your wrist to Eunsang as he began to place the bracelet on you, avoiding any skin contact with a bright smile on his face.

In a generation like yours, many people seem to adore materialistic gifts instead of gifts that truly come from the heart. You, on the other hand, would take the beautiful mother nature gifts Eunsang surprises you with than anything else in the world.

“It’s really pretty!” You comment.

You’re prettier, Eunsang thinks to himself, but giggles as a vocal response.

“I love these type of gifts from you, I really do.” You raise your wrist into the sky, so you can look at the beautiful bracelet and the bouncy white clouds, together, as one. “This just reminded me how you always used to pick out four leaf clovers for me in the past. We could be running down the hill, but once you see a clover, you would stop and place it behind my ear.” The nostalgic memories you shared with him began to play in your head like a movie.

“Ah, I forgot!” Eunsang swiftly stands up on his two feet. “Throughout the seasons, I’ve been collecting all of the four leaf clovers I’ve been coming across, precisely so I can give them to you once you visit!”

He runs off into the forest, telling you that it won’t take him too long to retrieve them all. You don’t mind waiting in the meadow because you’re too busy admiring the bracelet and the four leaf clover you had stuck behind your clear phone case.

Not even a minute passes by and you hear rustling noises behind the green bushes. “Eunsang, you’re back!” You say, only to turn around and lay eyes upon a slender cat-eye like man. “Wooseok?”

His facial expression was serious and the atmosphere he gave off was mysterious, but once you stated his name, he broke character like a shattered glass. “Wait, you know who I am?”

“Of course! Eunsang loves talking about you all and he mentioned a few times that you were very good looking, so I can only guess that you’re Wooseok out of everyone.” Rather than being afraid that you were meeting a spirit, you were more than happy to know that you were having a conversation with a friend of Eunsang’s.

“He isn’t wrong, I am pretty good looking.” Wooseok brushes his delicate fingers through his hair, but abruptly stops himself as he recollects as to why he originally wants to speak to you. “Listen, I need to speak to you, but it’s pretty hard to find you without Eunsang by your side.”

Wooseok makes his way towards you and grabs you by the chin, something full spirits were capable of doing. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on Eunsang. He isn’t like the rest of us and if you’re the reason he disappears then─”

Before Wooseok could continue on, you cut him off by slowly pulling his hand off of you. “I know everything, so don’t worry about it.”

Indeed. You knew everything about Eunsang and maybe that’s why the two of you were the greatest friends you both could ever wish for.

Eunsang wasn’t like the other spirits that roamed around the forest. He isn’t a monster, but he sure isn’t human anymore. Eunsang was merely a human child who was abandoned in the forest. He was destined to die, but every forest spirit took sympathy for him and used all of their magic to keep him alive. A body like Eunsang’s is weak as he solely depends on magic to keep himself alive. With one touch of the human skin, he will vanish as he’s just as fragile as the winter snow.

“So, you know everything?” Wooseok’s voice lowers down due to his surprise for your knowledge.

“Yes, I know everything. Despite you threatening me, I know that you and the others are all to kind to even harm a human being like me.” Wooseok was ethereally pretty, but his personality said otherwise. “I know you all think of him as a little brother, and to me, he’s my friend. We all don’t want to lose him, so trust me, I’m going to make sure Eunsang won’t be gone anytime soon.”

Wooseok opens his mouth and then immediately shuts it close as he hears the distant sounds of Eunsang running through the forest. At a time like this, he’s incapable of saying anything more because if Eunsang found out that Wooseok tried to scare you, then Eunsang would finally blow up and might even ignore Wooseok for the rest of eternity. Wooseok decides to vanish into the air because the thought of Eunsang hating him sends shivers down his spine.

Eunsang comes running back, out of breath, with a basket filled with tiny four leaf clovers. The sight of Eunsang is enough for your lips to creep into a smile and he does the very same right back at you.

Four leaf clovers are lucky, unlike Eunsang.

However, Eunsang is lucky enough to have met you and you’re just as lucky enough to have met him too.

“Hey, Y/N.” Eunsang clears his throat and stares off into the radius, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Hold onto this stick.”

“The same stick you hit me with earlier?” You look up at Eunsang and notice that he was flushed with a scarlet shade appearing all throughout his face.

Oh? Is this embarrassment? Nervousness? Shyness? Every single emotion combined?

Not only did you notice the fact that Eunsang was blushing, but you acknowledge that this is his way of asking to hold your hand. Without saying anything more, you grab onto the other end of the stick as the two of you walked besides one another.

Even though you were happy, you still felt a sharp pain inside of your heart. This had reminded you that you and Eunsang will never be able to be together. You will never get to be held in his embrace. You will never get to see him outside of summer. You will never get to properly experience love with Eunsang.

The river is lukewarm, but that doesn’t stop you and Eunsang from dipping your toes in the water. The sun is being eaten up by the sky and once more, you’re reminded that summer and your time with Eunsang is coming to an end.

“Have you ever been in love?” You randomly blurt out, kicking your feet as small specks of water splash onto your face.

“Excuse me?” Eunsang chokes up because he was never ready for a question like this. “Why do you want to know?”

“Is it my fault that I want to know whether or not my friend has fallen in love before? Come on, tell me about it!”

He hesitates before responding back. “I can’t tell you.”

Eunsang can’t tell you the true answer to your question because he fell in love with you and is still in love.

“Don’t want to tell me? Then I’ll tell you the story of how I fell in love.” It might take Eunsang years to gather up the courage to tell you about his love life, but it only took you a mere second for you to want to tell him about yours.

“Huh? You’ve been in love before? You’ve never mentioned it before.” Eunsang’s eyes widens as he’s almost frozen with shock, modestly hurt that you’ve fallen in love with someone who surely isn’t him.

“I met him in the summer heat five years ago. At first, I thought of it as a small crush since I was so young and naive at that time, but as I grew older, my feelings became even stronger than before.” You looked off into the sunset with a slight grin. “I realized that I’ve been in love since the very start and I still am in love with this person.”

He laughs softly, but thinks somewhere inside of him must be the sound of his heart breaking. “That person sure is lucky to be loved by you.”

“Yup, you sure are lucky.”

Eunsang quickly turns his head towards you and it takes him a second to process what you had just said. He’s in disbelief, and yet, he doesn’t need you to say it twice because he heard you clearly the first time.

“I’m sorry.” Are the only words that roll off his tongue.

What are you saying? You’re absolutely in love with Y/N, Eunsang thinks, but somehow doesn’t say it.

“It’s okay.” From the very start, you were prepared for Eunsang to reject you. The two of you were never meant to be with each other to begin with. “You don’t need to love me back.”

But I do love you back, He doesn’t say anything.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” He repeats himself. “I’m sorry that I can’t properly love you like other humans.”

What does he mean?

You’re still not sure how he feels about you.

Nevertheless, the two of you sit there in silence, feet in the water, staring at the sunset like it’s the rising tide.

The countryside differs so much from the city life you’re used to. Unlike the city, the countryside is dark with not much people in sight once the moon emerges into the night sky.

Maybe it was Eunsang’s urge to protect you or maybe it was his need to spend as much time as he possibly could with you; But after every time the two of you hang out, Eunsang would walk with you all the way to the end of the forest, so you could walk back to your grandparent’s house in peace. Ever since you met Eunsang, you’re not an ounce afraid of the lightless forest. However, you still allow Eunsang to walk with you, each and every time, because you love having him by your side.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

The only sounds you hear are the footsteps of yours and Eunsangs, and the four leaf clovers shifting around in the basket you were holding.

As you continued to walk through the forest, there was a sudden tug at the bottom of your shirt. You turn around, only to find Eunsang holding on while he stared directly at the ground. “Eunsang, what’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry. It brings me so much pain.” He grips even tighter onto your shirt, wishing he was holding you instead.

“What are you talking about?”

“I want to experience being in love so badly, but I only want to if I’m with you.”

He wants to be real ─ For you.

Eunsang takes one step closer and that’s enough for you to snag your shirt away and take five steps away from him. “What is wrong with you? Remember, we need to keep a distance between us.” Your heart is rapidly beating, not because you’re in love, but because you’re frightened at the fact that Eunsang is putting his life at the line. “Don’t be irrational!”

“That’s exactly it.” He brings his head up and there’s tears flooding the whites of his eyes. “I’m sick and tired of this distance between us. Don’t you know how badly I want to be with you?”

You could see how desperate Eunsang was and you’ve never seen him in a state like this before. Seeing tears fall down from his eyes caused you to freeze up and become speechless at the moment.

“Y/N, I love you.”

Eunsang doesn’t need to think twice.

He is certain that he is in love with you.

There are times where Eunsang would long for you in the autumn, winter and spring. There are times where he wants to spend time with you and do nothing, but run into a field and pick out every flower that he deems as beautiful as you. There are times where you tell him stories of your city life, because you know how bored he could get in this lonely forest. There are times where Eunsang wishes it was only you and him on Earth. Each of these moments were when Eunsang strongly feels his love for you, and he loves realizing it every time. Falling in love with you makes him feel more like a human than he will ever be.

“You know, I love you too.” You remind Eunsang once more and it falls out of your mouth as easy as reciting the alphabet.

“Then, may I kiss you?” He takes a few steps closer to you, breaking the forbidden gap.

“You shouldn’t.” You say with quivering lips.

“But I want to.”

The basket of four leaf clovers crash onto the ground.

In a matter of seconds, Eunsang presses his soft lips against yours and finally has the power to wrap his arms around you, holding you tightly in his embrace. He doesn’t want this kiss to end and he never wants to stop holding you, but everything has an expiration date, including him.

You were completely unprepared for the kiss, but that didn’t stop you from passionately kissing him back. You would think that after all the summers you’ve spent with Eunsang ─ watching him talk, laugh, smile ─ that you would know all there is about him and his lips. With him being a spirit, you’ve never imagined his lips being this warm pressed against your very own.

The kiss ends as soon as the two of you feel your tears combine into one.

“Are you out of your mind?” You scream out loud, but not loud enough as your tears were powerful enough to fill you up.

“Are you out of your mind? For falling in love with a spirit like me?” Eunsang places his hand onto the side of your face, bringing both of your foreheads together, so they can touch and lean against one another. “How silly must I be for also loving you?”

Is this what it feels like to experience love? Eunsang is glad he can finally let you live through this, but despite being glad, he begins to think how much he’s going to miss your warmth.

Eunsang detects that it’s too difficult for you to speak with tears spilling down your cheeks. He takes a long, deep breath, as his fingers and voice trembles all at once. “I’ve always loved being with you. Every single time, I felt like I was alive. Y/N, you make me feel alive and I want to thank you so much for that.”

Parts of Eunsang begins to fade away into the air and within a minute, he’ll be nothing but a figment of imagination. As your arms were wrapped around Eunsang’s waist, you can feel him become lighter and you were never prepared to say your final goodbyes to Eunsang. He was supposed to be your summer delight, not your nightmare in disguise.

“Y/N, please tell me you love me once more.”

“I love you.” You beam your eyes towards Eunsang, never wanting to forget his face. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you!”

“I love you just as much.” Eunsang manages to muster up his famous soft smile, amidst the tears that were continuously streaming down his cheeks.

It would be amazing if time finally stopped, but time doesn’t care for anyone.

“Once I’m gone, falling in love with me will feel like a dream to you.” He leaves a soft peck on your forehead and continues to wipe the tears off of your face, despite being in the same frightful state as you. “I hope that this dream has been a happy pleasant one.”

Everything hurts and you’ve never knew love could bring this much pain to the two of you.

“Eunsang, don’t say that.” In return, you kiss his lips once more. “I will never forget you and I want you to know that I was more than happy in every moment that we shared together. You’re the one who makes me happy. I─” Your tears choke you up. “I just wish we had more time. Why would you do this?”

“Because I love you.” His voice is still comforting and it will forever play in your head. “I’m so delighted to hear that you were happy in every moment we shared, even if our time together was limited to one season of the year.”

Before you could say your last goodbye to Eunsang, you feel the cold breeze hit you and you were holding nothing, but the air.

“Eunsang?” You quickly turn your body around, trying to detect your lost boy in the hidden forest. “Eunsang!”

Eunsang isn’t hiding.

He’s long gone now.

Your weak legs give up and you fall onto the ground, burying your face into the dirt. “Why does it feel like I’m suffocating?”

Spilled four leaf clovers are scattered out everywhere.

You heavily cry out loud as tears drip down from your chin. There was no Eunsang to bring you back to comfort and he wasn’t coming back anytime soon, not even at all. “Eunsang, please come back!”

There’s something mystical in your pocket and you’re unsure as to what it is. You could feel it’s light stem and when you pull it out, you lay eyes upon a four leaf clover. It was as if it was Eunsang’s last wish to give you the last four leaf clover he had picked out for you that following day.

Summer will never be the same without Eunsang.

#pls give me clout i wrote this in one sitting #eunsang scenario #eunsang imagine #x1 scenario #x1 imagine #lee eunsang #x1 #eunsang scenarios #eunsang imagines #x1 scenarios #x1 imagines #pdx101 scenario #pdx101 imagine #produce x 101 scenarios #produce x 101 imagines

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darkhymns-fic · 5 years ago

Text

Sweet Desserts in the Desert

Lloyd and Colette are back on their journey for the Exspheres, but Lloyd still worries about how he left things between them last time. So worried that he hadn't remembered at all that it was his birthday.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: PG Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: For Colloyd Week Day 3: Birthday Present. Takes place after Dawn of the New World. Includes birthday cakes, baths, and maybe something about presents.

In all honesty, Lloyd had never really gotten used to the desert.

“Ugh, I was just sweating buckets not even an hour ago,” Lloyd was muttering to himself. Well, not exactly to himself. Noishe was with him, both hero and dog seated just outside of the sole inn of Triet. There was still the taste of sand on his tongue from earlier, but now the air was chilly, the night sky so clear with its smattering of stars. The wind blew slightly, along the faint rustling leaves from the scarce palm trees that dotted the streets.

He quickly went to put on his jacket which had been damped with sweat before, watching the clear night sky above him. Few people were outside, the hour getting late, and probably smart enough to know when to go indoors. But he couldn’t do that, not just yet anyway.

“Wish I had fur like you…” he muttered, still somewhat fumbling with his jacket.

Noishe’s ears perked at the statement, blowing soft mist in the air with each of his pants. But all that left his note was a confused whine.

“Ah, forget it.” Lloyd just half-buttoned his jacket before laying his hands on the ground leaning back. “Colette said she was just going to a shop…Wonder what’s taking so long.”

Finally back on their journey together, he and Colette had decided to traverse familiar places. It was also convenient, Triet only a short week’s travel from Iselia. Still, this desert town wasn’t exactly one of his favorite pitstops. Hot days and cold nights – the change was always sudden, and when Triet had gotten its first taste of snow after the world regeneration, it didn’t help matters. And Lloyd swore that it was chillier than usual now… even though the mana should have been stable. Maybe he was just sensitive to the cold.

Noishe saw his shivering state and decided to help Lloyd by shuffling against him, tail wagging excitedly. But he was also a Very Big dog, putting more of his weight on Lloyd than he probably meant to.

“Noishe! Don’t just sit on my lap without warning..” Lloyd grumbled. But only a little bit, since he was fighting to get rid of the fur that was now in his mouth. “And you’re all dusty with sand too!”

Another whine from Noishe, paired with shining black eyes as he looked at Lloyd.

“Oh, fine… I missed you too,” he said with a sigh, patting behind the big pointed ears. It had been nearly a year since he had just left Noishe at Dirk’s without warning. Since he had left everyone… and yet he and Colette were picking up right where they left off with the Exspheres. Just like that.

But things felt different, like the nights in Triet. Lloyd threaded his fingers through the comforting fur, growing silent. He felt different. Could he accept that about himself? Could Colette? And…where was she? Maybe she realized that-

“Lloyd!” Her voice broke through the hazy veil that had been clouding his head. He blinked. “Lloyd! Happy birthday!”

He blinked again. Huh? Another blink…It’s my birthday?!

Lloyd had to shove Noishe off him, just so he could finally see past the dog and his sea of green and white fur. In front of him was Colette, smiling so widely as she held something in her hands. In fact, it was so big that it seemed to almost cover up her arms completely.

“Whoa! You got me a cake?” Lloyd said so loudly, he was sure he must have woken up a few people from their homes. But he was too busy staring. Colette got him a cake! With frosting and everything!

“Yep! Sorry, I know it’s probably not as nice as the cakes they have in Meltokio…but they have a really cute bakery here. It’s just right next to that hole I made!” She sounded so proud, standing on her tiptoes as she held out the big confectionary treat. “I remember, because when I first came here, I wanted to see all of their desserts. And uh, that’s when I tripped.”

“Oh,” Lloyd said, then grinned along with her. “I guess I must have missed it last time. That’s cool they still keep it up there!” Though he wondered if a desert bakery made sense to him. What if all their desserts had sand in it? Desert…dessert…maybe there was a connection…

But the look on Colette’s face was so happy though, happy with him – and he tried to brush away that weird nagging feeling as to why she would, after all that he did. Luckily, the cake she held was a good distraction. It had swirls of chocolate frosting, topped with black cherries, and it even had all the candles for his age! It looked kind of a lot…How old was he again?

“Do you wanna have a slice?” she asked him, and of course he did!

“Yeah definitely! And no, Noishe, you’re not having any!” Lloyd said immediately, knowing the whines would follow, but he knew that cake just wasn’t good for dogs!

Then as Colette got closer with the cake, he noticed something different. “Is that my face on it?”

This was when Colette started to look a bit less confident. “Um, yeah. Hehe… well, the thing is, they don’t really have any current pictures of you…And I tried my best to describe you! But they still had that wanted poster hanging around, and I think people around here have grown fond of it…And…it’s kinda cute if you think about-”

“Colette, watch your step!”

But it was too late. There had been a stray pebble on the path, and that was more than enough to make Colette ultimately tumble.

“Whoops!”

Maybe it was fate that Lloyd was about to be bombarded with the cake that was decorated with a warped version of his face on it. Not like he had time to move out of the way, Colette only just a few steps in front of him. So that leering grin of his fell right over his own dumbfounded stare, in all of its chocolatey glory, the unlighted candles showering him as they collapsed to the sand-covered ground.

At least it tasted good.

Not only was he covered with sand from earlier as they hiked to Triet, along with his own sweat that was chilled to his skin from the coming of night – but he had chocolate frosting on his hair to top it all off.

“I’m so, so so sorry, Lloyd!” Colette had been apologizing, sounding like she was on the verge of tears as she guided him inside the inn. Noishe had been told to go back to the stables (Lloyd could tell because of all the high-pitched whining), Colette making sure he didn’t get a lick of any of the leftover cake that splattered to the ground. “I’ll clean it up for you right away!”

“Colette, you don’t need to, it’s okay!” Lloyd said as he looked to her. Or, well, he tried to. The cake was all over his face, and it was impeding his sight just a bit. “Just dump some water on my head and I’ll be fine!”

Colette didn’t say anything, but he guessed she shook her head to his suggestion since she was still leading him through the inn. He thought he heard a questioning noise from someone – probably the innkeeper, wondering why he had cake all over his face – but nothing else except for a door opening.

“Uh, Colette, where are you taking me?”

“We have to clean you up! There’s a bathroom down here. Let me help.”

This made him pause for a moment. “Uh. A what now.”

At some point, she let him go, but saw the shape of her (in his chocolate vision) move in front, retrieving a nearby bucket to dump into something big that stood within the middle of the room.

“Let me just fill this up! Then I’ll work on those buttons later…”

Triet’s bathroom was basically just a giant washtub, filled with now-tepid water from a nearby well. Not nearly as fancy as anything from Meltokio’s inns with their running water, or as unique like the warm hot springs. It was just a washtub, one familiar to Lloyd when he would have to fill his own from the river back home. And…when they had to use washtubs to cross the ocean a few times…

Lloyd saw all this once he got to wash his face a little from one bucket, his eyes and cheeks now clear of chocolate, though he couldn’t say the same for his hair. Colette was close, already helping him undress which he was just letting happen despite his weak protests. “I can bathe myself, Colette…” Still, the suspenders were already slipping off his shoulders, with barely a second to spare.

“Hm? Oh! Sorry, too fast?” She giggled, fingers lingering over his sleeves as she traced over the multitudes of silver clasps. “It’s okay, Lloyd. I know how to take this off! You don’t need to worry.”

“That’s not what I… Wait, how do you know?” It was not a statement from Colette that he had been prepared for. Still, he could only watch in fascination as she went about the landscape of his jacket, finally unclasping it with careful and thoughtful motions.

“Just trying to work out this sleeve button here…Oh, and I’ve had some practice with the one you gave me! It’s been really useful!”

“You still kept that ratty old thing?” he asked, genuinely surprised. He felt the sweaty jacket slip off him then, watching as Colette carefully folded it to lay on a nearby stool. Huh, she really had been fast with those buttons…

“Yeah of course! Okay, so now these belts…”

“I-! I think I got it, don’t worry!”

“Hm?” Colette looked up at him curiously, one hand gripping one of his lower belts. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, just…” His heart was beating fast, and if it weren’t for the remaining pieces of cake still in his hair, maybe he could have been smoother about this whole situation a little bit. “Are you like…actually okay with doing this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She tilted her head at him, her hair falling across her left shoulder. “You’ve stripped in front of me before, remember? Back at Dirk’s when you gave me your jacket!”

“But I wasn’t about to take a bath in front of you!”

“Hm, I guess so.” Then another smile. “It’s okay, Lloyd. I don’t mind at all!”

He heard the sharp clacks of his belts unbuckling as she got rid of them, one of them falling to the floor, his swords already having been put away earlier. “But…you’re acting like I can’t do this myself! I’m not a little kid… I’m… I’m 20 years old now!” He just remembered! “Yeah, I’m 20! And I can take baths by myself!” Okay, that sounded a little weird but it was true!

“Oh, I know, hehe. I just wanted to do this for you.” She pulled down his pants then, his boxers were now in view, their color dark and unassuming – a real contrast to all the red he usually wore. “And I need to make it up for ruining your birthday…”

“Huh?” He blinked. “But you didn’t ruin anything…”

“I dropped your cake like a klutz. It was my fault.” She said this while tracing the hem of his shirt, then stared hard at it. “Oh! Forgot about this too.” With that, she pulled the shirt over his head, getting it half-way stuck on his face.

“Colette, none of that is your fau-mmfhgg!” Muffled by the shirt over his mouth, both struggled a bit with it, Colette repeating her apologies over and over until he could finally be free from the fabric.

“Ahhh sorry, sorry, sorry!”

“S-stop apologizing! You have nothing be sorry for!” His head popped out, disheveling both hair and chocolate frosting everywhere. His head was still half-cake at this point. “It’s all my fault to begin with!”

That made Colette pause, clutching Lloyd’s black undershirt in her hands. It was still half-splattered in chocolate frosting, some of it from his hair when he had pulled it. “Lloyd?”

Well, that wasn’t a thing he meant to say out loud.

“Uh..n-nothing. Anyway, that washtub, right?” With sudden reflexes, Lloyd sprinted for the tub, grabbing the very edge of its wooden rim and leaping over it with all the energy he could muster! “Here I goooo!”

“Lloyd! You’re still wearing your boxers!”

Ah crap, he was.

Too late, for he had already splashed right into the washtub, getting lukewarm water all over the floor. He sunk like a rock inside it before breaking his head through the surface, feeling refreshed instantly. His hair must have been rid of the chocolate by now!

“It can be like I’m swimming then!” he explained to Colette with a thumbs-up. “You need to wear clothes to swim!”

“You can’t swim in a washtub,” Colette said, then made a soft hum. “Or can you? I’ve never tried it.”

“Well, if we can row washtubs, I don’t see why you can’t swim in them,” he said in all sincerity.

“Huh, you’re right! Sounds like it’s fun too.” Colette turned away and Lloyd felt a bit relieved, thinking she was about to leave. Then maybe he could get rid of these now soaked boxers too…

…And then Colette instantly came back with soap in hand. “Let’s get you washed up then!”

“H-Hey!” But Colette was also really fast? She was already next to him, rubbing soap suds into his hair, the water splashing around his ears. “Colette!”

“Oh? Did I get soap in your eye?” She was already sitting on a stool right next to the washtub so that she could continue to do her task with more comfort.

“No…” Lloyd was saying, remembering he had a complaint…Or something like it… But Colette’s hands were rubbing his head softly. So soft. Maybe it was something about the soap that made him relax a bit more, laying his head against the edge of the washtub, leaning into her hands. “Just…can wash myself…”

“I know you can,” Colette said, and her tone was more serious than before. Lloyd picked up on it, but the feel of her hands on him got him so relaxed all the sudden. He felt the soap suds sink against his hair, making him sigh pleasantly. This did feel really nice. “I just wanted to do this for you.”

“Hm…” He could only say and nodded. And maybe it was also just what the earlier part of the day brought with it – the water washing away all of his dried sweat, sweeping away the sand that had gotten stuck to his hands or caught in his fingernails, and even soaking up the chocolate from Colette’s birthday cake for him…It really was so nice.

“And I’ve had a lot of practice from washing up Noishe too! Your hair is just like his fur!”

Okay, that comparison may have gotten him out of the dreamy state he had been in, at least for a few seconds. “I-It’s not… And Noishe isn’t good at taking baths! He’d get water everywhere.”

Colette pointedly looked around the room, where water puddles formed all around the floor from Lloyd’s jump. “Hmm…”

“…That doesn’t count...” he pouted, leaning back into her hands. “I’m being good now, aren’t I?”

“Hehe, yeah. See? I told you I could help you with this.”

Another lazy nod, Lloyd already beginning to slip into that relaxed state, his body going a bit limp, half-floating in the water. “Yeah…You’re…good to me…” he said.

Her hands paused in his hair before going back to their circular motions, fingers and soap suds working together to unbind all the stress from him. A part of him knew he had said something too dumb and weird, but the other part of him was, ‘This feels nice, can I fall asleep now?’ Although maybe falling asleep in a washtub wasn’t a good idea…

“Hey, Lloyd? Can I tell you something?”

“Mmwha?” He blinked a few times. Jeez, he really had been about to fall asleep. “Yeah…you can tell me…” Though hopefully she’d keep washing his hair like that as she did so.

“I’m just happy I get to be with you again.” He heard the smile through her voice. “I wasn’t even sure if I’d be able to for a while.”

Lloyd heard her words like he was in a dream, cocooned in warmth, floating within it. But, he needed to do something. He tried sitting up, all while still laying his head in her hands. “I meant…to come back…”

He didn’t hear her respond, still washing his hair. She was probably getting her clothes wet by doing this. My fault, he thought again, but kept himself from speaking too much. She most likely already thought he was being weird about this.

“You know…I tried to make you something like you did for me,” she said, speaking a little more clearly. “But I could never learn how to. I can’t make as beautiful things like you can. I should have tried to last year but, well, you were gone, so…”

His mind paused. The necklace. He turned to her. “You still have it?”

“Hm? Oh of course I do! I always have it with me.” Colette took away one hand to press against her neck. It had been hidden by her overcoat, but there it was, the light from the room reflecting off the links of the necklace’s chain. “See?”

“You dork, you’re getting soap all over yourself!”

“Ah!” Colette pulled her hand away, but some soap suds had fallen over her cheeks. “Sorry!”

But he laughed, somehow feeling…surprised. She really kept it. After he had just suddenly left her in the middle of their journey, she still had it with her.

He didn’t know what else to say at first, still seated within that washtub, the water more tepid, and the soap drying up against his ears. “I didn’t give you a gift for last year either.”

Colette paused as well, as if contemplating her next words carefully. One hand was still near him, gentle against his hair. “Your gift to me was staying safe. And…this is silly, but, I felt as long as I still had this, that I knew you would be safe.” He felt her soft airy giggle against his neck. She was still close to him. “It does sound silly, doesn’t it?”

Without thinking, Lloyd reached for her hand, covered in those suds, some of it trailing down his hand to drip into the water.

“Ah, careful! You’re gonna get it in your eye for sure if-”

He leaned up from the water to kiss her then, the feel of her lips tingling his nerves, warmth bursting through his chest like a small campfire in the cold night. The water drops echoed all around him heightened by the closeness of the room and the washtub.

Colette didn’t flinch or pull away, but leaned into him, any hint of shyness melting away. In her nearness, he caught even more glimpses of her necklace, its shine so bright.

When he pulled away, he meant to say something meaningful to her, as he did when they had gone back to Flanoir and he finally told her he loved her…

…Instead, he snickered. “Oh…uh, got some more soap on you.”

Colette blinked. Looked like she hadn’t expected that response either. “Oh? On my face?” And with her soapy hand, she reached to touch her cheeks, her nose, effectively getting it everywhere.

“Well, now you do! I meant your hair.” Lloyd grinned, reaching up with his other hand to get rid of those soapy bubbles caught onto the fine golden strands. But with the dripping water on him, he just succeeded in getting even more on her, and then just soaking her hair… but he wouldn’t give up! “Hold on, I got it!”

“Ahhh, Lloyd! That’s way too much!” She grinned, reaching for his hands again, clasping it in his own, and then leaned down to steal a kiss from him, the way he did with her… then felt her hands slip from his to rush through his own hair. It was like she was molding it with the strength of the soap.“There!”

“Heeey, what did you do to my hair?” He peeked a glimpse of himself in the water, and while the reflection was a bit hazy, he saw how she had used the soap to pull at his hair from the front, curving it like some weird pompadour.

“Now you match better with your picture!” Colette said with a laugh. “It looks cute!”

“Nooo, I don’t look cute!” Lloyd whined, but with a mischievous grin, he reached for her hair too, no longer being careful anymore. “You do!”

“There’s water getting everywhere-! Whoops!”

Lloyd probably should have expected that Colette would trip again, but he was still unsure how she was able to just tip over at this angle, falling right against him in the washtub, effectively overflowing the tub with both of them in it.

Her falls really were little acts of miracles.

“Well, at least you can get your bath too,” Lloyd said, not minding it at all as she floated on top of him, arms wrapped around her waist. “Since you’re already soaped up and everything.”

“But my clothes are all soaked,” she complained.

This only made Lloyd grin, forgetting all his previous worries and nervousness. Everything felt so natural – why did he think they couldn’t go back to how they were before? “I can help with that.”

“Ahh, that’s silly though..”

“It’ll be a fun birthday present!”

“Lloyd!” but she was laughing too and maybe they did a lot more swimming than bathing in the end anyway.

But it really had been a good birthday present all around.

#colloyd #tales of symphonia #colette brunel #lloyd irving #colloydweek2020

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