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leascorner · 7 months ago

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j.s. | Welcome home

Summary: After a mission, Jake gets some well deserved break at home. However the week might not turn out how he had planned.

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x childhood bff!f!reader

Warnings: Angst, mention of death and near death experience, mention of break-up, probably inexact american army facts, ever most likely inexact description of Texas, mention of food, two idiots in love, happy ending

Word Count: 9.2k

A/N: I've said it before, I will say it again. The only trope that I can write/read about Jake is a childhood/best friends to lovers, don't fight me. I also see Jake as an older brother to two half-sisters his mother had with a very good man, after his father abandonned them. This is my canon.

Anyway, this is way too long and way too chaotic but I just couldn't stop writting so enjoy!

Masterlist

Y/N was literally hopping up and down with impatience - or perhaps was it the three cups of coffees she had drunk to be able to keep up with the 2-hour-long drive to the airport in the middle of the night. She was standing on the arrival floors, on her tiptoes, trying to locate the person she was picking up. The flow of travellers coming through the arrival doors was continuous, so many blond heads coming through and none of them was his.

Her childhood best friend’s flight had landed a dozen of minutes prior; 3:28 a.m. was the time she received a “be right there, see you soon” text. Ever since then, the seconds had been going past very - very - slowly and with every second passing, Y/N chest had got narrower from anticipation to the point she felt like she couldn’t breathe. It hadn’t been more than a year and a half now that they had seen each other in the flesh. Of course, there were the texts, the emails and the FaceTime calls, but it was never the same.

“Jake!”

The sea of people in front of them seemed to split in half to let them collide in one another. The said Jake let his bag fall to his feet to catch a flying Y/N, lifting her from the ground as if she weighted nothing. Her hands found the back of his neck and her head found the crook of his neck, reuniting their bodies as if they were only one mind.

“Hey sweetheart,” he sniffed her hair, intoxicating himself from her perfume.

Jake let her down reluctantly when he realized they were in the way of other people reunions. After swinging his bag over his shoulder and dragging her near a row of seats, he finally took a good look at her, dark circles under puffy red eyes and hair all other the place. He dried her tears softly and kissed the top of her head, something he was sure he hadn’t done since they were in high school and that fucker of Chad had broken up her heart - thinking of it now, it seemed like it was a lifetime away. However, he knew that in this moment there was no sadness in her tears. She was crying probably a little happiness to seeing him again, but most certainly a lot of relief to have him alive in front of her.

He took another step back to have an even greater look at her. Y/N was exactly how he last saw her one year or so ago, and exactly how she looked like even all the other times he had to leave. She did not seem to age, and he was sure that the fine smile lines she was now wearing had always been there. It brought comfort to his heart to know that whatever would happen, she would always be waiting for him. He knew it was also selfish, but he had made peace with those thoughts a long time ago. These were moments that he was collecting in his mind for when he was somewhere overseas, fighting for his life.

“My my, did you grow up a few inches?”

“Oh, shut up!” Y/N laughed and tried to nudge him in the ribs. Jake easily grabbed her right elbow to bring her closer in another embrace, so very glad to be home, even only for a little while.

Ventilation was swinging litters of hot air into the car's cabin as it was a rather chilly night for October in Texas. The full moon was lighting up all the roads in front of them, just as if it was making sure they would get home safely.

During the drive, the main discussion turned around how excited everyone would be to have him there. Y/N and her parents were the only ones to know about Jake’s surprise visit; they had only known for about three days before his flight landed that he unexpectedly got a week of leave. They would surprise his family later that day for lunch - only after they both had a rather long nap to make up for the sleepless night.

Jake had seen his family a couple more times than Y/N this past year and a half. Even if he considered Y/N to be family, this wasn’t exactly the rule of the administration. Blood family had some more privileges, like sometimes visiting for the holidays. His mother and one of his little sisters also visited him in Singapore when he was stationed there for an exercise in the Taiwan Strait; they had booked a vacation to be able to see him there. Y/N, at that time, had been unavailable - she had her own life after all.

It was what Jake found the more difficult; to keep up with her life. Most of her friends were common friends from high school. With her going to a different university and later with her different jobs, some of her friends were total strangers to him. However, they all seemed to come and go into her life, leaving more or less damage.

“I am sorry about you and Nick.”

Y/N finished getting back to the right line of the highway and removing the blinker, before glancing quickly in Jake’s direction. He was looking at her, with an expression she couldn’t quite read, but that she understood as some kind of gladness. She sighed while turning her focus back on the road.

“You can lie better than that, Jake.”

“Well, didn’t like the guy so…”

It had been a couple of months now than her longtime boyfriend Nick and she had broken up. What confused Jake the most was how this was not a topic for discussion. She hadn’t called crying; she did not seem to be angry. She just announced it to him like it was nothing and directly switched subject. He hadn��t found a way to bring it back on the table, so he asked their friends and family. They all had the same answer; she was doing fine. She seemed to have continued her life just like nothing had happened.

“Was it him-”

“It was me,” Y/N cut him off quickly abruptly, leaving Jake with an uneasy feeling. She sighed again, probably realizing how harsh her tone had been. “This wasn’t working out anyway.”

Though she could not see him, Jake nodded back acknowledging her response. He still felt like there were more to it, but he understood that now wasn’t the time to discuss it. Ever since they had known each other - and it went back to kindergarten, they hadn’t had many secrets for one another. And if they had, it was never anything major.

So, he shook off this feeling and gently grabbed her hand resting on the gearshift to squeeze it softly.

“I do am sorry, though.”

“I know.”

It was nearly six in the morning when Y/N pulled up in her parents’ driveway.

The porch light was on, welcoming them, making sure Jake knew he was expected, and it made him smile fondly. It still felt surreal somehow; after everything, he was home. Getting out of the car, he breathed the fresh air of Texas like he hadn’t breathed in years.

Y/N was already opening her trunk, getting out a duffel bag that seemed to contain some clothes for today. Jake jogged toward her before she was able to get his own khaki bag out. She rolled her eyes, smiling, when he gently slapped her hands away to take care of it.

“Mom set up a spare bed in my room,” Y/N informed him while walking to the front door. “Just like the old days.”

And nothing in the house had changed either.

The hallway was still a drive along memories with all sorts of pictures hanged upon the wall. Y/N’s parents wedding portrait. Y/N’s baby pictures. Y/N on the day of the start of her first kindergarten year - just before they met each other. A couple more of first day of school pictures - this time with him in it as well. A couple of family vacation pictures. And along with them, a couple of pictures of events he wasn’t even there to attend. Y/N’s university graduation, her parents’ thirty-year anniversary celebration party, her first promotion celebration dinner…

The kitchen was still on the right, the living room on the left and straight ahead the stairs to the bedrooms. Y/N’s bedroom still had Justin Timberlake poster hung up on the walls along with some pictures of friends and family. The teddy bear he won for her at the funfair when they were not even ten stood on her bed. Jake swore that if he opened the dresser, he would still find the shelf that was for his stuff back then.

Without many words, both of them got ready for bed. Y/N took the en-suite bathroom first and when Jake got back in his sweatpants, she was already in bed, cuddling Mister B the teddy bear. His chuckle made her look up to him with sleepy eyes and quickly look away when she realized he didn’t wear a shirt. He kissed her on her forehead before tugging her more tightly in her sheets and turning off the bedside lamp.

“Do you remember when I couldn’t sleep unless someone was holding my hand?”

Jake only hummed in answer, and even in the darkness of her room, his hand found hers instinctively. Their fingers intertwining immediately, he did just as he had promised when he was only just a kid; he never let it go.

“Son,” Y/N’s father spoke from the other side of the kitchen, “don’t worry about it.”

Jake shook his head, smiling, before proceeding with what he was already doing: loading the cup he had used to drink coffee in the dishwasher. Ever since he had been up earlier that morning, Y/N’s parents had pampered him with all their attention while also being busy preparing lunch. Every time he asked if they needed help, they would assure him he just needed to stay put in his seat.

It had always been like this, for as long as he had remembered. Whenever he had gone over when Y/N and he were still in middle school, her parents had always taken good care of him, making sure the crust of his PB&J sandwiches were cut off, putting on his favourite beddings when they were having a sleepover, drying his clothes in the air dryer when they came home soaking wet from the park. He felt loved in a different way than he did at home, where he had a hard time adjusting to his new family dynamics with his two younger step-sitters. Growing up, they continued on listening to him and caring for him. Y/N’s father was the one he went to for advice before he enrolled. Ever since, and with the little time he had with them every time he came home, it still hit him in the face how much they loved him like he was their own son.

“Do you need help with anything?” He asked once more.

This time, they did not have time to answer. Y/N appeared on the doorstep, changed out of her pyjamas, hair still wet. “The shower is all yours, Jake.”

She watched him go as if she had to make sure he remembered the way to her room. She hadn’t really realized yet that he was really here, with them, and feared that he would just disappear at any minute or that she would just wake up from whatever dream she was having. Somehow this also seemed to be all too familiar, like a play they had rehearsed a hundred time before. It broke her heart a little to know this was most likely not going to happen again before a very long time, that it could actually never happen again.

Y/N got this thought out of her head as soon as it came. She didn’t need to think about this. Not now. Not ever. She just needed to enjoy whatever time she had with him at home.

“He looks good,” her mum stated once Jake had made it to the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, he does,” Y/N spoke softly, eyes lingering to where Jake had been only a couple of seconds before, suddenly wondering if he was really as good as they thought.

When Jake got back to the kitchen the entrance clock had just struck eleven. Only sixty minutes until he would be reunited with his family. It never felt more real, but he couldn’t quite realize it. He was so used of being far away from them, totally disconnected from their realities, hearing their news after everyone else. Yet, he had always found them as he had left them, eyes watering to see him home or gone.

He joined Y/N on the vegetable preparation. Washing, peeling, cutting kept him busy while the anticipation started to build up. All while Y/N’s father asked him about what new manoeuvres he had learned. Being an aviator himself, they could talk about flying for hours to Y/N’s greatest damn; she had the biggest fear of flying - and perhaps the fact that Jake nearly crashed them while flying an old aircraft he had restored with her father when they were teenagers had something to do with it.

“These boys,” Y/N’s mother sighed playfully as Jake and Y/F/N were debating whatever solar planes were the future of aviation. Y/N smiled as she shared a knowing look with her mother, who was getting ready to lay the table in the dining room.

“Mom, hold on,” Y/N called before reaching inside the cupboard next to her, “you are missing a plate.”

“Why? Is Mark coming after all?”

Y/M/N’s face went white in only a second as she realized what she had just said. Not knowing what to do else, Y/N handed her the white plate. Looking sideways to Jake, she hoped he hadn’t heard - she didn’t want him to find out like this, when his whole family was going to be here in the next thirty minutes.

It was already too late though; Jake’s attention had of course switched to their awkward interaction. Her father was quick to step in, wiping his hands on a cloth and moving towards his wife.

“Of course he is, darling. Let me help you bring those into the dining room.”

Y/N watched them disappear before quickly turning back to the carrots she was now cutting in a Julienne, praying Jake would just drop the subject. Ever since she had learned that Jake was having a leave, she had planned their reunion to be perfect. She had purposely lied to his family, pretending to have a very big news to share with them so they all agreed to gather even if the atmosphere was not good. She had made them promise to bury the hatchet, for “her” and most absolutely for Jack. Whatever touchy topics they would have to talk about, they could do it after.

“Why wouldn’t he come?” Jake still asked and, at that moment, she knew that whatever she would tell him would never be sufficient to not draw his suspicion any further. She couldn’t lie to him even if she tried.

“Just been busing with work lately, you know how it is.”

Without letting him time to ask more questions, Y/N went for the stoves to make sure the sauce was still reducing as it should have. She could feel Jake’s eyes burning holes on her back and could only hope he would drop the subject.

“Jake, son,” Y/F/N had just gotten back from the dining room, “would you mind giving me a hand with the roast?”

After taking a last look at Y/N, still very focused on stirring the sauce, Jake turned to her father. It wasn’t until she didn’t feel his eyes on her that she turned to look at him. She watched as her father made him took out the turkey so he could put some more butter on it. Out of the corner of his eye his father gives him a reassuring wink signalling her he had got this.

The bell rang at the exact same moment Y/N put the last plate of hors d’oeuvres at the centre of the table. Shooting a look across the piece, she saw her father squeezing Jake’s shoulder in what seemed to comfort him. She smiled shyly, trying to hide her own nervousness. Thanks to her father, Jake had nearly forgotten about the earlier incident about Mark and the reason he wouldn’t have been able to make it. He hadn’t asked any other questions, and they hadn’t given away other secrets. All was well in the best of all words, or so she still tried to convince herself. It was all that mattered.

“Just like we said, you both stay here, and we’ll bring them for you.”

Y/N watched as her parents disappeared in the hall. She turned to Jake who she now realized he was close at her side - she knew from the way his lips were set in a tight smile that he was somehow nervous. When noises started coming from the hall, Y/N grabbed Jake’s hand without thinking. She needed him to know she was there, that she would always be there, just like they promised when they were younger. It would take much more than a thousand of miles and a few hiccups to take them apart. As if he was thinking the exact same thing, Jake squeezed her hand back.

Jake’s step-dad was the first to enter the dining room. Y/N saw his eyes go from herself to Jake right next to her side, his eyes lighting up in realization. Yet, he didn’t say anything, holding a finger to his lips to let them know he would stay silent while moving further into the room as if nothing had happened. He and Jake had never been particularly close; he was a good man, a good husband, and a good father to his daughters, but Jake’s fatherly figure had always been Y/N’s father.

Next to enter the room was Jake’s youngest step-sister, Sophia. She immediately spotted him, letting out a cry and running into his arms. He crushed his sister in one of those same hugs he gave Y/N when she picked him up from the airport. It warmed her heart to see them like that. Sophia was still very young when Jake had enrolled; she was only just a kid and had grown up with the lack of his older brother. She was looking up to him so much that Y/N had sometimes to remind her that he didn’t have only qualities. He was her hero in so many ways…

Sophia’s reaction got the rest of the family - his mother, Olivia, his other step-sister, and his step-brother, Mark - in the dining room quite quickly. There were a lot of “Jake!” shouted from across the room and loads of tears, happy smiles, and hugs.

“I can’t believe he is here.” Sophia cried again; this time she was in Y/N’s arms. “And I can’t believe you lied to us.”

“Sorry not sorry,” Y/N smiled, tugging a string of her hair behind her ears before bringing her in an even closer hug if it was possible. She wasn’t sure she had seen her this happy in her life, she realized.

Y/N was an only child with a very little family. Over the years, Jake’s family had grown to be her own as well. As children first, as they were always all together at either one’s house or the others. As teenagers when his step-sisters weren’t babies anymore and they had started to be able to play more with them. She remembered helping his mom getting both of his sisters ready for school, all of them celebrating Christmas at her parents or going dress shopping for Olivia’s first prom.

Ever since Jake had been deployed on the West Coast and later overseas, they had grown even closer. There were brunches on Sundays, just the three of them, where Sophia would file them up on her latest dating adventures. There were lunches at Olivia’s office after they had taken a midday yoga class. There were breakfasts with Sophia before her classes began. Y/N had always made sure they were alright, as if she had to do it for Jake.

So far, the lunch had turned out great.

Jake had told them all about his last position and this group of pilots he had been joining overseas. Everyone had started feeding him bits and pieces of what had occurred ever since the last time he’s been home. Olivia and Mark had managed not to fight, which was a miracle in itself, per Y/N’s opinion. Jake’s mom had finally stopped crying. And Sophia seemed to have forgotten about those hard choices she would have to make once she graduated from college at the end of the year.

At least, that was the case until Jake asked about it.

“So, any thoughts yet about what you’ll do next year?”

“No, not really.”

Y/N had already seen that look on Sophia’s face. It was the same one she made when she was hesitating between an avocado toast and pancakes at the place they were used to going to brunch; every time she had been making this face, she had ended up with ordering both. Sophia eyed her tentatively and Y/N immediately shook her head no, silently pleading her not to do whatever she was thinking.

Today was not the day. Jake had only gotten back from abroad hours ago, they would have enough time to discuss it in the next couple of days.

“I am thinking of enrolling,” Sophia stated abruptly.

Boom.

The bomb had landed.

Y/N sighed, mentally cursing Sophia for needing whatever validation from him. They all had talked about this extensively for months on now. Decide to enrol was one thing, accept that one of your relative would do the same was another. She knew how Jake was; he didn’t look like it at first sight, but his family was his everything. He had made the selfish decision that could result in them losing him forever, yet he wouldn’t accept that she’d do the same.

From the deathly silence that came after Sophia’s statement, Y/N rested the cutlery on the side of her plate, bracing herself for whatever had to come. Her attitude made Jake immediately turned to her. She had never seen the wrinkle between his eyebrows this deep before. She didn’t know if it was from dread, disappointment, or anger.

“You knew?”

Jaw tight, Y/N didn’t answer, and Jake huffed - of course, she knew. How could she not? She was here, with his own family, when he was thousands of miles away fighting for his country. She was here, only a ride away, when he couldn’t even remember the last time he had enough telephone network to FaceTime them. She was there, physically with them, when he was just a ghost, present for a few days a year before disappearing for months on hand.

Y/N tried to reach out for his left arm to try and calm the whole situation down, but he moved ever so slightly she couldn’t touch him. The fire in Jake’s green eyes was incandescent. He was angry, with Sophia, with her, with everyone. And to know he didn’t even know half of it…

“Let’s not start now,” his older step-sister stepped in to try and reason him.

“Why?” Jake retorted immediately. “Wanna updates me on what is going on with Mark as well?”

Olivia opened her mouth to answer and as she couldn’t seem to find something to say, she then closed it and lowered her head. She and Mark had officially announced a few weeks before Jake returned that they were going to take some time apart. They had been married for nearly three years and they were having a rough path. They had started couple therapy, trying to make things work. Y/N couldn’t count the hours Olivia had spent on her couch, crying and eating ice-creams.

Y/N knew exactly how she felt like. The deception of thinking she had found the love of her life only to realize it was more complex than this. The sadness of loving someone and it still not being enough for the two of them to be happy. The paralyzing fear of being alone, of never being well enough.

She needed a shoulder to cry onto and a lot of love, and not to be reminded of what a failure she thought she was.

“I am sorry,” Sophia mumbled. Y/N wasn’t sure to whom she was apologizing. Jake? Them?

“You can’t seriously be thinking about it?” Jake half-shouted, pointing her finger at her like he was accusing her of the worst betrayal.

“Don’t say anything you’d regret, son.”

Y/N’s father word seemed to put some sense into him as he leaned his back against his chair, folding his arms against his chest. The distress on Sophia’s face was now palpable and she was on the verge of crying from Jake’s quite violent reaction. Though she didn’t expect Jake to be totally supportive, Y/N had not expected him to reject the idea that much either. She had thought that he would’ve still listen to her reasons, maybe try to talk her out of it, but finally make peace with the idea. Just like they had. Just like they all had when he was in her shoes.

Olivia had regained her composure and wrapped an arm around her sister’ shoulders. The look she sent Jake probably refrained him from attacking again his little sister. Instead, he chose another target for his anger.

“How can anybody be cool with this?”

Before Jake’s mom could speak, Y/N called him out. “Why could you do it and not her, Jake, huh?” She wants to be like you so bad, don’t you see?

“That’s not the same thing.”

Y/N huffed and rolled her eyes.

It made her even bitter. For all the things he hadn’t told her when he had no reason to hide it from her. For him being hurt that they didn’t want to discuss as such important topics over the phone. She would have liked to be sorry to hide all this from him, yet his reaction had only comfort her on her choice.

“You’re being unfair.”

“Am I now?” he laughed. “Excuse me for putting my life at sake and not wishing for me sister to do the same.”

“Did anybody ask you to? If anything, we would all have loved to keep you by our side.”

“Oh, I see. So, this is all my fault, right?”

The daring look he offered her made her heart jump in her chest. Her stomach was in fire; consuming her from the inside. She was tired from the sleepless nights she had for the last few months. And sad about the outcome of this lunch. And disappointed in him. And quite frankly done with his attitude.

Sighing, she gave in and looked away, throwing her napkin on her plate at the same time. Whatever this was, it was too much for her to handle. “If you’d excuse me,” she announced as she moved her chair back. “I am not hungry anymore.”

“Y/N-” he called after her, grabbing her arm to make her stay. She gave him a pained look before abruptly pulling away from his grip.

“Welcome home, Jake.”

Jake’s face appeared once again on her phone screen.

Big bright smile, sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, forehead sun-kissed by the first rays of sunshine of spring. The picture had been taken one of the few times she had fly out to California to visit him. They had such a good time that Y/N used to hold all those memories close to her heart. Now, she couldn’t even look at it.

She couldn’t count the number of texts Jake had sent nor the number of messages he had left on her voice mail. She hadn’t read nor listened to any of them and had even decided to turn off her phone at some point during the night. She needed some time alone to take a breath and to swallow the disappointment that was forming a lump in her throat.

Despite the emotional roller coaster this day had been, she hadn't fallen asleep until late in the night, turning over in the sheet nonstop while thinking of all the comebacks she could have said to his face. And like every other night for months now, when she had finally managed to get some sleep, her worst nightmare had woken her up a couple of hours later.

It only made her feel worse and she cried all the tears in her body. It was like whatever emotion she had retained in the last year had come back to her like a wrecking ball. She was angry for all sorts of reasons all linked to Jake one way or another. She was also very sad of the situation she found herself into, of Jake having spoiled their reunion, of the spectacle she had given in front of her loved ones.

So, when she turned on her phone a few hours later, eyes still puffy and red from the lack of sleep and the crying, she didn’t hesitate to turn down his call when his smiley face appeared on her phone screen. At that time, she discovered the multiple texts and missed calls of her parents and Jake’s sisters. She sent them a quick group message, letting them know she was fine and that she would catch up later. Leaving her phone on the kitchen counter, she got ready for her day.

Her phone rang four more times while she was getting ready. She was now determined to let him know to leave her alone. She was still pissed, and she needed to compose herself. This was without counting on the doorbell ringing when she was about to answer her phone.

Stopping whatever she was doing, she made the few steps from the kitchen counter to her apartment door, opening it without even thinking who she would find behind. Much to her surprise it was the only person she didn’t want to see. Jake. Standing there, phone in his hand.

“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed when she nearly shut the door in his face.

He stopped it before it was fully closed and after a deep sigh, Y/N let him in without even giving him a look. She closed the door behind him, passing him - still without looking at him - and went to the living room. She leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms on her chest much like he had done during lunch just the day before.

Jake stood in the middle of the room, watching around him. It was the first time he was in her new place, the one she started rented after she broke up with her long-term boyfriend. It wasn’t much, only a one-bedroom apartment with a sanitized decor - she hadn’t had the heart to make it her own. It was close to her work and not a too long drive from her parents; it was all she really needed.

Y/N studied him in silence. He must not have had the memo about the Texas weather at that time of the year as he was only wearing a beige sweater, sleeves rolled up. It wasn’t much of a surprise he had forgotten how it was; he had spent so little time home in the last ten years.

When her eyes finally got to his face, she realized he was now staring at her. She tried reading him like she could before, but what she found in his eyes, she couldn’t interpret. Perhaps something had been broken between them. Perhaps there were only so much absence someone could handle. Perhaps they had let the miles come in between them for real this time.

She couldn’t tell how long they stayed like this before he finally spoke.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Long gone was the hope she had that he would apologize.

Jake had never been one to be wrong; he was probably even the most stubborn person she had ever met. Though she liked this confidence in him, she also knew it was hiding something much deeper. His trauma of being abandoned by his father when he was still a toddler. The fear of his loved ones realizing what a failure he was, despite everything he had already accomplished. The fear of never being enough.

He had assured her it wasn’t one of the reasons he had enrolled, and she knew he was lying to her just as much he was lying to himself. But she wasn’t her twenty-something-self; she wasn’t going to protect his feelings anymore. Now that they didn’t have an audience, she could lay her cards on the table.

“Do you mean, just like you didn’t tell us about the ejection seat accident that you had six months ago?”

She saw his face drop ever so slightly before he regained his composure back. She wasn’t the only one keeping things from him, yet contrary to him, the things she was keeping a secret weren’t really hers anyway.

“How would you know?”

“Javy called me that time,” she stated dryly, memories of the call she got in the middle of the night flowing to her head. She still had nightmares about it most nights. “He wanted me to know in case your brain injury worsened, and they had to call your family.”

This secret, she had never told anyone and had carried the weight of it on her own until now. She had smiled and assured everyone that all was fine for the days - sixteen in total - they didn’t hear from him; how could he, he had been literally in a 24h surveillance at the hospital. She had had Javy on the phone to report every little detail he had of Jake’s evolution. She hadn’t had sleep for weeks straight and had nearly cried when Jake had called him after a very busy and unexpected mission he took part in - another way for putting he had just got cleared from the hospital.

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing, Jake! You got banned from flying for six weeks. Six fucking weeks!”

“And yet, it wasn’t the first time I ended up in the hospital, nor was it the last time. You know that’s part of the job.”

Y/N snorted.

Like hell she knew. The job description went with never being in the same time zone as your loved ones, missing every single milestone in their life, putting his very own safety at risk so they could all be free and safe, and omitting all details of the national security missions to which he was taking part. She was pretty sure though there was no line in his contract about lying about his health, especially when he could have died, to his family.

For some reason, this whole situation had made his absence even worse. She realized he didn’t feel safe to let them know when things had gone bad; if this time she had known, she couldn’t even imagine all those other times Javy hadn’t been there to inform her. It had awakened a visceral (and most likely also irrational) fear in her. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him and she still wasn’t ready to accept it.

“Why is this such a big deal when you knew what was going in here and didn’t even tell me?”

If she hadn’t been this tired, Y/N would have probably walked to him to slap him. How could he compare his near-death experience to his sisters’ decisions? How could any of it be equivalent?

“This was not my truth to tell,” she only replied blankly.

Yes, she wasn’t very proud of hiding things from Jake and lying on purpose. But she wasn’t thirteen any longer and when people confided in her - when she promised she wouldn’t tell him anything - she wasn’t going to go running to her best friend to spill all the tea.

“Will you then tell me the truth about what really happened between you and the other dickhead?”

“I already told you everything,” she answered dryly, a little bit too quickly for it not to be suspicious.

“I don’t believe you.”

Y/N knew from the sound of his voice it was pure provocation. He gave her the same daring look she had just seen the day before - the same consuming flame was in his eyes - and she could see his infamous smirk dawning on his lips. She wondered why he wanted to prove just how right he was - how he was always right - so bad. It made her skin scramble how infuriating he was.

She didn’t answer right away and stared at him, arms crossed on her chest a little bit tighter to protect herself. Everything that was happening was only making her angrier towards him. He had ruined everything, and he had just decided to continue on doing so.

She had dreamt about him coming home for months and months, to have him by her side and now, she could only wish for him to go away. The anger, the pain, the animosity; it was all too much. She couldn’t keep up anymore.

“What do you want me to tell you, huh? How much of a great boyfriend and man he was, but that it still wasn’t enough? How much a horrible person I am for not being able to fall in love with a person that would devote his own life to try and make me happy?”

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but closed it as the words sank in. It all made sense to him suddenly. Why she seemed to be relieved it was all over. Why she didn’t call him after he broke her heart. Why, on the rare occasion he had discussed the break-up with his sisters, they had never talked badly about her ex-boyfriend. He didn’t break her heart. He never did.

She was the one breaking his.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked, this time his voice much softer.

How could she? When it all started with his accident - that she wasn’t even supposed to know of. When it took her five years of a stable relationship to realize her longtime boyfriend had never have been the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. When it took her half of her adult life to understand she had been lying to herself for almost all her life and that even now, she didn’t know her truth from her lies any more.

Knowing the truth, Jake didn’t know what to say. He wanted to feel sorry, he wanted to tell her he was. But was he really? It would be lying to say he didn’t exult when he had heard of the break-up... On the day she introduced him to Nick, they he had discussed - quite vividly - about the country actions in Afghanistan - one of the campaigns he had just come home from - and from that day, Jake had just decided he wouldn’t like the man. He hadn’t been very subtle about disliking him, but in his opinion, Nick had paid him back in his own coin: monopolizing Y/N whenever Jake had her on the phone, making her choose between the two of them when he had had the opportunity to fly her oversea. He still felt nauseous to recall how Y/N had seemed to only look at him every time Nick was in the room with them.

He made a few steps in her direction, going to comfort her, but Y/N only shook her head. She wouldn’t let any of this go so easily. It wasn’t because she had confided in him, that he now knew all the truth from her part, that everything else would be forgotten. There were still a lot of unspoken truth to uncover.

“Why are you really here, Jake?”

“What do you mean?”

“The reason you got this leave, what is it?”

They stood less than a metre away, eyes in eyes. Jake never felt so vulnerable as every time she looked at him as if she could read his soul. He knew she was looking for something. Something he couldn’t give her.

Looking away, he answered, “It’s nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Y/N slipped away before he could even react. He watched as she turned back towards the front door. She opened it without a word and looked into his eyes as she stood leaned against it.

“Goodbye, Jake.”

And this time, he didn’t even try to fight.

Javy: Hey, got Hangman on the phone today. You okay?

Y/N: Did he vent at you for calling me that one time?

Javy: Almost.

Javy: He wasn’t really angry though. Just frustrated I guess.

Y/N: I bet. Wasn’t really the nice little break he must have planned.

Javy: If there is anything to learn from all this it is that truth is better spoken from the person they apply to.

Javy: You should talk to him.

Y/N: Yeah well I’ll see about that.

Jake was very nervous, and he wasn’t very nervous a lot.

In fact, he was pretty sure the last time he was that nervous was when he had picked Y/N up for their senior prom. Just like every year since starting high school, she had been his date - though Chad nearly had taken her away from him, but this dumbass had broken up with her only a couple of weeks before prom. That year, for some reason, everything felt different. High school years were coming to an end, they were both going to different universities. Everything was about to change, and it would never be the same. Jake had dreaded taking their relationship to the next level. If only he had known that despite going to different universities, Jake enrolling and basically the two of them living their life in parallel, their relationship had made it.

More or less so... It had been three days now since the lunch at her parents, two since their other discussion - if he would call this an argument, he was still unsure - and today was the first time he was seeing her since then.

After spending time with his family, he was on his way to meet with some of their childhood friends. Normally, Y/N was one of them and she had been invited. But with the recent events, he didn’t know if she would be here. He had had time to reflect on what had been said and finally had apologized to her voice mail as she wouldn’t let his calls through. He had given her plenty of time and space, sending in only a couple of good mornings and good nights texts, just like he was used to. Yet he didn’t know what to expect.

When he spotted her already sat at the table he had booked, his heart started pounding furiously. It gave him hope not everything between them had been broken.

“Hey,” Jake greeted Y/N softly when he had gotten at her level.

Y/N only nodded, barely looking at him, before continuing her discussion with their friend, Monica, like nothing had happened. Jake swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing to greet everyone around the table.

In all those diners they had had with their friends when he had been home, she would have been sat next to him, so close but merely touching. He would have had his arm resting nonchalantly on the back of her chair. He would have whispered all sorts of things in her ears, and she would have laughed open light-heartedly at every single one of his jokes.

That night, she was sat as far as possible from him and he had difficulty focusing on the group discussion, his mind going back to her every time. He probably went the whole evening looking at her not so subtly in the hope she would like to give him a look. She did not.

“You good?” Matt, sat at his side, asked him after the main course.

“Yeah,” Jake answered though the little tremor in his voice didn’t reflect confidence.

“Just give her a little time. It’s just a lot, y’know.”

Jake only nodded.

The problem was indeed just that: time. His flight back was in two days now and she was supposed to be his ride. He knew she would be able to drop him off without speaking a word, while he sat there in the agonizing silence. He was sure he was not able to do it for a couple of hours, he couldn’t imagine what it would be to not have her speak to him every again. He couldn’t get back to combat with Y/N still mad at him. He needed to fix things. He had been able to do it with his sisters; he had to do it with Y/N.

Indeed, the lunch had finished soon after Y/N’s dramatic departure. His sisters hadn’t spoken another word to him, and Y/N’s parents had tried to maintain some semblance of a conversation. Jake had taken a quick walk to clear his mind before going to his parents.

He had sat down with Olivia first and then Sophia, so they could tell him everything that had been going on. He sat there listening to what they had to say until they were done. There had been a lot of crying on their side (only a tiny little bit on his side - most likely because he had a dust in the eye, he would say). In the end, they had hugged and laughed and remembered that they loved each other and that nothing could be more important than that.

He had realized Olivia seemed much more at peace, somehow differently but also similarly to Y/N’s. She had so many plans on her side - buying a house, planning a trip to Europe, getting a puppy – as if she had just discovered she could be a unique person outside her marriage and she genuinely was happier.

The talk with Sophia had been a little bit more sensitive. The idea of her enrolling made his blood boiling, but he had remained calm – or at least tried to - and listened to her reasons. If he was afraid to see himself in her, her reasons were solely different than his. She didn’t want this only to do like him; it was more that he had paved the way for her. He had made her promise to think some more about it - at least, graduate from college before deciding anything - and he had promised to be supportive. He would have some work on himself, but he would cross that bridge when he’d get there.

They had of course talked about Y/N and how she was carrying the whole family on her shoulders. She always made sure everyone was alright, answering her phone at 3 a.m. to pick up Sophia from a frat party gone wild, welcoming Olivia in her tiny apartment - giving her the only bed to sleep on the couch, despite her protest - the time she turned things round after Mark and she had decided to take some time apart. She even made sure their mother was alright when his step-dad was away for business, bringing her homemade meals that she only had to heat up and keeping her company.

If he always knew what an amazingly caring person she was, it only proved him right. He would be forever grateful she was the first person to have talked to him on his first day of kindergarten. He would be forever grateful for the woman she was. If he was honest with himself, it all made him love her even more.

He wasn’t ready to watch her from afar - well, from much far away than his current position - but he would do it (or at least try), should she ask him to…

After what seemed to be an eternity, the evening finally came to an end.

Jake didn’t get the opportunity to speak to Y/N though he hesitated multiple times to just call her out or walk to her and demand that they had a chat. She was currently bidding goodbye to everyone in front of the restaurant, and Jake was watching her attentively to ambush her just as soon as she was finished. He didn’t care if he would be rude to anyone by not saying thank you for coming and goodbye; he needed to talk to her.

After she hugged Monica and promised to let her know when she got home safely, she reached for her car key in her bag and made her way to her car without even looking at him. Jake took his luck and followed her. He called after her, but she refused to acknowledge him.

“Can we not?”

“Why?” she turned around suddenly. “Want me to tell you anything else?”

“Y/N, please.”

She only raised an eyebrow before turning back and continuing walking. Too bad for her, Jake wasn’t one to give up this easily. He followed her lead up to her car that she started to unlock to get in. A wave of panic got through him as he could feel her slip away from his fingers and he didn’t want that. If they didn’t have this talk now, he was not sure they would have it at all.

“I only have two days left,” he said, interposing himself between the closed door and her. “Please.”

Y/N froze at only a few centimetres away from him. She seemed to think about what options she had. Unfortunately for her, there just wasn’t much as she couldn’t make Jake move even if she wanted to. So, she chose the reasonable choice. She crossed her arms over her chest and listened.

“I-” he sighed, passing a hand on his face, frustration clearly visible on his face now. “There has been an incident. We lost two men.”

Y/N’s arms immediately dropped to her side; the mask she wore on her face cracked. She could have been angry he lied to her, yet again, but this time, it was too serious. People died. The command had given them time off because of it. It only reminded her it could end at any time. She really could lose him.

“Jake,” she sighed.

“I-”

His voice broke and Y/N didn’t hesitate to go in for a hug. Out of habits, his arms found her waist and he buried his face in her hair. He breathed her perfume in, trying to ground himself and not totally lose it. She was his rock. There were no ways he would still be here if it wasn’t for her waiting for him at home.

He couldn’t lose her.

“I can only imagine the worry I cause you all,” he muttered in her hair. “I didn’t want to add anything to it.”

Y/N grabbed his face with both her hands and forced him to look at her. She wore a small frown on her eyebrows and determination in her eyes. While she was touched he wanted to spare their feelings, not knowing what was going on was even worse. She couldn’t count the number of times she had thought he was dead when an unknown number had called her phone. In order to support him the best way they could, they needed to know.

“Getting you back in one piece is our priority,” she started, voice bold as if she wanted him to engrave her words in his head. “That’s why we are keeping things to ourselves. We don’t want you to worry about us when you should be solely focused on staying alive.”

Jake half-smiled in return, which made Y/N relax a bit. Her hands fall on his shoulder as he kept her close to him, so close that there was no space between their two bodies. They had realized they wanted the exact same thing for one another: for them to be safe and sound.

“I worry about you all, all the time. I worry about you, all the time,” he confessed, his voice still low.

Jake reached out to tuck a loose string of hair behind her ear and Y/N instinctively leaned in his touch. It was like this between them, easy and pure. It always had. Sometimes - like these last past days, they were so caught up in life they seemed to forget what they had was so unique. Every time they had found their way back to each other.

“I left you alone while I am off, living my dream.”

“Don’t say it like you could have made any other choice, Jake.”

“I don’t regret it,” he answered right back. “Yet if I had to do it all over again, there are a lot of things about you that I would do a whole lot differently.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her heart rate slightly going up. If they often shared I-love-you’s more out of habits than anything else - though they were always genuine, Jake had never really expressed out loud how he felt about her, and from the electricity in the air - totally different from the explosive tension that had built up until now, she could feel there were more to it.

“It’s never too late, they say,” he smiled softly, his hand making it to the back of her neck.

Y/N hold her breath, searching in his eyes if he was being serious and if he was really wanting to finish the conversation they had started the night of their senior prom. If he wanted to do it right here, right now in a parking lot. It was a conversation that could have totally changed their life if they had it. A conversation for which they every so often imagined what they would have said if fear hadn’t stopped them.

If there were much younger back then, nothing now had changed at all.

“I’ve always been yours,” Y/N whispered. It would be lying if relief hadn’t wash over Jake. Of course he had known - he had always known - yet, hearing it was another thing.

“I know.”

Y/N’s bright eyes saw his eyes dove down to her lips, only a dozen of centimetres away she realized now, then back to her eyes. Her cheeks were burning up from the anticipation of what was to come. Yet, lost in each other’s eyes, none of them moved.

At that moment, the world could have stopped that they wouldn’t have noticed. Nothing else but them mattered.

“Well, kiss me then.”

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bloodlust-1 · 1 year ago

Text

˗ˏˋRelieve Meˎˊ˗ part 1

Halsin x fem Tav — Explicit 18+

Summary: Halsin is looking a bit tense, Tav offers to massage his muscles and relieve his tension in the best way she can. He wants to return the offer to help relieve her as well.

"I never felt my heart stir like this before you, I haven't loved in so long, and yet there it was...and I was in it.”

-> Part 2 <-

TW: none for part1

Note: needed some big-boy energy. This will be an explicit two-parter so ;p enjoy.

It was one hell of a day, everyone nearly dragged themselves into their tents for a well-deserved rest. Recently their travels have been getting harder and harder as they inch close to Buldars Gate. But no matter, the party seemed to try to keep their cool with Halsin’s and Shadowheart’s healing. Sometimes it was just too much though.

Tav sat by the fire with Karlach, who was rubbing her neck, “All that healing couldn’t get the crook out of this fucking neck. I’ve taken weaker hits that hurt less than this.”

“I agree, we’re all walking zombies at this point. Maybe we should take a break tomorrow. We all look like shit.” Tav laid her back on the floor and stretched her limbs out. Just as she sat back up her glance catches Halsin. He was walking by to pick up some food rations, an apple, and placed it in his mouth before walking away.

“Gods what I would do to that man…He makes me look small.” Karlach let out a small sigh of passion. She then looked at Tav who was lost in thought, “Hey, Soldier! Are you admiring our Druid, hm?” She nudged Tav’s shoulder with a smirk.

“He just looks…tense is all.” She rubbed her shoulder that Karlach nudged and hid her smile a little.

“Cmon you’re totally into him! Have you not laid in bed with him yet? I thought you guys were close..maybe even a little too close. Buuut— if it doesn’t work out for you let me know. I’d love to have a go with him.” Karlach giggled and nodded, “I’m serious, go talk to him.”

“And say what? What if he’s tired and doesn’t want visitors. He didn’t even say a word to us.” Tav was visible flushed. A nervous wreck even.

“Shit I don’t know! Make something up. You did say he looked tense. Touch some of those muscles in the name of help. You’re catching my drift?” She winked and pointed at his tent, “hurry before he falls asleep.”

“Karlach you’re a fucking genius. I’ll be back.”

“Or not.” Karlach chimed and sat up, “I’m heading to bed, don’t enjoy yourself too much, soldier.” Karlach reached out her hand for Tav’s and pulled her up to her feet. “Good luck.” Karlach ruffled up Tav’s hair before heading to her tent.

Tav palmed down her fly-aways before holding her head high. Karlach was right, they were close but they never took it to the next level. Why? She wasn't quite sure why, all she knew was that it was time to have courage. She wiped her sweaty palms on her shirt and made her way to his tent.

"Halsin, you there?" Tav pulled the draped curtains to the side. She saw him placing ointment on a couple scratches on his arms.

His eye darted up and he gave a surprised look, "Oh, Tav..I'm sorry, I would've cleaned up a bit. I wasn't expecting company. Please come in." His tent was littered with books, potions, and random old letters from the grove.

"Do not worry about that but—“ She welcomed herself in and kneeled down next to him. "Let me help you with this." She grabbed the small jar of ointment and started to smear any cuts she could find on his arms.

"You're too kind. I would not have bothered you with something small like this. I appreciate it all the same, thank you." He sat still and did not even budge to the pain at first,

Tav nodded her head. This was no trouble at all, after all, she really did care for his well-being. "If you don't mind, it'd be easier to get all these cuts without this shirt." She tugged on the hem of his shirt.

"Of course, little one." He grabbed the edge of his shirt and lifted his arms up. His muscles were immaculate as always, the sweet scent of eucalyptus wafted off him, and she could see all the untouched cuts. Some were deep, small, and even healed. Bruises of all kinds of healing stages were scattered on his skin.

"Halsin! You know these could get infected right? If you needed help it wouldn't be a problem!" Her face was angered. Her eyebrows furrowed, and the sight was nothing short of hurt.

"I'll manage." he patted her head and smiled softly at her. As if he wasn't in any kind of pain.

Tav shook her head, she was visibly angry, "You're so stubborn, allow me." She reached out her hand and placed it over his cheek, "I want to help you."

"You've helped me enough. I'll forever be in your debt if you keep going like this." Halsin stared with loving eyes. His gaze was soft and warm, and a gentle smile crept on his lips. His eyes sparkled with the joy of being in her presence, and he looked at her with admiration and affection.

"Then you'll just have to make it up to me one day." Tav pulled away her hand, "Now, let's see this back." She adjusted herself to face his back. Tav continued to aid his cuts, and from time to time he winced to the pain. "You know Halsin. Back at home, I dabbled in some medicinal skills."

"Oh really? This is news to my ears, tell me more, dear." Halsin perked up. He loved educating and learning new knowledge to add to his collection of skills. This definitely peaked his interest because Halsin never knew Tav had medicine skills since she was a fighter.

"Well— my people believed that healing was more than just potions. It's important to take care of your muscles and physique." She rubbed her hands together to create friction. She placed the warmth of her palms against his back. Tav began to lightly press pressure into his skin with long slow strokes. "This'll help reduce tension, improve circulation, and relieve any pain. I can definitely feel how tense your muscles are."

Halsin let out small little groans of relief as Tav's fingers glided up and down his spine. She started to apply a little more pressure and could feel his muscles start to loosen up. Halsin was truly all muscle, she's never touched a man with so much density, not for medical reasons and definitely not intimately. For as much as Tav was in awe, she genuinely tried her best to relax him. He deserved it after all. He did not need to leave his home in the name of aiding Tav. She was grateful for Halsin as much as he was grateful for her.

Her hands glided up and rubbed the muscles of his neck. Halsin could feel her breathing against his neck, it felt like hot little prickles that hit the skin. Halsin shivered in response. Tav noticed the goosebumps along his neck, "Does that feel good?" She whispered innocently in the back of his ear. The heat of her breath tickling his skin.

Halsin leaned his head outward to expose more skin, "Mmm, it puts a healing spell to shame." He complimented Tav. But under his relaxed facade, Halsin was melted with every touch from her warm hands. He was trying to find restraint in himself as an Arch-druid after all. He tried to close his eyes in an attempt to calm down his racing heart, but it only made it worse. He felt like he could feel and smell the presence of Tav. Lewd thoughts crumbled his mind and it made his skin crawl more. As a druid, all his senses were heightened, and the feeling for more clouded his judgment.

Tav noticed the small groans, his skin layered with goosebumps, and felt like his shoulders tensed up once again. She went back to work to massage him some more until she pulled away, and decided to sit in front of him instead. "Let me see your hand?" She said softly as she reached out for one of his hands and rubbed them lovingly.

His hand was way bigger than hers. She thought it was cute how mighty he was, yet how gentle his personality was. Tav thought Halsin was probably touched by the gods themselves with the way he looked. He was truly a masterpiece, a muse. As she rubbed his hands Halsin suddenly intertwined his fingers with hers, stopping Tav from massaging him. Tav's cheeks lit up crimson, and she darted her wide eyes at his gaze. He was holding her hand, one that engulfed her own but she felt so protected by it.

Halsin looked at the woman with an intense gaze, his hazel eyes softened. He was captivated by her beauty, taking in every detail of her face and scars. His heart was pounding in his chest as he thought of all the amazing moments they had shared together. He had such strong feelings of love for her, and he knew deep down that she was the one for him. He was filled with a sense of contentment and joy just being in her presence, and he looked forward to what the future held for them. "I never felt my heart stir like this before you, I haven't loved in so long, and yet there it was...and I was in it. I hope you feel the same, I fear the most these days." He grabbed both her hands and placed a tender kiss on them. "I want to repay your kindness, only if you'll allow me, of course."

Tav eagerly agreed to Halsin's offer, she too felt a connection and a strong mutual attraction. She was a woman who would never take Halsin's love for granted, "I feel the same, Halsin...I'd be happy too."

He smiled and placed a single kiss on her lips. It was tender and gentle, sadly it lasted only a moment before he pulled away, "Meet me at my tent tomorrow night and I will grant you a night of pleasure. One that you'll remember for all your long nights. I want to make you feel good too, my heart."

#bg3 fluff #bg3 tav #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 smut #bg3 halsin #halsin #halsin bg3 #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #halsin smut #halsin fanfic

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littlemissmentallyunstable · 29 days ago

Note

Would you be making a Part 4 of the dancer and the angel🥺🥺

so many people have asked about this so I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to piece it together BUT it’s here so I hope you love it 🤍🤍

title: the dancer and the angel part 4

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: crying sucks and you needs somewhere to just let your hair down but when gigi goes missing, all hell breaks loose and things don’t stay exactly to plan

parts: part 1 part 2 part 3

warnings: SPOILERS FOR TGG, swearing

a/n: I’m dedicating this to @midiosaamor <33 ilysm belle thank you for your endless love for this fic, I’m so grateful 🤍🤍

tag list: @bewitchingkisses @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @notshortbutsweet @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket

YOUR POV

I’m tired of crying. Tears are overrated anyway.

I’m sat with Avery, my cheek resting against her shoulder, her head resting on top of mine. It’s peaceful. I can hear her soft steady breathing in my ear and it’s oddly comforting. Maybe it’s because I’m used to sleeping on Grayson’s chest and hearing him breathe so rhythmically.

I need to get him out of my head. His stupidly perfect face is the only image running through my mind. That angular jawline, those velvety lips and those silver eyes that made me melt every damn time. Every inch of him is too engraved in my soul to get rid of him so quickly.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Avery says suddenly, like she’s been reading my mind this whole time.

“We’re on a secluded island,” I scoff.

“And I happen to be a billionaire who owns many modes of transport,” she winks at me, helping me to my feet.

“You wouldn’t,” I say.

“I already have,” she winks, “there’s a helicopter that should be showing up in about…” she trails off checking her watch, “five minutes.”

“You’re joking!” I gape.

“Do I look like the kind of girl to joke about ordering a helicopter?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

No. No she does not.

***

We arrive at our destination thirty short minutes later via helicopter of course. And as if by magical transformation we’d gotten changed into some variant of sparkly party dresses inside, a sentence I never thought I’d ever say aloud. We walk down a cobbled alleyway towards a tall establishment.

“A club?” I say tilting my head to the side.

“A club,” she nods.

“I’ve never been to a club before,” I admit, feeling a little nervous.

“Neither,” she shrugs, “but there’s a first time for everything right.”

“Right…” I trail off.

She takes my hand eagerly and together we walk in. Lights flash, music pulsates and my ear drums nearly burst. It’s so lively, so upbeat, so full. People are grabbing drinks, making out, dancing and all the in between.

Avery glances at me, “drink or dance?”

“Drink,” I don’t hesitate, having already spotted the bar, “please.”

“You got it,” she grins, linking her arm into mine as we go over, weaving between throngs of half drunk sweaty bodies.

The bartender offers us a welcoming smile, “what can I get you two ladies tonight?”

“Vodka martini dry with a twist,” I reply, the order bitter on my tongue when I remember how Gray and I would usually order these together.

I feel so pathetic. Linking everything to him, but I couldn’t help it. He’s just there, but not properly. It’s like some sort of ghost of his has decided to haunt me for fun.

“And a mojito please,” Avery says, forcing me out of my thoughts.

He nods sharply and turns to make our drinks. I fiddle with my necklace trying to figure out how I feel in this very moment. A weird mix of emotions are settled heavily on my chest. Notes of sadness and bitterness, building up anger and fury as well as a pathetic self pity and loneliness. I don’t like that none of the feelings are definitive, it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know how to be, my brain is too preoccupied trying to work out what emotion to act on.

The bartender hands me my drink. I take a long sip closing my eyes as the flavours hit my tongue. The sharp burst of lemon mixed with the kick of hard vodka feels like someone is slapping me across the face. I’ve never felt more awake.

“How’s the martini,” Avery asks.

“Much needed,” I smile, “your mojito?”

“Divine,” she replies taking another sip.

“Never pictured you as a mojito girl Ave,” I mention leaning against the bar and surveying the room.

“Jamie got me into them when we went to Greece,” she replies naturally.

A sinking sensation hits my stomach, I know it shouldn’t. She’s been with Jameson forever it shouldn’t hurt. They were beautiful people with beautiful souls that belonged to each other. So why is it suddenly so hard to digest? I knew about their trip to Greece, heck I’d helped them plan it. But Avery mentioning Jameson sends this rippling pain through my upper chest. She loves him and he loves her. It’s the same both ways, they’re devoted, they’re each other’s everythings. And it reminds me of what I don’t have. I think I hide it well but she sees it on my face.

“Oh god I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bring up-“

“Hey it’s fine,” I shrug.

“That was so stupid of me,” she winces putting her drink down.

“Avery you don’t have tread on eggshells around me, it’s okay,“ I try and laugh it off, “no big deal.”

“Okay,” she replies, but I can see she still feels bad.

Neither of us say anything for a few beats until the music changes and I recognise the song.

“Oooo you love this song, come on,” she laughs, tugging my hands forwards.

I sigh, “I don’t know Avery, I’m not much of a dancer.”

Not like Lyra.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs, swigging her mojito, “let’s let our hair down, have a bit of fun.”

“Fine,” I crack a smile.

She squeals excitedly, practically dragging me forwards as we fall on the dance floor. We move to the beat, hips swinging from side to side, arms in the air. I wish this could take it all away. I appreciate what she’s doing. But despite her best efforts I don’t think it’s working. This distraction, this attempt of respite isn’t hitting like it should. I feel buried under too many layers of him, each time I did myself out of the first in into another. And digging is exhausting.

“Why don’t you just kiss a random guy?” Avery says bringing me back to the present.

It takes me a few minutes to process what she’d just said and when I do I can’t form a response.

“How much of that mojito did you have?” I laugh.

“No seriously,” she says, a deadly true look in her eyes, “it might help you get… him out of your mind.”

“You can say Grayson,”I roll my eyes, playing it off coolly. I didn’t want her to know that this was affecting me this much, because it shouldn’t be.

“No,” she shakes her head, “the name holds too much power, he’ll get all in your head again.”

“He already is all in my head,” I tell her with a sigh.

“That’s why I’m saying,” she continues, “so just go and kiss someone for the hell of it.”

“How do I even go about doing that?” I say. I can’t believe the words are coming out of my mouth.

“I don’t know, never done it,” she shrugs with a wicked grin.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I reply.

“Who cares?” she laughs, “yolo.”

“Yolo? Since when do you say yolo?” I scoff, wondering if she is drunk or just spending too much time with Xander.

“Since now,” she sticks her tongue out.

“I could be kissing a serial killer,” I point out, “or an axe murderer.”

“I don’t think they’d murder you in front of everyone, it’d be a bit off brand for them,” Avery replies, “besides everyone would know who they were then. Do you really think they’d risk jail time to specifically murder you in a club? “

I think about it. Contemplate the idea of kissing someone else. Maybe she had a point, someone else’s lips on mine, hands in my hair… they won’t be his. I won’t have to associate those actions with him anymore. Would it hurt? It’s one stupid night and one stupid kiss. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You know what, you’re right, why the hell not,” I say suddenly.

Surprise flickers across her face for mere moments before she breaks out into a large smile.

“You get them girl!” she shouts.

I scan the room, or all the faces I could see at least. I spot someone. He’s fairly attractive. Dirty blonde, tanned, muscular. He didn’t look too old either. I couldn’t tell the colour of his eyes but from here they looked light. I hope he isn’t taken as I approach him.

“Hey,” I shout over the music.

“Hi,” he shoots me a smile.

It’s in that moment I realise how unprepared I am for this. Why did I think this was a good idea? How do you just kiss someone?

So I blurt out the only thing in my mind, “do you want to kiss me?”

“What?” he replies.

I feel like an idiot but I say it again, “do you want to kiss me?”

“I can’t hear you love, speak up,” he yells.

I don’t know what comes over me but I just grab his face and kiss him. It’s probably the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done. But he doesn’t pull away, in fact he kisses back. His lips are rougher than what I’m used to and he’s a more aggressive kisser. When his hands hold the small of my back it’s more like he’s grappling onto my body than holding me gently. This didn’t feel as natural, as tentative, as loving as when Grayson kisses me.

“Well that was quite something huh?” the man smiles as I pull away.

Maybe for you I want to say, but I bite my tongue.

“Fancy doing it again?” he asks.

“Maybe another time,” I force a smile, walking away.

He doesn’t follow much to my relief. I’d chosen someone who wasn’t a serial killer at least. I make my way back to Avery who pretends she didn’t see the whole altercation to save my dignity. Though she’s very bad at hiding it.

“I know you saw,” I sing song, giggling a little.

“You went for it girl,” she says eyebrows raised.

“I did,” I nod, chewing my bottom lip tentatively.

“And?” she prompts me. I don’t know what she wants to hear. So I tell her the truth.

“It’s not the same,” I shrug.

“It won’t be but sometimes that helps you get over it,” she replies.

“It’s not working,” I sigh, “also he tasted like beer and that was gross.”

She scrunches up her face, “oh ew,”

“Yeah 100% ew,” I agree wrinkling my nose as I still taste the residue of it on my lips.

She senses how I feel even though I don’t quite know what it is I’m feeling, “you want to get some air?” she asks.

I nod, feeling that my cheeks were flushed and my everything was sweating. Hand in hand we swim upstream through dozens of people before we reach the door. The cold night’s air hits us as we slump down onto the pavement. I take a deep breath in, closing my eyes tasting the fresh air in my lungs.

“Well that was a bust,” Avery sighs.

“Not completely,” I tell her, “the dancing was fun.”

“But you’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?” she replies. It’s a question that she already knows the answer to.

“How can I not?” I say, leaning my head against the back wall and looking up at the sky.

“I don’t know,” she replies sadly.

Silence envelopes us, swallowing us whole like a whale shark to plankton. A thought recurs in my brain like an annoying decimal that wasn’t supposed to be the answer. I keep thinking, if someone had told my yesterday self that I would be here today I never would’ve believed it. Hours ago he was my person, the one. And now? Now what? I was in a club kissing some random trying to get over him. Trying and pathetically failing. How can I still love him? After all of it, how is it possible?

“That guy I kissed, it just reminded me of how I don’t have him to do that with anymore and I never will,” I say, glancing at Avery.

“Do you still love him?” she asks me, some sort of morphed pain and pity bleeding through her eyes.

“Of course,” I reply with no hesitation, “I’ve always loved him, it’s always been him and I can’t stop now, I’m in too deep. But I have to make myself.”

She gently pulls my body into her arms, “this will get easier, it’s still the first night. The feelings are fresh, the wounds are new and they need time to heal.”

“I just don’t understand,” I whisper, “I love him so much my heart bleeds but he never felt it back that same kind of love… and I was stupid enough to think he did.”

“I think he did,” she murmurs, “I really do.”

“You don’t have to do that, you can be honest,” I say softly, “it’s not like it can hurt anymore.”

“I’m serious I promise,” she replies, “you don’t see it as clearly we do. When you came into Gray’s life he changed in the best possible way. I mean I’ve not known him as long as his brother but I saw it. And they definitely did. He wasn’t the same, he was in love. I know it.”

“He kissed another girl,” I laugh bitterly.

“It doesn’t mean to say he never loved you like that,” she says.

“Suppose so,” I mumble into her.

“And for the record he was an absolute idiot for doing what he did,” she replies, a flicker of anger I wasn’t used to in Avery sparking for a fraction of a second, “actually there’s a list of words I would use that are way worse than idiot but we’ll keep it PG tonight.”

I crack a weak smile.

She softens her tone, “But seriously sweetie he’s losing the best thing he’s ever had in his life.”

“But Avery,” I say, my voice shaking, “I’m not sure I want to be lost.”

She hugs me tighter. There are no words that can fix my state we’ve both silently agreed, so she hold me as I stare up at the stars. Some glow, some twinkle, others gleam. Then they all blur as water fills my eyes. I blink away the lousy tears. I’m not going to cry.

“Avery…” I murmur hesitantly “can I ask you something?”

“Yeah sure,” she nods.

The questions are so weighted on my chest, it’s physically hurting me, “why do you think he chose her? What did I do wrong? What does she have that I don’t?”

“Oh sweetheart,” she murmurs sympathetically, “it’s not like that.”

“Then why,” I choke, trying to keep my tears at bay, “why would he…”

I trail off, the tears I was trying to express rolling down my face. The sobs get stuck in my throat and I’m unable to make a sound. I silently shake in Avery’s grasp, my lungs aching.

“You cannot sit here and think you are the reason for this. I won’t let you,” she shakes her head, “I don’t know why he did what he did, that I can’t tell you, but I do know for sure that it wasn’t you. You have no faults, you did nothing wrong, you’re beautiful, you’re brilliant, you’re smart and brave and kind and perfect. He’s the biggest fool of them all.”

“You think?” I snivel.

“I know,” she says, wiping away my tears with a gentle hand, “now come on, let’s go back in, have one final shot and a dance and then we’ll hit the streets at midnight, do something crazy fun and stupid, no murder please, and just breathe a little you know, forgetting all of this.”

“Okay,” I nod, biting the inside of my cheek to prevent more tears from spilling over.

I am strong. I am strong. I am strong

She stands up and dusts her little dress off before hoisting me up behind. She flashes a smile my way that reminds me of Jameson for a split second. I eagerly take her hand and we re enter. The lights feel as if they’re flashing brighter than before. The fluorescence stings slightly. The familiar aroma of sweat mixed with all manner of alcoholic drinks hits us as well.

Just as we’ve reached the dance floor Avery says, “Jamie’s calling, give me a second.”

She rushes off out of the back door, probably to hear him better, leaving me alone on the dance floor. I don’t really feel much like dancing so lazily drag my feet to the bar and take another shot. The liquid burns my throat and I feel somewhat alive as I slowly swing my hips and move my arms to whatever beat is playing.

I feel dead. I don’t understand how in the space of mere minutes I can go from feeling so emotive, so distraught, so melancholy to nothingness. A wave of coldness from empty voids and bottomless pits.

I hand touches my shoulder and I jolt as the unfamiliar touch makes me jump. I look up to see a man stood there, but he’s a little fuzzy. The alcohol is getting to my head.

“You alone sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. The word cuts like a poisoned blade. Grayson calls me that.

“No,” I respond calmly, positioning my back more towards him, hoping he’ll gage my body language and kindly leave me be.

“Well you’re very pretty,” he grins, flashing white teeth I’m sure he paid a lot for.

“I’m sure my boyfriend would agree with you,” I say coolly.

“Which one’s yours then?” he asks, clearly still not catching onto the several messages I’m sending him.

I shrug, “why do you care?”

“Maybe you’re wasting your time on him,” he smiles. Something about the smile makes goosebumps rise on the surface of my skin and an icy shiver run down my spine. Something about him isn’t right and I didn’t like it.

“I highly doubt it,” I reply nonchalantly, “but thanks for the offer.”

“Come on sweetheart,” he says, making my skin crawl, “you can ditch your boyfriend for a night, I promise I’ll be better. Ask anyone in here.”

My stomach twists and something goes off in me. Like a ticking time bomb that’s finally hit zero.

“Look here mister,” I snarl, “there’s hundreds of other women in this place that would love to get into your bed, find one and do it, but leave me alone. I’m not interested and I’m taken.”

“You heard her Dex, back off,” shouts a new voice.

I look up to see another man, with a striking resemblance to the one I was talking to, behind him. Brothers, I infer silently. Dex glares at his brother and then turns back to me.

“Okay, until next time then,” he says with a wink.

He skulks away as I roll my eyes. I go to turn back to my drink when Avery comes crashing into me. I gasp audibly before I catch a glance at her. She looks pale.

“What? What’s wrong?” I ask quickly, checking over her to make sure she was physically in tact.

“We have to cut our trip short,” she tells me, regret and apology lacing her tone.

My heart thumps in my chest and a million thoughts race through my mind.

“Gigi’s missing.”

And suddenly I’m very very sober.

***

LYRA’S POV

Finding out he was with someone else made me feel sick to my stomach. I can’t explain it exactly. It’s just this horrible awful tug in the gut. I am the other woman. I shiver at the thought.

I thought everything was going to be okay, that for a change, life might be on my side. I deserve it don’t I? To be happy, to be free, to be in love. I thought wrong. I always think wrong. I am the fool of a flower that let her pretty petals be plucked by anyone who pleased until she became a stem. Until no one wanted her. The tender truth of it all burns violently all over my skin.

So I dance.

Dance is my way to escape all of this, my freedom. The music begins and my heart aches louder, screaming in my ears. The pain coursing through my limbs that delicately dust the empty air. I reach out to touch something that doesn’t exist. I relax into a deep plié letting the music seep through my throbbing soul and form the moves. I do a gentle three step turn on pointe and the pace of the music picks up.

I hurt an innocent girl, who fell under the same loving spell that Hawthorne’s are so good at casting as I did. But I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know? I thought he looked at me differently, I thought his gentle touch he only used for me, I thought his words were mine to cherish. But I’m just another trophy in his grand cabinet. Another meaningless prize to collect on the journey to greatness.

I developpé sauté to perfection. I am nothing to him. And now, he’s even less to me. I pirouette and pirouette and pirouette, spiralling into furious thoughts. I’m angry. How dare he turn me into someone I am not. Making me betray my own morals. As if he has that right, that power. Men always feel so entitled, so deserving of power. He couldn’t just have one girl and be happy, no he had to find another. He had to act of his greed, the fatal flaw that poisons so many men. How many more will fall into greed’s bloodied hands?

I grand jeté until my thighs burn but I keep perfect positioning. I hate the fact that I’m feeling so deeply, that my emotions are so raw and intense. It’s too much for my mind to take, I’m so overwhelmed and head is splitting, pounding, screaming. My breath picks up the more grande jetès I do. My chest is so tight, so constricted, so suppressed. It feels as if an invisible force is choking me. I come to a halt suddenly and find myself paralysed in an arabesque, unable to breathe.

The music has silenced. Nothing dare move and the world comes to a standstill. I let myself get wrapped up in feelings I shouldn’t have had. I’m an idiot. Lyra Kane doesn’t fall in love, she doesn’t trust people with herself, she doesn’t let people in. Especially not Hawthornes. Never Hawthornes. I intricately move my feet. On pointe, pivot, flat, up, on pointe, down, in, out, over, up. At some point my mind hits a blank, a white room and I just move to what feels most natural. My mind doesn’t properly register the moves. I become aware I’m performing rapid battements and sissones when I’m deep in analysis. I should’ve seen the signs sooner.

The way he stared at her while we were dancing, the look of distraction and captivation in his eyes. The guilt that flashed across his face every time he got that little bit closer to me. The minute he had to take after our lift in the room we’d been locked in with Odette. It all made sense now.

My legs extend naturally as I leap with great height across the room. It was so pathetically unfair. Everything in his life is perfect, he’s got the money, the face, the family, the support. People would kill to be in his position, quite literally. And he takes it all for granted. God, how did I think I could love someone like that?

I travel with light and airy sauté passes. Everything to a Hawthorne is a game. Including people. I was his game. And he played me. Just like he played y/n. I only wish I could talk to her, tell her I understand how she feels but I’m probably the last face in this earth she’d ever want to see.

My movements are now sharp and staccato, jagged and uneven. The opposite of what a ballerina should be. Catherine Howal wouldn’t let me forget that if she were watching me today. My old dance teacher was always strict on me, but right now I missed the sharpness of her voice and her minor corrections. She made me the dancer I am today. I push the bittersweet memory of her away and my rage over Grayson bubbles over. Even his name now disgusts me. It used to be one that I craved to say, to feel my mouth curve in the shape of each and every letter. Now it’s just a reminder of my sheer revulsion for him.

I pirouette I don’t know how many time on pointe. I’m dizzy, but not from the turns but from the idea that I let myself be so easily tempted by a pretty face. I begin a fast paced sequence of fouettés and chainés across the space, desperately trying to hold myself together. I’m poised, I’m professional is what I try to tell myself. If only I had known, I wouldn’t have. Ever. I wouldn’t have even looking into those stupid gray eyes. But he knew, he knew how to manipulate my feelings, he knew what he had the power to do. I was a marionette that obeyed every string he pulled without even knowing it. He lead me on. He had a girlfriend and he lead me on. Why did he lead me on?

God, he’s even more of a jerk than I’d given him credit for. Hawthornes never change. With this painful honest realisation my movements gradually return to more fluid and flowing motions, interspersed with slow gentle turns. It’s ruined, the moment we shared. It’s now tainted. How can I even imagine such a beautiful kiss without feeling regret? Without tasting the bitter aftertaste that coats my mouth even now? I pirouette for the final time, getting so lost with each spin I’ve lost count of how many I’ve done. It’s an everlasting void of blurry scenery and my messed up mind.

I collapse into a helpless heap on the floor, finishing the routine. There is no fight left, no anger, no pain, no momentum. Just space. The little girl in her ballet flats is long gone. The teenager locking her pointe shoes away has also disappeared. The woman who lent her heart to a Hawthorne for far too long will never return again. Every part of me is lost. I’m not sure I even know who I am anymore. All I know is that, the dancer in me is broken.

***

YOUR POV

“Any word?” I rush in, Avery close beside me.

“We need to know everything,” she says, dominance in her tone.

We had arrived back on the island practically in a flash. My head is all over the place, jumbled with attempts to remember things that could help us find Gigi. My heart dropped when I found out. We couldn’t lose out Gigi.

“Y/n!” Xander exclaims.

He looks in shock to see me, both burnt and unburnt eyebrows raised, jaw dropped. Jameson wears a similar expression and so does Nash. It’s like they’ve seen a ghost.

“Yeah?” I reply bluntly.

“You’re here,” he says, eyes bulging.

“Unless I’ve magically become a hologram in the past 2 minutes,” I say looking at my watch, “yeah I’m here.”

“Right,” he nods slowly, before turning back to his computer.

“So Gigi,” Avery says, steering us back to the present.

“We’re just about to scout for her,” Jameson explains.

“And I’m attempting to search the security footage,” Xander calls, eyed glued to the screen.

“If someone kidnapped her wouldn’t they cut it?” I ask.

“The main footage has been cut but we’re Hawthornes,” Nash flashes a very Hawthorne grin, “there’s always a back up camera where they least expect it.”

“Unfortunately for us, it’s a very blurry back up camera,” Jameson grimaces.

“Oh,” Avery sighs.

“With horrible sound,” Nash adds.

“Fantastic,” I smile sarcastically, walking behind Xander to look at the screen.

They are right. The screen is black and white and pretty much the blurriest thing I’d ever seen. Our situation is looking quite dismal.

“I’m putting better back up security on my to do list,” Avery murmurs.

“I’ll second that,” Jameson says, kissing her cheek.

“We have to find her,” she says, leaning into him, “Jamie we have to.”

“I know heiress, we’re going to, don’t worry,” he soothes, giving her that look. The look that only men in love can master.

My heart feels sore and I turn. Then I realise why. The room suddenly feels so empty, so hollow. And I feel alone despite being surrounded by people. He’s not here. My head had been so caught up on my millions of thoughts that I hadn’t registered it.

“Where’s Grayson?” I ask out of the blue.

The whole room stands still. Everyone is frozen by a force I didn’t know existed until this moment. No one dare move, let alone breathe. A sickening chill rolls down my spine and I fear the worst.

“He’s outside,” Jameson finally says.

“He won’t move,” Nash adds quietly, looking down at the floor.

Xander sighs, “and we had to take the whiskey away from him.”

“You left him alone!” I yell, not meaning to sound so attacking.

“We didn’t know what else to do, he isn’t exactly a joy to be around right now and we need to find Gigi,” Jameson reasons.

“We thought it’d be best to focus on that, the sooner we get Gigi found, the sooner he’ll marginally snap out of dark era,” Nash explains further.

“I’m going to talk to him,” I reply, my tone sharp and definite. No one was going to tell me no.

Eyes snap up at me. All four pairs. I can read all of their emotions so clearly it’s painful. Elements of confusion, shock and pity wash over me, but I push it all to the side. What they thought didn’t matter.

“Y/n, you don’t have to do that…” Jameson trails off.

“No,” I tell him softly, “I do.”

He opens his mouth to argue.

“I can help him, you know that and so do I,” I say before he can get a word out, “so that’s what I’m going to do.”

***

He’s sat on the rocks, looking over the choppy water. The wind whips the hair across my face and back again. My cheeks grow rosy with the cold. He hurt me, but he’s hurting. I can’t let him hurt alone. As pathetic as it may be I physically can’t. Slowly I approach from behind. I know he can hear me but he doesn’t turn, he doesn’t even move a muscle. He just sits and stares.

I cautiously sit beside him, my legs hanging over the edge. The reflection of death’s face snickers at me in the water. Still, Grayson does not move. He remains a stationary block, robotic almost. I look towards at him and analyse his features. He’s sober. But oh lord is he broken. I turn away, any longer and I might’ve done something stupid.

“Are you okay?” I murmur, looking out to the moon kissed water miniature waves bobbing up and down.

“You’re asking me?” he almost scoffs. I can tell he’s been sobbing, his tone is thick and swollen with grief. It stings my soul, like antiseptic to a fresh wound.

“Why shouldn’t I?” I reply quietly.

“Because I hurt you,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

“Just because someone hurts you doesn’t mean you have to hurt them too,” I respond, finally turning to look at him.

To my surprise his eyes are ready for me, already locked onto my every move. They meet and something washes over me, something that probably shouldn’t.

“How are you so kind?” he asks, something tender in his voice. It makes my soul squeeze.

“People need to be nicer to each other in this world,” I shrug in response.

“They do,” he says quietly, playing with his fingers.

“So,” I exhale, “are you okay?”

I already know the answer. He’s not. He’s filled with guilt and sorrow and hatred and anger and upset and conflict. He’s the furthest from okay you can get.

“Not really,” he breathes, “are you okay?”

“Not really,” I grin.

A ghost of a smile haunts his features. Who gave him the right to look so beautiful?

“Gigi will be okay,” I tell him confidently.

He shakes his head as pain constricts his features, “ we don’t know that.”

“She’s stronger than you think she is,” I reply quickly.

“She’s just a kid,” he growls.

“No, she’s not Gray,” I snapped fiercely, “she’s bold and she’s brave and she can handle herself, but we will find her, we won’t stop until we do.”

He stares at me. Eyes fixated, like I’m worthy of being looked at. My heart rate picks up and that’s when I realise that this is all wrong. I can’t be the idiot that lets him back in, I won’t be.

“What?” I ask.

He says nothing but his silver eyes still remained glued to mine.

“What is it Grayson?” I whispered, the wind barely carrying my words.

“I still love you.”

The words hit me like a tonne of bricks. I can’t respond. All the air is knocked out of me. His hand is in my chest and wrapped around my heart. He’s squeezed it between his fingertips and licked my blood greedily from his fingers. He stills loves me. And I know I still love him too, but I can’t say that. I won’t.

“How can I trust you?” I scoff, letting my rage take hold. It’s better than my love.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs softly. Did his voice have to be so soft?

“Fool me once, shame on you,” I state, “fool me twice, shame on me.”

“I’m sorry,” he tells me. I can hear he means it, I can see he means it but I can’t believe it. He was too good of a liar before, too talented of an actor. I can’t afford to fall for it again.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” I press on.

“I know…” he trails off, voice hoarse, “but I don’t know what other words to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” I snap, shooting him a fiery look.

“But I love you,” Grayson says, too much emotion decorating his tone.

“If you loved me you wouldn’t have kissed her,” I say, throwing it all back in his face. He needed to face the truth and so did I.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to love me too, but I need you to know and hear it from my lips that I love you,” he confesses, his eyes not wavering for a second, pinning me down with their addictive nature. It feels like my hands are tied. I’m a prisoner to those eyes. I always have been.

“I’ve heard it from your lips a thousand times before today and you still did what you did,” I spit back, the words rolling from my tongue before I gave them permission to.

He falters, there’s no words left to say.

“I want you to be happy, that’s all I care about,” I tell him, my tone still slightly jagged, “so drop the guilt, I forgive you. But things can’t go back to how they were, not after this.”

They are all lies. Every single sentence. I’m avoiding the truth beating so loudly in my chest. I’m ignoring its petulant screaming. I’m such a hypocrite. I loathe him for his lies and then I return them with my own tongue.

“How can I drop the guilt when it’s all I know now?” he murmurs.

“You’ll find a way, you’re stronger than you think Grayson. You doubt yourself too often,” I sigh.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, but runs a hand through his hair, then over his face. After one too many best of silence he turns to me one final time.

“Why are you so good?” he asks me.

“It’s not a question of good or bad it’s a question of what’s right,” I say impatiently, “I’m not going to just sit here and let you wallow because that’s not you Grayson and you know it.”

“You’re an angel,” he murmurs, almost in a daze.

But you chose the dancer. The words are on the tip of my tongue but I don’t say them.

“No time for flattery, we’re wasting time,” I sigh, “let’s go and find Gigi.”

***

GRAYSON’S POV

We search for four hours straight until all of us are too exhausted to speak. We need to sleep, though we’re all too stubborn to admit it. As a collective we decide half of us are to get some rest whilst the other half stay up two more hours, then we’ll switch. I take the first shift, searching with Jameson. Xander is still inside still attempting decipher the body on the mini security camera or placement of Gigi’s phone and everyone else has gone to sleep.

Jameson and I are on the edge of the island, calling for Gigi with raw throats and pounding heads. I can’t believe I’d lost her. I was meant to protect her, look after her. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen when I was around. I’ve failed as a brother.

“What did she say to you?” Jameson asks snapping me out of my thoughts.

I look up. I knew exactly who ‘she’ was.

“Who?” I reply plainly.

“Don’t play dumb,” he rolls his eyes at me.

Sometimes it was annoying how well my brothers knew me.

“She asked me if I was okay, comforted me about Gigi and helped me pull myself together.” I pause, “she told me that wallowing isn’t what I do.”

“Are you sure she knows you properly?” Jameson raises an eyebrow with a smirk.

I try to crack a smile but can’t.

“I told her I still loved her,” I blurt out.

I don’t know why I say it, the words just come out. Jameson has that effect on me. Lying to him has always been difficult, I feel so transparent in his presence. And I know he’ll be honest, he won’t sugarcoat what he really thinks. Maybe that’s why it’s easier.

His eyes grow to the size of saucepans, “what?”

“I told her I st-“

“I know what you said Gray but are you crazy?” he asks me, looking semi-genuinely concerned.

“I don’t know,” I shrug, “maybe.”

“That was selfish,” he seethes, eyes blazing with fury. Similar to how they looked earlier.

“Selfish?” I furrow my brows, “she deserves to know!”

“No, you needed to get it off of your chest in a last ditch attempt to get her back,” he snaps.

I’m not fighting the truth this time. He’s hit the nail on the head. My silence unfortunately speaks volumes and my brother understands.

“So…” he exhales, “what did she say?”

“If I loved her I wouldn’t have kissed Lyra,” I say, her words rubbing through my head again.

“She’s right,” he sighs.

“She always is,” I say, my voice catching slightly.

“I don’t think she’s okay,” Jameson murmurs, “I don’t think Avery does either.”

“It’s all my fault,” I groan, closing my eyes.

I wish I could be taken out of her life, erased forever just so she could be happy. I deserve to hurt, not her. Never her.

“She shouldn’t love me,” I say, the words becoming more real when I say them out loud.

“No one decides who they love, it just happens,” he shrugs at me.

I open my mouth to reply but a familiar ringing cuts me off. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I presume it’s Xander for some sort of update so I answer the way I always do.

“It’s Grayson,” I say sharply.

I hear Jameson mutter something about how weird it was that I answered like that but I choose to kindly ignore him.

“I know,” the voice sings from the other side.

All the oxygen is robbed from my lungs and I struggle to breathe. Every muscle ceases to move and I become a picture frozen in time. It couldn’t be, she wouldn’t call me, it shouldn’t happen.

“Y/n?”

Her name feels foreign to my tongue in that moment, despite the thousands of times I’d uttered it. Jameson gapes.

“Grayson Davenport Hawthorne actually,” she corrects me, her speech a little slurred, “one s, one v and one h.”

“Are you drunk?” I ask bluntly.

“Noooo silly,” she laughs, “I don’t get drunk I’m always fine, perfect actually. That’s what you used to call me, perfect!”

My heart shatters, “you are perfect.”

She giggles, the sound so light and airy and beautiful I want to lock it away and play it on repeat to myself all the time.

“Where are you?” I question.

There’s a few beats of silence before, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” I say, suddenly alarmed. Protection surges through me and all I want to do is run to wherever she is and scoop her up into my arms.

“I’m in a room,” she explains, soundly dazed, out of it.

“Your room?” I prompt her.

“Maybe,” she muses, “there’s all my stuff here but this burning liquid I’m drinking is not mine. It’s kind of hurting my throat.”

“Stay right where you are,” I snap, “I’m going to get someone to come and help you.”

I want the someone to be me. Why can’t the someone be me?

“Help? I don’t need help! I’m fine, always fine. I’m never not fine,” she laughs. I can imagine her tipping her head back with a hand on her stomach.

“I know lo-“ I catch myself again, almost saying love, “I know, but don’t you want a friend to talk to you right now?”

“Yeahhh I do,” she agrees, her words all mushing together into one.

“Good, someone will be right over-“

“Gray can you come?” she murmurs.

I stop. She sounds too vulnerable, too helpless for me to ignore. Her voice is small and cautious. It makes me want to weep.

“Where?” I ask.

“Here…” she trails off, “…with me.”

“Okay,” I blurt out before actually thinking about what I was saying.

“Then bye bye pumpkin pie,” she giggles, “oh my gosh I just rhymed!!”

“Yes you did,” I chuckle, the smile stretched out in my face physically agonising me. She could always make me smile.

I made her cry.

“Are you coming then?” she makes sure, with that soft defenceless voice again.

“On my way now,” I reply, almost as if it’s a reflex.

“Oh good,” she says and I can hear the smile in her voice. With that she hangs up. I shove my phone back in my pocket and meet my brother’s eye.

“She’s drunk,” I explain slowly.

“I heard,” he nods.

“I’m worried she’s going to do something stupid,” I admit with a sigh.

“Go and help her, I’ll carry on looking for Gigi,” Jameson says, as if it’s that simple.

“No I can’t do that,” I shake my head.

“Why not?” he furrows his brows.

“She hates me,” I say quickly, “you go.”

“She asked for you,” he points out, “and I think she’ll notice if I turn up.”

“Maybe she won’t,” I suggest.

“She can’t be that drunk,” he rolls his eyes, then sighs, “look Gray, this might be the last time she ever asks you for help, so go and help her, look after her, then leave.”

“This won’t end well,” I tell him. I can feel it in my chest and in my stomach. If I go there, I’ll lose myself and she won’t be in the right mind to stop me.

“Then don’t go,” he says with a shrug.

I groan, “but she needs someone.”

“You’re arguing with yourself Gray,” Jameson says. And he’s right. The only person who’s stopping me is me. I just don’t want to do the wrong thing.

“It my fault she’s in this situation,” I reply, “it’s my fault she’s on her own, drunk and at risk of doing something stupid.”

“All the more reason for you to go and fix it,” he says.

I stand in silence. That consolidates my answer. To myself and to him.

“Let me know if you get any word of Gigi, I’ll be back soon,” I say, sharply adjusting my suit jacket.

“Bye,” he salutes.

***

I’m quick to make my way to her, the worry sort of takes over and my instinctual protection kicks in. When I get there the door is unlocked, my first indication to how drunk she really is.

“Grayson is that you?” I hear her murmur.

Her voice is vulnerable but the sweet notes are all the same. If I were to hear any voice for the rest of my life I’d want it to be hers. I’d never tire of listening to it. I walk further in the room I see her, the moonlight streaming through the window is the only thing illuminating her figure. Her face is red and there are prominent dark circles underneath her eyes. She looks pale and hollow and there’s something not quite right about her eyes, their usual sparkle dimmed. A catch a glimpse of a glass half empty in her hand.

“How much have you had?” I ask her, cocking my head towards the glass.

“Not that much,” she grins lazily, stumbling over herself in an attempt to make her way towards me.

“You need to get to bed,” I say softly.

All I want to do is scoop her up into my arms and hold her close to my chest, taking in her sweet shampoo. I want to keep her safe, protect her forever but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t let myself. I make a silent promise that I won’t get too close, I won’t touch her because I know once I do I’ll fall in too deep.

“But I’m not even sleepy,” she pouts.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing to me. Those lips are killing me softly.

“Come on,” I murmur gently, gesturing to the bed.

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head, “you’re going to have to carry me.”

I sigh and weigh up my options before lifting her up into my arms, knowing I shouldn’t be doing this. But I can’t just leave her. She squeals and giggles. An essence of sunshine shining back through the empty void I’d entered.

“Do you feel okay?” I ask her, lowering her down onto the mattress.

“Me? I’m fine!” she smiles, that beautiful smile, “are you okay?”

She tilts her head to the side and a chunk of hair falls over her face.

“I’m fine,” I say, moving it out of the way. It surrounds her like a halo.

“Oh well I know that’s a lie,” she laughs, “I’ve always known that about you though, you’re hurting. On the inside.”

“I am hurting,” I say, caressing her cheek, “but you’re hurting more.”

“I’m not hurting, I’m in the numbing process,” she explains with great enthusiasm.

“Hence the alcohol?” I raise an eyebrow.

“I call it happy juice,” she grins.

“Well no more happy juice tonight,” I explain to her.

“Why not?” she pouts, “it makes me happy.”

“It also destroys your liver,” I say, taking the glass away from her and putting it on the other side of the room.

“Come sit,” she murmurs, patting the bed beside her, “please.”

“I don’t think I should,” I reply. I have to stay strong, I can’t listen to my heart, my brain must have superiority.

“But I want you to,” she whispers.

My brain switches off. I sit beside her and as soon as I’m on the bed, her head falls into my lap, quite literally. It flops down as if she can’t hold it up any longer.

“Can you do that thing, where you massage my head and be all gentle with my hair, I love it when you do that,” she asks me.

When we were together I used to do it all the time subconsciously. If we were watching the television or cuddling. I never realised she loved it so much.

“I’m not sure you want me to,” I say hesitantly. This isn’t fair on her. She’s not in her right mind, she can’t make a decision properly.

“Of course I do!” she exclaims, “that’s why I asked you silly!”

“It’s not a good idea,” I murmur, only saying this because it is right not because it is true, “us being this close.”

“I disagree,” she says cheerily.

“You won’t like it when you sober up,” I warn her. Deep down I know she can’t even comprehend this, I know her mind if fogged over by alcohol and she doesn’t know what she’s really doing. But it doesn’t make me leave.

“I am sober-ish,” she says, “that’s good enough.”

“You are anything but sober,” I chuckle shaking my head.

“Head massage please,” she says, readjusting her head in my lap.

Slowly I comb the hair out of her face and eyes. My fingertips slide gently through her silky hair. The silence is torturing. Seconds morph into minutes until if feels like it’s been hours. I’m being strangled by no sound, suffocated by a blanket of blankness. To distract myself I weave my hands in and out in a rhythmic pattern.

“Why did you choose her?” a small voice asks making me jump. We’d been sat in silence for so long I’d forgotten that we could speak. My hands stop moving suddenly as I register the question.

“What?”

“Is it because she was prettier? Better personality? Funnier? Nicer? Happier?” she lists.

“I didn’t choose her,” I shake my head in defiance.

“But you kissed her,” she says, yet again. The words sting every time they come out of her mouth.

“That was a mistake,” I explain resting my heavy head back until it hit the headboard.

“So were all of our kisses a mistake too?” she asks, rolling onto her back so her eyes are gazing up into mine.

“None of them were,” I murmur in reply, the colour of them so mesmerising it was distracting.

“Then I don’t understand,” her eyebrows pinch together in confusion.

“You don’t need to,” I whisper running my fingertip over her knuckles.

She sighs and sadness ripples over her face. I hate seeing her with that expression on her face. It rips me apart.

“My chest hurts,” she moans softly.

“Where?” I ask urgently, running through every illness and condition that could possibly cause chest pains.

“Here,” she says pointing to her heart, “you broke it.”

My eyes grow glossy even though I didn’t ask them to. She lets me take my hand and place it on top of hers to feel the steady beat in her chest.

“I didn’t mean to,” I barely choke out.

“But you did and it can’t be mended, pain like this there aren’t any pills for,” she tells me.

“I’m sorry.”

“You said that before,” she smiles sadly.

“It’s true,” I whisper.

“Can you fix me?” she says quietly, “because I can’t fix me.”

My heart shatters into a million pieces, fragmenting into shards of pulsating muscle.

“Of course you can fix you,” I tell her.

“No I can’t,” she says, beginning to tear up, “look at me, this is the real me and she’s ugly.”

“This isn’t the real you and she is most certainly not ugly,” I assure her.

She giggles with tears rolling down her rosy cheeks. Beautiful even in tears.

“What?” I ask her.

“You use big words like ‘certainly’, it makes you sound very posh,” she chuckles to herself.

“I’m not that posh,” I reply.

She scoffs, “have you seen your house?!”

“Maybe I’m a bit posh then.”

“You know how ealierrr,” she slurs, “how you and me were talkingggg.”

“You might not want to continue that sentence lo-“ I stop myself from saying love. She’s not my love. She’s not mine to love.

“No,” she shakes her head, “no I do want to carry on actually…” she giggles bringing ther fingertip to my nose, “boop!”

“Okay,” I say softly, taking her hand into mine, away from my nose or any other poke-able part of my face.

“You said you still love me,” she says.

The beating in my chest begins to slow, as does my breathing, “I did.”

“And I still love you too.”

I can’t speak.

“But I can’t say it out loud, because then I’m an idiot for loving someone who cut me deeper than any weapon could ever cut me. And I tried to drink it all away, believe me I tried, but then halfway through my fifth glass I kind of realised it wasn’t working. And then I realised why. It’s because I still fucking love you, how depressing is that? You murdered my heart and yet it can’t stop beating your name. I mean it’s so on brand for me because my whole life people have told me that I always love the wrong too hard, that I get in too deep to come back out of and I’m just proving them all right,” she laughs and sobs at the same time, “I’m so stupid, so horribly ironically stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” I snap.

“You’re only saying that because you still love me,” she groans, rolling her eyes.

“I would say it regardless, any competent person can see that,” I say.

“But you still love me?” she murmurs, her for eyes forcing the truth from my lips.

“I still love you,” I say.

I knew something stupid like this would happen but I’m not stopping it now.

“How? How can you still love me when you love her?” she asks, agony in her tone.

“I don’t,” I tell her sharply,

She furrows her brows, “you don’t love Lyra?”

“No,” I shakes my head.

“But you kissed her,” she says, tracing a fingertip across my bottom lips.

I shy away from her tentative touch, “I did but that was the worst mistake of my life.”

“Why?” she laughs.

“Because I’m losing you because of it,” I admit. She won’t remember tomorrow morning, she won’t remember what she said or why she said it. This moment will be lost in time and I’ll be the only one left to remember it.

“You’re just losing the outside me, I have a feeling I’ll always love you,” she replies.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” I shake my head, “you’re drunk, you need to sleep.”

I need to stop this. I’m being selfish again. She’s pouring her heart out to me because she can’t control her mouth. It’s not fair and I won’t let her do it anymore.

“No I do know what I’m saying,” she insist, sitting up, “you don’t understand what you do to me and I wish I wasn’t so in love with you because maybe I’d be able to walk away more easily but I can’t, because this love isn’t just love. It’s something more for me.”

I’m in shock. A physical state of shock. It was more to me too…. I know I must go quickly before this escalates. It’s already gone far too far. Enough is enough.

“Look sweeth-“ I stop myself, “y/n, I need to leave.”

I stand up quickly and attempt to make a b-line for the door.

“No!” she yelled, yanking be back down. Her fingers clawing at my arm, like a scared animal, “please Gray, stay with me.”

“I can’t,” I shake my head, my face pinching in pain.

“You have to,” she begs, tugging at my arm.

I sigh, “you’ll be mad at me tomorrow if I stay tonight.”

“No I won’t silly,” she says, “please I need someone to cuddle.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I tell her. As much as I want her in my arms again, to feel her skin against mind and listen to her sweet breathing as she sleeps I can’t. I can’t do it to her, I won’t.

“Well I do,” she says, pushing me down firmly.

Slowly she crawls onto me and curls up against my chest. If the last twelve hours had never happened this would be totally normal and completely natural. Instead I carrying the heaviest stone of guilt I’ve ever lifted. I can’t leave her, but I can’t stay either.

“You won’t like this in the morning,” I tell her, hoping she might find to her senses.

“Well I like it now,” she yawns, cozying further into me.

“That’s because you’re drunk,” I explain, resting my cheek on top of her head. I smell her sweet shampoo and deja vu washes over me like a tidal wave. I’m swept under

“Grayson?” she whispers gently.

“Yes?”

“Promise you’ll just stay for tonight, then you can leave me for the dancer again tomorrow,” she says.

The bones in my chest ache and the pump that supplies me with blood crushed between fate’s cruel fingers.

“I’m not leaving you angel,” I tell her firmly, “not ever again.”

“I love you,” she mumbles, the words muffling against my chest.

“I love you too,” I whisper, planting a kiss onto the top of her head.

***

heyyyy guysss. so you’ve probably noticed this is the first fic I’ve posted in a bit of a while. It’s bc of exams and stuff and also this fic was so long. I got a little bit carried away mid way through but oh well… I hope you guys enjoyeddd 💖💖

am I dancer? Yes. The last time I did ballet? when I was about nine years old…. so apologies to any actual ballet dancers who are reading lyra’s routine and are thinking what in the world…

ANYWAYS I love love loved writing this and I know different POVs sometimes are a bit controversial but I felt like it was necessary here and thanks for readinggg 🤍🤍

also no one asked but I’m going tell you guys anyway, Lyra’s dance is based off of a song called girl with one eye by florence and the machine (omg it’s such a good song)

I wonder if any of you worked out my little clue 🤭🤭

hint: weiv fo tniop s’aryl

TIG masterlist

#bella writes 🤍#the dancer and the angel part 4 #the inheritance games #tig #grayson hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #jameson hawthorne #grayson tgg #grayson hawthorne one shot #grayson hawthorne x you #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson davenport hawthorne #lyra x grayson #grayson x lyra #hawthorne brothers #the grandest game

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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 1 year ago

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horny, sulky, kinda mean, kinda roughhousing könig thought bc it's my birthday, it's 2:50am, i have been horny like a fuckin werewolf for like a week now. f!reader ig for talk about pussy.

So our man König doesn’t keep normal hours—not that you do, but dude is two days back from KorTac and pretty much strung out on the “fun” amphetamines KorTac req officers pass out like candy if you even wave smth that looks like a form at them. So kind of out of the worst of it, exhausted, but wired and feeling kind of shitty and toothy and wound up.

He wants to fuck. Easiest way to diffuse, decompress, and he’s hard as shit by the time he lumbers his way into bed with you—over you—all around you. You were reading off your kindle, not anymore. He plucks that shit right out of your hand and puts it behind him, tangling those long, heavy limbs around you like a boa constrictor.

“Was wondering when this was going to happen,” you say, hissing when he’s none to kind in nipping the skin of your neck, wrapping his arms around your torso, pushing your breasts up under your t-shirt. “Shit, you’re moody,” it’s half a laugh, and a grapple at not immediately just folding and giving into him. You like to bite, too.

“Give me your mouth,” he grunts, nose pushed into the spot behind your ear. He’s pushing down your underwear, singlemindedly stripping you down. His words make your skin humid, “Gonna play with your pussy, want you fucking wet for me.”

You give that little bit, turning your head over your shoulder, smirking into a kiss that drives deliriously deep as soon as contact is made. König isn’t a prim kisser, but a primal one. It’s not a clean act; sloppy, yes, and somehow tinged with something kin to restrained violence. Challenge? Dick swinging? Maybe something more biblical in nature—gluttony, or greed.

He’s a fearsome thing, and he may only be beautiful to you. A needful thing, too, twisting nest of starved serpents—6 feet 10 inches and pushing-300-lbs of fucking muscle, battering-ram-body housing more than thirty years of neglect-crushed memory out for retribution.

But you never were a target. He didn’t have a choice in that matter. You both know good and goddamned well that you picked him. Everything he gets away with is at your allowance, and good fucking Christ, he loves you for it.

His cock throbs against your bare ass through his boxers as his arm wraps around you, craning his hand to pump two big fingers into your sopping cunt, angling his wrist so he can press and rub your clit with his thumb.

Man’s got his perversions, and he’s the most physical person you’ve ever met in your life. He’s had a fraction of the sex he’s fantasized about, but you’ve covered hectares of that ground since you’ve gotten together. He’s a quick study, and his mind’s a nightmare of steel trap memory. He never forgets what you like.

Two fingers turn to three, and he almost pushes it to four—assured torture, too much stretch too fast—before you snap a hand around his wrist and buck hard back against him, seething his name in warning. “Don’t fucking dare.”

“Ja. Ja, Schatzi,” he mumbles, breathing hard and too collected. You’re both sweating already, and the bed feels too damn warm, but neither of you shift. The spooning position is perfect as-is, only needs acted upon. In the mean time, he draws his slicked fingers up, leaving them in the air before your mouth in question. He groans and shudders harshly when you take the digits into your mouth, almost laughing at the ever-fresh amusement of your own taste. Salt and cold coins, your own metallic tang a complement to the one on his skin. His voice shakes as he warns, “Time, now. It’s time, bitte, aw, fuck.”

Just like that, he sinks right into you, to the base, balls pressed tight against your lips due to your body’s contortioning to meld against his form. An ungodly moan bellows out of his throat, rattling from his chest into yours, arms tightening around you. You meet the fuck-weird noises, turning your head to keen into your pillows and pressing back against him. Your hand anchors behind you on his hip, as if pinning him in place, affixing your bodies together.

You both hang in a moment of suspension, hearts pounding, minds blank, stomachs rising as if careening over a hill with momentum not sparing you a moments reprieve.

When that finally snaps, you have to force him to focus, to fuck, and he’s slow about it, grinding into you as your cunt sucks him deeper.

That huge hand you know so well drops between your legs, right back to toying with you. Oh it doesn’t take long to get you off, bent in half on your side, holding onto him and gasping as you’re hit with wave after wave of pleasure.

He’s not subtle to signal when it’s his turn. He pulls you back up and clamps his teeth into your shoulder, biting down hard through the fabric of your shirt, fucking you rough, now, and unheeding, like an animal in heat. When he finally finishes, spasming and jolting all over now that his balls have been emptied into you, he leaves his heavy arm over your waist, keeping you close. “Good shit,” he mumbles, throat sticking to itself it’s so dry as he pants, parched, “we split a smoke?”

You’re not much better, even though you’ve bravado to fucking spare. “I smoke. You go the hell to sleep now,” you try to sound stern and dismissive, but there’s a laugh in your tone some place. And fondness, undeniably. You feel his grin against your neck, his body purring mhm in question. “Feel better?” you ask, at length, stroking the hair on his forearms.

“Yes,” he says after a moment, weak and sweet with relief, “can sleep now.” A pause, you can hear him thinking. “Won’t, though. Because you were an asshole and had to bring it up first.” His laugh wheezes, low and susurring.

#konig #könig #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader #teehee and as usual it's just my oc dressed up as a reader yall know the drill by now

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mrsoharaa · 4 months ago

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𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝑴𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄 𝑰𝒏 𝑹𝒂𝒊𝒏!

characters: Miguel O'hara x Reader

cw; none! all fluff! rainy cuteness! (I honestly think about this type of scenario allll the time ♡)

a/n; couldn't stop thinking about this so I decided to write it! ..... at 2 in the morning LMAO! Miggy my beloved, you are sooo loved! (✿ ʃƪ ˘ ³ ˘) ♡ (another impeccablyyy self indulgent piece for my soul ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა)

since it's raining ever so gently and lovingly where I live rn I'm just thinking about reader happily twirling in the gentle pattering rain, arms stretched out, head tilted back to welcome the cooling droplets of the skies natural, tranquil gift cascading across their blissful face. A lulled delicate hum of delight rumbles from their chest, enjoying the cooling bits of the tittering rain caress the tender of their flesh. Basking in nature's soul cleansing refreshness.

Lost in their own little world, drowning in the pure delight and awe of the descending liquid seeping into their skin.

All while Miguel just crosses his arms and leans against the foot of your apartment front door, brows risen and a confused gaze hinting in such soft carmine irises.

"What are you doing? you're going to get sick, entra" he watches you smile wider, simply enjoying the blissful, peaceful moment of embracing natures purity. You stop momentarily in your tracks, now facing towards your looming boyfriend who was still wearing such a cynical expression. You giggle giddily, feeling the collecting moisture from the ground recoil over your bare feet.

"Come join me Miggy! it's so refreshing and freeing!" you chime with a perched smile, arms stretched out towards your skeptical partner. He scoffs, eliciting a eye roll.

"It won't be so refreshing when you get a cold the next morning, now come, before I have to go over there and throw you over my shoulders" he insists.

"Please! just...humor me Migs! I promise after one twirl, I'll come inside with you!" you swirl your arms a bit, flaunting him those wide, glimmering pretty doe eyes of yours, the very ones he could never refuse from you, with a beaming smile.

He groans inwardly, hesitating on his questionable decision but kicks himself out from the frame of your door. Slightly tenses up from the sudden change of temperature clouding over his stocky warm body, soften water droplets permeating through the waves of his beautiful cocoa locks to the comforting fabric of his clothes. Leaving little, to no room, for the wandering imagination.

He huffs out heavily, standing just a few inches before you, brows perking higher as he watches you gleam up at him with such wonderment and love. Can't help but raise a lipped smile as he feels your tiny hands entangle with his subtly, drawing him closer to you, allowing the rain to dance and embrace the two of you.

"See, it's completely soothing and soul cleansing, no?" you tilt your head to the right, still wearing that heart melting smile on your adoring face.

Miguel only hums in reply, glances up at the dim lit, foggy sky, seeing nothing but muggy darkness.

He closes his eyes slowly, musing to your silly portrayal about the rain being so cleansing and comforting. In a way...he did feel a sort of contentment resonate all over his firm body. Cradling, nurturing to his rugged soul.

You couldn't help the giddy grin widen across your radiant face, mirroring his actions with your hands still holding his.

The harmonic sound of the rain bouncing off against the ground around you and distant thunder wooed you both into a deep state of pliancy. Serenity.

Feeling your souls connect ever so perfectly with the pattering water waltzing around you.

Your fingers curl further into Miguel's deeper, pulling at his larger hands with a dire request.

Miguels lowly hums, peering open his eyes as he looks down at you, noting the familiar glint of want and admiration swelling in those gorgeous round globes of enchantment. A flash of unmistakable plea peering up at him, he could only scoff with a lit smile.

He carefully pulls you close to his looming stature, lifts his left hand to delicately brush away the sticking wet strands of your hair clinging to the sides of your face and tuck them behind your ear. Eyes never leaving one another, as his palm soothes down from the plush of your soaked cheeks to the side of your jaw, holding you still with tender and adoration.

"You really are something else, aren't you cariño?" he mutters softly, leaning down to press his lips against your own with such passion and affection. Smiles wider when he feels your body practically melt into his arms, your own lips curling into a wider smile as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, fingers generously weaving into his damped, soften curls.

#KISSING MIGGY IN THE RAIN IS A MUST #LIKE HELLO?!!#YES PLS 😩😭🥺💘💗💕#it's currently raining where I live and I could NOT STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS #he WOULD be so skeptical and cynical about it at first! but once you convince him TIRELESSLY...he'd inevitably will cave in!!#THAT MAN WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR YOU #I KNOW HE WOULD #I NEED TO EXPERIENCE THIS PLS #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv #I NEED THIS

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kometqh · 6 months ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝

Viscount!Captain Rex x Maid!F!Reader Pt. 2, Pt.3, Pt.4 The Viscount is a renowned bachelor, known for his kindness, his wits and his charm. Ladies from across the planet swoon over him, visit him, are denied by him. He is a respectable, well-known man. What nobody seems to know is his knack for venturing out into the night, returning home with treasures, jewels, drinks, and most of all, ladies of the night. What does one do when they are caught red-handed, by none other than a lowly maid? Word Count:3,474 Warnings: Descriptions of sexual activity, minor swearing, also halfway unedited (will work on that). If I missed anything (pls im not good with tags) please let me know! ^^ A/N: This Rex fanfic idea took over my brain and I already have the whole story planned out and I'm in love <33

The evening burned so hot; the arid August air grazed through your lungs like gravel. The usually rackety crickets were unusually quiet, except for the occasional croak. The steady drip, drip, drip of water filled the still evening. And then, as your hands wrenched the dirty water from the rag, a hushed groan trickled from around the corner. It was quickly suppressed, but you had heard it. Slowly, you stood up from your crouched position, you abandoned the rug on the concrete. As far as you were aware, all the residents of the Viscounts’ manor were asleep. You took a step forward, craning your head in the direction of where the sound came from. Nothing. Just the occasional hum of crickets and your steady breathing.

With a few more steps forward, your heart leaped to your throat. It wasn’t nothing. Someone was there. Hidden behind the arched wall and doorway that separated the manor from the extensive, plush green, mile-long fields. Were they intruders? But the manor was so far out into the countryside. It would take hours to get there by carriage, never mind by foot. Who would bother going that far? But it was a possibility. An unlikely one, but still a possibility.

The grass was soft beneath your bare feet, cold and tickling as you inched closer and closer. Your thoughts were racing, and your heart was punching vigorously on your ribcage. What were you going to do, if they were in fact, intruders?

As you reached the wooden doorway you noticed it was slightly ajar. Enough to fit an arm through it, enough to not be seen by anyone unless they were standing directly in it, watching. The wood was harsh against your palm as you leaned against it, scraping warningly on your fingertips.

Your heart dropped. Your throat dried. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked up.

Breathy, desperate muffled moans, the ruffle of expensive silks and fine cotton, the rhythmic sound of skin against skin. It felt as though a bucket of cold water had been splashed in your face. This… You’d been hired as a House Maid. Previously you had worked in a number of different roles, so you had seen all the different kinds of dirty and awful in homes and manors alike. This wasn’t one of them. This was a situation you found yourself stunned at. Confused at. What were they doing?

The woman’s hair covered their faces, lending them some privacy in such an intimate, and yet such vulgar moment. Who were they? Servants? No. The clothing was too expensive, this place too hidden. All you knew was that this was deliberate. Whether you were meant to find them was a coincidence or not, you weren’t sure.

Unexpectedly, the woman leaned her head back. Her lips, coloured some finest shade of red, gaped openly at the sky above. You didn’t recognise her. But the male who had trapped her against the wall – you knew his face all too well.

He was your employer.

The Viscount.

A light gasp escaped you, realisation crashing into you like a carriage into a boulder. His head snapped in your direction.

Surprise gleamed in his eyes, but he continued his ministrations, his gaze locked onto you. As if he had casted a spell, you found yourself unable to move. Your feet were cemented to the ground, your lungs still as you held your breath. You were a mere statue, your gaze forever stuck on the pair before you. There was a glint of a warning in his irises, as if he was daring you to make a sound, daring you to interrupt him.

Your gaze wavered, straying to glance at the darkness behind.

The amber glow of a nearby lamp was the only source of light, the only thing that allowed you to comprehend what was truly happening. It flickered with each gentle breeze that passed, swaying alluringly on the burning wick. It burned warm, so warm you could almost feel the scalding, waxy trail of it across your skin. The fields behind were pushed away into the background, swallowed in complete and utter darkness, the forests looming in the far distance like a shadow. Whatever was lurking out there would have been a more welcome disturbance than what you were witnessing up close. You felt like a meagre, frightened insect tangled up and struggling in a sticky web you had no business soaring into.

The Viscounts’ voice snapped your attention back to him. No, it commanded you.

“Look at me.” He rasped out, and for a moment you faltered. You weren’t sure whether the command was directed at you, or the mystery woman. Were you beginning to get caught up in a fantasy you had no right to dream?

With another moan, she gripped the Viscount’s face, pulling it towards her. “Kiss me.” She uttered, looking up at him through a fan of thick, dark eyelashes. He was quick to oblige, leaning forward, pressing his lips against hers. His gaze slowly abandoned you, and so did the spell with it. Your feet no longer felt stuck, your hands no longer felt ice cold, and your breaths no longer felt suppressed.

Like a fawn, you scurried away, bunching your skirts in your hand. Your feet carried you as fast and as quiet as they could. Your sight landed on the wooden bucket you had abandoned, and with one hand, you reached for it. You couldn’t leave any traces behind. You couldn’t risk losing your job.

“What was I thinking?” You muttered to yourself as you entered the manor again, heading straight for the kitchens. How long had you spent staring and gaping at them? Surely long enough for the images to replay vividly in your mind, long enough for all the floors to dry up. The tiles sparkled like thousands of miniscule diamonds under the low glow of candles. Vases of ruby pink and white, carefully picked out roses littered the hallways, spaced exactly five metres apart until they stopped just before the kitchens.

One hand reached for the door, pushing on it with vigour.

In your hurry, you forgot one thing.

The doors creaked and protested loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls. You flinched, gripping the doors. You stopped them from moving, and warily glanced over your shoulder. Not a living soul in sight.

“Thank the lord.” You whispered, and silently slipped through the small space.

The door closed behind you with a soft thump, and you allowed yourself to take a deep breath. Through the nose, into the chest. You counted to three, holding your breath, before slowly exhaling. You repeated the motion as you emptied the bucket and hung the rags to dry. You continued it as you made your way to your small, closet-sized bedroom. Your steps were small, timid as you feared of walking past someone, anyone. Fear prickled at your skin; every sound of the manor caused goosebumps to flare up on your skin like a rash.

You couldn’t feel more relieved when the small, wooden door came into view. Gently, you twisted the doorknob, letting yourself in.

You let it stay open, just long enough to light a single candle.

The flame flickered as it grew, warmth extending from the wick to your fingertips. It engulfed the room in a fading orange glow as you closed and locked the door. The only sound in the room was your deep inhales and exhales, and the light creak of your bed as it dipped under your weight.

Your heart was pounding, blood thrumming deafeningly in your skull. Your stomach twisted in an unfamiliar knot, and a burning sensation settled at your core long ago. Your thoughts were quiet, replaying the sight like a melody on a gramophone.

You had stood there long enough to imprint the sight into your memory.

You could recount every second of the encounter, every drawn-out breath, every sound a scullery maid like you shouldn’t hear, as if you were a sinner in church.

“I’ll be lucky if I still have a job and a roof over my head in the morning.” You muttered to yourself as you stood up, readying for bed. You had a long day ahead tomorrow, to be sure.

But as you lay under the duvet, your mind couldn’t stop replaying the memory.

Those golden, dangerous eyes.

Morning rolled around faster than you had expected, your eyes snapping open when someone knocked loudly on your door. You scurried out of your bed, wrapping a stray blanket over your chest.

“Coming!” You shouted, searching for your shoes. You searched under your bed, and next to your small closet. They were nowhere to be found.

Two more knocks, and you moved towards the door. Screw it, you’d find your shoes later.

As the lock turned and the hinges swung, you were greeted with a surprising sight. The Housekeeper was at your door.

“Mrs Opal? What can I do for you?” You had asked, fighting hard to keep your surprise at bay.

The woman scorned you with a glare, her lips drawn into a thin line. She looked you up and down, her hands neatly folded behind her back. After a silent moment, she spoke up.

“The Viscount has requested your presence in his study… He says there is a matter he must discuss with you. Get dressed and make your way to the First Floor.” She said promptly, walking away before you had a chance to even think of a response. Confusion was clear on your features as you peered out, watching the Housekeeper disappear round the corner.

What did the Viscount himself want to do with you?

You shook your head, mumbling profanities under your breath. The door closed with a loud thud behind you as you began searching for your neatest piece of clothing. The best you could do was the violet petticoat given to every member of staff. Working as fast as you could, with practiced, experienced hands, you were dressed within minutes.

As your hand landed on the doorknob, your stomach churned. What could be so strangely important that the Viscount wished to speak to you?

Your footsteps were light and hurried as you made your way through the hallways, your voice soft as you greeted the other members of staff. The kitchens were already busy, with cooks and maids scrambling about to deliver breakfast to the family.

The footmen were at their stations, nodding lightly to you as you passed each one by. The rows of ruby pink and creamy white roses were a welcome sight, and a sense of calm washed over you. Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been so bad. Maybe, possibly, you were about to receive the opportunity of a lifetime.

Your thoughts didn’t stray even as you made your way up the stairwell, the soft thud of your footsteps the only sound coming from the lower floors.

And, as you reached the first floor, you were greeted with the sight of the Housekeeper and the Steward moving animatedly, deep in discussion. They seemed to be… Aggravated. No, perhaps quarrelling.

They stopped as you approached slowly, your hands entwined together at your front.

“There you are. You look presentable.” Was the highest appraisal Mrs Opal could lend out. You gave a curt nod, thanking her quietly. The steward remained silent; his bird brown eyes trained on you. “Now follow us. The Viscount shouldn’t be made to wait.” She continued, leading you down the hallways. More light flooded the upper floor, and you couldn’t help but admire the view of the windows from afar. The ground floor and basements lacked natural light or windows, and it was more common for you to be scrubbing something during daylight hours.

Mrs Opal and the Steward exchanged no more words in your presence, choosing to remain distant and silent. Their footsteps remained as light as a phantom’s, almost floating on the soft, teal carpet. They served their purpose; chilling you to the bone with anticipation and uneasiness.

The air felt cleaner up here, you noted. More windows had been opened, allowing fresh, countryside air to waft in. Along with it came the harmonious chirps of songbirds and insects alike. You rubbed the material of your skirt between your fingers, doing your best to wipe any sweat off as the doors to the Viscount’s study came into view. As the three of you came to a stop, Mrs Opal and the Steward exchanged glances, before turning to you. This time, the Steward spoke up

“When in the presence of the Viscount, you do not speak unless spoken to. You do not look at him, unless you are requested to do so. You do not sit unless you are permitted to. And last of all, we refer to the Viscount as ‘Lord’. Are we clear?” His voice was like a nail under a tool, sharp and unrelenting as he hammered the rules into your skull.

“Yessir.” You answered quietly, not looking up.

“Wonderful.” He responded, and inched closer to the door. He raised a gloved fist to the door, and knocked three, distinct and perfected knocks, as if the rhythm and consistency of a knock varied from situation to situation. The doors opened before him, the hinges silent, unlike the ones on the ground floor.

“Come in.” A soft voice instructed, and the three of you walked in in a single file. The Steward led at the front, Mrs Opal stationed in the middle, and you at the end. The doors were closed behind your figure, and you failed to hide your jitteriness as you jumped slightly. However, you did succeed in supressing the urge to look back. Your head remained tilted downwards, your sight focused on the diamond-patterned carpet beneath your feet. A short-lived relief surged through you as you remembered; you had lost your shoes. You were essentially barefoot on the Viscount’s expensive carpet. The morning had already had a rocky start, what was next?

“This is the House Maid you requested to see, my Lord. Is there anything else you need, my Lord?” The Stewards’ voice softened, his stern posture shrinking under the gaze of the Viscount.

He must have whispered or something, as you were caught by surprise when both the Steward and Mrs Opal stuttered in confusion, and you once again had to fight the urge to look up.

“Must I repeat myself?” The Viscount asked, his voice deep and gravelly. Someone must have had an early morning, you thought to yourself.

The Steward shook his head, gesturing for Mrs Opal to follow him.

The doors opened, the sound of a few pairs of footsteps retreating reached you, before they swung again.

Your heart thrummed in your chest, flapping wildly like the wings of a hummingbird. Were the two of you alone? If so… Why?

You swallowed the forming lump in your throat, rubbing the pads of your thumbs on the cotton material of your skirt. Why was he so quiet? Were you meant to look up? No. The Steward – you really should have asked for his name – was stern on telling you to avoid doing so.

So what was the Viscount waiting for?

“You may look up, little one.” His voice was coarse, finer than the most miniscule, smoothest grains of sand on Tattooine. Heat rushed to your face, and you questioned whether it was from the uneasiness you felt or embarrassment. As your eyes met his, recognition rushed through you.

Those golden eyes. Stern, solid and unrelenting. And yet… There was something else. Something you couldn’t quite decipher as your heart leaped into your throat.

“Recognise me?” He asked softly, his voice just barely above a whisper.

Should you lie? Should you be truthful? Which option would ensure you’d keep your job?

A soft laugh bubbled in his chest. Your gaze wavered, and you found solace in focusing on the cedarwood desk separating him from you. You decided on the latter.

“Y- Yes, my Lord. You’re the Viscount, my e- employer.” You stuttered out softly, wincing as you seemed to be doing everything but looking confident and calm. Surely, this was some cruel joke. You were sure you had dreamed up the events of last night after collapsing into your bed from exhaustion. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be real.

You allowed yourself to look up at him once more, and your chest tightened at his expression.

He seemed to be amused by all this.

“Let us not beat around the bush, and get straight to the point. I know what you saw, little one. But do you know what’ll happen to you now?” He questioned once more, challenging you to look away. He was relaxed and yet domineering, confident, his form leaning against the chair, his legs spread wide open. He was the one with all the power here, as much as you wished he wasn’t.

You took in a deep, shaky breath before replying.

“I’ll be removed from my position as House Maid immediately, my Lord.” Your voice was steady as you maintained eye contact, your breathing method calming you down.

He remained quiet, observing you like a hawk watching its next meal. His thumb caressed the plush softness of his bottom lip in slow, circular motions.

“If I may be dismissed, my Lord, I shall go and pack my belongings.” You tried again, before you paused. You broke Rule Number One. Do not speak unless spoken to. The Viscount betrayed none of his thoughts at your mishap, though he quirked a curious brow at you.

But what did it matter if you were about to lose your job anyway? And with that, you went against your better judgement once more.

“If I’m honest, though, you shouldn’t be so… Intimate with a strange woman at late hours of the night in your back garden, my Lord. At that point you are begging to be caught. So, technically speaking, it is not my fault,” You paused, pursing your lips, “If it were any other servant, the whole manor would know by now.”

Kriff. What were you thinking?

He gave a soft hum in response, his posture straightening up.

“You dare speak to your employer so… Callously?” He questioned, but you didn’t grace him with another smart-ass response. You had dug yourself a deep enough grave already, you might as well forget your headstone.

“To ease your confusion, I wasn’t aware that any servant would be working at such late hours of the night. I also own this manor, and do you know what the word ‘own’ means?” He questioned, quirking a brow at you, again. “It means it belongs to me, it means I can do as I please, with whomever I please, wherever I please. Does that aid you in your confusion?” He rounded his desk, his footsteps light and calculated right until his chest was inches from yours, his figure towering over you. Your breathing stopped completely, your eyes almost bulging out from their sockets as your heart raced faster than a horse. You had royally, majorly pissed him off, haven’t you?

Unexpectedly, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The crease between his brow eased up, and for once, the Viscount looked relaxed.

“I admire your confidence, little one. No one has ever spoken to me so… Plainly. Rudely, even. But I’d reign it in a little, for future reference. I’m not going to dispose of you, no.” He whispered, searching your eyes with his own, as if there was a lost treasure buried deep within the vibrant colours of your irises.

“You’re… Not?” You asked again, swallowing harshly. Clearly he wasn’t too bothered by your obvious disregard for the rules he imposed on the servants.

He shook his head, still smiling down at you.

“No. I’m instead promoting you. You’ll work as my personal servant, after all, I can’t have you be free to gossip about my nightly endeavours to anyone. Wouldn’t you agree, little one?” He cocked his head to the side, eyeing you up and down.

Heat rushed over your face like a flame, burning and scalding until you were left as nothing but ashes. Why was he so relaxed? So calm? What was going on?

You blinked once, then twice, before remembering to breathe. His scent flooded your senses, until all that you could think of and feel was the Viscount himself. He smelled like a warm, wet spring day, of pine needles and steady streams of water. Was this man anything but perfect?

His fingers gently cupped your chin, tilting your head upwards until he had your entire attention focused on him.

“What do you think?” He inquired again, dissatisfied with your lack of response.

You fought your way out of his touch, shaking your head.

“W- What?”

Tags: @actuallybarb <33

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sweatervest-obsessed · 1 year ago

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Home Is Where The Heart Is

Pairing: Steve Harrington x afab!reader

W/C: ~7.2k

TW: 18+ MDNI, smut Teehee. Face riding, oral (both m and f receiving), foul foul language, mentions of depression, smoking weed, impulsive decisions, self-deprecating thoughts, self-image issues, upset Robin Buckley, mentions of the Upside Down, scars, boobs, mentions of trauma

Notes: Yall, this one got away from me but I’m not mad about how it came out at all. She’s not edited but I sure as hell enjoyed writing her. I really wanted to write a reader who isn’t afraid to sass Steve since so much of the fan fic I see is a headstrong woman becoming some shy girl when she likes Steve, and as someone who literally bullies the people she loves, well…anywho. First time writing for Steve, second time writing and posting fan fic, and first time writing smut. Constructive criticism and comments are HIGHLY appreciated since I’ve rediscovered my addiction to writing. I really hope y’all enjoy it!!!

(finally went back and slightly edited away some mistakes lol October 2, 2024)

GIF not mine

Steve Harrington was so over everything in his fucking life. He was sick of shitbag father. He was sick of his emotionless mother. He was sick of going to work every day, sick of Hawkins, sick of Indiana, sick of his life.

He was over it—truly.

Eyeing himself up and down and up again, Steve stood in front of his bathroom mirror, critiquing every inch of his body: his scrawny arms, his too skinny shoulders, the bags under his eyes, the scars along his abdomen, even his hair felt flat and volumeless. Steve was just over himself.

Which is why he almost didn’t feel bad when he drove up to Indianapolis to take a train to New York City, and told no one. He did leave a note in case his parents showed up at home, but the chances of that were slim to none. He knew it stupid of him not to tell anyone where he was going, and he knew that he was going to get the scolding of his lifetime from his friends when he eventually called them from New York, but for now he simply just wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet that the train had brought him.

He had brought his walkman with a cassette that was made for him a while ago. Currently, Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears played in his ears as the city pulled into view. He had only been there a couple of times before, but each time the sheer volume of it seemed almost overwhelming at first. It was so different from Hawkins, from Indiana as a whole really, which is why he loved coming to visit so much. He knew that you had just left two weeks ago, a month in advance so you could get settled back into city life, starting up your job. He knew you'd be back in two weeks for the long weekend, and to celebrate with the barbeque your family had been running for years, but truthfully, he just wanted a week or two with you all to himself.

So imagine his surprise when you were actually in your apartment, and not in the library a block away, where he had assumed you’d be. He waited patiently in the lobby, watching the elevator doors, hoping that the next time it opened, it would be you. And it’s true, the third time really is the charm, since you walked out of the elevator in an oversized yellow sweatshirt (that may or may not have been Steve’s), and the sleep shorts you had owned for the past couple years, declaring they were your favorite.

Your eyes lit up at the sight of him, shock and pure joy sprang across your face as your pace immediately picked up. The slippers you decided to wear down to the lobby were more or less halfway off your feet by the time you threw yourself into Steve’s arms.

Steve dropped the duffel bag he had hastily packed next to his feet and wrapped his arms around you, as tightly as possible.

“Hiya sweet girl.” He whispered into your hair, kissing your head softly. “Did ya miss me?”

You snorted into his chest. “That’s a stupid fucking question Steven, we both know you’re smarter than that…” You pulled away and placed a hand on his cheek, the smile never leaving your face.

“Of course I missed you.” You whispered to him, as if it was a secret only meant for him to hear. “Why don’t we head upstairs, yeah? I can show you the billions of boxes I’ve acquired from moving in.”

Steve kissed your forehead before letting go of you to grab the duffel bag that was now on the ground. You moved towards the desk, and filled out the visitor log on the counter before taking Steve’s hand and bringing him towards the elevator. He squeezed your hand lightly and rubbed his thumb back and forth.

“I forgot that fancy miss NYU needed an elevator to get alllllll the way up to her new fancy apartment.” You had been extremely lucky. Your grades and work ethic both in high school, and in your first two years of college, had paid off in scholarships and work studies, meaning that you barely even paid for your education. But this past semester, for the next consecutive school year, you had won a housing scholarship, which meant you got to move into the brand new apartment style dorms for upperclassmen for almost nothing a month.

“Oh please.” You rolled your eyes and scoffed playfully. “It’s an elevator that barely works, and I’m only on the twelfth floor. One of the girls I was telling you about, Jenna? She lives on the twentieth floor. It’s fucking hell when the elevator stops working.”

The elevator door opened, and a couple other students came out, passing the both of you. Steve watches as you smile and say hi to them.

“They’re my neighbors.” You explained, pushing the button to your floor, and the doors closed.

As soon as they did, Steve’s lips were on yours. Your back hit the elevator wall as his knee slotted between your legs. Hummed softly as your arms snaked around his neck, one hand finding a way into his hair, fingers pulling gently on it.

“I missed you too Handsome” You sighed as Steve slowly started to kiss up your jaw. You tugged on his hair again, and he let out what could only be described a one stop short of a whine.

The elevator dinged, and he moved away from you, grabbing your hand.

“Lead the way, gorgeous.”

Steve would follow you to the ends of the earth. Hell he’s followed you to hell, and back again. He’s watched the very hand he’s holding swing an ax and chop off the head of demon dogs that had taken over Hawkins. He’s seen you rip apart a demobat with your bare hands simply because it looked at him. He’s watched you comfort the kids countless times, holding them when they needed more than just words. He’s watched you try to drink and smoke away the nightmares the two of you shared for years. But he’ll gladly settle for following down the carpeted hallway, stained with things he will never want to know about, towards your apartment.

It was just you, which meant that the entire apartment was pretty bare. The walls only had a few things hanging up on them, and you didn’t even have a couch yet. There were boxes everywhere, but not as many considering you had little to nothing that you brought to New York. But, it made Steve happy to see your personality shining through, despite the vicious nature of your high school experience.

You took his bag from his hand and pointed towards the phone.

“How’d you know?”

“Well, Baby, don’t take this the wrong way, but while you’re never one to run away from those you care about, you are absolutely one to run away from your feelings.”

Steve rolled his eyes and started to protest, but you just gave him a quick kiss to silence anything he might have to say.

“Besides, Robin called about thirty minutes before you did, freaking the fuck out. And I refuse to get the brunt end of your beating.”

You kissed the side of his head before leaving the bedroom, to go to the bathroom, decidedly getting ready for bed now, even though it was barely 5 pm. You knew doing your nightly routine once Steve was here was almost a Sisyphean task.

Steve had watched you leave before picking up the phone and dialing Robin’s house. It didn’t even ring twice before it was answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey Rob–”

“Steven Harrington I am going to DROWN you. What the fuck Steve we have been so worried about you, especially when you didn’t show up to drive Dustin and Lucas and Max to school, and then didn’t show up for work two days in a row. I mean Steve, you were missing for over twenty-four hours! Your car wasn’t at your house and we could hear the phone ringing in your house when one of us would call—Eddie even went and led a mini search party around Lover’s Lake. Steve we thought, we….”

Steve pinched his nose while listening to Robin, letting her ramble before she tapered off. “Robs I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry anybody but I just need to be alone and just…”

“Where even are you Steve?”

“....I’m uh, I’m…in New York.”

“WHAT. Steve you’ve got to be fucking kidding me, that's like, an eighteen hour train ride, let alone–”

“Rob–”

“The drive up to Indianapolis. I mean Steve we thought you died and instead you were just going on a long distance booty call? Are you fucking insane? Do you know how many people get kidnapped on trains–”

“Robin–”

“Why couldn’t you have just told us where you were going? It’s not that hard top pick up a phone I mean literally exhibit A right now–”

“Robin! Look, I'm sorry. I know what I did was kind of fucked but...Don't call Y/n "a long distance booty call"."

"Sorry. That wasn't..."

"I know." He sighed. "I just needed to not be in Hawkins. I needed to be near her…”

Robin's eyeroll was audible.

“Look Steve, I get it. I miss her too. But you couldn’t have waited another like, two weeks like the rest of us?”

Just then, you walked back into the room; face washed and teeth brushed. You smiled and kissed his check.

“No Robs. I couldn’t. I’ll see you in two weeks, or something.”

“Ste–” He hung up the phone and turned to face his girlfriend.

“How pissed is she?” You asked, turning to face him, watching him take a few breaths. Steve moved towards the windows, and opened one of them up.

“Extremely, but they’ll all be fine.”

“When’s the last time you slept Steve?” You walked over and wrapped your arms around his waist, kissing the spot in between his shoulder blades. He let out a grunt of disapproval, but didn’t move since he enjoyed the feeling of your lips on his back. He breathed in the city air, and it was by no means the fresh air Hawkins used to once have, but it was different and that was all that mattered.

“Do you still have any of the rolls Eddie gave you during Spring Break?” He muttered before turning around and holding you in his arms, kissing your head.

“Oh so you only came up here to get free drugs?”

Steve chuckled and shook his head.

“To answer your question, yes I do. But I have some stuff from the guy who lives a couple floors up, and you cannot tell Eddie but it’s ten times better.”

“You sneaky sneaky girl. Can’t believe the city turned you into such a deviant. Valedictorian of her high school class turned into a big city pothead. What would your mother say?” He fake scolded, giving you one of the looks he frequently gave to Dustin or any of the other kids when they did something even remotely out of the rhetorical line Steve had created.

“If you wanted any, you could’ve said so Stevie.”

The nickname made his heart flutter a little bit. “That’s not what I said.”

“Yeah well now you owe me for calling me a delinquent.”

“Actually it was deviant so now I know you don't even listen to m–” You cut him off by kissing his lips, except the smile on your face was too bright to give him a full kiss.

“Do you want the goods or not Harrington…”

Steve nodded and kissed your head one more time. “Yes please.”

You pulled away from him, much to his dismay, but he watched as you went under your bed. Almost your entire body was completely under the bed, and he heard you moving a couple of things around.

“Are you trying to get back to the Upside Down under there?” He joked as you pull yourself out from under the bed, a ziplock bag containing a couple of blunts in your hand. “Ha ha. Very funny. Hold this.”

“Aye aye Captain.” He gave you a mock salute and took the bag from your hand while you got to work. You grabbed the towel off of the back of your door, rolled it up, and shoved it against the bottom of the door before standing up, pulling a lighter off of your desk.

“Okay gorgeous, get that sexy ass of yours out on the fire escape.”

“Yes ma’am” Steve smiled at you before he clambered onto the fire escape. It was these moments he so desperately craved with you. If he could sit on a fire escape and watch the sunset with you every single night, he would go back to the Upside Down and fight Vecna all over again just to have this moment with you. He sat down against the railing, and let his legs dangle off the side. It seems they weren’t the only ones with this idea, but Steve sure as hell didn’t mind once your thigh was against his. The warmth of the sun mixed with the warmth of your body was more than enough to quell whatever had been going on in his mind. Once he noticed you were staring at him, a light blush tinged his cheeks.

“What.” He grumbled, looking down through the grate at the people below.

“Oh nothing, just observing my very handsome boyfriend, and trying to figure out what was clouding his head so badly that he literally dropped everything and disappeared for twenty four hours because he needed to be near me.”

“What are you getting at lady.” he grumbled, pulling one of the joints, and carefully closing it back up before he chucked it back into your room. He reached behind him and almost closed your window all the way, just enough to squeeze some fingers under to get back inside. He placed the joint in his mouth, and turned to you. You flicked the lighter on, the flame reflecting in both of your eyes before you lit the end of it.

Steve took a deep drag. He let it fill his lungs. He needed it to push away all of those doubts from before.

After a moment, he slowly exhaled and handed you the joint, still looking forward. The view was really something, considering the fact that if he stared directly across, it was into some elderly woman’s apartment with at least three different cats. But if he turned and looked down the rest of the street, he could see so much more of the city than he ever thought he would be able to.

You looked at him, taking your own slow inhale of the joint. You placed it on the ashtray near the window and took his hand in yours.

“Want to tell me what’s running through that pretty head of hair?”

Steve scoffed before looking down at you. Your eyes were swimming, drowning really, in worry. You kept looking over all of his face before settling back on his eyes. “Steve…” Your voice had gotten softer, and you rubbed your thumb against his hand. “I need you to tell me why you’re here. I promise I’m not mad. I’m actually super relieved that you’re here, if I’m being so truthfully honest Steve. But I know you–I’m actually quite proud of how well I know considering you’re basically a brick wall—Sorry, rambling. But the main point is that you just up and left Hawkins. You traveled halfway across the country for me, and I am so flattered but baby, what’s going on?”

Steve kissed your hand, before reaching back and grabbing the joint. He took another hit of it, enjoying the ambiance of the city surrounding him.

“Steve please talk to me.”

He placed the joint back in the ashtray before placing his hand on your thigh. The sun was getting closer to the horizon, and the temperature was slowly starting to cool, but just enough to make it bearable. If he looked at you, he might just break.

But you weren’t having any of it. You took your free hand and gently guided his chin, subtly forcing him to look at you.

“Steve. I need you to tell me what’s going on or I can’t help.”

“Maybe it’s nothing you can fix.” He rasped out, taking in a gasp of breath. The tears quickly started to build up behind his lash line. And he tried so hard to keep them at bay. He didn’t need to cry in front of you, he didn’t want to cry in front of you. “Fuck. Sorry.” He quickly wiped at his eyes a couple of times, desperately trying to keep it together in front of you.

“Don't apologize when you haven't done a single thing wrong." You quickly grabbed both of his hands and pulled them away from his face. "At least give me the chance to try and help with whatever is going on.”

Steve bit his lip and looked away from you. “It’s so stupid. Fuck. It’s so fucking stupid. I just had this moment.” He started, “I had this moment yesterday and I was in the bathroom and I was just looking. I could see every single fucking thing wrong with me. It’s like I was making some sick fucking list or some shit. And-And I needed to get out so badly. I couldn’t stay in that house. That stupid house. I needed to leave Hawkins. If I stayed I–” He stopped himself, tears rolling down his cheeks, he finally looked at you. Steve took a couple of breaths before finally continuing, focusing on the way your thumb rubbed across his cheek, despite the light stubble adorning his chin. He looked into your eyes, which were patiently waiting for him to continue.

You were looking at Steve as if he were the only thing worth saving in this world. And it's a look he's seen before.

“I needed you. And I just couldn’t wait two weeks for some three day visit where I was barely going to get maybe three hours alone with you. I just–Fuck.” He placed his hands on your wrists, turning his head and kissing the palm of your hand. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m still not sure what you're sorry about Steve.” You smiled sweetly at him, saccharine in every single way possible. He didn’t understand what he had done in the world to possibly deserve someone like you, but he was sure as hell not about to let you go. How could you just sit there and listen to him, and love him so sweetly, when he was so fucked up, inside and out. His body was marred with reminders of everything they had been through. His mind was thoroughly fucked up, and he quite literally runs away from himself and his friends and–

“Steve.”

His eyes refocused on you.

“Why don’t we go inside and lie down. I have a gut feeling you haven’t slept in at least twenty-four hours.” You had managed to move from sitting next to him, to kneeling, all while keeping a hand on his cheek.Your thumb was wiping away any stray tears left over. Your other hand was slowly rubbing your thumb across his thigh, it could not have been the most comfortable of positions but somehow you made it look like it was nothing.

Steve shook his head. “No, no. I’m fine I promise, shit.” He turned away from you, getting up.

“Steven, I am not doing this right now. You ran away from your house, and traveled halfway across the country to come see me. You haven’t slept in a couple of days, clearly. I need you to climb back through that window and change into whatever you need to for sleeping because you are not okay right now, and I’d rather be a little bitchy just to get you in my bed, then sit here while you pull away from the one person you came here to see.”

Steve pursed his lips and looked over at you. “You’re not gonna stop until you get me in your bed are you?” his joke only landed slightly flat as you huffed at him, the ghost of a smile on your face.

“Move it or lose it Harrington.”

He nodded and leaned down to grab the ashtray for you, but you had beat him to it. “You’re getting slow, old man.”

Steve rolled his eyes before opening up the window back into your room, and climbing through it. You followed him through, placing the ashtray on your dresser. You turned around to close the window and the curtains, while Steve just sat on the bed and watch you.

“I know you’re staring at me creep.”

“Can’t help it. Sorry.”

You huffed at his antics before turning around and making your way towards him. Laying down on your bed, you found yourself between his legs, arms wrapped around his neck, hands playing with the edges of his hair. “Steve you are far from perfect–”

“Gee thanks.” He gave you a weird look, but you continued anyway.

“But, let me finish, you are not some fucked up…thing, that can’t be fixed. In fact, you’re not some toy or whatever that is supposed to be fixed. You’re not a shattered figurine in your moms stupid little china cabinet or a bent golf club in your dad’s honestly weirdly large putter collection. You are just someone trying their best to get by and it is enough. Being fixed means there is this ideal of perfect that you have to be, but there is not a stupid goal that you need to always be at Steve. You are absolutely amazing the way you are. You are braver than anyone I’ve ever met. You are sometimes too kind for your own good, constantly giving and giving to others when you have nothing else to give but parts of yourself. And you are one of the most selfless people on this earth. You have sacrificed so much Steve, and that doesn’t make you any less, or make you this broken…thing. It just means that you have lived a life that most people couldn’t even imagine, and you are still more than enough for the people who love and care about you.”

Steve kissed you.

He couldn't say much of anything to show you how much you meant to him.

“I love you.” He muttered against your lips, pulling you tighter against his body as he continued to deepen the kiss, letting his tongue sweep across your bottom lip. Hands roaming across bodies. Soft gasps for air. Neediness pouring out from the both of you.

He need to show you that you how grateful he was.

You couldn’t get enough of his lips. It had only been a few weeks since you had seen him last, kissed him last, but that was just far too long ago. You had been thinking about him while you wandered around your nearly empty apartment. Something felt like it was missing, and with Steve here, kissing you into bliss, the apartment felt full. It felt like everything was where it was supposed to be–always connected to him, giving life to one another. Your body flush against as much as his as you could, hands pushing against his neck, to try and get impossible closer to the boy who holds your heart in his chest with his own.

“I love you too Steve.” You manage out once the both of you part for more than a semblance of breath. He smiled at that and kissed your jaw softly. “I missed you so much babygirl.”

A soft hum left your mouth, enjoying the warmth of his lips as they slowly moved towards your ear, your neck. His hands had made their way to your hips, fingers gently pushing into the soft flesh.

“You have no idea how much I missed having you in my bed every morning.” Lips finding the soft spot behind your ear. “In my car.” He nipped at your ear, earning him a soft exhale that fell from your lips. “On my couch. In the pool.” He started to slowly kiss down your neck, sucking a bit harder in certain spots he had spent so many hours memorizing. “Mostly. I missed coming home, and getting to fall asleep in the same bed as you.” He sucked on the soft spot of your neck, right above your collarbone, and a soft moan tumbled from your lips as he did. You felt the smirk on his lips, but it was quickly replaced with Steve marking your neck, a hickey that would take too much concealer to hide.

“Fuck Steve.” Your body was glued to his, a slow heat rising through your veins. You shifted slightly, trying to squeeze your legs together, get some friction down where you needed it the most. “Please baby.”

Steve blew softly on the mark he just left before kissing back up your neck to your lips. “Please, what, babygirl.”

“Stop being such a tease.” You grumbled, running your hand through his hair, before grabbing some of it and gently tugging, eliciting a throaty moan from Steve’s pretty lips. He fucking loved when you did that. “When am I not?” He bit his lip as the two of you looked at each other.

You shoved his chest just enough to get him sitting back down on the bed, so that you could climb up and straddle the boy. “If you want to be a tease, than I can do the same thing.” You whispered in his ear, earning a strangled sound coming from Steve’s throat.

You slowly rolled your hips, feeling the bulge in his jeans grow larger at the contact. “I can tell how much you missed me Stevie.” There was that fucking nickname again. It had him preening as you rolled your hips again. His hands immediately went to your waist, pushing you down and helping you grind against him.

Your lips made their way to his neck, to his collarbone. “Baby take your shirt off.” You muttered at him, stopping your movements for a second to help him pull it up and over his body. Your hands immediately found their way to his chest, lips crashing back to his, desperate to get your hands all over his body as if you were touch starved, maybe you were. And Steve would completely agree with you. His was just not touching you enough.

One of his hands made it around your waist to your back still guiding the way your clit rubbed against the bulge in his jeans. His other hand went in between the two and he slid it under your shorts.

Your breath hitched and your hips stuttered, losing their rhythm a bit as Steve rolled his middle finger around your clit. He smirked as you closed your eyes and let out a moan, grinding your hips a little harder, starting to ride his fingers, his hand.

“Stevie please.” You mumbled, resting your forehead on his shoulder, letting out another moan as he pushed your underwear to the side, letting the rest of his fingers ghost over your throbbing clit.

“What Babygirl. What do you need? Tell me what you want." He whispered in your ear, slowly pushing two of his fingers further south to feel just how wet you were for him.

“Oh baby…”

You whined at his words.

“I want you t-to touch me Stevie.” You moaned into his ear as he shoved his fingers further down. Your hips jolted as he ran his fingers up your pussy, letting him feel just how wet you were. He brought his hand out from under both of you and you whined again, this time in protest at the loss of his hand.

“Is this all for me, sweet girl.” He squeezed your waist, making you sit up slowly and look at him, grinding a little more desperate now that he pulled his hand away. You watched as he stuck his fingers in his mouth, tasting you. Your jaw opened slightly, and your eyes darkened as he moaned, tasting just how good and sweet you were.

“Fuck Steve. Stop being such a fucking tease.” You barely managed out before you shoved his chest hard enough that he fell backwards onto his elbows on your bed. He looked up at you, eyes blown wide with the thought of fucking you sensless. “Get all the way on the bed Steve.”

Steve, with little to no hesitation scrambled back onto the bed so he was fully laying down across it. His elbows reach your pillows as he barely holds himself up, watching as you eyed the strained denim where his dick was practically screaming to be touched.

Once you had decided he moved far enough away, You took off the yellow crew neck revealing the lack of bra underneath. Steve groaned as your nipples pebbled from the contact to the air, regardless of how warm it was in the apartment. He moved to sit up but you just shoved his chest, and he fell back on his elbows. Your body rolled slightly, unhappy at the loss of contact from Steve, but you wanted something, and you knew that if you asked Steve to get you the moon, he would steal a couple extra stars just in case, which is why you wanted to suck him off before you asked him.

“Baby I wanna taste you.”

Steve’s eyes closed and his breathing became staggered. “U-Uh yea baby, what..um. Whatever you want.”

“I want you to watch me. But..” His heart started beating faster as he felt you palm him over his jeans. He let out a breathy moan. “You can’t touch me.”

Steve’s eyes flew open and as you pulled any of the hair that had fallen in your face, out of it. “W-What. Y/n..”

You kept your hand slowly palming at his bulge as you moved up along his body to kiss hip lips. Your tits ghosted over his chest making him shiver at the faint contact, and making your breath hitch at the way the contact felt on your nipples. “If you don’t touch me baby, You get a prize.” You kissed him softly, a contrast to the way you had been talking to him before. You were asking him to trust you. He kissed back and nodded. “Y-yeah, baby.” He managed out before leaning up on his elbows again, to watch you.

You let your hands rake down his chest, your touch leaving chills down his body, and made his dick jump, causing goosebumps all over his body.

“Fuck gorgeous.”

You smirked up at him before kissing the little line of his V that was peeking out from above his jeans, using one of your hands to pop the button. You managed to pull off his jeans and boxers in one pull, something you bragged about to your friends whenever they asked about your sex life, but that was neither here nor there.

You both watched as his dick sprang free, hitting his stomach. The movement caused Steve to whine a bit. “Baby I’ve got you cumming before I’ve even touched you.” You muttered to him, spitting into your hand before grabbing him.

Steve lifted his hips into your hands, unable to stop himself. “Fuck babygirl.” He exhaled, watching as you licked the precum dripping down his dick. You moved your other hand down to his balls and squeezed them gently in your hand, watching as he tilted his head back and moaned.

“You like that Stevie?” You smirked as he bucked his hips up, trying to resist the urge to fuck himself with your hand. You paused, waiting for him to make eye contact again. Once he managed to gain some semblance of his mind back, he titled his head up, chest rapidly rising and falling, looking into your eyes. The sheer control you had over him just made you hotter than possible.

Slowly, you started moving your hand up and down, watching as he squirmed, trying not to rush you. Eventually, you moved one of your hands up your body and slowly started palming at your own tits. Slowly rolling your nipple between your thumb and pointer finger, moaning at the feeling. Steve was about to lose his fucking mind.

You were getting off watching yourself fuck him.

You smirked at him once he realized what you were doing. “Tell me what to touch next baby.”

Steve moaned loudly, and tilted his head back for a moment, trying to focus on anything other than the feeling of your hand on his dick and your hand on your tits, pleasuring yourself.

“Tell me where to touch next Steve.”

He managed to look back up at you, his hips slowly quickening as you continued to touch your chest. “W-Where do you–fuck princess–where do you want to be-be touched.” His eyes couldn’t leave your form as you licked your lips and slowly kissed down his dick, before slowly licking all the way up it again.

“I wanna see how wet you are.” He managed out before he moaned again. “B-baby I’m not….” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not gonna last much longer if you..”

“I know Stevie.” You cooed as you continued to move your hand up and down his length. “But you’re such a good boy, you’re doing so good for me.”

Steve’s jaw dropped and his chest was rising and falling faster and faster. You were moving just slow enough, teasing just enough, to keep him on the edge.

You let go of him, making him panic and open his eyes. “Baby please, fuck I’m so close pl—” But the words froze in his throat once he watched as you slowly trailed that same hand down your own body and rub your clit with your thumb, letting out a moan, just for him. His mouth went dry as you slowly stuck two fingers into that pretty little cunt of yours, moaning slightly as you did, before pulling them out, covered in your pretty little wetness, just for him.

The sound that left Steves mouth was not human, as he watched you slather yourself around his dick, just to then slowly put him in your mouth, letting him almost bottom out in your throat.

“Oh my god.” He moaned out. “Fuck, baby, fuck I’m gonna–” He cut himself off with a moan as you slowly started to bob on his dick, choking slightly everytime you took him all the way in. You squeezed his thigh softly to let him know it was okay before you moved your hand back to his balls, squeezing them every time he bottomed out in your mouth. The sight alone was enough to make him cum right then and there, but what did him in was the way you kept twisting your tongue around the tip, just making him sensitive enough. You felt his dick twitching as he fucked up into your mouth.

“Baby I–I–, Fuck Baby I’m gonna cu–” His orgasm hit him like a fucking freight train as he came in your mouth. Steve moaned your name loudly in between the rest of the moans he could barely contain. You felt the cum dripping down the back of your throat as you held his hips down, still moving your head, letting him let it all out into your mouth.

Once he had been pushed to the brink of overstimulation, and his dick started to soften, you sat up and slowly crawled over him, raking your eyes over the wreckage you caused. His hands found quickly wrapped around your body and pulled you flush against him. Steve was sure you could hear his heart beating out of his chest. You slowly raked one of your hands through his hair.

You slowly kissed his jaw, waiting for him to come to.

Steve eventually was able to open his eyes, and look down at you. “What’s my prize you fucking deviant.” He managed out, voice still wrecked from the sheer amount of sound that came out while he fucked your mouth. His hands were slowly roaming over your body, touching every inch of you.

You laughed softly and kissed his jaw again as he squeezed your ass with his hand. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you kissed his lips softly.

“You’re fucking beautiful.” he mumbled against your lips, listening as you sighed so prettily.

“Baby if you’re too fucked out, I can save your prize for tomorrow morning.” You whispered against his lips, slowly rubbing your thumb across his pecs, humming as he squeezed your ass again.

“No fucking way because if that’s what I got to earn a prize, then I want the fucking prize.” Pressing you against him, watching as you still squeezed your legs together.

“I want to ride you...”

Steve looked at you, almost cautiously, “Anything you want gorgeo-”

“—Your face.”

A quiet ‘oh’ left his mouth, while a blush spread across your face.

“Don’t get all shy on me now princess.” His hand reach down and tilted your chin up, forcing you to look back at him.

“If you’re sure then who am I to deny such a fucking prize.” He licked his lips, lust blown eyes met yours as you let out the breathe you were holding.

Steve watched as you nodded and lightly tapped against his chest, signaling for him to lay back down. You maneuvered out of your pajama shorts and underwear, tossing them across the room–finding them was a later problem.

Your legs straddled over Steve’s chest, and his hands slowly slid up your thighs, letting his thumbs rub against the soft doughy flesh. Everytime he moved his thumbs up closer and closer, your hips would start to roll ever so slightly.

“Steve…” You sighed out as he kissed up your thigh, before switching to the other one whenever he got too close. Except this time, you couldn’t reprimand him for teasing you, since you were his prize, and he could fuck you seven ways to heaven if he wanted.

Frustration was starting to build up as he kept ghosting his lips over your cunt. Steve watched as your thighs started to shake, your chest heaving up and down, and your hair messily framing the most hypnotizing eyes, watching his every move, begging him to touch her.

Steve could spend the rest of his life worshiping you–your thighs wrapped around his face, kissing up your stomach to reach your lips, leaving hickies spread across your chest like stars. So when he hooked his arms under your thighs, and pulled you down towards his mouth, he felt as if he was in heaven, hearing the yell of excitement leave your lips, quickly replaced with a moan as he slowly licked up your entire cunt. Flicking his tongue around your lip, and feeling your whole body react.

Your hands shot out and clung to the headboard as Steve used his tongue to slowly draw figure eights across your clit.

“Oh my god. Fuck. Steve—Baby please–” You let out a load moan when Steve shoved his tongue up into you, his nose brushing your clit.

Your hips were moving as you began to ride his face. Steve just continued to lap up into you, moaning once he realized you were fucking yourself on his face.

The vibrations ran straight through your body and to your tits. “Fuc-Fuck Stevie Baby.”

Your moans only made his tongue move faster, before he brought one of his hands down and started rubbing your clit with his thumb.

Your orgasm was quickly building in the pit of your stomach. You felt it grow as he moaned again when your thighs started to squeeze his head.

Moans and swears and gasps continued to fall from your mouth as you rode his mouth.

Steve was completely drunk on you, lapping up your wetness as if he was a man starved. The noises you were making were beyond pornographic as he continued to fuck you with his tongue.

“Fuck—Steve, fuck baby. I’m–Can I come Stevie fuck.”

His brain short circuted for a moment as you continued to beg him to let you cum all over his face, make a mess of his lips and chin and chest.

He looked up at you, eyes connecting with his. Just as you did, Steve quickly shifted your hips and sucked on your clit, while rolling it around with his tongue.

It was too much.

You screamed his name as you came all of his face, hips spasming and he continued, pinning you down with his arms, not letting you move away from his mouth. You were the prettiest sight to see, cumming over him, like a goddess.

He shifted slightly and started to fuck up into you with his tongue again, forcing you to start riding his mouth again, nose hitting your clit causing you to moan his name over and over again. Before the first orgasm was even over, the pressure of another one forced its way through your body.

One of your hands flew down into Steve’s hair, yanking on it roughly, causing him to moan into you. Your mouth opened but no sound came out as you gushed into Steve's mouth, pushing through your second orgasm, and him gladly drinking it up.

This time, it was too much and your hips jerked away from his face, and onto his chest, soaking it.

The two of you were panting as your body seized and shuddered, letting the pleasure roll over and over and over until it was bearable enough to look down at steve.

His face glistened with your cum, dripping down his lips—it was the hottest sight you had ever seen.

Neither of you said anything as you sat on his chest, body still shifting everytime another wave of your orgasm hit you, leaking down his chest.

He just slowly placed kisses along your thighs, watching you come down from the intense high, thumb gently rubbing against your hip.

“Don’t look at me..” You manage out quietly, a soft laugh following it.

Steve kissed your thigh again. “Want me to let go of your legs baby?”

“Not yet.” was his answer, and he complied, just watching as you slowly finished coming down.

“Mmmkay.” You whispered and slowly lifted yourself off of his chest, and moved your leg around so you could lay down next to Steve.

Steve sat up quickly, and kissed you, fervently but softly, letting your body relax. His lips didn't leave yours as he slowly finished laying you down.

Eventually steve broke off the kisses and got off the bed to wipe you off his chest.

The second your head hit the pillow, your eyes were closing and sleep was edging closer and closer.

Steve watched as your breaths started to even out and kissed your forehead before wandering off and locating the bathroom. He smiled as he switched on the lights, and the mirror in front of him lit up. He dug through one of the boxes, eventually finding a towel and using it to clean up your messy adventure, but looking at himself in the mirror.

Maybe everything was just the way it was supposed to be, maybe he was fucked up and flawed and his body was wrecked with scars, but—

“Steve?” He heard your voice carry through the apartment, pulling him from his moment.

You watched as he walked back into the bedroom.

“Are you okay?” You had made your way under the covers of your bed, eyes narrowing at his prolonged abscence from your bed.

“I’m okay babygirl. How are you doin’?” He slipped under the covers and pulled you into his chest, arms wrapped snuggly around your back.

Your lips kissed his neck softly before you rested your forehead on his collar.

“If you're just going to keep running to the city to see me." You muttered. "You should move in.”

Steve is sure he misheard you, but when you look up at him with those eyes, he knows you’re dead serious.

Maybe everything was perfectly fine, maybe he was perfectly okay.

“I’d love nothing more babygirl.” He whispered, kissing your forehead, watching as you smiled contently, starting to drift off to sleep.

And suddenly, it was quiet, except for the soft inhale and exhale of your breath. But this time, instead of everything wrong, all he could think about was how right everything was.

And for the first time, in a long time, Steve Harrington was looking forward to what his everything could be.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n fluff #Steve Harrington x reader #x reader #Steve Harrington x reader Drabble #Steve Harrington x reader smut #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington x reader one shot #Steve Harrington Drabble #Steve Harrington one shot

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honey-riley · 4 months ago

Text

Love You To Death || S.R. || 3 || Hello My Old Heart

WARNINGS: PTSD, jealousy, the team getting drunk, hints to DV.

wc: 2.5k

2 || 3 || 4

A/N: Sorry this one took so long to get out. As I said, I had something really traumatic happen, so I took a bit of time away, but I'm doing better now!

The next few days for Simon were a blur — the days felt more comfortable, the nights allowed him to rest peacefully. Simon spent most of his time busying himself, trying to get his mind off of work, and off of her.

That night she came over, she looked so pretty. The way her hair fell around her shoulders, her cute little freckles that dotted her cheeks like stars in the sky, her green eyes that reminded him of a forest on a sunny day with the sun gleaming through the leaves, the subtle dusting of gold spikes in her irises. Her roman nose was strong like her, her oval face shape that framed her features. She didn't really have a slender face, her cheeks were chubby — not overly chubby, but they were cute. She was still just as tiny as she was when he met her of course, standing at four feet, eleven inches — only making it up to his lower shoulder when she stood next to him.

But he couldn't fall for her. It was inappropriate. He was her Lieutenant, and she had a boyfriend.

"Tank. What should I do?" He sighed, rubbing his forehead as he sat in his recliner. Tank blinked up at him, letting out a chirp in response. Simon glanced at his watch, taking in the time. He had to get to work soon.

He got in the shower, letting the hot water cascade from behind, down his shoulders, and down his muscular body. He scolded himself mentally as Honey weaseled her way back into his mind, making his cock twitch.

"Goddammit." He growled under his breath, closing his eyes and leaning his head back, letting the water roll down his forehead. He kept his hands away, not wanting to associate his subordinate with that. She had a boyfriend, and it wasn't him. He didn't want to be hers, he didn't want to be anyones'. He just wanted to be him — not tied down.

He turned so that he was facing the water, rubbing his face, and especially around his eyes, which was a habit that he had gained from rubbing the eye black off of his face.

He washed his hair, face, and body before getting out of the shower, and getting ready for work. He got dressed, got his gear on, put his eye black on, put his mask on, and left.

When he got on base, Honey was still asleep in their shared room. The room was pitch black, and not wanting to bother her, Ghost shut the door behind himself as he came in. He fumbled around in the dark for a moment, trying to find the lamp that sat in the corner of the room. He eventually found it, turning it onto its lowest setting. He glanced over at her, watching as she stirred a little due to the sudden light in the room.

He didn’t bother, turning back to his paperwork that sat on his desk — the paperwork that he still had yet to finish. He let out a long sigh, starting to read through it.

After about twenty minutes of reading, filling out the forms, and signing things, Honey started to wake up. She sat up slowly, rubbing her weary eyes.

“The other day,” Ghost started, keeping his eyes on the paper which he was writing on.

“Pretend like it never happened. You never saw me at the shops, you never came over, none of it, Tailer.” He added, using her last name.

Honey was taken aback a little — she thought that they were on better terms now, but apparently they weren’t. She sat there, watching the back of his head, taking in every detail.

She wanted to ask questions.

She wanted to ask why?

Or what she had done.

But she didn’t. She kept her silence, and though he couldn’t see, she nodded. She got out of her bed and started getting ready for the day. She put her hair in a bun, got her uniform on, and put her socks and boots on.

Meeting with the rest of the team, Honey stood outside, the fresh morning breeze surrounding her. The sky was still and gray — which was average for a British morning, something she had gotten used to. The hums of truck engines and the distant sound of NCO’s barking orders at newer recruits filled the otherwise stagnant air.

“Good ta see ya, lassie. ‘Ow’re ya doin’?” Soap grinned, clapping her on the back.

“Well.” Honey nodded politely with a small smile drawing on her own lips. She glanced back at Soap, her eyes landing on his sapphire blue eyes.

He nodded, taking his hand off of her back. He stood next to her, his chest puffed out slightly, his hands on his hips as he watched the base run like it always did.

“What’s it like in Germany? A’ve been a few times, but never enough to really take in my surroundin’s, yanno?” Soap asked.

“It’s nice. Where I’m from, the architecture is beautiful. It’s um..”

“I don’t know the word in english,” She giggled softly, trying to think. “Rote Ziegelsteingotik (Red brick Gothic)." She added. Soap nodded along, pretending to understand what she said. He didn’t speak a lick of German, but he was starting to pick up on it now that Honey was there.

“Sounds beautiful, Lassie.” Soap smiled. “Jus’ like ya.” He added. Ghost’s neck nearly snapped with how quickly he looked over at Soap, shooting him daggers.

Soap, on the other hand, was blissfully unaware of Ghost’s stare. Honey stood there, noticing the both of them. She cringed inwardly, but nodded with a smile, shoving down the awkwardness that was creeping.

“Thank you.” She said softly, glancing away. Her eyes wandered, watching a few trucks pass by.

“Alright, lets get this show on the road, ‘ey?” Price smiled as he approached the team. Gaz took his spot next to Honey, staying quiet. He offered her a friendly smile, which she returned.

After running five and a half miles with the team, they got breakfast, and Honey was sitting at the end of the table with Soap next to her, Price across from her, Gaz next to Price, and Ghost next to Gaz.

Ghost wanted to be as far away from Honey as possible. He didn’t want anything to do with her, now that he had seen her as a civvy — especially because she had seen him that way too. Simon had been kind to her, repaying her for her own kindness, while Ghost didn’t want anything to do with her.

It was like a switch had been flipped, as soon as he put on his mask, he was Ghost. He was different. He was a war machine, he was intimidating, mean. And he wanted it that way, but he also never wanted anyone to see Simon ever again.

When he was Simon, he felt vulnerable, and he was kind and caring, like a little boy again. The boy that was beaten and treated as less than valuable his entire life — less than a person, less than alive, so he became a Ghost. Separating the two, and shunning Simon away. Simon never wanted anyone to go through what he did, but Ghost wanted everyone to go through it.

Later that night, the team went out for drinks to celebrate their last win against Makarov. It was definitely one for the books, and now that they had time to do it, that’s what they were going to do. Get absolutely hammered.

Honey could drink— and she was keeping drinks down well. She sat at the bar with Soap, drinking her third glass of Jägermeister on the rocks.

“Lass, that’s fuckin’ disgustin’.” Soap chuckled, shaking his head.

“I’m German.” She shrugged with a giggle. He shook his head for a second time, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. Ghost sat at the end of the bar, as far away as possible. He was nursing a glass of Jack Daniels, neat.

‘Nothing forces a man to face his feelings for a woman more than the interest of another man.’

His eyes lingered on the two, maybe he was protective, but he didn’t want to care. She had a boyfriend —who was a piece of shit— and she seemed comfortable with Soap. He lifted his mask a little, taking a sip off of his drink before putting his mask down.

Honey caught sight of the lower half of his face, mentally trying to piece together what he looked like under there.

He had a sharp nose, sharp eyes, sharp jawline, soft lips that were slightly pouted, and glasgow smile scars. They arched up from the corners of his mouth and all the way to just under his cheekbone. Honey couldn’t see the end of it, but she knew they had to be pretty long.

Glasgow smiles were acquired from being tortured— the assailant would slice the edges of your mouth and make you scream, either by kicking, stabbing, whatever it be, they would make you scream, which would in turn rip the wound open. And to know that he went through it and survived sent a chill down her spine.

She looked back down at her drink, taking a long sip. “I’m gonna need a few more of these.” She giggled. “Maybe tequila.” She added, nudging Soap, who chuckled in return. He ordered her drink, and she traded her old glass for the tequila, which she nearly chugged. She stuck her tongue out, shaking her head, trying to get the flavor off of her tongue. “Christ.” She giggled, her eyes narrowed in disgust. Price chuckled next to her, patting her back.

A few hours later, Honey was hammered, and stumbling around everywhere. She had been drinking all night, and she wasn’t drinking lightly. Ghost went out to have a cigarette, and Honey stumbled out of the pub a minute later, unaware that he was there. She plopped down on the concrete, digging in her pocket for her cigarettes. She pulled one out, putting it to her lips and drunkenly lighting it, nearly missing her cigarette.

She took a long hit, letting the smoke fill her lungs. Ghost glanced over at her, his arms crossed with his own cigarette between his fingers. She glanced up at him, her eyes lighting up.

“Hiii!” She smiled, happy to see him. He gave her a curt nod, glancing away, watching the road. She scrambled to her feet, coming over to him. He looked back down at her, his brow arching as he tried to decipher why she was there.

“Sooooo, howave you been?” She slurred, looking up at him with a big grin. He couldn’t tell if her cheeks were flushed because of the alcohol or him. He gave a grunt in response, looking away.

“You need to go home. You’re drunk.” Ghost replied. “Don’t have a rideeee.” She whined, taking another drag off of her cigarette, letting the smoke out after a second.

“I’ll give you one.” He replied, looking back down at her. He wasn’t drunk, he had only nursed his Jack Daniels all night, but that was it. She nodded, leaning back against the brick wall. He unlocked his car, pointing to it as the headlights flashed for a second. “Go sit in there. I’ll be back in a minute.” He grumbled, putting out his cigarette and going back in the bar.

Honey went over to his car, getting into the passenger seat. She sat there, glancing around his car, taking it in. It smelled like him — the smell that she remembered from his house. Cigarettes, whiskey, vanilla, sandalwood, and a hint of cinnamon. She leaned back in her seat, buckling up and resting her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes as the world spun around her.

It was a 2023 Aston Martin DBS 770 Ultimate Volante in Ultramarine Black, a luxury car. She opened her eyes and glanced around, taking in the size of it. There was no way that that man could fit in here.

He was 6’4”, muscular, and over all, big. She watched as he came back out, walking back to the car. He opened the driver’s side door, sinking down into his seat. His knees nearly touched the steering wheel, making Honey giggle.

“Du bist zu groß (You’re too big).” She giggled, letting her head lazily lull to the side.

“Huh?” Ghost grunted, his brow furrowing. He didn’t speak German, and apparently nobody on the team did, except for her.

“I said, you’re too big for this car.” She smiled, her grin lopsided from the alcohol.

“You’d be surprised to see how hard it is to find a car that can fit me.” He murmured, starting the engine.

The rest of the drive to Honey’s house was silent, and when they got there, Ben was sitting on the porch, waiting for her to come home like some kind of predator. He sat there, watching as the car pulled up, his eyes narrowing. He leaned back in his chair, sinking back into the shadows.

Simon got out of the driver’s seat, coming around to the passenger side. He opened the door for her, letting her out. He gently took her tiny hand in his, carefully pulling her to her feet. Simon glanced around, checking their surroundings before leading her up to the front gate. Ben stood up, making Simon’s eyes shoot up. He gently let go of Honey, not wanting to piss Ben off — but it was too late for that.

Ben stormed up to the gate, grabbing Honey by the arm. She looked up at him, her eyes wide.

“Get in here, now.” Ben growled, opening the gate and nearly throwing Honey through it.

“Ben!” She gasped, clinging to him for some sort of balance. She was hammered, couldn’t walk straight if her life depended on it, and Ben was throwing her around like she was nothing. Simon stood there, the look in his eyes changing for a moment, but he didn’t know what to do. He stood there, his eyes distant as he remembered what it was like to be ripped around like that. What it was like to feel like you weighed nothing, and not in a good way.

He took her inside before Simon even realized, and he stood there. Remembering.

His father’s handprints burned into his skin, like an old wound bubbling up again. The thought of it made his stomach churn. He couldn’t let this happen to Honey, but it was too late. She was already inside, the door was already locked, and he was standing there like an idiot. Knowing that she was drunk and possibly defenseless made him feel so sick.

He glanced back at his car, debating on whether he should leave or stay. What could he do if he stayed? He couldn’t just barge in and say ‘oh, hey, that’s not right’, but he couldn’t leave her like that either. She could be hurt, or worse. He didn’t want to think about it, but the thought wouldn’t leave his mind.

They were part of a family now, tight knit. And though Ghost didn’t like her, he was still a decent human being. He wouldn’t let her suffer, right?

Right?

46 notes · View notes

alkaline-wtr · 7 months ago

Text

WE WILL SURVIVE

- - CHAPTER 3 - -

Graves x reader Description: Reader makes an unexpected new friend and makes it through the city. Genre/Warnings: zombie apocalypse AU, Graves x reader, Ghost x fem!reader, survivor!reader,angst, gore, violence, explicit language, weapons, mentions of death WC: 4.5k

My Masterlist

** I FINALLY DID IT!! I pulled an all-nighter to finish this! I'd like to first apologize for this chapter taking SO long... I honestly couldn't get my ideas straight but 4 rewrites later and I'm actually pretty proud of it. I was worried about this chapter being too long but I decided I'd rather it be long and decent than rushed and awful. This one is more of a filler chapter to give some more context and backstory but I wanted it to still be entertaining. Also, this IS still a Ghost x reader! Don't worry! He's just going through some stuff ya know? Lastly, to the Graves haters!! as a former Graves hater myself, I encourage you all to give the man a chance because writing this chapter single-handedly changed my mind about him. Anyways, strap in it's a long one. Hopefully, the wait was worth it. I can finally sleep! Enjoy. PS: if you'd like to be added/removed from the taglist please let me know.

<< PART 1 << PART 2

You kept your eyes down, hugging the flashlight to your chest. The fear in your body caused you to tremble. The last time you had been face to face with someone on a road, you almost died, and this time, Ghost wasn't here to bail you out.

"Well, what do we have here?"

The stranger spoke in an enthusiastic tone. You looked at the toe of his boot nervously.

"Come on, sweetheart. Get off the ground."

The sound of your racing heartbeat filled your ears as you allowed your eyes to wander upward. The barrel of a rifle was inches from your nose, aimed at the asphalt below. It was relieving to know that the man wasn't actively threatening you. You took that to be a good sign.

The beam of light in your face was too bright to see the person's features.

Getting impatient with your silence, the man lowers the flashlight.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

His tone of voice suggested that he was annoyed with your reaction.

You slowly pull yourself to your feet. He seemed to be of an average height, taller than you. The man was blonde and had a fair complexion.

"What's your name?"

He raised an eyebrow. His tone remained almost lighthearted as if none of this had phased him.

"Y/n."

Your response is cautious. You kept your voice low. Your eyes searched him for any movement. The feeling in your gut was uncertain. He seemed authoritative yet approachable... possibly unpredictable.

"Well y/n, you're welcome. It seems I saved your ass back there."

The man's demeanor was cocky, and he was a bit full of himself. He swings the strap of his rifle over his shoulder and puts out a hand for you to shake.

Something about his personality seemed intense. You hesitated to offer your hand but when you did, he gripped it firmly, pulling your wrist down briefly in a simple shake.

"Names Phillip Graves. You alone?"

You nodded eyeing the gun on his back. Phillip flashed a charming smile.

"Where are you headed to?"

He seemed to be full of questions, you couldn't quite decipher whether that was good or bad.

Unfortunately, he was the only other person around and didn't seem to immediately want to kill you. Something within you told you to give him a chance, it's not like you had options.

"I was just trying to make my way through the city." You admitted.

Phillip nods posing his hands on his hips.

"That's bold, for someone alone, especially of your... stature."

You couldn't help but glance down at yourself a little offended.

"I just mean, you don't seem to be the survivalist type." He adds.

You brush off the comment and change the subject.

"Are you alone too?"

You question. His bright smile returns, making his blue eyes crinkle at the edges.

"Been solo for quite a bit now. Although, Maybe that has changed."

It came out more as a statement than a question. He was arrogant and as much as his cocky attitude irritated you, you weren't going to turn down the company. Unfortunately, he was right you weren't the survivalist type.

You sat atop a large pickup truck. Your legs crossed beneath you. Phillip had called it 'keeping watch' but you thought he just wanted you out of the way.

You rested your hands on your ankles. Phillip is kneeling on the driver's side of the car trying to get the truck to start.

Breathing out a bored sigh you lean over the edge of the roof to check on his progress.

"Any luck?"

The blonde man leans back resting an arm on his bent knee.

"Afraid not."

He groans stretching as he stands back up Brushing his hands together to knock off any dirt.

"Looks like we'll have to walk."

Glancing up at you, his hands coming up to rest comfortably on his hips.

"Where to?"

A hint of confusion and curiosity in your voice.

Phillip waved his hand in a gesture that said to come down.

You stretched your legs out sliding your backside down until your shoes hit the bed of the truck. His hand pressed gently against your back steadying you as you climbed out.

"Well, I wouldn't mind heading into the city. It's more dangerous, but I know a place we can find some real firepower."

The idea gave you a bad feeling. Even though that had been the original plan, going through the city was the last thing you wanted to do. Now with Phillip around to watch your back, you felt no need to chase after Ghost anymore.

You continue to think for a moment. A trip through the city wasn't the worst idea, considering your lack of supplies. Slowly, you nod in a hesitant agreement.

"Okay, I guess that could work." Unsure of your response.

"Great! We can head out in the morning. It would be too dark right now."

Phillip shuts the door and walks to the back letting down the tailgate. He sits down, letting his legs hang off the side and pulls the rifle around to his lap. You watch him for a moment. He seemed content.

"How long have you been on your own?"

You question. Phillip turns to look at you. Surprisingly, the smile doesn't leave his face, but you could see the disappointment in his eyes.

"Ah, I don't know exactly..."

He sighs and turns to face forward again as if thinking how to continue. You join him on the tailgate, pulling your legs up and tucking them underneath you.

"I had a group, some people I've known for a long time but... they left me behind. Although, they had good reason."

His shoulders fall in a dismissive shrug.

Curiously, you wanted to push the subject further but before you could ask more, he changed the subject.

"Well, you better get some sleep... I'll be lookout."

His eyes meet yours in a way that told you it hadn't been a suggestion. Scooting yourself deeper into the truck bed, you shrug your backpack off your shoulders and use it as a pillow. It took a moment to adjust to a comfortable position. You lay back with a sigh.

In your line of sight was the mess of short blonde hair on the back of Phillips's head.

"Goodnight." You spoke.

The words were soft and laced with nervousness. Worried about trusting a stranger while you slept but even more worried, he'd be gone when you woke up.

Phillip doesn't respond but you can see his slight nod of acknowledgment before closing your eyes.

The orange sun lit up the cool morning. It had only been a few miles of walking to reach the exit ramp that brought you directly into the city. The large buildings towering above you were nearly in ruins, windows broken, areas were burnt, and the streets were littered with shrapnel. You make your descent on the ramp. There is a row of tire spikes you have to step over and cones blocking the lanes.

You'd remembered the news reports back in the small towns warning not to enter the cities. For days the gruesome news reports showed the traffic on the highways, and the bodies of those infected lining the streets but, this had been the first time since the outbreak began three months ago, that you had seen it all firsthand.

The smell of morning dew wafted through the air as Phillip led you under an overpass. You looked on in awe at the grim scene ahead.

"Come on. We're almost there."

Phillip stated, eyes scanning to make sure it was clear for you to cross the street.

The two of you continued deeper into the city. Finally, reaching a chain-link fence.

"What is this place?" You asked.

He had gone closer to the fence and checked its stability.

"It's a military camp."

He answers, turning to you.

"They had troops set up in the cities to try and minimize the spread."

He gestures for you to come over.

"We're going to climb the fence. You first."

As you approach, he pulls your bag down your shoulders. Phillip tosses it over the fence and helps boost you up.

Perched at the top of the fence. You take a moment to look out over the camp, some of the infected were wandering around at the far end. Fear filled you like a hunger in your stomach as you continued down quietly.

Phillip tossed his own bag to the other side of the fence and leaned the rifle over the top for you to grab. You take it in your hands, watching over your shoulder cautiously as you wait for him to climb.

The thud of boots hit the pavement beside you and Phillip pulls the riffle from your palms.

"Let's go."

He leads you quietly to a large green tent. Following closely, your gaze lingered on Phillips's back. Taking in the sight of his cautious stance as he crept forward. Much like Ghost, he had great awareness.

You shuffle quietly under the tarp it is more humid underneath than you'd expected. Both of you split up within the tent in search of supplies.

The tent was lined with cots. Small metal chests rest at the ends. Some were stripped completely of their blankets, and some even missing mattresses. One cot had a duffle bag on it. It was empty besides a couple pairs of socks and a tee shirt.

You dump the clothes out and take the bag moving to the next bed. Stepping cautiously with your heels to stay silent.

Phillip finishes searching his half and comes over to see what you had.

"Just this and a pocketknife."

You respond holding up the duffle bag. He nods,

"Found this,"

He holds up a couple of half-empty bottles of water.

You frown.

"There isn't much here, maybe someone beat us to it?"

Phillip shakes his head. The wrinkles in his face stood out with the furrow of his brow.

"That isn't likely... Let's check the other tents they'll have better stuff."

You follow him down to the entrance of the tent. As you pass a cot at the end of the row you feel a tug at your ankle.

The shock sent you to the ground with a gasp. Snarling sounds grow louder as a corpse crawls out from under the cot. You turn yourself around trying to back to your feet but the corpse's grip is stronger than anticipated.

He pulls you a bit closer sending you flat on your stomach. You grunt as you use all your force to try and kick him away, but the angle of your body puts you at a disadvantage.

Phillip reappears at the entrance concerned when you aren't behind him.

"Shit, Y/n!"

He runs over pulling the rifle off his shoulder and using the blunt end to smash the corpse's head. The cracking sound of the skull makes you cringe. His grip loosens and you're able to scramble backward. Phillip hits him a couple more times making sure it's completely limp before helping you up.

"You okay?"

You rise back to your feet with a huff.

"Yeah, let's just finish searching and get the hell out of here."

Phillip pats your back before leading the both of you back out of the tent. You take in the site of the ravished camp. Tents littered with bullet holes, blood coating the entrances, and a circle of chairs around an ashy fire pit where a couple of bodies lay. The whole sight was gruesome, and the horrific scene was only intensified by the silence.

Phillip marches forward stabbing a blade into the back of a corpse's head. Another comes from the tent to his side, and he turns taking it out too.

You still couldn't fathom how people were just okay Killing so instinctively.

Phillip turns to you gesturing you to keep following.

The tent containing food was by far the worst. It smelled awful. Between rotten produce, decaying bodies, and moldy bread. It was the equivalent of a dumpster in the hot sun. You covered your nose to keep yourself from retching. Phillip however, didn't seem to be affected by the smell. You tiptoe passed an overturned table. Buzzing flies cut through the silence as they swarm a mess of bodies.

The two of you searched the entire tent from top to bottom, coming out of it with a few varying cans, a couple more bottles of water, and a handful of MRE packages.

The rest of the camp was pretty much the same. Infected wandering about, a few water bottles, lots of blood, and not much else. It wasn't until you reached an arsenal that Phillips's eyes lit up.

"Jackpot!"

He drops his bag on the ground stepping further inside to inspect the weaponry.

"I wasn't sure how much would be left here."

The tent had been looted to some capacity but, there was still plenty here to arm ourselves with. As he held a rifle looking down the scope and checking the magazine you turned to look inside a crate. You lifted the wooden top to peek inside startled when Phillips's alarming voice called out.

"CARFUL Y/N! Those are explosives. Don't touch anything!"

Suddenly you weren't feeling very secure, the thought of being surrounded by crates of explosives that could all go off and kill you at any moment... was unsettling, to say the least.

You heed Phillips's warning and stay still in the middle of the tent.

A pair of camo pants fall in front of you. Phillip had tossed them at your feet.

"Put those on." He commanded.

You raise an eyebrow glancing from the cargo pants up to him,

"What? Here?"

"I won't look. Just put them on."

He insisted, turning his back to you completely while he continued to check out the crates. You undo the button of your jeans and pull them off before slipping into the camo pants. They were a bit too large for you.

Phillip turns again without a word. Looking down at a pair of combat boots.

"These too."

He hands you the boots. You were hesitant to replace your sneakers. However, you knew the worn soles wouldn't last much longer with all the walking you'd been doing.

"Take this," Phillip says.

As you finish lacing up the boots, he turns to you, handing you a large rifle similar to the one strapped to his back. You shake your head holding it out an arm's length away from your body. Phillip had already turned away to grab another gun.

"Uh... No, I don't think I should have something like this."

Phillip ignores the remark as he picks out a couple more things from the arsenal. He walks back to you chuckling at your awkward resistance to holding the weapon.

He takes it back and props it against a stack of crates.

"Relax. You shouldn't be afraid of a gun in your own hand. Besides, if you're going to survive in this world you're going to need them."

You try to counter but, Phillip raises his hand signaling you to stay quiet, and kneels in front of you.

"Lift your arms."

You put your arms out to your side watching as Phillip wraps a black belt around your hips. The belt had sandy-colored straps attached to it. With a thick plastic holster slot for a handgun.

"Widen your stance a bit."

You step out, jumping a bit when you feel Phillips's hands on your inner thigh. He buckles the holster around your leg before moving his hands down to cuff the ends of the pants above your boots. His touch is light.

His rough hands begin working away at your boots, tying them tightly and wrapping the laces around the top before tucking the remaining strands against your ankles.

You clear your throat nervously as Phillip stands back up.

"Lookin' good!"

He smiles proudly. His hands rested again on his hips.

"How does it feel?"

You turn your leg a bit as you look down at the military get-up.

"Weird," you reply.

Phillip chuckles and walks back over to the crates.

"You'll get used to it. These will be much more efficient than jeans."

He walks back over holding a large knife covered by a leather sleeve. He reaches down to attach it to your belt opposite the gun holster.

"Now let's look over what we've got."

He grabs your backpack and turns it over kneeling to rummage through your belongings.

He looks over the pistol Ghost had given you.

"Didn't take you for a gun owner," he says setting it to the side.

"Oh... I uh- I'm not. I found it."

Your thoughts wandered back to your fight with Ghost. You still felt guilty about driving him away but, look at how Phillip had been helping. You thought. Maybe it was for the best that Ghost left.

You watch as Phillip splits the food and water rations, moving everything to a tan tactical backpack he'd found. The unnecessary items, like the dim flashlights, and the hammer you'd collected were left in a pile on the ground.

He packed the duffle bag you'd taken from the tent for himself, filling it with ammo, extra weapons, and other equipment.

With his hand outstretched he hands you your new bag. You pull it on over your shoulders, fiddling with the little buckle on the front clicking it over your chest. Admittedly, you felt pretty cool being geared up with all this military equipment.

Phillip straps on his own holster, looking over a pistol before slotting it on his thigh. He steps in front of you holding the pistol from your bag. He had a box of ammo tucked under his arm as he clicked the magazine into place flipping the safety on.

He reaches down to slide it into your holster and steps back placing the box of ammo in your hands.

"If you're going to keep guns on you, Then, you're going to need to learn to shoot."

Your eyes widen in surprise as Phillip throws the duffle bag over his shoulder and grabs two identical riffles.

"What? I- I don't know if-"

Phillip holds his hand up to silence you again.

"Don't worry. I'm going to teach you. Here."

He hands you the rifle once again and heads out of the tent. You hesitate to follow, eyeing the little black flashlight Phillip had left out of your bag.

Something inside you couldn't bear to leave behind Ghost's flashlight. Even though it wasn't necessary now with all the new stuff Phillip had gathered, you decided to take it anyway. Opening one of the velcro pockets of the cargo pants, you place the flashlight securely inside.

The afternoon sun was high in the sky as you leaned over the ledge of an apartment building. The rooftop looked out over the city streets littered with infected. You watched them wander below as Phillip prepared your rifle.

"You ready?" He asks.

You step away from the edge taking the rifle from his hand.

"Do I really need to do this?"

You'd been nervous about this idea. You'd never been a big fan of guns and since the outbreak, you'd gotten by just on your ability to run and hide. You hadn't had to kill anyone or anything so far and weren't ready for that to change.

Phillip stands behind you, positioning your arms to hold the rifle properly against your shoulder.

"Now, always remember... The gun has some kickback. So, keep steady. Watch where you hold it on your shoulder you don't want to hurt yourself. Only aim the barrel with the intent to kill and finger off the trigger unless you plan to shoot. Got it?"

You nod and Phillip steps to the side crossing his arms over his chest.

"Alright, keep your finger off the trigger for now and get a feel for aiming. Look down your sight and line up your crosshair with their heads."

Phillips's instructions were clear but, you were left with so many questions about his life before the outbreak.

"Focus. You want to always aim for the head. Every second counts... Making that a habit will save you one day."

You take a deep breath tightening your grip on the rifle and tilting your head to look down the sight as Phillip had instructed. The movement is slow as you scan the street, trying to line up the cross hair with the head of one of the corpses.

After a few moments of practicing your aim, Phillip gives his next instruction.

"Okay, next I want you to line up your crosshair just like that, but this time pull the trigger."

Your heart pounded in your ears, you were not fond of the idea, to begin with, and now you'd have to do it. Finally, you would have to take a life... Even though you knew the infected were dangerous and no longer human, it didn't sit right with you. They used to be normal people just like you. What would be left if not your humanity?

Phillip waited patiently as you built up your courage, taking in deep breaths to calm your nerves. You scan the crowd again. Your crosshair stopped on the forehead of a woman. You watched her shuffling forward. Her colorless eyes looked straight ahead.

It took all your strength to pull back the trigger. The attached suppressor stifled the loud bang you'd otherwise expected to hear.

You were jolted backward. You'd missed your shot at the woman and gunpowder filled the space beneath your nose. Letting out a loud gasp you let your arms fall from their position, gripping the rifle tightly at your waist.

"It's okay," Phillip reassures.

"Try again, keep your stance tight. You'll need to put a bit of strength in it."

You nod, taking a few more deep breaths to calm your racing pulse.

Raising the rifle again you steady your feet aiming down the rifle once more. Slowly scanning, looking for the same woman as before. Once your crosshair lands on her, you take another deep breath and brace yourself for the impact.

Your finger squeezes the trigger. The bullet whizzes through the air landing on your target.

The woman's lifeless body drops to the cement. Adrenaline fills your veins and guilt settles in your stomach. It was a conflict of emotions, excited that you'd succeeded but sad that you'd shot a person.

Phillips' encouraging words broke you from your thoughts.

"Yes! Great job Y/N! Do exactly that. Go again."

The night settled over the city. An orange light illuminated the space around you as you watched the roaring flames of the crackling fire. Phillip had decided it was best to spend the night up here after a long session of gun training.

"You did a good job,"

Phillip says, sitting down across from you.

"You'll need a bit of practice, but I think you've got the hang of the basics."

Although encouraging, you couldn't push away the dreadful ache of guilt in your chest.

"That was the first time I'd ever had to kill one."

You speak up with a sad smile.

"Well..."

Phillip pauses, he gives you a look of understanding.

"I know it's hard... but sometimes we have to make those tough choices if we want to survive."

You thought back to Ghost again. Was his choice to leave you hard for him? Did he think he wouldn't survive if he stuck around?

"Phillip?"

You ask, almost hesitant to finish your question,

"How did you know about all of this?"

Phillip assumed you were referring to the guns and military camp.

"I was in the military... Before all this."

The answer hadn't exactly surprised you.

"The group you were with... Were they from the camp?"

He avoided eye contact with you deciding whether or not to answer you.

"No."

The answer was short and simple like he was holding back.

"But... back at the camp, you'd said that you weren't sure how much of the equipment would still be there. Does that mean you'd been there before?"

He sighed, it was obvious your curiosity had struck a nerve with him.

"Let's just say... I was in the city when it fell. It's not something I'd like to relive so, leave it at that... yeah?"

You had a lot more questions for him but, it didn't feel like a good time to push. So, instead, you changed the subject.

"Thank you."

Confused, Phillip raised his head looking at you over the fire.

"Without all your help... I probably wouldn't have made it today."

Phillip flashes one of his charming smiles. You were glad to see that he cheered up so quickly. He looked prideful even. Evidently, your thanks hadn't gone unappreciated.

"We all need help from time to time. It's like they say... Strength in numbers."

He explains. You smile back before letting your gaze fall. That rule may apply to all but Ghost. You thought.

PART 3.5 (optional) >> PART 4 >>

Tag list

@yourfavbabigirl @keiraslayz @dcnocap207 @dustycrusty09 @ihavetwoholesforareason

#cod au #zombie apocalypse au #cw: gore #graves x reader #ghost x female reader #mw2 fanfic #graves x female reader #phillip graves #cod x reader #cod fanfic #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw3 #alkaline writes #☑️mstlst

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shanastoryteller · 2 years ago

Note

Happy Holidays Shana! Fem!MXY!WWX has infected my brain! More of that, please?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Wei Wuxian has the deafening talisman on his chest and a blindfold wrapped tightly around his face and held together with a different talisman so he doesn’t have to worry about it slipping. He leaves his sword sheathed for now – it wouldn’t do well to start out too strong.

He stands, loose and easy, but nothing happens. He huffs. “I really will punish you if you refuse to help me. I am your superior. Don’t overthink it, just do as you’re told.”

Rich advice, coming from him, but they don’t know that.

He feels the air move to his left and he lifts his hand, grabbing a slim wrist and twisting it so she has to let go of her sword. He yanks her forward, thinking of the moves he used to drill Shijie in, and pulls her over his shoulder and slams her to the ground.

He pops upright, bracing himself for the next attacks, but none come.

This is getting annoying.

“I’ll tell you when to stop,” he says. “Until I say otherwise, keep coming up at me. I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough.”

This time he feels their footsteps through the ground. Lazy. What, are they stomping? That has to be a funny image at least. He raises his sheathed sword to stop one attack, while kicking out his leg towards his other attacker. He aims too high, hitting meaty thigh instead of fragile knees, and has to throw himself on the ground to avoid the next attack. That does mean he’s low enough to yank their feet out from under them and then he rolls around just in time to avoid the attack that he’s pretty sure was coming from behind, which means his two opponents should have just taken themselves out.

“Someone remind me to assign footwork lessons after this,” he says. He’s just going to assume someone answers in the affirmative. They are Lans.

More come, two more sets of two before they figure out that’s not going to work, and then they’re attacking in groups of three and four. That’s when he stops being able to dodge every hit, but it’s also when his mind quiets. Everything slows down and he feels his lung expand, the sweaty grip he has on his sword sheath, and the growing collection of throbbing wounds across his body. He almost unsheathes his sword a dozen times, but this is good, he can almost feel his core straining and fighting against the confines of his body.

Finally. This is what he wanted. It’s not about thinking, fighting like this, just reacting, just trusting his borrowed body to notice things in time to react to them. It’s been close to an hour, his breaths are coming out more as wheezes, he’s at least twisted an ankle and possibly broken a rib, and he has some sort of head wound that’s causing blood to soak into his blindfold. It’s miserable and painful and not something this body is trained to handle, but he’s endured worse for longer. At last none of the Lans are trying to eat him.

Suddenly it all stops. He widens his stance, holding up his sword sheathe defensively, but nothing happens. “I didn’t stay stop,” he croaks. “Do as you’re told. Attack.”

The moment stretches on long enough that he’s getting genuinely annoyed about it when he’s throwing himself to the side, only realizing why when he feels the reverberation of a powerful cultivation blade hitting the ground next to him.

They’ve called in reinforcements, it seems. Maybe one of the elders? Fair enough, honestly.

Wei Wuxian unsheathes his sword, meeting the next blow more on a guess than anything else. The strength behind it is enough to send him skittering back several feet, but he doesn’t let his grip slip an inch. Then they’re pushing away from each other and he’s meeting the next blow based on what he would do, which probably isn’t fair to this random Lan elder, but oddly enough it works.

Every blow is powerful enough to make his bones shake and his opponent is skilled enough that Wei Wuxian can barely sense the air moving until it’s almost too late. His few minutes fighting this person are harder than the past hour of standing against disciples, but Wei Wuxian learned a long time ago how to compartmentalize his pain to keep fighting.

Doing this is making him stronger. He needs to be stronger to figure out what Mo Xuanyu wanted him to do. Mo Xuanyu killed herself to get his help. He can’t disappoint her.

He can’t give in.

New energy surges through him, bright and searing, painful even in its usefulness. He doesn’t let himself think about it, instead he pushes through, uses it to put his opponent on the defensive for once. Their fight is flowing faster, almost as if it’s a pattern, like they’re dancing instead of fighting.

Wei Wuxian feels a cool blade against his throat right as rests the edge of his sword on his opponent’s shoulder, flush against their neck.

A draw. Better than he’d expected, given his current physical condition.

His opponent doesn’t lower their sword, so he doesn’t either, but he does release the talismans with a burst of cultivation energy. At first he thinks it doesn’t work because everything is still so silent, but then he can hear the harshness of his own breathing and his blindfold slips off his face.

Lan Zhan is standing there, his sword at his throat, and his face pale and eyes wide. He’s hit with a dizzying sense of déjà vu. It’s like they’re fifteen again, on that rooftop with two bottles of Emperor’s smile dangling between them and the bright, fat moon hanging above.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan asks, his voice coming out too high and strangled.

This can’t be happening. He can’t know. He’ll hate him and throw him out if he doesn’t kill him outright and then Mo Xuanyu will have died for nothing and Sizhui will be so said and he won’t understand – and what if his siblings find out, that’s the last thing he wants –

He keeps his voice steady and face even as he asks, “Who is Wei Ying?”

Lan Zhan’s face shuts down. “I – please excuse me, Xuanyu.” He lowers his sword, turning and doing the closest thing to running away that Wei Wuxian has seen him do since they were teenagers.

All the Lans are staring at him and gaping. The adrenaline leaves him all at once and he collapses to the ground, his legs refusing to support him.

He groans and then several dozen Lans converge on him, multiple concerned shouts of, “Madame Lan!” nearly deafening him all over again.

It’s kind of nice, actually.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #math-is-magic #untamed #i feel like we need a non-wwx pov of this for full effect

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villainofmyownstory · 5 months ago

Text

Blindsided

-> part 2 Anyone else

For @the-californicationist's “Cali’s Nameless Challenge” writing challenge!

summary: You can't get over the breakup and the fact that you were left alone. You keep coming to the place where you last saw him. To, perhaps, finally get some kind of answer. Some solace.

tags: afab reader, hurt, angst, ex lovers, recollection of death, ambiguous/open ending??

520 words

author's note: Cali, congratulations on reaching 500k on ao3! I wish you many, many more hundreds of words written, you are doing a great job! I hope you enjoy it <3

Inspired by the song Blindsided by Bilmuri, the lyrics are italicized and indented

Don't forget to leave a comment guessing who the nameless one might be!

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

You're standing on a flat, dark ground. With evenly trimmed grass. You stare at a straight row of stone, light-granite memorials. You spend another autumn afternoon in the same way. Standing huddled, already on the beaten ground. In front of, it would seem, the same headstone as the hundreds here. A row of letters and numbers blending together. Actually meaning nothing. Fake names, made-up dates. Maybe it wasn't the first time.

Was it even ever real?

There were never tears in your eyes. Not even before. Long before. Because, how could you ever cry for someone who didn't exist.

Were you always a liar?

No flowers, no lit candle. No personal item. Emptiness. Simplicity. All in all, such as his life was. Or maybe he was just pretending.

''It's nothing personal. Shit was never real, babe''

Rubbing your tired eyes, you pay no attention to your surroundings. In this foreign country, in no man's land. Among the slowly falling colorful leaves. Another miserable day. Sacrificing everything for one big lie.

I'm not saying I was perfect Why do I deserve this?

Finally, in a fit of another wave of anger at this figure seemingly lying a few feet below your feet, you seize in rage, to remove the gold adorning your finger. Maybe by the cold, or maybe by months of drowning sorrows. The ring refuses to move an inch on your finger. Another blow of cold wind. Shivers appearing on your body. The same ones that probably appeared that April night, when you opened your eyes and he slept by your side as if nothing ever happened. And finally looking at his face, tired after another mission, on which, with each return, more wrinkles and scars appeared. You were beginning to understand this farce, this game he was playing with you, probably from the very beginning.

Did your heart get colder? Did I ever make you feel when your head was on my shoulder?

You should then ask him, pestering him with questions, about telling the truth. When you finally, after many weeks, noticed the absence of that symbol of the vow you both made on his finger.

Make it clear when you forgot that ring Did it weigh down on your hand?

Standing in the cemetery, once again. With so many unanswered questions. He wasn't even buried in his homeland. None of his relatives showed up, except his teammates and a few friends. And you. It was so strange. Nothing made sense about it. That feeling you gave him was buried in that grave. Maybe his body wasn't there. But your heart was there. Definitely.

You left without a word Just to make it hurt

If you hadn't been so immersed in your thoughts, in asking him unspoken questions and shouting resentments in your head. Maybe you would have noticed sooner, that tall and broad figure that stood a dozen steps away, behind one of the old leaning trees. His eyes, darkened from longing, gazed intently at your sad and miserable figure. He was watching you and keeping an eye on you. As always.

"Yours forever, remember, babe?"

#cali's challenge #cali’s nameless challenge #call of duty fanfic #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #call of duty fanfiction #cod fanfic #fanfic challenge #fanfiction challenge #fic challenge

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whorewriter-lol · 3 months ago

Text

Create Those Ultimate Moves! (pt.2)

Since Aizawa walked in on mine and Bakugos’ fight, we were both sent to our dorm rooms early. I seethed in my bed, my earbuds blasting music in my ears while I tried not to burn my blanket with how hot my hands were. What the hell is his problem anyways? Aizawa wanted us both in his room early the next morning, so I decided to turn over and get some sleep.

I woke up groggy and still mad from the night before. I put on my uniform and got done with everything else before making my way to the main building. I sighed as I approached Mr. Aizawas’ room. Entering through the blue sliding doors I glanced around to find Bakugo sitting at his desk with his legs stretched across the table. I rolled my eyes and sat down waiting for Mr. Aizawa to show up. When he finally did arrive he called us both to come up to his desk. Then he started speaking.

“I want you both to understand that what you did was insubordinate. I should be suspending both of you, however, I’ve come up with a compromise. Today's class will be geared towards battle training and discovering your own special move, something only unique to you, something that can't be copied.” He paused, stopping to study our faces “You two will be training together, since you’re so eager to fight one another. You’ll fight in a way that’s beneficial to myself and the both of you, and help each other learn more about your quirks.”

Are you, FUCKING kidding me? I was staring at Aizawa, face twisted into a look of shock. Before I could even gather my thoughts the living firecracker next to me interjected with his loud mouth.

“No way in hell I’m doing that! I-” Mr. Aizawa interrupted Katsuki before he could finish whatever bullshit he was going to spout out.

“You’ll cooperate or face expulsion.” He stared coldly at Bakugo, who seemed to back down with those words. Then, his angry red eyes turned to me. Katsuki inched his face closer to mine.

“I won't go easy on you” Then he shoved me with his arm “Out of my way.” My eyes fell onto Mr. Aizawa, I scoffed before quickly exiting the room.

About an hour later, we all met Mr. Aizawa at the training center. They were new so none of us had seen them. When we entered we found all types of different terrains, as we gazed around Aizawa started to speak. “These are your new training grounds, there’s things here that both suit and challenge your fighting styles. Your goal today is to…” I tuned him out since he had already told me and Katsuki what our goal was. I snapped my head at the sound of his familiar, annoyingly angry voice.

“Let’s get to work, I don't want to waste my time with you more than I have to.” He grabbed my shoulder and I immediately recoiled, scowling at him.

“Don’t touch me.” I glared, his gaze sharpened and I rolled my eyes.

We walked on to one of the terrains, it looked like a city block. I looked around as I spoke “So, how are we star-” my question was cut short when I felt an intense blast of heat fly past my right side. I gasped and jumped back “What the hell!?” I snapped my head to look at him, my eyes wide with shock and irritation.

He smirked, all cocky and shit “Villains don't give warnings, don't let your guard down.”

“We’re training! You’re not supposed to try and kill me!” I clenched my hands into fists, gritting my teeth.

“Maybe, or maybe you’re just too slow to act quick enough! You’re not cut out to be a hero, pathetic.” Katsuki scoffed at me. I was gonna wipe that look off his face. My eyes narrowed and I took in my surroundings, I headed for a wall. Running, I charged up the flames in my body and pushed them out of my palms to accelerate me up the side of the building. With a grunt, I pushed myself off the wall and blasted him near his feet. I knocked Bakugo over before landing next to him, rolling over to pin him down.

“Not cut out huh?” I glared down at him. He looked shocked first, then angry.

“Get the hell off of me!” He grabbed my wrists and tried to force me off, I fought back but he overpowered me. I grunted as I felt my back slam into the ground. Then I gasped when I was lifted up by my suit. He held me there, hand raised behind him with sparks shooting from his palm. With a small yell, I grabbed his wrist and used my quirk to heat up my hands, burning him. He shouted and dropped me, holding his now red wrist. “I’m gonna kick your ass!” He charged me, hands raised with explosions already bursting from his palms. I shrieked as his hands made contact with my shoulders, opening my eyes to look at him curiously when nothing happened. He looked equally confused until we heard Aizawa.

“Bakugo, we’re training. Killing your classmates will get you more than an expulsion” Suddenly, I felt a tight fabric wrapped around me, immobilizing my body. I looked over to see the same had happened for Katsuki, I smirked smugly. Aizawa started talking again “you two won't ever be fit to work with agencies if you cant even work with each other. At this rate you’re both looking at bad publicity, not to mention qualifying for your provisionals to begin with.” He paused, stopping to rub at his eyebrows, he reminded me of my dad whenever me and my sister would fight “I’m going to have midnight come over here and supervise you two, i’d do it myself but i’d rather spend this class working with students who are willing to succeed.”

My eyes lit up “Mrs. Midnight!?” Smiling brightly, I jumped about as much as I could with Aizawas’ scarf binding me. Katsuki scoffed and I whipped my head to look at him “She could beat you any day, don't act so high and mighty Kats” I grinned wickedly. He started to try and fight his restraints which made me laugh.

“You shut the hell up! I could kick your ass and still have enough energy to tear her down!”

“Tear who down?” her familiar, sultry voice loomed over us. We both turned our heads and there she was.

“You! You damn-” He was muffled as more of Aizawas’ scarf wrapped around his mouth. I busted out laughing until I felt one come around my mouth too.

“You’ll do as she tells you, unless you’d rather stay here all night with me to work on your cooperation with each other.” He slowly unwrapped the both of us.

Katsuki scoffed next to me and I leaned over to punch him in the gut “Shut up damn it!”

“Okay kiddos! Let’s get to work!” Midnight wrapped an arm around each of us, grinning at me.

I was totally sore after training, groaning as Mina, Jirou and I relaxed in Minas’ dorm.

Jirous had an ice pack pressed against my back where my skin had started to peel from Katsukis’ blasts. “God I can’t stand him! And now we have to train together!? I mean come on, he totally fucked me up on purpose!” I crossed my arms.

“Hey at least you know he actually sees you as worthy competition, he wouldn’t give anyone but you, Ochaco, and Izuku a second thought” Mina shrugged, taking a sip from her juice box.

“Whatever, I hate him either way” I shook my head.

“I don't know, I think you guys would make a cute couple!” Mina giggled, kicking my leg playfully with her foot. In a second, I had a pillow flying at her face, a pillow fight ensued, and I forgot all about the day's troubles, but really? Me and Katsuki, a cute couple? Yeah right.

#fanfiction #my hero academia #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou

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d1xonss · 11 months ago

Text

Desert Rose

Chapter 24 ~ Good Mourning

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 2

✧ Word Count : 6.1k

In this chapter ~ An unexpected death occurs, leaving everyone heartbroken for the man's fate. However, the group decides to honor his last wishes, leaving Randall alive though they would still take him far away from the others to ensure everyone remained safe. Though it proves to be more difficult than they had planned as the man had seemed to escape. But the whole thing left a pit in Rose's stomach as she couldn't help but form distrust from a certain man whose face was written in suspicion.

After an hour or two had passed and the sun was finally gone, Daryl got up and left, saying he was going to help Rick and Shane take care of Randall before the chance was gone.

But the thing was, I was doing exactly what Dale said we would all be doing, hiding out in the tent in hopes I could forget the events happening just a few hundred feet away from me. Cowering away as if that would ease myself about the situation at all. I had only been sitting there for a few minutes, my leg bouncing from the anxiety and my mind racing at the possible things that could go wrong. Distracting myself with things around the space wasn't helping, in fact it was only driving me more wild if that were even possible.

The book I had originally picked up to read wasn't doing much, none of the words sticking with me as I only seemed to scan the pages with my eyes. My sketchbook wasn't a good option either, not being able to come up with a single new idea to draw as there was a physical cloud towering over my head. It was useless.

Eventually, I couldn't take sitting there any longer by myself, so I got up to my feet and headed outside the tent to take a walk and stretch my legs for a while. I slowly headed in the direction towards the field where Daryl and I had talked just a few moments ago, enjoying the silence and somewhat peaceful night, a few crickets chirping softly in the background.

But I paused suddenly and slowed down when I spotted a figure walking a good distance away from me, only squinting my eyes momentarily to see it was Dale seemingly doing the same thing I was. Taking a walk far from the shed. My steps stopped for a moment as I debated with myself if I should go up to him or not. Would he want to talk to me? Probably not, I had just argued with him over something he was so sure about, and I knew that it hurt him.

So I decided to just leave him be as I turned myself to move in the opposite direction. Though right as I was about to step away, I stopped again when I saw something slowly sneaking up on him from just behind his back. The realization hit me quickly that it was a lone walker and he had yet to hear it and turn around.

I broke out into a sprint without a second thought, getting out one of my knives to throw at it before it could reach him. I wanted to stop and aim at the dead thing, but it was too dark, and I was still too far away, so I just kept running. But the walker was only getting closer, inching its way further before I even had a chance at reaching him. And Dale still hadn't flinched, had hardly moved a muscle as he somehow didn't hear the noise creeping up behind him, and I panicked.

"Dale! Move now!" I yelled at him.

He turned around swiftly upon hearing my voice, his eyes widening once he finally saw the monster, beginning to fumble with the shotgun in his hands to fire. But he wasn't fast enough. The walker landed on top of him in an instant, a gunshot firing not a second later as the man's finger no doubt hovered over the trigger, before he let out a loud and deafening scream. That only made me run faster, pushing myself further even though my lungs started to burn, and my legs wanted to give out. He couldn't die. No way in hell.

He kept screaming in fear and pain as I finally got close enough to throw my knife directly towards the walkers head, just barely striking it towards the right side before it fell limp on top of him immediately. I ran the rest of the way over to him, shoving the body off of him before letting out a gasp of shock at what I saw before me. He was laying flat on his back in excruciating pain, as the walker somehow managed to tear his stomach open to shreds.

How could it have happened so fast? His blood was spilling out and coating his white shirt so quickly and drastically, it was all so hard to comprehend as I couldn't peel my eyes away from him.

My hands instinctively went up to cover my mouth, getting down to his level quickly to try and calm his heavy and panicked breathing. His eyes were wide as he couldn't even speak, the pain being too unbearable to even try. But my head turned around quickly over my shoulder, hearing the others shouting and rushing towards us through the tall grass blindly with flashlights in their hands as they tried to spot us.

"Over here! Guys!" I yelled as I stood back up, waving my hands to flag them down.

Once I saw the flashlights heading closer to us, I knelt down on the ground by Dale's head again, starting to whisper reassuring things to him in the calmest voice I could muster. But even he could tell how hard I was trying, how hard I was pretending that everything was going to be okay.

Daryl was the first one to make it over and he stood over us there in shock for a few seconds before kneeling down right beside me, telling Dale to hang in there.

Then almost everyone seemed to come over all at once. Rick, Shane, Lori, Carl, Glenn, Andrea, and Carol all looked at Dale in horror seeing the state that he was left in. They were all frantic as they stood there with wide eyes, Rick freaking out the most out of everyone as he snapped to the first person he saw.

"Hershel! Get Hershel!" Rick yelled.

Andrea was on Dale's other side in an instant, holding his hand as she sobbed. I felt warm tears start to pool in my eyes as well, looking down at him with nothing but regret forming in my stomach. I should've thrown my knife sooner, but I was too far away. I should've yelled sooner, but he barely heard me to begin with. On instinct, I grabbed Dale's other hand as my tears began to fall and I bowed my head, while Hershel seemed to get here in only a matter of a few minutes. Probably seeing how frantic and panicked Glenn was as he was the one to rush back towards the house.

"What can we do?" Rick asked desperately.

I heard nothing from the older man as he pondered about what to do, but in the back of my mind I already knew the answer. I sighed and gripped his hand tighter, feeling Daryl begin to rub my back from next to me although I could barely feel a thing. Barely hear a thing other than the slight ringing in my ears, the adrenaline beginning to wear off as my hands slightly shook.

"Can we move him?" Rick asked when Hershel didn't respond.

He only shook his head, "He won't make the trip." he muttered.

"We have to do the operation here, Glenn get back to the house!" Rick yelled.

"Rick!" Hershel yelled to get his attention. When I didn't hear him say anything else, I looked back up just in time to see him shaking his head with a sad expression, telling us that there was nothing we could do. Cries began to erupt from all around us as the realization sunk in, knowing what we would have to do next, slowly breaking my heart at just the thought. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, how I wish we could've been closer, or how I wish we hadn't argued as much in the end. How I wished we would've just listened to him and his reasons, instead of this all unfolding instead.

"I'm so sorry Dale, I'm so sorry." I whispered, knowing it was all I could think of to say to him.

He was in so much pain he didn't respond, but he tried his best to form a smile and squeezed my hand in reassurance. Though it didn't last long as he cried out once more at the sensation, tears reforming in the corners of his eyes as he tried not to yell too loudly.

"He's suffering, we have to do something." Andrea pleaded as her gaze snapped back and forth between him and everyone else surrounding the scene.

Rick turned back to us and let out a shaky breath, struggling to take out his gun and aim it at Dale's head. He couldn't bring himself to do it and I understood completely. How could you even prepare for something like this, shooting a man we all cared deeply for just for him to finally be at peace. It was horrible. I then suddenly felt Daryl's hand leave my back as he slowly stood up to walk over towards Rick. He gently took the gun out of his hold with a nod and took his place silently instead, pointing the gun towards his head. Dale started to look up to see what was happening, but I quickly stopped him.

"No, no Dale, look at me. Just look at me." I said as I squeezed his hand again.

His gaze panned over at me, his breathing still heavy and his mouth agape. I didn't want him to be looking at the thing that was about to end his life. I could tell he was thankful for a lot of things in that moment, but most of all I think he was thankful to not have to suffer any longer, and not have to go through it alone. I kept my eyes on him the whole time, not being able to look away.

"Sorry brother." I heard Daryl say, a single gunshot following only seconds later.

His hand fell limp in mine in a split second and couldn't help the heavy breath that passed my lips as I ducked my head back down towards the ground. A part of me was grateful that he didn't have to suffer anymore, not just now, but in this world. He wouldn't have to fear anything ever again. He was at peace.

But that didn't make it any less painful for the rest of us. Gathering the strength to pick my head back up, I glanced back to them, seeing the broken and guilty looks on their faces, all of us having a moment of silence for the man we all grew to care about.

After witnessing the many depressing events, it only caused a very long and restless night. I couldn't fall asleep, whenever I closed my eyes all I could see was Dale suffering and screaming. Replaying over and over again in my mind. It was horrible, traumatizing for us all to watch him slowly pass, leaving only the burning image behind our eyelids. Daryl couldn't seem to fall asleep either with the way he constantly moved, and I couldn't even imagine how he was feeling. Being the one to put Dale down himself, it was surely weighing him down more than he let on.

We didn't say anything the whole night, though we both knew the other was awake. We just simply laid there huddled close to one another, listening to the calmness of the night. Both of us seemed to have a mutual understanding that we didn't feel like talking. We were just simply there for each other in silence, and right now that's all we needed.

But the next morning seemed even harder. That's when we had the ceremony for Dale, and all of us gathered around to listen and mourn the loss of someone else. It seemed like just a few days ago we were in the same small circle, gathered around for Sophia as we said our final goodbye. Now having to do it all over again in such a short span of time, it was a lot.

I tried my hardest to listen to Rick's words as he spoke about him but I couldn't seem to stay focused, spacing in and out, letting my mind wander while the guilt slowly ate away at me. I knew I shouldn't keep blaming myself for the losses we seemed to take, but how could I not? How could I not when I always felt like I could've done more.

The only thing I managed to hear Rick say is that we would honor Dale, and prove that this group isn't broken. I had a feeling I knew what he meant by that without him having to say anything else. Randall was going to live. At this point I didn't really care what we did with him anymore because of how much had happened. How much damage that one man had caused when he didn't even step one foot out of that shed.

After Rick was done speaking and minutes of complete silence passed over us, people slowly began to disperse back towards the house. Taking it upon themselves to process this in their own way. I picked my head up after a moment, glancing around to everyone who was left, and pausing when I saw Glenn. He stood completely still, staring longingly at Dale's grave with reddened eyes, more tears only building up and threatening to spill.

It hurt to look at him, to see how much it was affecting him. Everyone could easily see that Dale had grown to be a father figure towards Glenn, and the loss was only taking a toll on him in unimaginable ways.

Daryl hadn't moved from his place right next to me the whole time, even as the remaining people stood in silence, but I felt him subtly nudge my arm after a while. My eyes glanced back up to him enough to see him briefly nod his head away from the remainder of the group so we could talk. I followed him wordlessly as he walked in front of me, wanting to get away from all the depressing shit that seemed to follow us like the goddamn plague. But I knew in the back of my mind no matter how much I wanted to escape it; it would somehow always be there.

The two of us got a good distance away from everyone else, before he finally turned around to face me again, "You doin okay?" he hesitatnly asked.

I nodded my head silently, knowing that if I opened my mouth to try and speak, the floodgates would only open once more. During the whole small ceremony I didn't cry, not because I didn't want to, but because I was embarrassed. I was tired of crying, and I was especially tired of crying in front of Daryl. Somehow always managing to catch my not so great moments.

"Say somethin." he spoke in a soft voice.

Closing my eyes with a deep sigh, I muttered, "I'm okay."

But my voice cracking towards the end, just proved how much I wasn't okay. Not in the slightest. That's all it took and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face like a fucking dam that broke instantly. But upon seeing this, he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around me tightly in a hug, rubbing my back reassuringly. I let out a breath as I buried my face into his chest, crying quietly as I finally let everything out that I had been holding back. His chin rested on top of my head, his soothing voice echoing around the silent space.

"I know, I know. It's gonna be alright." he spoke softly.

I wanted to believe him more than anything even though the hope I once had was slowly dimming, I still nodded my head regardless.

After a few moments of being a complete mess, I got control of my breathing and was able to pull my head away to actually look him in the eye. He studied me with an emotion I couldn't quite figure out, although I could tell he was still worried. He was so incredibly patient with me, it amazed me.

"Thanks." I whispered as I wiped my cheeks.

He shook his head, "Ya don't gotta thank me. I just want ya to be okay." he said sadly.

"I will be," I reassured him, "I just need some time...and like...a shot of whiskey or something." I half joked with a breathy laugh.

He chuckled quietly before nodding his head in agreement, "You and me both." he said, "I was supposed ta go out with Shane, Andrea, and T-Dog to check the perimeter, but...I can stay if ya need me to."

"No, no it's okay. I'll be okay." I waved him off.

"Ya sure?" he asked.

I nodded my head, "Go check the perimeter, I'll see you later, yeah?"

He nodded with a small smile on his face, quickly looking behind me just past my head to see if anyone could see us, before pulling me into a gentle kiss. I gladly kissed him back, feeling my heart quicken at the softness of his lips. He then pulled back after a moment or two, and started kissing lightly all over my face until I let out a quiet laugh, attempting to push him away at the tickling feeling it left.

"Ah, music to my ears." he said with a full on proud smile.

My heart began to warm at his words, kissing him once more before we began to walk back towards the house side by side.

As the house began to come into view, Daryl squeezed my hand briefly before heading off towards the vehicles where the others were waiting for him. I found myself glancing around the farm after he left, scanning the area to try and figure out a way to pass some time without having to linger on the new loss too much. My eyes then landed on the pretty pink curtains flowing out of Beth's room, her window open to let in the slight breeze.

I felt myself smile as I made my way up the porch and into the house to head up to her room, wanting to check up on her. It had been a little bit since I had last seen her and I wanted to make sure she was doing better since the last time we spoke.

For the most part she stayed in her room, especially since every single discussion we would have about Randall, the kids weren't allowed to be in the room. It's not that we didn't want them to have an opinion on the matter, but we also didn't want them to have to hear every single thing that was said. Because believe me when Shane opened his mouth, it got ugly.

But other than that she would only come down for meals and to just get out of her room briefly every once and a while. Mostly keeping to herself after everything.

As I came up the last few steps, I saw her sitting down on the edge of her bed with the guitar in her hands, practicing a few chords I had taught her. I smiled a little to myself and approached the slightly opened door quietly, knocking a few times to bring her attention towards me.

She looked up and an instant smile broke onto her face, "Hi Rose."

"Hi hon." I greeted as I passed through the threshold.

Her smile slightly faltered when I entered the room further, taking a hesitant seat on the edge of her bed as she tilted her head a little towards me. "How're you doing?" she asked quietly.

I gave her a confused look, "I should be asking how you're doing."

She waved me off, "I'm okay, I promise. I was just asking you because you know... Dale. I can see how hard it's been on you guys."

"Oh." I muttered quietly with a nod, "I'm doing better, you're too sweet to check on me."

She smiled and reached out to grab my hand lightly, "You've practically been looking out for me since you got here...I want to look out for you too."

"I think that was the other way around. You were looking after me when I was shot, remember?" I asked.

"Well yeah, but I'm talking about after that." she said with a light laugh.

I smiled at her, "Well, I guess we just like looking out for each other, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess we do. And I don't plan on stopping anytime soon." she said, giving my hand a soft squeeze.

My heart warmed at her words, "Me either, hon." I said before glancing back towards the guitar that was now on the other side of the bed, not wanting to get all emotional again after the morning I already had. "You think you're ready for another lesson?" I asked.

Her eyes lit up "Yes!" she said, reaching over to grab the object quickly.

I began to teach her two more chords that were a little more difficult than last time, watching her struggle a little with it at first before she excelled. She was truly a natural when it came to this stuff, knowing in the back of my mind that it took me weeks to learn the things she's practically mastered in just a few days. Though she practiced a lot, I could tell that somehow this was her calling; music.

I also couldn't ignore the obvious progress she was making, not only in learning the new instrument, but also with how she was mentally. She seemed to be lighter than before, a little bit of life returning to her eyes when she looked at me that wasn't always there before. Even though she still seemed to be having a rough time with everything all at once, progress was still progress. And I couldn't have been more proud of her.

After practicing for far longer than either of us intended, there was a sudden knock at the door that made us both turn around towards the doorway to see Carl. Except the look he had on his face almost made me do a double take. His stance came off as nervous and jittery as he lingered in the doorway, not taking a single step inside as his eyes went back and forth between the two of us.

"Hey kid...what's up?" I asked a bit hesitantly.

"Uh..." he trailed off, looking towards Beth before back to me, "Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked me.

I nodded my head, slightly concerned, "Yeah," I said before turning back to Beth, "I guess we'll stop here for today, just keep practicing that one chord and we can go over more tomorrow if you'd like?"

"Yeah, I'd really love that. Thanks Ro." she said with a smile.

I nodded before getting off the bed, heading towards where Carl was standing. He didn't hesitate to grab my hand quickly and pull me out of the room and down the steps, almost causing me to trip. He didn't stop or pause until we were outside and far enough away from everyone else so no one could hear the conversation we were about to have. I was only growing more concerned than before as I watched him try to find the words to say to me.

"Carl?" I said to get his attention, "What's wrong?"

He sighed before slowly reaching behind his back, pulling out a gun that I recognized. It was Daryl's. He handed it over to me wordlessly and looked anywhere but my eyes.

"Where did you find this?" I asked him, seeing if he would tell me the truth.

"I...I took it from Daryl's bag." he muttered, his eyes staring down at his shoes.

Though when I didn't respond or say anything at all, he took a chance and looked back up at me. I could easily see the tears building up in his eyes as he admitted that, thinking I would be mad, but I easily could tell there was something else on his conscience. Something else that made my face instantly soften upon seeing him so upset yet trying desperately to keep it together.

I got down to his level to look him in the eye, "That's not it, I can tell. Talk to me kid." I said in a soft voice.

He then broke down, "Rose it's all my fault, it's my fault Dale died!" he cried, "I was out in the woods when I saw a walker that was stuck in the mud. I wanted to shoot it with the gun but then it got free, and I didn't kill it. It was the same walker that killed Dale. I recognized it, I got Dale killed!"

At this point my eyes were wide and he was a sobbing mess. It took me a second to process everything he had just told me, but I quickly put the gun on the ground beside me and placed both of my hands on the side of his face to wipe his tears away.

"Hey, hey, you did not get Dale killed. You hear me? None of us could've known what was going to happen, this was not your fault." I said in a soft voice.

More tears fell from his eyes, "But-"

"No, no buts." I interrupted, "You were not the cause of that. Please do not blame yourself, okay?"

He looked at me for a moment before nodding his head and quickly wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. I let out a breath as I hugged him back just as tight, wanting to do anything I could to keep him from blaming himself about Dale. I knew the feeling all too well and it wasn't a good habit to be picked up, and I could only imagine what it would do to someone his age. He was still just a kid.

He sniffled as he slowly let go of me, "Can you...please not tell my parents? They would kill me if they knew what I did." he pleaded.

I shook my head, "Carl, they have to know what happened. You had a gun." I said, watching his face drop drastically at the fear of getting into trouble. "Listen...I won't say anything to them, but that means you have to tell them yourself. Deal?"

He thought about silently it for a moment as he bit his lip in thought, before agreeing, "Deal." he said with a nod.

I nodded in return as I adjusted the hat on top of his head, my hand then landing on the side of his face to wipe any remaining tears that still stained his cheeks. But my comfort only seemed to make his lip quiver, wrapping his arms around me again as a clear weight was lifted off of him.

"Thanks for listening to me." he whispered gratefully.

"Anytime kid." I said before letting him go, "I'm always right here when you need me." I assured, brushing some of the hair away from his face.

He nodded before slowly heading back off towards the house. I watched him walk away for a moment before sighing to myself, looking back down to the ground and picking up the missing gun before I made my way back to our camp to put it back with his things. In the back of my mind I knew he probably noticed his weapon had been missing for a while, but I wouldn't make Carl tell him like I wanted him to tell his parents. The kid was always watching him with wide eyes as if he was slightly intimidated by him, and I didn't want to kill him or anything.

Though when I walked in the tent to put it back, I quickly noticed that he, along with the others, weren't back yet. Probably still circling around the property to make sure all the lingering walkers were being taken care of. With nothing else really to do to pass the time, I figured I would finally finish the painting of the house while I still had the chance. The weather was only getting colder now so I wanted to use as much time outside as I could.

I also just needed to distract and calm myself, and painting sounded the most relaxing to me right now. So I picked up my things and made my way back to the spot that I seemed to have claimed over the weeks, sitting back down to examine the house for what could be the last time. I worked quietly by myself as I finished up the small details with the paintbrush, a few others moving their belongings, walking in and out of the house catching my eye.

Just a few days ago, Hershel announced that he would allow all of us to move into their house for the winter considering it was getting a bit too cold to keep sleeping outside. It was very nice of him to offer, but I knew it was going to be jam packed in that place. There were a lot of us and not a lot of room the house had left to offer, but it was still better than freezing our asses off.

My thoughts stopped short however when I saw Maggie walk out through the screen door, before a small smile traced her lips as she began to walk over to me.

She took a seat beside me with a huff, "How're you doing babe?" she asked.

I looked at her with raised brows, "Babe? What are we official now?" I joked.

She laughed and shook her head, "Sorry, I used to call my friends that before everything. I don't have to if you don't wan-"

"No, it's okay." I assured and gave her a smile, "And I'm doing about as okay as I can be. How about you?"

She sighed, "I'm doing fine, it's just...I know Glenn was close to him. I feel awful watching him grieve and I wish I could do something to help him."

"We all just need some time to process it. It was a lot...I know it's going to be hard to move on, but we will." I replied.

She nodded her head in agreement, "Yeah, we will."

A few hours had passed in a flash before the group finally made it back from trailing across the whole acre, the day only feeling like it was dragging on and on. But the second they made it back, Rick wasted no time grabbing Daryl to take Randall out and get it over with before the day was over. And of course Shane had to run his mouth about that. Not only at the fact that we were now sparing this man's life, but also because Rick trusted Daryl more than he did his best friend. But again, they weren't exactly close like that anymore, in fact they were only drifting further.

But Randall, we weren't going to kill him, but we still didn't trust him enough to let him stay here, even if it was what Dale wanted, to give him a chance. We couldn't risk it. None of us really knew him and none of us wanted to know him, we just wanted him gone.

I stood on the porch next to Rick and Daryl, listening to their plan on where they were going to take him as they looked down at their map. T-Dog had offered to go get him after he overheard part of their conversation, heading towards the shed in a flash. They had a truck loaded up right in front of us and everything, going on and on about how many miles they should drive out to make sure he wasn't coming back.

"You guys sure you don't want me to come with?" I asked suddenly.

"No." they both voiced at the same time without even missing a beat.

My eyes widened as I scoffed at the two of them, crossing my arms over my chest as I leaned up against the white pillar, "Damn alright then, might as well put me on a leash while you're at it."

Rick chuckled and only gave me an amused smile, "Why would we put you on a leash?" he asked.

"Because you're both pretty controlling about this." I pointed out.

Daryl only scoffed as he began to fold up the map in his hands, "We just want ya safe, dar-" he started, but immediately stopped himself.

My eyes widened as I looked at him from just behind Rick's head, pressing my lips together to hold back the laugh I almost let out. Daryl's cheeks burned a bright red, and I could tell he was kicking himself for slipping up though he tried to just brush it off as he cleared his throat awkwardly. Rick looked at the man with a tilt of his head, attempting to say something, but T-Dog's voice thankfully cut through the painful silent air.

"He's gone!" the man yelled.

My eyes widened. I froze, genuinely wondering if I had heard him right. Oh but I did, Rick and Daryl's panicked expressions only resembled my own.

In a split second, the three of us didn't hesitate to take off down the porch, jogging across the large field to see for ourselves. T-Dog only followed close behind us, running beside us just as frantically as he didn't even have enough time to process the sudden sight himself. The door was open only a crack as we approached it, pushing it all the way open to see the shed completely empty, the handcuffs that were once on his wrists were still chained up and perfectly intact.

My mouth parted in shock as I scanned the small space top to bottom for any kind of indication on how he escaped, but found none. It seemed almost impossible.

The rest of the group was quick to spot us all lingering by the shed, only assuming the worst as they fanned out of the house to join us and see what the hell was going on. They all approached loudly, asking us question after question when we knew just as little as they did. Though I couldn't pull myself to listen to any of them as I racked my brain as to how he managed to get out of here when the door was locked from the outside. How he was able to slip his hands through metal handcuffs that were meant to keep anyone and everyone put right where they were.

There was no blind spot, no loose wooden board, no nothing. None of it made any sense, and it only caused everyone around us to panic.

"Rick! Rick!" a sudden voice screamed from the trees just beside us.

Everyone's heads whipped around at the same time towards the sound to see Shane making his way out of the woods, blood dripping heavily from his nose. His steps were heavy and fast as he made his way over to us, smoke coming out of his ears with how angry he looked.

"What the hell happened?" I yelled.

"He's armed, he's got my gun!" he said as his pace only sped up.

Carl then spoke up, "Are you okay?" he asked in genuine concern.

He shook his head, "I'm fine, the little bastard just snuck up on me and clocked me in the face." he responded.

Rick then turned around to the rest of us, "Alright Hershel, T-Dog, get everyone back in the house. Glenn, Daryl, Rose, come with us." he quickly instructed without a second thought.

I stepped up immediately, taking the gun Glenn was handing over and opening the chamber to check the bullets as the rest of them spoke behind me.

"T, I'm gonna need that gun." Shane said.

"Just let him go, that was the plan wasn't it? To just let him go?" Carol asked.

"The plan was to cut him loose far away from here, not on our front step with a gun." Rick snapped.

"No, don't go out there you don't know what can happen." Carol argued, genuine fear and concern filling her entire being.

But Rick only ignored her, knowing we couldn't just let this go. "Get everyone back in the house, lock all the doors, and stay put!"

Once Rick stepped forward to move, the rest of us followed right after that, walking right into the danger zone it seemed like from how serious this became. Zero to one hundred in just a matter of a minute.

But Shane looked back at me suddenly from his place next to Rick, locking his eyes with mine, and the sight was enough to send goosebumps rising on my skin. Though I held his gaze, trying not to show what had just happened, but he caught on quicker than I would've liked, the small smirk on his face instantly gave him away.

From the lone feeling I had, just by merely looking him in the eye, I could tell instantly that something wasn't right. Like something bad was about to happen.

~ Thanks for reading!

(Merry late Christmas!)

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