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snowball-doie · 26 days ago

Text

୨୧ Poly!7Dream x Jisung ୨୧

| pairing: Poly!7Dream x sub!Jisung x Dom!gn!Reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. NSFW link. Orgy activities. MLM behavior. Corruption kink. Bondage. Nipple play. Forced orgasms. Overstimulation. Two instances of tickling (I’m personally not into tickling, but it was applicable here…… This won’t be a common thing in my fics tho).

| words: 3.6k

| aurora's note: squad, this was supposed to be about 500 words max......... idk what happened........... for my followers, this goes into the sooah au... for those who are new, welcome lmao <3

"You can hold my hand, baby, it's okay."

Jisung could be frustrating from time to time. His dedication to his job made it difficult to find free time where all seven boys and yourself were available to hang out and spend quality time together. The boys were always so busy... Mark and Haechan were out of the country more often than not, and with 127 schedules going on the back burner, the Dreamies were so busy that they were hardly home with you anymore, and that sucked-- It hurt, and they all knew that. When they were home, they tried to make the most of it, showering you with love and attention so that you had enough love in your heart and good memories to last until the next time they'd be able to hang out with you. But Jisung... He was pressuring himself too much again, constantly practicing around the house, going to the office on free days for extra help from his vocal coach or his choreographer, and he was at the office before the boys' schedules then stayed late past their schedules. You hated that. It felt like he was choosing to work instead of being with you and the boys, because he was going out of his way to work and rehearse instead of taking a break to relax in your arms or playing video games with Haechan.

“He’s been at it for two hours,” Jeno complained, wiping his palms over his face as he sighs. “How’s he not exhausted yet?”

The boys had practice starting in the morning, so of course Jisung headed out early, and they finished practice around 6PM, but Jisung stayed until 8PM when his choreographer finally sent him home… At which point Jisung continued practicing in the free room at the end of the hall. That had been his schedule for the past three days straight. The boys were sick of it. You were sick of it. While the seven of you were watching movies and tv shows together in the living room, Jisung was always upstairs, playing the same chorus over and over and over again—

“I’m going insane! Can we just tie him down or something so he finally fucking rests?” Haechan said, annoyed.

Even though he had been joking, it wasn’t a bad idea. Jeno perked up first because he was the one who was most eager to get Jisung to stop, and once he started looking around silently for back up, Mark and Haechan moved too, then Jaemin was at Jeno’s side. Chenle groaned as he stretched and mumbled, “Finally,” before pushing himself to his feet. The last two to give in were you and Renjun. The other boys’ reassurance to you were smiles they tossed in your direction as Chenle swung his arm over Renjun’s shoulder and started dragging him along upstairs while they conversed quietly in Chinese.

“I got the ropes,” Jaemin said.

“Grab the gag too,” Haechan commented quickly, just before Jaemin dove into his bedroom. “I’m sick of hearing him yap all night ‘cause he’s still wired with energy when we’re all exhausted…”

On your way to the extra room that had turned into a temporary practice room for Jisung, Jaemin gathered the materials needed for the night. Mark pocketed his phone as you all gathered outside of the door. He told the boys that he pulled a few strings so their practice the following day was delayed until after lunch, meaning they could have their fun and sleep in without worrying about any consequences.

“And this is why we love you, hyung,” Haechan teased. He wrapped his arms around Mark’s neck then started hanging off him. “What’s the plan?”

“I can distract him,” you offered.

“I can grab him,” Jaemin said, passing the ropes to Jeno.

As Jeno accepted the ropes, he contributed with, “I’ll tie him up.”

“And then what?” Renjun questioned.

“We tire him out,” Chenle replied with a grin.

With a series of nods from everyone standing in the hallway, you pushed the practice room door open to reveal the loud music Jisung was dancing to-- From downstairs, all you could hear was the obnoxious bass and the thumping of his footsteps, but the second you were in the room with him, the full force of how loud he was actually blasting the music suddenly hit you like a slap in the face. Once Jisung noticed you, however, immediately rushed to pause the music. His face was flushed from overworking himself all day. Sweat dripped from his dark hair, his glasses were all fogged up, and he was panting through his plump, swollen lips.

"Sorry, was I too loud?" he asked.

Well, the answer was yes, but that didn't matter so much with the boys anxiously waiting outside for their moment to jump him. So you shook your head and approached him. His blue hoodie was soaked in sweat, and his black gym shorts were barely clinging to his hips; you figured the safest place to touch him was his bare waist which wasn't too sweaty.

You shook your head. "No... I just missed you today... Wanted to hang out with you for a bit." When your cold hands made contact with his warm skin, Jisung hissed under his breath before gulping down his reactions. "Did you miss me?"

He nodded.

"You sure?"

He pouted and nodded some more. "I'm just really busy right now, I don't really have time to stop and--"

"And hang out with your partners?"

Jisung fell silent.

"It's okay," you cheered him up with a smile.

Jisung's eyes met yours again, giving you the perfect opportunity to kiss him passionately, your hands still glued to his hips so that he couldn't escape. He teased you by biting your lip. In return, you chuckled and started unzipping his sweaty hoodie to remove it from his body, which he surprisingly didn't protest to even though he was very adamant that he had no time to waste. In the midst of Jisung's habit of closing his eyes while kissing, the boys snuck into the room quietly, and you turned Jisung slightly so that his back was to the door, leaving all of his focus on you. Just as Jisung leaned further into your body and moaned into your mouth, Jaemin grabbed his hands that were headed for your hips.

"Wha--" Jisung pulled back. He looked around, confused, startled. "Hyung, what--" Despite Jisung's attemps to wiggle out of Jaemin's tight grip, his hyung was far stronger than him, making it impossible to escape. He looked at you for help with those big eyes of his.

Haechan approached and started kissing Jisung's exposed collarbone from behind until Jaemin rolled his eyes and pushed Haechan out of the way because he was in the way of their plan, which included Jeno stepping forward to help manhandle Jisung onto the floor so that all the boys could work together to hold him still while Jeno tied Jisung's wrists to his calves so that he was forced to sit down with his legs spread. Jisung whined and continued to thrash around. He asked silly questions and look around for help, but he was outnumbered. All of you were on the same page that he needed to let loose and that you were desperate to spend time with him, even if that meant restraining him to make it happen. To keep him quiet, Haechan took the gag he'd requested and he stuffed it into Jisung's mouth then secured it with the straps that wrapped around his head.

“Hyung, there’s duct tape in my desk drawer,” Jaemin said in Mark’s direction, prompting the eldest to hurry to his feet and scurry to Jaemin’s desk drawer. He dug around for a few seconds before returning with a roll of duct tape. Mark eyed Jaemin suspiciously. “It’s for wire management.” Jaemin took the roll and pulled the end up with his teeth before he began wrapping the sticky side around Jisung’s feet to keep him for kicking anymore. “And for tying Jeno up—“ Jaemin chuckled as Jeno reached over to smack Jae upside the back of the head. “Hey! It came in handy! Look!”

Jaemin patted his work then leaned back. All eight bodies in the room stilled as seven of you stared at the sight in front of you. Wow, Jisung really was handsome. Of course you knew that perfectly well already, but it was times like these where you were specifically reminded of it because there was a lull in excitement and all of the focus was put into every detail of who Park Jisung was. From his fogged up glasses, to his shirtless torso that showed off his hard work via his toned abs that he kept hidden from the public because he only ever wanted you guys to see all of him— He really was just a mini-me of Mark sometimes; to his erection growing in his gym pants, to the ropes tied expertly around his arms and legs… He was perfect. He was amazing. You needed him. Every inch of him. Always.

Haechan laughed as he tickled the bottom of Jisung’s feet to get the reaction he wanted where Jisung jolted, his body tensing, his eyes shooting wide, and desperate, muffled pleas were panted behind his gag. When Haechan did it again, Jisung’s feet fought against the tape, but he had nowhere to go. His struggle was in vain. That right there was the best part— Watching the moment he tried his best to free himself but couldn’t… Watching as all of his defined muscles worked in tandem to find a solution that would never appear.

Jisung pouted and slumped. His breathing was heavy thanks to Haechan who had riled him up, but also because he was anxiously watching all of you, waiting to see what you had in store for him.

“Do you remember what you said to me this morning before you left for work?” Jeno finally began the interrogation.

Jisung looked up through his lashes and vaguely shook his head. He was being extra cautious, you noticed. Perhaps he did remember but didn’t want to confess because it would only land him in more trouble— Or maybe he really didn’t remember and that was why he was so confused to have ended up in the position he was tied up in.

“I told you that you needed to say goodbye to everyone… That you needed to find a way to spend more time with us.”

Jisung gulped. So he did remember.

“And you said, ‘What does it matter?’”

The fear in Jisung’s face was nothing in comparison to the anger washing over half of the people standing in the room. He had said what?!

“Let me at him, hyung… I asked him to play basketball with me two days ago and he ghosted me,” Chenle said.

“You’re ghosting us now?” Mark questioned.

Jisung shook his head adamantly, his eyes pouting and his eyebrows raising like he was trying to tell you something, but it went unsaid.

“He talked back to me, so I get dibs,” Jeno said, which forced Chenle to back down. “But you can help.” Now that brought a smile to Chenle’s face.

Jisung squirmed some more as the audience closed in on him. Renjun went to his side first to ask something about safe words and if Jisung remembered how to put a stop to this even with the gag in his mouth. Jisung nodded. That seemed to ease both Mark and Renjun who were a bit uneasy about ambushing Jisung in the first place. Renjun shifted slightly so that he was at your side instead, leaving plenty of room for Jaemin to take his spot because his job was to try to keep Jisung still while Jeno took the lead and Chenle followed by sitting opposite Jaemin.

"Are these sensitive yet?" Chenle flicked his finger over one of Jisung's nipples. Jisung moaned and rolled his head back against the wall. "They are..." And he did it again.

Jeno ran his palm over Jisung's erection in tandem with Chenle's teasing, and when Jisung jolted upright and pulled against his restraints, Jaemin jumped into action by pressing his hand on Jisung's bare chest before pushing him against the wall. By the time you could bring yourself to pry your attention away from Jisung, Haechan was already kissing Mark who had his hands on Hyuck's hips to keep both of them steady so that they didn't fall back onto the floor. Hyuck was a bit aggressive. He was trying to sit on Mark's lap, but Mark fought by using his grip to roll over on top of Haechan who moaned when their crotches touched over their pajama pants.

Renjun whined beside you. He was looking for attention too but three of the boys were busy with Jisung, Mark and Haechan were busy with each other, and Renjun was getting hard watching everything happen around him. You pulled Renjun onto your lap and slid your hand under the waistband of his pants. He shifted slightly to accommodate your touch. You moaned into his ear once you got a hold on his cock, his pre-cum already leaking onto your hand; and he moaned in return when you used your free hand to hold his chin to make him watch what was happening in front of you where Jeno had fished Jisung’s dick out of his shorts and slowly started jerking him off. Jisung moaned happily.

Though he seemed to dislike being ganged up on and tied up, the fact that Jisung was finally being touched after you’d worked him up in the first place came as a relief to him. You matched Jeno's pace. Whenever he jerked Jisung off fast, you went at the same speed on Renjun-- Both of them wiggled their hips, Renjun struggling adorably in your lap-- and when Jeno slowed down, you teased Renjun's tip until he was begging you for more. Chenle contributed to Jisung by pinching his nipples over and over again as an added measure of stimulation to get Jisung off. Poor thing had incredibly sensitive nipples. All of you liked to take advantage of that because he made the cutest noises when his nipples were teased; but Chenle was doing it with the sole purpose of getting Jisung closer to the edge.

"Jebal--" Jisung moaned behind his gag.

Jeno pulled his hand away from Jisung's cock. While Renjun anticipated you to follow suit and was prepared to beg you to continue, you actually didn't stop touching him. He wasn't being punished like Jisung was. There was no point in edging him and torturing him, which came as a relief to Renjun who continued to moan your name and thrust his hips up into your fist. Beside you, Haechan and Mark were finally going at it like they were in their own world as they rubbed up against each other and Haechan was adjusting to ride Mark's thick thigh.

When Jeno restarted his motions, everyone else continued too. Jaemin and Chenle played with Jisung's nipples, you jerked Renjun off faster, and Haechan was biting Mark's bottom lip to pry more moans out of his hyung. Jaemin did something mean where he kissed Jisung's cheek to keep him distracted momentarily before he pressed his index finger over Jisung's sensitive tip to gather up some of his dropping pre-cum before smearing it over the gag Jisung was wearing.

"Jebal, jebal, jebal--" Jisung moaned as he came.

Renjun's body toppled forward, his hands on your knees, fingernails digging into your skin. "C-Can I--"

"Cum for me, sweet boy."

Jisung's body was still shaking through his orgasm when Renjun hit his peak too. As Renjun's cum leaked down your hand, Jisung's cum painted his stomach and hit Chenle and Jaemin's hands, and both boys were watching each other as content to really make their highs hit harder, as if they were watching porn or something. When there was nothing left to milk out of Renjun, you slowed down before wiping your hand on his thigh then pulling away entirely. He slumped against your chest. For a moment, he caught his breath while watching Jeno who didn't slow down or stop playing with Jisung. The poor guy realized what was happening just as his orgasm faded and the overstimulation began.

"Hold still, Jisung-ah," Jaemin cooed tauntingly with a tigher grip on their maknae.

"Some help would be nice," Chenle called over to you and the three other onlookers.

You inched forward with Renjun still resting on your lap so that you could corner Jisung even more to make it really noticeable that there was no escaping the nipple stimulation or the fact that his cock was still being played with after he'd made a mess. Jisung whined pathetically. He looked around for a savior, but the only two who could have been any help-- Mark and Haechan-- were still preoccupied with each other. You looked down to see Jisung's cum frothing between his straining cock and Jeno's pumping fist-- And much to your surprise, Jisung wasn't softening. He was still hard, and he was leaking cum bit by bit by bit.

Haechan finally sat upright. His brown hair was a mess, his cheeks were flush, and his cum left a wet spot in his pants, and there was another wet spot on his thigh where Mark had cum too. Both of them panted as they looked around to catch their bearings.

"You guys aren't helping," Chenle scolded.

"Sorry," Mark apologized, completely dazed.

Haechan and Mark crawled over to find empty spaces for them to squeeze into. Haechan, to have fun, tickled Jisung's feet again, which set him off with another serious of muffled moans before he opened his eyes long enough to glare at Haechan. That earned him a pinch to each of his nipples.

Jisung started squirming harder and whining louder the closer he got, almost like it was a warning to everyone in the room with him that he was about to tip over the edge if you kept messing with him. The only problem for him was… the seven of you knew exactly what you were doing. You wanted him to cum. Again. And then maybe again for good measure— And fuck it, another time after that. You wanted to pry as many orgasms out of him that his body could provide, and even then you were sure that you could get a dry orgasm or two in there for your entertainment.

Shaking his head, he mumbled behind the gag, "I can't."

You ran your fingers through his hair comfortingly as you cooed, “Shhh, shhh, shhh… You can hold my hand, baby, it’s okay.”

Jisung did just that. His hand grasped yours desperately— Well, he tried to find your hand but kept slipping to your wrist which he held with an iron-tight grip as his hips squirmed some more in an attempt to get away from Jeno.

“I’ve got you,” you said.

A loud moan echoed through the room as another orgasm was forced out of him. His cum leaked onto his chest in a pathetic stream which Haechan caught with his fingers so that he could have Mark clean it up. Both Jeno and Chenle worked Jisung through his second orgasm, Jaemin tried his best to hold him still, and Mark and Hyuck were back to kissing each other. To everyone's surprise, Renjun leaned forward on his knees to roll his palm over Jisung's sensitive tip.

"Hyung!" Jisung cried out behind his gag.

Jaemin put more pressure on Jisung's chest to hold him still for the last minute or so that they continued to bully him with overstimulation.

"Okay, okay," Mark said, pushing Haechan off him in order to catch his breath. He licked his lips. "We should get cleaned up."

"He has one more in him, hyung," Chenle complained, his fingers still playing with Jisung's nipples.

Mark observed Jisung for a moment. His body was slumped with exhaustion, his head braced against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to bear the way Renjun was torturing his tip. He looked exhausted. After working long hours and practicing so much, you'd already milked the rest of his energy out of his body-- For lack of a better word. You pulled Renjun's hand away. When Jeno noticed, he brought his movements to a halt and shot Jaemin a look which told him to release Jisung who panted the second he was shown an ounce of mercy. Chenle, despite what he wanted, obeyed Mark's orders and your silent lead.

"Let's get him out of these," Hyuck said.

Everyone moved to undo the restraints. Jeno's knots were tight, but the ropes were loose around Jisung's limbs, making it easy to wedge the knots loose before untying them altogether. Meanwhile, you moved your weight onto your knees so that you could reach over the boys and take Jisung's gag out of his mouth. He gulped through a heavy breath.

"You okay?" you asked.

Jisung nodded tiredly. "Ne."

A wadded up ball of duct tape made its way into the trash in the corner, thanks to Renjun, and when he returned he had Jisung's water bottle in hand so that once Jisung was free he was able to take slow sips that Mark monitored closely.

"You did good," Mark complimented.

Jisung blushed. "Thanks, hyung..." He turned to face away from everyone.

"I'm going to get him in the shower. You smell disgusting," Jeno said.

"That's what rehearing for thirteen hours a day will do to you," Jaemin added.

Jisung set his water bottle down on the floor. "Okay, I get it, I need to relax with you guys more. I get it. I'm sorry." He hooked his arm over Jeno's shoulder, then on the count of three, he was lifted to his feet. He put all of his weight against Jeno because his legs were shaking and his body was exhausted from the overstimulaton.

You stood to kiss Jisung gently. "Sleep in my bed tonight?"

He nodded.

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etherealstar-writes · 11 months ago

Text

I WANNA BE YOURS | LIONESSES X READER | PT 3

pairings: lionesses x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: three

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

brightness

we have training tomorrow

just a reminder

the REAL karate kid

ughh

kie

what's the bet leah and georgia

are gonna be a show off

while niamh's gonna be off in her own world

neev

hey! no need to call me out like that

i do focus

stairway

i am not a show off

willybum

me neither!

door knob

you guys need proof?

the imposter

damn

you guys got that athletic build 💪

the REAL karate kid

......

willybum

.......

stairway

.......

elton

.......

earpsy

.......

brightness

.......

neev

.......

lotte

.......

maya

.......

daily

.......

the imposter

HOW MANY OF YOU ARE ON THIS CHAT??

elton

i think the rest are asleep

the imposter

are you guys all part of some cult omg

and why do you guys have like

group training together?

that's kinda sus

the REAL karate kid

honestly it's kinda fun and chaotic

lotte

are we all gonna ignore the fact that

nobbs has photos of georgia's and leah's muscles?

door knob

are we just gonna keep referring

the imposter as imposter?

or if anyone's gonna ask her name?

the imposter

your name's nobbs??

LMAO THE DOOR KNOB MAKES SO

MUCH MORE SENSE NOW 😭💀

also

my name's y/n

neev

that is such a pretty name

the imposter

thank you!

elton

you know

you never really answered

lotte's question nobbs ....

willybum

it's because i'm her favourite duh

stairway

um it's actually me

hence why she sent a photo of mine first

meado

and here we go again

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

elton

hello

@everyone

why is everyone so dead right now

earpsy

maybe it's the fact that we just finished training

the REAL karate kid

and because we actually have lives

elton

that's a lie and we all know it

the imposter

how was training?

neev

tiring

feeling quite dead rn

willybum

funny actually

lessi slipped and slammed

face first into the training mat

elton

that was the highlight of my day

the REAL karate kid

glad to know my misery

causes you guys happiness

rusty metal

guys

i stumbled upon the best photo ever

my eyes have been blessed

stairway

omg

bronzy in her active era??

daily

ooh do show

lotte

it's intrigued my interest now too

rusty metal

neev

LMAO

willybum

WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET THIS

the REAL karate kid

CRYING RN 😭💀

elton

STOP 😭

this is a masterpiece

i'm saving this

stairway

she's a barbie gurl 💅

earpsy

PLS 💀

willybum

i'm blocking yall

stairway

your eyes just can't handle this much art

the imposter

hello friends of y/n!

i was trying to take photos of y/n

and accidentally clicked into here

neev

hello friend of y/n

the imposter

WHAT IS THAT PHOTO OF LEAH WILLIAMSON 😭

is this some kind of football fan cult??

some of your usernames are familiar in a strange way

idk why i can't seem to place it

elton

hmm quite strange

don't you all agree?

stairway

hmm very strange indeed

brightness

yes

daily

indeed

willybum

very

the REAL karate kid

where's y/n?

the imposter

standing in front of me

has no clue i'm on this chat

i'll send a photo

hang on

(lets just pretend they can see your face in the photo)

now she wants her phone back

goodbye strange strangers

elton

......

stairway

......

willybum

......

the REAL karate kid

......

neev

......

rusty metal

......

brightness

......

daily

......

doorknobs

......

meado

......

kie

......

earpsy

......

maya

......

lotte

......

lauren 1

......

stairway

the whole chat rn:

elton

i was not expecting this today-

the REAL karate kid

toone, this is literally the best

most dumbest thing you've done-

neev

honestly

lotte

my eyes have been blessed twice today

willybum

wow

the REAL karate kid

you can get my number wrong

anytime toone

part four here

#lionesses x reader #woso x reader #engwnt x reader #engwnt #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #alessia russo x reader #ella toone x reader #georgia stanway x reader #niamh charles x reader #woso #woso fanfics

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sanguineterrain · 7 months ago

Note

your most recent jason fic has me in a bit of a chokehold and its bc you do so well with the dialogue and the banter!!

HONEYLOVE???#?*×& i need to be physically restrained (i appreciate your fics respectfully)

anyways, the fic has me thinking: imagine it's the same reader, but they know Jason's alive and they're back to being friends again (skipping over the drama of "YOU'RE ALIVE?!?" "yea lmao sorry ily tho") but there's this tension now. and since Jason's not working with a mask anymore (and he's slightly more vulnerable with r), it's him who gets flustered and it's r who does the flirting playful banter. maybe it ends with a kiss (˘ ³˘) ?

i'm such a sucker for a flustered Jason and there's something that tells me he gets really weak in the knees for someone he adores >:) anyways, you can always choose to write this or not but a very big, fat thank you if you do

the reaction pics are SO FUNNY i'm glad you enjoy this au <3

jason todd x gn!nocturne!reader. pt 3 of vigilante reader. this is basically reader just being feral over jason :> they speak for all of us, really. love confessions, tension, somewhat flustered jason, more sparring lols.

pt 1 / pt 2

****

Jason Todd is alive. Jason Todd is sitting two feet away, talking about a case.

You can't quite believe it. You went home two days ago and expected to wake up to the whole thing being a dream or the result of a Poison Ivy hallucinogen.

You can't stop staring at him. It's weird. You're being weird. But you can't help it.

Every time you see Jason, you want to look at him for as long as possible. You don't want to forget his face. This new face. Scarred and hardened, but still good. Still loved.

And, well. It's not like Jason's bad looking. Sure, you thought he was cute when you were teenagers. Resurrection makes the heart grow fonder, et cetera.

But now? Now, Jason makes your heart stupid. You can barely contain your desire. It's been two weeks since he revealed himself, and every time you see him, you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep yourself from showing him what he does to you.

Sometimes you think he sees right through you, but if he does, he never acts on it.

"—listening. Yo. Ground control to Major Tom. Are you with me?"

Jason waves a hand in front of you. You blink.

He's unmasked and in a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and dark jeans—the most comfortable you've seen him, actually. His hair is still wet from his shower.

"Sorry," you say, suddenly zeroed in on the three droplets of water sliding down his neck. "I'm listening. Just looking at you."

"'Cause I'm so pretty?" Jason asks, batting his lashes.

You reach over without thinking. He freezes when you wipe the water off of his neck. Then you tuck a curl behind his ear.

"You should let me blow-dry your hair," you say, taking your time in dropping your hand. "It'll take ages to dry in this humidity."

Jason's eyes have gone wide. Pink splotches bloom on the apples of his cheeks.

"Uh." He swallows. You watch his throat bob. "Thanks. Maybe... next time."

"I'll steal Dick's. He's got the fancy sixteen setting one."

That makes Jason smile. "Hm. Some things never change."

His eyes crinkle at the corners. Fondness swells swiftly in your chest.

You stay like that for a moment, caught in each other's orbit.

Jason breaks it first, leaning away. "Right. You should probably get back to the Manor. Br–the others'll probably think I kidnapped ya."

You shrug. "I quit."

"What?"

"Bruce was getting on my last nerve. I can't work with someone like that."

Jason snorts. "Join the club. Look, I can't say I'm not thrilled that you're stickin' it to the old man. But if this is 'cause of me... I wouldn't be mad if you kept workin' with him. Honest. If that's what you wanna do, don't let me stop you."

"Jason." You rest your hand atop his. "I joined this life because of you. To honor you. You taught me how to help people, not Bruce. You taught me what it meant to be kind, to be a part of something bigger than myself."

To love, you don't say.

"I..." He shakes his head. "You became Nocturne for me?"

You close your eyes, then open them. You've cried so many times. You don't want to stay in your grief any longer. Not when he's right in front of you.

"When you died, I..." You take a deep breath. "Nocturne was something to ground me. I think Bruce recognized that. I think he knew how much you meant to me. He didn't have to take a chance on me, and I appreciate that he did. But I've realized that he doesn't know everything. Can't see what's right in front of him sometimes."

You squeeze Jason's wrist. He sighs.

"God, I'm sorry," he says.

"What're you sorry for, Jay? You came back. That's all I ever wanted."

Jason chews his cheek for a moment. Then he stands, chair scraping the floor.

"C'mon," he says.

You follow him to the living room. He moves the armchair, the couch, and rolls up the rug. He disappears down the hall and returns with two thick mats. He tosses them onto the floor.

"Uh..." you say. "What're you—"

"'M gonna show you what y'did wrong that night on the roof."

"Wow. Can't believe you're still single. Being reminded of my shitty combat skills gets me so hot."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Alright, smartass. Just 'cause you quit the Bats doesn't mean you won't go out there and keep helping people. I know you. The least I can do is pick up where Dickface left off in your training."

"The least you can do, huh? I think you just wanna pin me against the floor again," you say, smirking.

He clears his throat. "That—no."

"No?" You step closer and look at him through your lashes. You're so close, you're touching his chest. "What happened to tying me up 'cause I was out when I shouldn't have been? Isn't that another educational technique?"

Jason's throat bobs. "That wasn't—I was just saying things."

"Hm. That's too bad."

You skip right past him, onto the mat, and hold out your arms.

"Okay. Put the moves on me, J.P."

It takes Jason a moment to craft his usual poker face. When he does, he groans. "'M not an evil Gilded Age financier. Still don't like 'J.P.'"

"But you like me-ee," you sing-song.

He shrugs. "Sometimes. Until you give me a heart attack and run into a burning building."

"Wish I could've seen your face for that one," you say as you steel your shoulders and secure your feet.

"Better you didn't. I'm sure there was a vein or two popping outta my forehead." Jason cracks his neck. "Ready?"

"Lay it on me, big guy."

"You first. Attack me like you normally would."

So you do. You step forward and throw a punch similar to the one from your rooftop spar. Jason catches it, of course. But this time, he locks you in a hold. One leg is between yours, and your arms are twisted behind your back with one hand. Humiliating.

"Dude!" You wiggle. Jason doesn't yield. "Jay, come on. No petty criminal is gonna know how to do all that."

"I know. The point of this is for you to know how to use someone's size against them."

Jason presses his cheek against yours. You tamp down your shiver. You can hear his heartbeat.

"Take a breath," he murmurs.

You close your eyes and breathe. Jason's grip doesn't hurt, but you're frustrated by how predictable you are. How he knows your body. A part of you is missing in not knowing him the way he knows you.

"Alright," he says. "Think. What part of me is exposed?"

"Not the important parts, I hope."

You can feel his eyeroll.

"You're hilarious. C'mon, focus. What can you attack?"

"Um... your legs. You trapped my arms, but my and your legs are free."

"Good." The praise warms you. Being this close to Jason will never get old. "What else?"

"What else? Do you have a tail I don't know about?"

"Sucha wiseass," he says, mouth close to your ear. "Your head. You're still able to move your head, and you're close to my face."

"Yeah, I'm not headbutting you. Out of the kindness of my heart."

"I appreciate that, sweets. Sweep my leg."

So you do. Jason goes down easier than he normally would for your benefit.

"'Kay," he says, once again underneath you. Now you have his hands pinned. "Good. Remember what went wrong last time?"

"You bucked me off like a Clydesdale."

He smiles. "Yeah, okay. So what'll you do different?"

"I'm not in my suit," you say. "I don't have extra weight in my boots."

"No, but you don't need it if you keep my legs apart."

"So that was your plan all along, huh? Perv."

Jason coughs. "Ah-hum... I—c'mon, lock my legs."

You grin and spread Jason's legs, using your knees to keep him immobile.

And then you just stare. This time, it's not because you're thinking about the miracle of resurrection (though what a miracle it is). No, you're just thinking, once again, about how your best friend got really, stupidly pretty.

And how you really, stupidly wanna kiss him.

Jason still looks young, but his jaw is now defined. He's got a five o'clock shadow coming on. His lips are full and pink. Freckles dot his cheeks and nose. The nose that still has a bump from when he broke it during a fight with Riddler.

You remember how he played it off for weeks. Bruce said that didn't even cry. But when you asked if it hurt, Jason had said yes.

You wonder when the last time Jason cried was. You wonder how much pain he's suffered since.

You wonder if he knows he's got your heart in the palm of his hand.

"Hey," Jason says. His voice is soft. Shy. "I lose ya again?"

You shake your head. "No. Never."

"There somethin' on my face?"

"You're a lot to look at," you say. "Pretty, pretty boy."

That gets an undeniable reaction. Jason Todd has never been able to take a compliment. You've been exploiting that all day.

Perhaps you know him better than you thought.

He exhales sharply, like you've sucker-punched him. His eyes dart to you. Waiting.

"Your eyes are green," you say. "Like, mixed. Blue and green."

Jason nods. "I—yeah. The Pit. Changed 'em. Changed me."

You lean in. His gaze flicks to your mouth. You watch his Adam's apple bob in a hard swallow.

"They're still pretty," you say. "Always had pretty eyes, Jaybird."

"Heh, right. Even with this shit?" He points to the scar that crosses over his right eye, stopping at his lip.

You let go of his wrists—not that you were holding them that tightly anyway. If this were a real fight, you would've lost ten times over already. Considering how much of you is touching Jason, you happen to be winning hard.

You trace the puckered white flesh with your thumb. Jason flinches but doesn't pull away.

"Your face could never turn me away," you say. "Never."

He closes his eyes and shudders. "Y'too nice to me. Always so nice t'me. Even when we were fighting. Why're ya so good?"

Your lips are a hair from his now. "I don't know how to make it more obvious, Jaybird. I'm absolutely insane about you."

Jason's eyes fly open. He sees your mouth and his breathing increases. You smile.

"Yeah, want you bad. No place I wouldn't follow you. Do anything for you."

Jason makes a strangled noise in his throat. You grin.

"C'mon, big guy. I'm right here. Come have me, Jay. I'm yours."

Jason soars up and kisses you. Swallows you, really. His hands hold your waist for dear life. You wrap one leg around his.

You nip his lip. Jason whines softly. Delicious.

You grab his face, fingers tangling in his curls. Jason sits up, slotting you against him. One hand supports you on your back, the other on your side.

"God—" He breaks away, just barely. "You're way too good for me. Had sucha... sucha crush on ya when we were kids. Y'so sweet."

You blindly find his throat and bite, hard enough to leave a mark. Jason makes a guh sound. You lick the bite to soothe it.

"Missed you," you say into his skin. "Missed you so goddamn bad, Jason."

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," he babbles, clinging to you as you kiss up his neck. "Yeah, missed you too."

"Not letting you go," you say, almost snarling. You're angry with want, angry at the world for keeping this from you for so many years. "It's you and me now, Jay, mkay? Gonna be mine?"

"Always been yours," he says, panting. Jason finds your lips again. The kiss is messy, uncoordinated. Full of love. "No one but you."

You haven't fallen behind. You're starting anew.

"Never been anybody but you."

#Jason todd x reader #Jason todd x you #red Hood x reader #red Hood x you #Jason todd fanfiction #red Hood fanfiction #Jason todd imagine #red Hood imagine #red Hood x yn #jason todd x y/n #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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littlemissmaples · 8 months ago

Text

PAC || Have you met the one? + Advice

Pile 1 = Bear

Pile 2 = Candy

Pile 3 = Flower

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

• Pile 1

Have you met the one?

Of course you have! But I feel like you have only ever seen them in your dreams. It's possible that this is someone that you know of although you haven't met them yet. I dont believe this is a celebrity, so I'm sorry if you were hoping it was (but that may be the fhace doe some of you).

Advice

I feel like in order for you to meet the one you need to become more organized, you need to let go of the things that no longer serve you, specially in the long run. This is a divine connection that can happen at any time but you will only end up making this journey far more troubling for yourself (perhaps you're impatient and meeting the wrong people often) if you do not, and I mean this with love, get it together.

I believe in you, hang in there. You know what to do 🌸

• Pile 2

Have you met the one?

I don't know why I wanna make the joke "have you met the two, the three and the four" lmao, you may be black or perhaps african, if not dont worry take what applies, you remind me of a friend. There's an energy here of "fun-ness" for some of you this is your future spouse coming in, he's a funny man. I'm not getting a more fem-presenting energy here. There's a chance he's the one who's black or of african descent (Asian for some of you). I don't believe that any of you have met this person yet but he's really excited to meet you, some of you are likely to meet him very soon, like very very soon, he wants to say that he's "tall, dark & handsome" and that he "writes music", perhaps he plays an acoustic guitar even, haha, he also says he smells good, there's so much he wants to say here. Perhaps I'll do a future spouse reading next after this one. But if you need me to summarize this.

Yes, you have met the one, you have either met them already/recently or you're about to meet them very soon or in a surprising way (I feel like they're right in front of you but you just dont see them, haha, you'll notice each other soon enough. For some of you this will bet at the mall, at work, bank or like a public space where you're busy with something.)

Advice

I'm not getting any advice for this Pile. All I'm getting is messages from whoever's fs this is. He says "get ready, sexy." Lmao he is a riot.

• Pile 3

Have you met the one?

No unfortunately you have not, the reason I say "unfortunately" is because I feel like for some of you you have recently gone through a break up. You thought they were the one, but they're not. For some of you I'm getting that this person's friend is the one or perhaps someone who was (or is) friends with you. Some of you have soulmates that are friend but you confuse this for romantic love. I'm also getting for some of you that you pursue romantic love only to find that you're stuck in toxic places. I'm sorry you've had to go through this but you're not alone, and things will look up for you, but you have to give up on this search first, you're more likely to meet the one if you stop seeking shiny things in dark spaces, the entire world shines for you, everything is light by sunlight and I know that makes it harder for you to figure out what's good for you if "he's the one" and all this when everything outside shines so much. But this doesnt mean you gave to go to such cold spaces to find something warm. Maybe you dont have to be warm, maybe the temperature outside is enough. What I'm saying sounds cryptic but this is how I'm getting these messages. Stop seeking love outside of yourself, I promise that you'll find it, but you dont have to go to odd places to bump into it. Sometimes the most precious things are found in the most regular places. Learn to love the mundane things in life, I know the slow-paced-ness of it all fan be kinda frustrating but slowing down is not what you need to do, just let yourself be and what how everything flows to you. Some of you live in New York, idk why I'm seeing the park, but there's a chance you'll be finding yourself in the right place at the right time, meeting this perfect someone, after following a string of events that lead you to this "sunny place." (I kept hearing "sunshine state" I looked it up and I got Florida, someone might be from Florida, some of you might move to Florida or perhaps be meeting the one in Florida or maybe the one IS from florida, haha. Either way there's something here about Florida. ((California & Arizona too for some. Take what applies, my love 💛)) )

Advice

Do not be so hard on yourself, you're very strict with how you are. Perhaps you need a routine that's more simple on you, take a walk outside but dont expect anything insane, just take the time to move about at your own pace and see what catches your eye. Follow your instinct. Drink something nice at a nice place. For some of you I'm getting a cafe, maybe you like matcha. Either way, take it easy today. You deserve a break, your mind is too heavy. Some of you might be autistic or perhaps you're in your head often, whatever it is, please let your mind rest, you think too hard, you'll be okay if you take a break for a day. Things dont have to be so complex. (I know this has nothing to do with "the one" but I feel like being kinder to yourself can really help speed that up.)

Take care, y'all 🌤✌

#pac #Maple's PACs #pick a pile #love reading #the one #pick a card #tarot #definitely did not procrastinate doing this one lmao #future spouse #spirit guides #fs #divination

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ckret2 · 2 months ago

Note

Hey, I've been off for a while so I don't know if anyone's asked you this before or not, but I need some help with writing and you're the only smart person I could think of right now... 😭

How can you come up with such great plot ideas?? Like, how can you just come up with a plan and go like "yeah that's gonna happen because he did this to do that." How tf do I even word that? Like, for example, when Bill escaped the mystery shack so Ford wouldn't oof him for good. Like you came up with such a complex yet amazing plan for how they could escape. WHY ARE YOU SO SMART GIVE ME YOUR BRAIN POWER. I had the thought that it took you a while, like maybe years to plan something like this. Idk for how long you were planning on starting this fic, but as someone who wants to start their own manga, and is also heavily inspired by bungo stray dogs, I need help cause I suck at writing. I'm only good for midly funny jokes and somewhat good art (but I have time to improve on that.) Also I'm sorry if this does not make sense 😭 idk how else to word it...

Honestly... the answer is "I come up with plots by spending a lot of time thinking about them" LMAO.

specifically for that plot arc? I sorta came up with it in three phases, a few months apart. Simplifying pages & pages worth of discord chats:

Phase 1 was "well OBVIOUSLY the humans initially want Bill dead right? And OBVIOUSLY Bill wants to escape right? So it would only make sense to have a plotline where they're ready to kill him and he has to escape. Either he can succeed by himself... or, maybe some of the humans change their minds and don't want him dead. That'd show some major character development. That might be cool for the end of the fic."

Phase 2 was "I have two ideas that would make for a REALLY cool dramatic ending of the fic, either Bill's escape or [BIG SECRET], which is cooler? Definitely [BIG SECRET], that's DRAMATIC, that's HUGE, that's GOING PLACES. But the character development from him escaping would be really big. How do I have both?

"Maybe have him escape early in the fic... And I can use Bill trying to escape as the inciting event to give him more freedom to hang out in town, which is a huge goal of mine that needs to happen as early in the fic as possible. But then I'd need to justify why he'd come back.

"Maybe Mabel helps him escape; and then finds out no one wants to hurt him anymore and pleas with him to come back; because them sparing him would be huge character development on their part, but BILL coming back because MABEL ASKED would be even BIGGER character development on his part. But I also want Ford to have a turning point here too. Maybe he also helps with the escape somehow? Maybe it's a SURPRISE that he helps, and that's why the situation has changed enough that Mabel asks Bill to come back. So he's coming back for both of them. Now I just need a reason for Ford to change his mind."

Phase 3 was "while plotting other plots I came up with the reason why Ford no longer immediately fears Bill might kill them all AND a reason why Ford might think Bill has a chance of changing for the better. Now I just need to make up the details of how Bill escapes, what he does while he's out, etc etc. shrinking flashlight, excuse for mabel to leave town, excuse for her to stop BEFORE she leaves town to set Bill free, where's Bill go that keeps him in the area, if his choice is between miserably camping or going back to the shack then there's no emotional impact if he chooses to go back when he knows it's safe, so what can I do to make leaving seem as appealing as possible to Bill so it hits harder when he stays solely for friendship..." this phase was the easiest part.

I didn't start plotting this fic at all until after I made this post. These three phases all happened from like late spring 2023 to I think fall/winter 2023. I don't remember when I plotted phase 3, except that it was AT LEAST before I started posting the locked bathroom plot—because I had Mabel win concert tickets and mentioned her using the size-changing flashlight specifically to set them up for the escape plot.

So, looking at the above? Here's my advice, with more examples from how I do my own ploting:

— Know your character goals, before everything else. "I want the characters to want Bill to stay alive." "(which means I want them to stop hating him AND stop fearing him AT LEAST enough that execution seems like a worse choice than captivity)." "I want Bill to decide he wants to stay near his new friends more than he wants to run off and do evil." "(If this is early in his character development, the power of friendship won't be enough to convince him to stay; so I also need to come up with some evil he can get up to without leaving town.)" "I want Bill to get more freedom to move around the town because half my ideas depend on it." "I want Bill to befriend Mabel." "I want Bill to hook up with Ford." "I want Bill to keep trying to get back into his body no matter what." Etc.

— Usually, you don't come up with plots by going "what would be cool?" and trying to pull ideas out of thin air. You come up with plots by going "what do I want my characters to go through emotionally?" (becoming friends, learning to feel remorse, trying to change forms, etc)

... and then going "well, what kind of thing would need to happen to make that happen?" (To become friends, the two characters need to do things together that make them like each other—which means I need to come up with events that would show each of them why the other's likable, and if need be I need to come up with an excuse to FORCE them to participate in that event together)

... and THEN going "so what physical circumstances do I need to engineer to make that happen?" (Mabel befriends Bill by trying to help him feel better. Why's he need to feel better? He hates his body. How is this hatred expressed (and it needs to be a way Mabel can do something about)? Maybe he'll give himself a shitty haircut. How can she help fix it, it could take years for him to regrow that hair? Well... let's make up a magical way to instantly regrow hair. What's silly enough?)

You take your character goal and then specifically craft something cool around it.

— if you DO happen to come up with a random cool event first... remember what your character goals are. And go, "how would this event serve those goals? What can I put in this event to push one of my other objectives forward?

— when you're working on one part of the story, you always remember what you wanna do in other parts of the story.

When I was plotting early events in the fic, I knew that before the escape plot Ford needed to stop fearing Bill would kill him—and I decided the only way that could happen would be if Bill saved Ford's life, with NO benefit to himself, at great personal risk, knowing it would make his own situation worse, for no reason except that Ford would continue to live—and that seed grew into the entirety of the eclipse arc.

When I had Ford make indirect contact with Bill's cult at the crystal shop and I asked myself what the payoff could be from that event, I also knew I'd need something to tempt Bill to leave town in the escape plot—so that became the cult's role in the fic.

When I needed something silly for Mabel to do in town to prevent her from coming home and finding Bill locked in the bathroom, I already knew I'd need a reason for her to leave town for a couple days to disguise Bill's escape—so I had her win concert tickets in Portland.

When I was writing Bill having his mini emotional breakdown in chapter 39, I already knew I'd be writing a series of flashbacks where Soos thinks over all the terrible things Bill's been through—so when I wrote Bill trying to avoid going outside during the eclipse, I wrote in Bill giving Soos info that would help protecting the townsfolk.

When I wrote the beach episode, I already knew that in future chapters I want Robbie to try to recruit Bill into his emo band, and I want Bill to develop a complex vicarious worship relationship with the local teens' ironic Bill cult—so I had the goth half of Wendy's friend group swing by to have a positive reaction to his pyramid bricks sunburn and let him try to present himself as a fellow goth kid.

When I wrote the summerween plot, I already knew Mr. What's-His-Face gets a plotline way later in the fic—so I used summerween as an excuse for the Trickster's and Mr. WHF's mutual friends to swing by and foreshadow Mr. WHF's eventual arrival.

Any time you have a gap in the story, you fill it by asking yourself, "Well, what's something I want to do later in the story that I haven't set up yet?" and stuff in something that pushes forward one of those goals.

Or, tl;dr: I come up with plots by spending a lot of time thinking about them.

#gooseycantsleep #ask #about my writing

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saucerfulofsins · 1 month ago

Text

I haven’t seen any posts comparing Buck’s coming out to Eddie and Tommy breaking up with Buck, which is a shame because the similarities drive me insane.

Or well. I say similarities, but that’s wrong. What I should be saying is: these scenes mirror each other. This post is more about the highlights than shot by shot comparisons – for that, I’d recommend you watch them side by side yourself.

Let’s start with the first and most obvious structural parallel: both scenes happen around 32 minutes into their respective episodes/between two-thirds to three-quarters in.

Now, for the scenes themselves. They follow the same basic outline, which I’ll discuss one by one. I’m following the same structure throughout: I discuss the coming out scene, then the breakup, and then give some analysis. At the end, I’ve included a section on further things of note that I couldn’t neatly fit into this structure and my final thoughts. Is this the first time I’m using the media analysis I was taught during my minor in Arts, Culture and Media with a focus on film in 2019? Yes, yes it is.

Buckle up, because this meta/essay is nearly 3k. For that reason (i.e. accessibility/readability and the amount of work I put in), this entire piece has been cross-post to AO3 (CLICK FOR LINK).

Opening shots

Seating 1.0

Buck in the kitchen

Seating 2.0

POV shots (both perspectives)

Eddie and Tommy leaving

Miscellany

Final thoughts

Analysis under the cut:

1. Opening shots

This part includes some of the most noticeable differences between the scenes, which explains why they feel different – at least at first.

CO: Eddie’s phone comes into view first – this is his chat conversation with Marisol, which the first part of the CO scene is about (note how this mirrors the gym scene, where Buck intended to come out before the conversation lingered on Eddie and Marisol). Eddie is also closest to the door during this part of the scene – which is where he will remain throughout.

BU: The first shot is of a closed door, which Buck opens for Tommy, i.e. Tommy certainly has no keys to Buck’s place, and this might well be a callback to doors as a recurrent theme. They greet with the briefest kiss possible. I rewatched this several times to make sure it really happened – it happens immediately after a cut and it’s filmed in such a way this could easily have been an air kiss lmao. (No seriously, I had to watch this screen by screen to properly catch it, and the audio is a lot more obvious than the visual). They make small talk about the movies and Tommy having ordered an uber (clearly a throwback to 7x05), and they switch positions so Buck is actually closest to the door.

As for clear similarities: Eddie and Tommy are standing up and remain mostly in the same place; Buck is moving around the loft – it’s an expression of his nervous energy, and the major changes in these scenes are about Buck, not Eddie or Tommy.

2. Sitting down

I made this a separate point for one reason, and one reason only: In CO, Eddie takes his own initiative to sit down, while saying he should go home and Buck offering him a beer, so clearly he won’t be leaving to go home any time soon(ilu Eddie but I’m begging you, stop putting yourself and also us through this 😭). In BU, Buck tells Tommy to sit down... which is in part to signal they need a more serious talk than can be done on the way to the cinema, but also shows a massive contrast in terms of familiarity and comfort, regardless of what Buck tries to tell Tommy later.

Both Eddie and Tommy sit down on the leftmost stool (closest to the door, i.e. it’s easiest for them to leave and Buck can’t get between them).

3. Buck in the kitchen

Fun fact! Before writing this post, I checked the scene where Buck confesses to Taylor that he kissed Lucy. During that scene, Buck is sitting down at the kitchen island, while Taylor lingers in the kitchen proper (i.e. with the island between them). She has moved in at that point – kitchens represent ‘being at home’ – but there’s a physical barrier between her and Buck, and it doesn’t actually keep from her leaving (even while saying she has nowhere to go).

CO: The camera uses a dolly shot to follow Buck throughout the kitchen – to the fridge and then back to the head of the kitchen island. He’s attentively listening to Eddie complain about Marisol and God watching him have sex (cursing God while sluttily drinking his beer).

BU: Buck walks out of view of the camera, through the kitchen, and there’s a dolly shot to the right to focus on Buck finding his place on the head of the kitchen island. He leans on the counter at this point. He does have a pretty open posture (identical to CO); Tommy sits with his hands/fingers folded together but he’s turned to Buck i.e. paying attention.

This is the position Buck has when he comes clear to Tommy about having dated Abby in the past; it’s also when his phone comes into the picture. Well. Pictures. Of Buck and Abby.

4. Seating 2.0

This is the longest section of analysis, and contains the part that makes me SCREAM but let’s start at the beginning. From the moment Buck sits down, the conversation turns serious in both scenes. This dialogue consists of mostly POV shots (which I will discuss next), and these medium shots that show Buck and Eddie, and Buck and Tommy.

CO: Buck sits down while Eddie says, “You and Tommy have the right idea, stay single.” This very clearly introduces a new section of the scene. Overall, the lighting of the loft is muted besides the yellow for visual interest and gay Eddie, thank you for your hard work Buddie colour theorists. Buck’s dining table is unlit and barely visible, so the space really takes a back seat and allows us to focus on Buck and Eddie. Please take note of the chair between them – this serves as a physical barrier, where someone is getting between them (a place for Marisol and Tommy, respectively).

BU: Here, the segway happens right after Buck’s come clear about being Abby’s ex 2.0. He sits down on the middle chair, but it’s quite obvious he’s shoved it away from Tommy. In fact, compared to CO, Buck is almost at the same distance from Tommy as he is from Eddie. There’s a barrier between Buck and Eddie, but there’s space between him and Tommy. This is emphasized by the lit dining table, which draws even more attention because of the white decorations: the loft is a space to be distracted by, focus on or even flee into.

Now. This is what kickstarted my obsession with these scenes, especially the coming out scene. The chair between them? Buck reaches out to Eddie, leans his arm onto it and in the process drawing attention to it. He actually leaves his arm there for an extended period, throughout several of the following shots, and only seems to pull back when he says he and Tommy were on a date.

The following shots – of Buck’s coming out and Eddie’s initial response – are back and forth POV shots. The first shot from medium distance, is this:

Do you see it. DO YOU SEE IT. Do you see what drives me crazy! Eddie is mirroring Buck’s earlier posture – also this is immediately after Buck says Tommy left him on the curb (i.e. Eddie realizes there’s no Tommy getting between them). Eddie’s not just opened up, he’s reaching out, extending his arm back onto that empty chair between them. And again, like Buck, he leaves it there for several shots. It’s still there when he tells Buck to call Tommy, although he briefly vaguely gestures to himself during the “He’ll love you! We all do!” It’s not clear when he takes his arm away; no shots show it and then he’s getting up.

This just. This drives me insane.

For comparison, Buck doesn’t reach out to Tommy during the BU scene. And, compare Tommy to Eddie:

5. POV shots

Okay, the section header is a bit of a misnomer because the scene consists mostly of dialogue and therefore has POV shots. Like I said, there’s also overlap between the POV shots and the wider establishing shots I used in section 4. The bulk of this part of the scene, however, shows a lot of over the shoulder close ups with quick POV switches. In both cases, this is where the subject at the heart of the scene is discussed.

Now, these differences are pretty small and they could be a consequence of these episodes having different directors. However, there’s zero doubt in my mind that Chad Lowe closely studied the CO scene for its sheer number of cinematographic parallels and therefore it might be entirely on purpose too YAY.

There’s some variation in the distance of these shots, but the most intimate ones look like this:

(Still not over that face he’s pulling here, dear Lord). Buck takes up most of the screen – his shoulders are visible, but the top of his head isn’t. I guess this is technically still an over the shoulder shot, but barely. Eddie is out of focus, just enough there to be a blurry ear. These shots are intimate. This is almost what Eddie is seeing – and actually these shots make it feel like they’re sitting a lot closer than they actually are.

"Until now.” Buck’s entire face (including hair) is in the shot, and we can see Tommy’s shirt. This is the closest/most intimate we get to see him (and Tommy, in reverse). For both sides, they’re very clear over the shoulder shots. Yes, this is intimate – but it is not intimate. A quarter to a third of the screen (esp as the conversation moves on) is dedicated to the other person. Buck is more visually interesting too. He has more colour in his face and his background is more clearly white than in CO, whereas Tommy blends in more with the brown coat rack background (shout-out to @sparklespiff for pointing out that difference while I was trying to figure out why Buck felt more noticeable, btw).

SIDENOTE: I know some posts have already been made about the pictures on Buck’s fridge and Eddie’s mantelpiece, like they seem thematically relevant (or perhaps not yet, but soon). Buck’s walls in general have more pictures on them in S8, which is evident both in Buck’s background and Tommy’s. I am nowhere near talented enough to identify them, but going by their general colour and composition, I believe all of Buck’s wall art pieces are that, art, not family photos.

6. Eddie and Tommy leaving

These scenes have some of the clearest parallels, and of course an incredibly clear difference in how Eddie and Tommy are leaving Buck.

CO: Eddie leaves not because of Buck (well, not technically), but because he has to go do something: “I gotta go talk to Marisol.” Buck is smiling while Eddie gets up and is on his way out. Of course, this is when Eddie stops, turns around, and Buck looks up. In fact, Eddie says “Come here” but he’s the one to walk up to Buck to give him a hug. Buck just stands up from the chair. During the hug, we get shots of both Eddie’s and Buck’s faces, and of course Eddie holding Buck’s shoulder. When Eddie leaves, we hear the door open and shut – the focus stays on Buck.

Again, when Tommy leaves, we only hear the door while the camera cuts to Buck. The show then picks up his response (with the same expression) during his arrival at Eddie’s, where Eddie lets him into his home.

BU: Of course, Tommy has nowhere he needs to go to (hello, return of the failed cinema date) – when he says “I should go” it is because of his conversation with Buck. There’s a medium wide shot of him getting up while Buck looks confused, looking like he’s about to reach out for Tommy – the first time during their conversation. The camera uses a slow dolly to the left, which is when Buck calls back Tommy to ask for clarification: “Did you just break up with me?” Tommy says, “Yeah, I guess I just did.” This has been pointed out before, but they’re clearly not sure. Tommy also says, “Believe me, I didn’t see it coming either.” (Was LFJ speaking from Tommy’s perspective in that interview?). That line is fascinating, actually, because only moments ago, he was incredibly adamant about being Buck’s first, not his last. This feels like a throwback to “Enjoy it while it lasts,” leaving them both overwhelmed/confused.

Look at how similar these shots are! Also, the reason I was adamant about calling these scenes mirrors and not parallels is because Buck and Tommy greet each other with a moment of physical affection (which, as I mentioned before, is incredibly short and barely visible). Eddie wouldn’t have ordinarily but feels it’s important to hug Buck to show him nothing has changed. In terms of meaning and cinematography, their interaction is a lot more substantial and reciprocal. They’re also making sure to leave on good terms – whereas Buck and Tommy meet on good terms, but part essentially as strangers. Buck and Tommy ending the scene like truly feels like an end. Buck and Eddie’s scene feels like a significant shift in their relationship, and for me part of that is a result of Eddie hugging Buck, and shaking up their routine.

7. Miscellany

Just some bits and bobs I couldn’t fit elsewhere in the analysis!

“I like him too. Just not the same way as you.” 7x05 was truly out there foreshadowing 8x06’s “I am not gay.” (I want to do a full 7x04 + 7x05 parallels post at some point, but that’s going to be a fuckload of work and possibly even larger than this post).

Like I pointed out, Buck and Eddie drink beer during their scene (which they often do during their conversations). Buck and Tommy are breaking up without accoutrements. Of course, we know Buck brings over beer to Eddie after the breakup. Because the scenes mirror each other so closely in every other aspect, it feels incredibly poignant: Eddie again fills a role in Buck’s life Tommy should have had. I also figured I’d check their fake brands, and they are different labels. I would assume Buck brought a new flavour, considering Eddie’s looks.

Speaking of continuity, Buck opening the door to Tommy in a sense mirrors Eddie opening the door to Buck at the end of 8x06. The key differences in their cinematography is that during BU, the establishing shot of the entire scene is of the closed door without a peephole shot. When Eddie opens the door, it follows his Risky Business tribute so the door takes up less presence, and even when it’s closed, Buck is clearly visible through the peephole.

Phones clearly are connected to (past) female love interests; Eddie is interacting with Marisol but it’s through text and impersonal – we don’t see the messages, we just hear Eddie complain. On the other hand, Buck is out of contact with Abby but he still treasures that relationship – otherwise he wouldn’t still have those pictures on his phone after 7 years. I guess that’s kind of cute? Idk, I never really liked Abby or how she treated Buck, but Tommy’s speech has turned me into an Abby defender lol

Like Buck, Maddie also stands at the head of the kitchen island during her conversation with Chimney. Chimney’s in the kitchen proper, though, and Maddie walks up to him so they can actually stand face to face and be happy about the new pregnancy together! (I genuinely missed that scene the first time I watched the episode, I was so caught up in the bones of it all SORRY MADNEY I LOVE YOU FOREVER).

8. Final thoughts

I mean. Are we really surprised? I’m not! Actually that’s a lie. I saw the similarities but was shocked at just how close these scenes are in full. However,I do think this scene in particular does a lot to show just how deliberate these parallels between S7 and S8 are (and between S8 and previous seasons in general – we’ve seen similar/near identical cinematography a couple of times now), and how deliberate the parallels are between Eddie and Tommy (who are literally taking up the same position in these two scenes).

And just. The fact it’s the coming out scene between Buck and Eddie, which was about opening up & telling the truth, and it doesn’t change anything (allegedly), versus Buck and Tommy, which is about opening up & telling the truth, which changes everything... it reaffirms how I feel about the coming out scene – this is a major moment of change, and that change is deeply entwined with their respective romantic relationships. AAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

#911 #911 meta #my meta #buddie #anti bucktommy #(mostly for posterity most of this is written to be tommy neutral)#im gonna get a phd in buddie some day #just you wait

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guiltyreverie · 3 months ago

Text

Remedy

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x reader

content tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, gojo being an ass (what’s new lmao), arranged marriage, clan issues

Warnings: NSFW mdni, toxic relationship, heartbreak, self doubt and insecurities, rough oral sex, m!receiving, f!receiving, praise kink, light punishment kink, rough blowjob, no actual sex yet, this is my first time writing smut so bear with me ok 😔, not proofread tbh, buckle up this is one heck of a ride :))

A/n: I’m not sure how many parts this will have as of now (kind of going with the flow)

Summary: When Gojo confessed his feelings for you, you couldn’t have been any happier - you were a fool

Word count: 8.3k

“Shut up, Satoru. Or we’ll get caught.”, you giggle into his neck.

“What are you gonna do, hmm?”, he grins and his hands wrap tightly around your waist pulling you closer towards him, the giddy feeling in your stomach only increasing with every minute you guys spend together.

The both of you have rarely spent time apart, ever since your engagement party three months ago, almost every day, you’d hang out and go on several dates. It’s almost too good to be true but here you were all shits and giggles and embracing whatever comes next as long as he’s here, with you.

Right now you were in an unoccupied class room, skipping a class, prefering to hang out with each other more.

You roll your eyes at his mischievous smile and kiss him: “I can do that?”, you plant several kisses down his jawline up to his neck, his grasp tightening around you and you were sure you almost heard him whimper when you reached a spot right above his collarbone.

He chuckled nervously: “Now, come on, sweetheart”, he clears his throat and takes a step back, his face flushed and a certain uncertainty sparked in his eyes.

You take that as a cue that you were breaching a boundary and awkwardly step back as well; the slight sting in your chest was almost like a slap to the face, an insecurity you thought had vanished is gnawing at the back of your head but you respected him and his wishes - if he wanted you to stop, you would.

“Hey,”, he stares at you contemplating, something for a second - did he see the doubt building inside of you? If yes, he chose to ignore it, because soon after he grabs your hand and nudges you to follow him outside, his reasoning being ‘we wouldn’t want to miss all of our classes today.’.

You shrug the gnawing feeling off of you, not wanting to be so insecure in your relationship so early on and cause unnecessary drama, you just need to get yourself sorted out. You let him drag you outside to your next class, in the meantime you try to dissolve the mess inside your head - maybe if you ignored it, it would disappear.

When Satoru turns towards you, you quickly smile at him and he winks at you; he lets go of your hand and instead wraps his arm around your neck.

“There’s this nice restaurant in Shibuya, if you want to we can go check it out after school. Maybe a little shopping beforehand?”, he kisses the side of your head, “How does that sound?”.

“Your treat?”, you grin at the mention of a date and were already gushing about what to wear in your head - you had to call Haname for help later.

“Of course, my treat. Anything for my girl.”, he smiles at you, your cheeks flush and you slightly hit him as some sort of compensation; you were so flustered at being called ‘my girl’ you fail to notice the slight guilt glimmering in his eyes.

Right now, you were so content with everything, you almost start to skip in your steps (girl is head over heels istg 😭).

If somebody had asked you, when did you fall for Satoru, you didn’t have the answer, it had just been building up over the years - heck maybe you always had cared for him you just didn’t notice? Maybe it was hidden behind the teasing you had grown to adore him. But even that seemed unimportant in the face of the warm spring breeze, it made you think, no matter what, the flowers would always end up blooming, despite whatever they are going to face.

When the classes are over Satoru drops you off at your dorm and you immediately go take a shower and call Haname over.

“This dress?”, you show her a black shoulder free dress that went up to your knees with a small slit reaching the mid of your thighs, “or this dress”, now you held up a baby blue colored dress with slightly loose sleeves at your hands with a heart shaped neckline that reached mid thighs - the black one is elegant, the blue one more cute.

She contemplates both options: “You’re also going around the mall, right?”

You nod.

“Baby blue.”

The anxiety in your chest gnaws at you: “What if it’s really fancy and I end up being underdressed?”

She gives you a quick glance - probably questioning where you left your head - before shaking her head: “You can still style it with your jewelry because if you guys are gonna walk around first the baby blue one is the better fit. I can imagine it gets very uncomfortable in the black one really fast.”

You sigh in frustration and bite your lip: “I’m overthinking this, aren’t I?”, you sat down next to her, you were being completely irrational but you just wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.

She gives you a small sheepish smile: “Just a teensy tiny bit.”, she gestures with her hand to show you exactly how tiny and you chuckle with a slightly nervous undertone.

“I just- I don’t want to make a mistake, make it go back to the point we didn’t talk for months.”, you look down playing with your fingers, you felt like you had just cracked open the window in the cold winter night; exposing your ugliest and deepest thoughts you had so desperately tried to ignore.

She quickly wraps her arms around you in comfort: “Do you really think Satoru is so shallow to break up with you over a dress?”, she holds you at arms length now and stares at you, analyzing you, “there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

You nod slightly - god voicing it out loud makes you realize just how ridiculous you probably sound right now - you let out a shaky breath: “What if I’m not good enough? I’m not her and no matter how hard I’ll try, I will never be her.”

“Did he tell you that? Because I swear to-“, she immediately gets up, preparing herself to beat up Satoru but you quickly grasp her hand and stop her from doing anything reckless.

“No, he didn’t, he never would.”, you shake your head violently, “I just feel like I have to compensate because he gave her up for me.”

She scoffs: “Dear, I love you, but you are being very dumb right now.”, her hand runs through her hair in frustration, “he didn’t give her up for you, he chose you. There is a difference.”

“I know, I’m being ridiculous but I can’t help but feel that way.”, the stone in your chest keeps getting bigger and you start to wonder when you’ll finally burst.

“Did you talk to him, tell him about this insecurity?”

You shake your head and you swear she’s about to hit you for your idiocy but decides against it, instead she firmly grabs your arms and shakes you.

“Talk. To. Him.”

“Gods, no.”, your eyes widened as if she was the one being ridiculous now.

She deadpans: “You’re hopeless.”

“Thanks.”, you reply sarcastically.

“Why won’t you tell him?”, she asks in such confusion - he’s your boyfriend, you should be able to tell him how you feel.

“It’ll pass, he doesn’t need a confirmation seeking, untrusting girlfriend.”

She sighs, like she gave up: “You should really work on your self-esteem.”

“Can we drop it now? It’s just passing thoughts, by tomorrow they are gone.”, you clear your throat unsure if you could even believe yourself right now.

“Are they really gonna pass or will they be buried so deep, you won’t ever acknowledge them again.”

You wink at her and then stand up to grab your curling iron. Your hair doesn’t get done by itself.

She gives you a look of disapproval but takes the curling iron out of your hand.

“I’ll do your hair, you can focus on your makeup.”

You smile at her and get yourself ready.

Once you’re finished you give yourself a nod of approval.

“You look hot and cute- if he doesn’t eat you out today i don’t know.”, she grins.

You bite the inside of your cheeks - will he? Or will he stop like all the other times you initiated something?

You shake your head in a weak attempt to get rid of your intrusive thoughts, he isn’t ready to go all the way with you, you shouldn’t push him.

“You’re right.”, you grin, maybe if you pretend to be fine, you’ll actually be fine in the end.

When you’re done you message Satoru, that you’re ready to go out and a few minutes later he’s already knocking at your door.

You glance at Haname, she gives you a thumbs up and you finally manage to open the door, your heart thumping so loudly, you can barely hear your own breath.

Upon the sight of you Satoru halts mid-greeting: “You look absolutely stunning.”, he kisses your cheek and hands you a bouquet of black dahlias.

“Thanks”, the tension in your shoulders slowly dissipates, “you look very handsome yourself.”, you grin at him and smell the flowers: “They look so pretty and smell so nice.”

“Just thought they looked pretty, like you.”, he grins smugly.

Your face flushes and you cough a little out of embarassment; you gesture for him to enter while you quickly put them in a vase.

He smiles at you and waves at Haname upon seeing her before he grasps your hand and drags you out of the door and yells: “I’m kidnapping this one.”

You shake your head at his antics and laugh: “You never change, do you?”

“Never.”, he smiles but the cold glint in his eyes betrays him.

You felt like an idiot - of course you just had to say the wrong thing - you knew what he went through when Geto decided to walk away.

“I’m sorry if I hit the wrong button.”, you squeeze his hand as a form of apology.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”, he smiles and squeezes your hand back in return.

When you both reach the car, he opens the door for you and walks to the other side and sits down beside you in the backrow. He tells the driver to drive to the mall and pick you guys up at 6.

The drive takes longer than you had initially expected, the city bustling with people and cars due to the weather getting warmer, you don’t necessarily mind, still fascinated by the little things in life.

Your gaze follows the children playing around with each other, friends talking together - having fun; sometimes it just shakes you up that each one of these people had their own life, their own stories and you wish you could hear them all.

“What’s got the cogs in your head all running?”, Satoru shakes you out of your thoughts.

“All of them, out there”, you nod towards the crowd, “they’re all living their lives, have their own perspectives, they’re their own main characters. It’s nothing new but the realization is so odd sometimes.”, you shrug at him, secretly you hoped he’d understand, even join you in such a philosophical topic - get a glimpse inside what’s going on in his head.

He smiles at you and leans his head towards you, one of his eyebrows raised: “You mean, like realizing not everything revolves around you?”, you inhale a sharp breath, he said it with such a sweet tone and yet it felt like such a passive aggressive dab at you.

You stay silent for a few seconds, considering your next words carefully, it seemed like that’s all you do around him recently - walk on eggshells - your inner self laughs at you demeaningly - is this how you’re supposed to feel like in a relationship? You interrupt yourself before it gets worse - no bad thoughts tonight.

“I didn’t mean that.”, you almost scoff, slightly offended, but you hold it in, maybe he didn’t notice how provocative he sounds.

He raises an eyebrow: “maybe you didn’t say it outright, but you clearly meant it.”

You sigh: “Let’s not start fighting about a mere observation.”, you tense up slightly.

He chuckles: “Your wish is my command.”

Finally the driver pulls into the parking lot and you’re more than happy to get out of the car and get a fresh breath of air. Distraction is what you both probably need right now.

Satoru waves goodbye to the driver and you quickly fix your dress before you step in, Satoru close behind you.

“Anything specific you want to check out?”, he grabs your hand and gives it a small kiss.

“I was thinking about new dresses. We have to attend many family gatherings this month and then there's our annual big sponsor announcement - we need to get you a suit.”, you contemplate if there’s anything else you need but decide that’s it for today.

He groans: “Can’t we just stay at home and cuddle instead?”

You chuckle at him and squish his face: “No. If it’s any consolation, though, we can cuddle afterwards.”, you grin.

He sighs playfully: “At least something good is coming out of these family events.”

“Y’know we don’t need family gatherings to cuddle? You can just come over.”, you suggest, maybe he would finally be the one to initiate some romantic action.

“I’ll think about it.”, he hums playfully; leaving you incredibly frustrated again - the nagging sensation that had been nestling in the back of your head had reappeared - why did he always almost entirely refuse any type of intimacy between you?

You nudge him while you roll your eyes - don’t show him your worries - you repeat almost like a mantra in your head.

“Is there anything you want to check out?”, you ask him, completely open to anything he wants to do, really, you just wanted to finally cross the bridge that’s almost always holding you at arm’s length away from each other.

“Not really, just want to spend the day with you.”, he smiles, “Now let’s go get you some pretty dresses.”

You smile, albeit, a little more coldly than you’d like to admit and you both look around the different shops.

Several shops and try-ons later you had a few dresses, Satoru’s suit in several different bags, all held by Satoru. You still were in the cabin trying on your last dress - a long red backless V-cut dress - you’d probably wear this to the sponsor event, it’s a little eye-catching but that’s how it’s supposed to be and it looked good.

Leaving the cabin you were about to turn when you see Satoru on his phone; you call out his name and he slightly tenses up and quickly puts his phone away.

You narrow your eyes in suspicion but decide to ignore it and do a little twirl: “What do you say?”

He gets up from his seat and walks around you, blowing a whistle: “You look breathtaking, absolutely stunning.”, he grins, “no man would be able to keep your eyes off you and then in despair, they’d have to realize that she’s taken to this dashing young man.”, he gestures at himself and you let out an amused chuckle.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You love it.”, he winks.

“Unfortunately.”, you sigh playfully.

“Now, hush.”, he rushes you back into the cabin, “we have a reservation at 6:30.”

You laugh: “Since when do you care about punctuality?”

He gasps in mock-offense: “Since always!”

“Sure.”, you hum in complete disbelief and quickly take off the dress and give it to Satoru to pay for it.

While he pays for it you change into your normal dress and get out, waiting for him outside. Soon he steps outside and you guys walk to the parking lot where your driver should be.

He whines as soon as he steps into the car: “I forgot how exhausting shopping is.”

“It wasn’t that bad. Besides, you suggested it!”, you nag him.

“Yes, I did, that doesn’t make it any less exhausting.” , he pouts in all his 6 foot 3 glory and you chuckle.

“You’re such a child.”, you grin.

He scoffs: “I’m not!”

“Of course you aren’t, my big baby.”, you coo mockingly and pinch his cheek like a grandma.

He lightly slaps your hand away and grins: “Don’t hurt the masterpiece.”

“The masterpiece should get a hold of his ego.”, you roll your eyes, a comfortable feeling engulfs you - when had you been this comfortable the last time?

He winks: “You can get a hold on this ego.”, you almost scoff - is this the same man that cockblocks you and himself all the time?

You decide to be bold, test the waters: “What if I do?”, your shoulders tense up slightly, the fear of another rejection never disappearing.

His eyes widen slightly and he starts to chuckle nervously: “Now, love, behave, our driver can hear us.” and your face flushes in embarrassment but it doesn’t stop you from not understanding the underlying subtone - another rejection.

You start to wonder just how long you’ll be able to hold in your feelings; it wasn’t getting any easier, not when any attempt to take a step he takes two steps back, it was frustrating to say the least, made you feel like he didn’t actually want you and it was slowly but surely suffocating you.

“When will you let me in?”, you mumble, tired of this back and forth you lean your head against the window and decide to close your eyes for a bit; maybe he had heard you, maybe he hadn’t, you don’t know - the rest of the drive is silent.

It seems like you dozed off during the latter half of your drive because you wake up to Satoru gently shaking your shoulder and telling you, you had arrived.

You nod and get up still slightly out of it so when you get out of the car, you’re a little dizzy and lean on Satoru’s chest, you can hear his breath hitch a little.

“You okay, sleepyhead?”, he chuckles and you nod.

“Just a second.”

“Take all the time you need, love.” , he smiles and wraps his arms around your waist to secure you.

After a few more seconds in the fresh air your sleepiness finally disappears and you’re ready to go in.

“Alright, I’m ready.”, he gives you a quick glance, probably confirming for himself, if you are actually ready and then guides you inside, his one hand not leaving your waist.

The both of you step inside and you’re fascinated by its glimmering aesthetic of black and gold, it was elegant and prestigious, absolutely beautiful, the tables each decorated with wonderful ornaments that suited the restaurant's interior design - just how did you never hear of this place?

A waiter welcomes you and asks for your name, then guides you to a table with Gojo’s name on it and leaves you to settle in and check out the menu.

You gush at Satoru: “Just how did you know about this place?”

He smiles, yet it was more of a painful smile: “I came here with someone once.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion: “Who?”, and then it hit you; her, it had to be Hiyori, he’d never take anyone else to this type of restaurant, your teeth clench together and you grip the edge of your seat tightly, you were absolutely furious - did he have to take you to a restaurant where he previously went with his ex? “You have to be kidding me.”, you deadpan, you didn’t want to fight, not today, never actually, but how much longer are you supposed to feel like the second option, the one that will always remind him of what he could have had, the one that will never be enough for him.

There’s only so much you can tolerate.

“It’s not how you think it is.”, he attempts to grasp your hand but you immediately slap it off.

“You were here with her.”, you raise an eyebrow, you were stating the obvious, hell anyone that knew him would figure it out.

“I- yes, but it doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s a nice restaurant that I wanted to show you. Nothing else.”, he justifies himself and you almost can’t believe him - he doesn’t even realize just what this implies.

“Satoru, the only thing, stopping me from immediately getting out of here, is that I don’t want to draw attention to us.”, you click your tongue, you knew this rage would turn into pain sooner or later but right now you’d rather feel angry than drown in self-pity and misery.

“Just-“

“Have you decided what you’d like to order?”, the waiter from earlier shows up and stares at Satoru with his notepad in his hand.

He starts to speak up: “No-“

“Yes, I’d like a glass of sparkling water and your Wagyu Steak, can you also add a Caesar Salad for the both of us?”, you smile at the waiter and for the first time this evening he looks at you instead of Satoru and you swear you can see him falling right here and now for you, as if his slowly reddening cheeks didn’t give him away.

“Yes, of course, anything for you.”, he smiles, from the corner of your eyes you can see Satoru clench his jaw and angrily tap his fingers on the table; you almost laugh out loud - he had the audacity to be jealous, now? The waiter's gaze lingers a little longer than necessary on you and you just keep looking back, normally you wouldn’t act like this - so immature but the bitter aftertaste his ex left on your relationship just made you act in ways you’d never had before. The waiter seems to finally snap out of it when Satoru clears his throat, absolutely furious at him or you - you didn’t care; let him. He smiles nervously: “And what can I get for you, sir?”

“Same as hers.”, he replies curtly, looks like he wants to get him away from the table as fast as possible.

The waiter nods and steps back but not without catching another glance at you.

“Could you stop playing into his desire for you?”, he scowls and you scowl right back.

You were about to play a dangerous game but god you wanted him to feel the same way you did, make him suffer just as much and the opportunity was handed to you on a silver platter.

“He was merely taking my order.”, you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, sure, he was.”, he replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm and he leans forward, “You’re mine, don’t think some small waiter has a chance.”

You gulp, fuck that was hot, you’d even tease him back if you hadn’t been so mad, so hurt.

“I’m not your property.”

“No, but you’re wearing my ring.”, his darkened eyes brimming with anger, jealousy, it might sound pathetic but seeing him like this, finally made you feel wanted, the feeling you had craved for so long, feeding the insecure monster inside of you - the amount of power you let him have over you was absolutely dangerous.

Soon the waiter comes back with your drinks, Satoru’s scowl only deepens upon his sight and either the waiter didn’t notice or simply didn’t care because he still gives you a friendly smile and you give him a simple ‘thanks’.

“Anything else I can do for you whilst the food is being prepared?”, he mostly looks at you, letting the ‘angry Gojo pot’ almost overflow.

You smile back and order two glasses of their finest champagne.

“Yes”, he clicks his tongue in absolute anger, and demands, “give me a waiter that doesn’t wonder what’s under my fiancée’s pants.”

“Satoru!”, and he looks at you with such intensity, almost daring you to speak up against him and for a second you wonder who the man in front of you is.

The waiter chuckles nervously, trying to calm down the situation but Satoru wouldn’t have any of it: “Unless you want to lose your job, do as I say.”, he was challenging him, Satoru was beyond pissed and some twisted side of you couldn’t get enough of it.

The waiter quickly leaves and you give him an apologetic glance, earning another angry glare from Satoru.

“You’re overreacting.”, you deadpan.

“I’m not.”, how his teeth haven’t shattered by how hard he’s clenching his jaw, remains a mystery.

“Are we ever gonna come here again?”, you cautiously ask.

“Fuck no.”, he shakes his head almost immediately, “never again.”

“Do you finally understand why I’m angry that you’re taking me to the same place you took your ex to?”

His eyes widened just slightly, almost unnoticeable, but you noticed and he nods.

You smile at him awkwardly: “feels shitty, doesn’t it.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”, he bites his lips, finally some sort of rationality is getting to him.

“Just don’t do it again.”, you sigh, wanting to get rid of the sour mood on the table, “you look incredibly hot when you’re jealous.”, you glance at him innocently.

“Don’t do it again, or I might end up killing someone.”, he groans.

You chuckle: “toughen up, loser.”

He rolls his eyes playfully: “You’re unbelievable.”

“You love it.”, you grin back.

He grins back, his eyes sparkling in the light of the restaurant and for a few minutes you forget the underlying issues, hiding like mines in the field, waiting for anyone to step on them and get them to explode, leaving only destruction behind.

You take a sip from your champagne and enjoy the bubbling taste swirling on your tongue.

„Any plans for tonight?“, the curiosity gnaws at your throat and you stare at him, slightly tensed; were you being greedy? Maybe, nonetheless it doesn‘t stop you from asking questions you‘ll most likely end up regretting upon hearing their answer.

„No“, he smiles gently, „only plans with you.“, you ease up, except the piling mass of frustration that chained you down like a madman, didn‘t really let you.

Even if the universe wanted you to be at peace, you‘d be its biggest enemy. Just why can‘t you have faith in his feelings for you; why did it always end up with you second-guessing him or yourself.

„Good“, you chug down the glass of champagne, letting the fizziness drown out your inner distraught.

He chuckles, oblivious to what is going on inside your head, „eager much?“

„It‘s just-„, you lick of the remains of it from your lips, „really good“.

He simply lifts up his hand and orders another one for you.

Your dinner is served very quickly and you enjoy the rest of the evening in the restaurant.

Time passes quickly and you‘re already about to step into your dorm, the question falls off your lips before you can even think about it: „Do you want to come in?“

He‘s hesitating, you see it in the way he glances outside and the way he is biting the inside of his cheek.

„You don‘t have to- mere courtesy, really.“, you spit out nervously, the feeling of walking on eggshells is washing over you again.

„No, I want to.“, there‘s pity in his eyes, you know he‘s lying, god you almost want to take back your question, you hated it when he looked at you like this, if you weren‘t so desperate for any type of attention from him, you‘d maybe actually respect yourself and stop begging for his attention, but you don‘t, you push it down for your next cycle of self-hatred.

You grab a pair of joggers and a shirt that are way too large for you and hand it to him, „in case you want to get into something more comfortable“, you mumble, not really looking at him.

He sighs and disregards the clothes in your hand, this time almost immediately noticing something is wrong with you, he grabs your face and gently strokes your cheek: „What‘s wrong, doll?“, concern fills up his eyes.

„It‘s nothing, really.“, you wrap your hand around the hand that is caressing your cheek and gently squeeze it, you don‘t want him to know about your ugly thoughts.

He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly not believing you, „I can‘t fix what I don‘t know about.“, there‘s still that concerned tone in his voice but you can‘t deny the underlying annoyance hidden in between.

You bite your lip, an internal battle unfolds, you don‘t want him to be annoyed with you but your carefully manufactured armor of false self confidence was crumbling and any hit would be fatal to your general well-being.

After a few seconds, he seemed to grow impatient, with a deep sigh he finally slips out of the embrace.

No- in the spur of the moment you grab his arm, stop him from leaving you, the final hit shatters your armor and you take a deep breath.

„Sometimes I feel like this relationship is so one-sided.“, you gulp, you don‘t want to look him in the eyes.

„What the fuck do you mean, y/n?“, he asks softly, his voice laced with confusion.

„It feels like I have to beg for your affections, Satoru“, you finally muster up the courage to look him in the eyes but the intensity in them made you look down again, you‘re feeling way too vulnerable for your own comfort.

He grabs your chin, his breath heavy, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He analyzes every single aspect of your face: „For how long have you been feeling that way?“, he croaks.

„I don‘t know.“, you shrug.

„Why have you never told me? Have you ever even considered telling me? Or did you just plan to bury it down until you‘d be tired of it and simply break up with me?“, he didn‘t raise his voice but it sure as hell made you feel like he was yelling at you, scolding you like a child.

„I don‘t want to have to speak about this. Just what is so hard about showing me you actually care about me?“, you bite your lips, you didn‘t want your date night to end up in an argument, but you‘d be lying to yourself if you didn‘t feel good about finally spilling what haunts you in the late hours of the night.

He seems to contemplate his next action and you keep staring at him, waiting for him to decide, keep arguing or acknowledge what you‘ve been feeling and trying to suppress for so long.

You anxiously stare at him, the clock was ticking, the room so silent it equaled a firework, add in the light tapping of your foot on the floor, you sensed a headache incoming, especially if this doesn‘t get resolved fast now that it‘s in the open.

Another sigh, a step closer to you, you wanted to step back, but your body was not your own anymore, not really, you had just been a doll, in the hands of the doll maker, rarely acting on your own, always listening to his demands, boundaries and needs - putting him first because he mattered more to you than you mattered to yourself, a fool, really - discarding yourself in the pretense of love.

„I‘m sorry, doll, I‘m so sorry.“, he grasps your cheeks, the tenderness with which he embraces you, the soft look in his eyes, for a second you wonder how you could‘ve ever doubted him.

„It‘s okay“, you lean into his touch, why do you always crave him so much?

He gently kisses your forehead: „I promise, I‘ll do better, yes?“, you close your eyes and nod - a silent agreement, his cologne consumes you and you‘re ever so soft for him, your problems seeming almost irrelevant, overdramatic even.

Satoru grabs your face and leans down to kiss you, a smile on his face. You smile back and sigh in content, his breath lightly tickling your nose. The kiss deepens as he wraps his arms around your waist tightly and you reach up to wrap yours around his neck, the need to be as close to him as possible growing with each kiss shared between you. His hand starts to roam around your body, when it reaches the curve of your ass, he smirks lightly and squeezes it. A gasp leaves your mouth and you have to break the kiss, questioning his intentions but too light-headed and caught in the taste of him to actually judge him properly.

„What?“, he smiles at you and leans down to whisper in your ear, „Didn‘t you want this?“, he continues as he bites your ear lightly.

Your face flushes and your brain short-circuits at the possibility of what‘s next.

Satisfied with your bright red face, he continues, „Already blushing for me? Could you even handle what I want to do to you?“

„I‘m sure I can hold myself against you, get off your high horse.“, you scoff at him - you weren‘t sure, at all, your brain after all stops working whenever he‘s in arm‘s reach but he didn‘t need to know that, you had at least a little bit of pride left.

He hums knowingly: „Prove it.“

„Oh, I will.“, you scoff and before you can say anything else he grabs you a little roughly by your throat and kisses you, sending butterflies right down to your lower stomach.

Your fingertips trace around his chest slowly going lower and lower as you continue to make out, you felt like you were on cloud nine, Gojo Satoru is overwhelming you. The kisses turn sloppier, heavier, his hand squeezed your throat lightly and you gasp, drunk on him, feeling the wet spot in your panties you pull him closer by his belt, unable to control yourself any longer.

Satoru steps forward, not letting go of your throat and your lips and you stumble backwards, not expecting the sudden movement, until you reach the edge of your bed and he lets go of you and stares down at your flushed face and despite being fully clothed you felt very naked under his almost primal gaze.

„Sit down.“ he commanded, and you sat down, how could you not when he looked at you like he was about to eat the best meal of his life and it made you giddy, sending shivers right down your spine - you’d willingly let him do anything he wants to you.

He took off his shirt and your eyes widened, you had forgotten despite his seemingly lanky appearance he had muscles underneath. Hungrily you lean forward and your fingers reach for his belt, the need to touch him growing rapidly, he leans forward as your fingers start to undo his belt and he kisses you pushing you down further into the mattress, his arms caging you in, the size difference between you guys making you feel like a small rabbit in a lion’s den.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n.”, he whispers into your lips.

You reach forward to kiss him but he draws back a little and you almost whine at him in frustration like a little girl.

“Desperate, aren’t we?”, he tsk’ed and smiled, his lips trailing down the corner of your lips, to your jaw and finally landing on your neck.

He continues to leave kisses all around your neck while his hands trace all over your body until they finally land on the back of your thighs and spread them so he could place himself between them. His crotch met yours and you hissed at the sensation, your insides turning to jelly, too flustered to say anything else you grab his hair and tug at it lightly, especially when his lips reached a soft spot on your neck you couldn’t help the moan escaping your lips and dug your fingers even further into his hair, he was igniting a fire inside of you and you weren’t sure if you could stop this time. Satoru smirked at your soft spot and started to lick at your soft spot then continued to suck and bite at it, your eyes widened like a deer in headlights and you bit your lips, preventing yourself from moaning again.

When he was finally satisfied with what he had done, he reached for the hem of your dress, his cold fingers grazed your skin and he took it off and took in the sight of you.

“My pretty baby.”, he smiled at you, you looked away in embarrassment, “Aww, don’t be like this, look at me, sugar.”, he reached for your face and forced you to look at him, “This is only the beginning after all.”

It didn’t seem like he was actually waiting for a response from you because before you knew it, he was back down at your collarbone, his teeth slightly grazing against your skin, sending another shot right down to your core and your eyes closed in ecstasy, you felt so good right now. The only thing in your mind were his lips and wherever they could land next. His sloppy kisses start to trail down to your chest, his large hands following in and cupping them around the bra, before he continues he gestured for you to take it off, you immediately listened and threw it across the room, not caring where it would land.

He gently grabbed your left breast with his left hand, his right hand meeting the curve of your ass and giving it a light squeeze as well as he leaned forward to kiss you, you moan into his lips, your mind only screaming at him to touch you, a chant that has grown and grown, you don’t think you could ever have enough of this, of him.

His hand roamed around from your ass to your thighs until it reached the hem of your panties, he stopped kissing you and looked down at you.

“You okay with this, love?”

You nodded eagerly in response, not trusting your voice to speak normally.

“Words, love.”, he smiled at you and your neediness, he knew you were almost begging for him to touch you but he wanted to hear it from your pretty little lips.

“Yes.”, you huff, impatiently waiting for his fingers to meet your most sensitive area.

He hums: “Yes, what?”

You were going to bite his head off: “Please.. touch me, ‘Toru.”, you mumble, suddenly embarrassed at just how needy you were right now.

A small chuckle leaves him: “Good girl.”, and doesn't wait any further, finally giving you what you need, he touches you between your legs, your wetness already having soaked your panties and he hums in approval. “All for me, huh.”, he grinned while you gasped at his touch, your pussy pushed against him in response, craving the friction, the release, anything really.

He lightly rubbed your clit, watching for your reaction, those doe eyes of yours looking at him covered in pure lust, he didn’t wait any longer and took off your panties, taking in the sight of your wetness.

The cold breeze hit you and you instinctively tried to close your legs.

“Nuh-uh, don’t even think about it.”, he growled and his hands wrapped tightly around your thighs preventing them from closing them, not waiting any longer he dove in and started to eat you out.

At the first touch of his wet tongue against your clit you let out a big a gasp, your head fell back and chest rose in surprise, your senses were on the edge, so consumed by him and you closed your eyes in pleasure, your fingers clenched into the sheets and you wrapped your legs around his head, not caring anymore about any shame whatsoever only seeking the pleasure he gave you right now.

His tongue sloppily devoured you, his left arm pressed down on your lower stomach preventing you from moving and you’re left at his mercy when he inserted a finger inside of you, you groaned at the foreign but pleasing feeling.

When he started to move his long finger curled up lightly inside of you and your eyes rolled back almost immediately, feeling so full with just one finger, you had to wonder, just how would you be able to take his dick.

“More. Toru, please.”, you mustered up to say in your drunken haze, “I’m so close.”, you moaned at the tension building up in your core, ready to explode and he chuckled against your clit, making you almost cum undone.

He lifted his head up lightly, you could see his lips glistening from the wetness in your folds and you almost groaned at the sight, turning you on even more.

“Don’t cum, until I say so.”, he looked at you sternly, “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

You rolled your eyes at his controlling behavior, not being able to handle not cuming and groaned, “I can’t control it.”

He flicked your clit lightly and you gasp, flinching back a little at the slight cinch of pain, “Cum, if you can handle the consequences.”

You groaned, wondering what you got yourself into, you bit your lips and prayed for mercy, he’d wreck you and you can’t say you’d be completely against it, the idea of punishment exciting you even more.

“Are we clear?”, he asked, checking if you’d actually be okay with that.

You nod in response: “Now touch me.”, you whined, your pussy felt too empty right now.

He nodded, “good.”, and dove right back in, this time adding a second finger, curling them up while simultaneously sucking at your clit like a starved man, you were a moaning mess at the sensations, his long fingers filling you up so much in a way your fingers could never.

You were close to cumming, not caring about his earlier warning you didn’t even try to hold back but Satoru sensed it and took out his fingers before you could actually cum, you whine at him, feeling deprived and considered hitting him in annoyance, especially when you saw the glimpse of amusement in his eyes, he treated you like a cat playing with a mouse, nothing but a mere toy.

“Satoru.”, you moan, “please, I wanna cum.”

“You can do it, darling.”, he smiled at you and kissed you, his lips covered in your fluids they tasted slightly salty but not unpleasant, his hard and clothed dick rubbed against your vagina, “see how hard you made me? Now be a darling and don’t disappoint me, hmm.”, he hums.

You groaned into his lips, the sight of his hard dick made you feel so good, you felt like you’d be able to do anything for him.

“Mhm.”, you hum, so drunk on pleasure you didn’t want to speak proper sentences.

“Good.”, he smiled proudly, his hand went back down and he started to finger you again while he kept kissing you, his pace started to fasten with each second passing and unable to handle it you grip his back, your nails clawing into him the fast pace almost making you see stars.

He started to nibble around your neck, leaving bute marks and hickeys everywhere and when he finally reached another sensitive spot on your collarbone biting down on it, you couldn’t stop yourself anymore, your eyes rolled back, you felt dizzy and light headed, “I’m cumming.”, you manage to gasp out, your toes curled and your breath grew heavy forgetting everything around you, Satoru kept fingering you during your high taking in the sight of the mess you had become.

When you finally rode off your high, at least an ounce of sense coming back to you, Satoru groaned at you: “You’re so hot, when you cum, baby, you did so good.”, he praised you and took his fingers out of your pussy and licked his index finger, you flushed at the sight, “you taste even better.”, he hummed and pulled his middle finger in front your mouth, “Open up, baby.”, he demanded, you flushed even more in embarrassment but were still too light headed to protest so you obey him and open your mouth. “Now suck, love.”, and you wrapped your mouth around his finger, tasting yourself on it, sucking on it, while looking up at him, as if it were his dick you were sucking off right now you licked it all clean off your cum.

When it was all clean you let go of his finger, sat up and looked at him, “I also want to make you feel good.”, you reached for the hook of his pants.

“Are you sure, love?”, he asks.

You nod, “Mhm, wanna suck you off.”, you smile and look at him innocently.

His eyes darkened and he smirked: “Well I won’t stop you in that case.”, he stood up and you crawled towards the edge of the bed, feeling excited again, at the idea of sucking him off, you unzip his pants and help him take them off, the sheer size of his dick peeping through his boxer and you could see a drip of precum, you gulped - how would you be able to take him fully?

“Nervous?”, he chuckled at you in amusement.

“No.”, you huffed, “I was just surprised.”, you hide away your inner doubt, you’d do what you can to please him.

“Mhm.”, he hummed and you got off the bed and kneel down in front of him.

You hands reached for his dick inside of his boxers your fingers traced down his length and you heard him suck in a deep breath, your hands stroke up to his tip, teasing him and you could feel, that it took every ounce of self-restraint inside Satoru not to just jump you and take you - this made you feel powerful, confident.

With the new surge of confidence you massaged his dick lightly through his boxers and you looked up at Satoru, teasing him, your tongue glided up his dick through the boxers leaving a big wet trail on them and Satoru hissed and grabbed you by your hair, “Come on, love, take them off.”

In obeyance you nodded and took them off his length slapping into your face and you gulp - he really was big, you wouldn’t be able to fit in his entire length.

Hesitating was pointless really, so you convince yourself to be a big girl and return the pleasure he had given you, taking his cock you wrap your lips around his tip and swirled your tongue around it, sucking it lightly like a lollipop, due to his precum he tasted a little salty and you didn’t want to let him go without letting him cum inside your mouth tonight.

“Fuck, y/n.”, Satoru grunted, holding back from pushing his length immediately right down your throat and fucking the daylights out of your mouth, he grabbed your hair tighter in a weak attempt to hold onto his sanity.

“Hmm.”, you hummed against his tip, you could see the goosebumps appear on his skin at the sensation.

“You’re driving me crazy.”, he hissed as you finally went in deeper now sucking him off even more, you barely had a third of him in your mouth and you already were full.

Bopping your head on his dick you slowly take more and more of him, enjoying that Satoru is letting you be in control for now and you planned to tease him just as much as he teased you.

“Sucking me off so well, you’re such a good girl, darling.”, Satoru praised you, going straight into your core and you let go off his dick.

A little breathless you said: “Just for you.”, and looked up at him innocently, this would definitely get him going even more.

He smiled in approval: “Such a darling.”, the grasp on your hair tightened while he forced you to keep looking at him, he pressed his cock against your lips again and you opened up like a good little slut.

Now he was in control again, starting out slowly he forced his dick deeper and deeper down your throat until your gag reflex kicked in and he pulled out, fastening the pace, you let him fuck your mouth, grabbing his thighs for some steadiness.

You felt so used but it felt so right at the same time, right now you weren’t more than just a hole to him but the grunts and moans leaving his mouth felt like little praises towards you.

Saliva was starting to run down your mouth and he kept hitting your gag reflex so much tears started to come out.

“You’re so pretty when you cry, baby.”, the sight of you on your knees, crying while taking him without a single complaint was enough to edge him on, he was reaching his high point, making him fuck your mouth even rougher and faster.

You kept gagging on his length, the sheer speed of him not letting you form any coherent thoughts, the only thing your mind could focus on was the way his balls slapped against your face and the iron grip he had on you.

“Fuck, baby.”, he groans thrusting and thrusting inside of you, his eyes closed he threw back his head, “Hiyori, I’m gonna cum.”

It’s as if cold water was thrown against your entire body and you just woke up from a terrible nightmare, the realization of what was going on through his head hitting you hard, like a wrecking ball - destroying any resemblance of happiness, only leaving behind the debris of bitterness, sadness and anger. Anger at him, at yourself, for being so stupid and letting yourself be used as a mere rebound you tried to push him off - to no avail - he was in too much of a bliss hidden behind a fantasy you weren’t a part of to pay attention to you.

He finally came.

And you shattered, the salty taste of his cum down your throat scarring you deeper than any blade, any bomb could ever do

#x reader #fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk manga #satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x you #satoru x you #gojo satoru x you #rev talks #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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sinful-lanterns · 22 days ago

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since the vibes of the event are very wild west I can't stop thinking about a saloon where Pearl sings, Mira serves drinks and Korryn is the hot cowgirl in town🤭

Imagine reader as a wanted criminal, and Korryn is a bounty hunter... one day she's finally able to catch us and brings us to the saloon to drink something, before the other women notice us all tied up in her arms 😌

I don't need to mention that the bounty is long forgotten when all 3 think about the same thing. the thought of Korryn drinking something and kissing us while she does it to make us taste it is 🤤 and if we spill some Pearl or Mira would lick it slowly...

special mention to Pearl and Korryn sandwich while they take turns to fuck us with their straps nghh,, maybe Mira loves to watch and please herself, sometimes kissing us sloppy while we bounce and moan, long after she could even swap with one of them, who knows 👀

-🧶

CW: Alcohol, body shots, foursome, mentions of strap ons, implied double penetration, voyeurism

Imagine these women eying you like vultures the moment Korryn corrals you into the saloon, binding you to her side with some rope and her sharp gaze, intimidating you to stay in your place while she sits at the bar and orders you both some drinks. It’s a late night, so only you, Korryn, Mira and Pearl are present at the saloon. The tension thick and palpable while all three women practically undress you with their eyes. For a criminal, you sure were a pretty one, almost too pretty. Both Mira and Pearl were looking at each other with the exact same thoughts; Korryn only took you here instead of the slammer, because she wanted to have some fun with you…

A few drinks in, and Korryn is bold enough to make the first move. The bounty hunter’s hands are rubbing up against your thighs, then comes Pearl who hums sweetly in your ear before nibbling on it. Mira is the last to the show, but she kicks the whole thing up a notch when she pulls your mouth into chaste kiss— which soon turns into a tongue-filled kiss as she opens your mouth and forcibly pushes alcohol in for you to taste. The kiss is sloppy and incoherent, beads of liquor dripping down your neck while Korryn and Pearl eagerly chase to lap it up.

It isn’t long before they physically undress you themselves. Sandwiched between Pearl and Korryn (the two redheads lmao) and feeling the ends of what appears to be strap ons grinding against both sides of your crotch area. Mira doesn’t appear to have a strap of her own, but that’s alright as she takes her place right on the top of the bar where she serves her guests. Spreading her legs in front of you and fingering herself to the sight of Korryn and Pearl fucking you on one of the saloon tables.

Well, those tables were already quite sticky after a long day of tending to guests. A little more mess isn’t gonna hurt, right? Not like Mira, Korryn or Pearl care though. It’s late into the night and they can have you all to themselves, the criminal who got just what they deserved 🩷

#⛓️ mbcc lovepost #🧶 anon #korryn smut #ptn korryn smut #ptn mira smut #mira smut #lady pearl smut #ptn lady pearl smut

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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Hi Hal!

Congratulations on finishing all the requests (there were so many good ones!!) and thank you for opening them up again!! I’m excited to see what you have in store for us with all your other projects, bestie!!! 😊😊

I was unsure of who to request at first because there are so many good ones but then I saw Hesh’s name and an idea hit me.

If you’re ok with it, could you possibly write one for Hesh where the reader is part of the Ghosts has been taken/captured by the Federation and after some time, they get intel on where she is so they go out to rescue her and she and Hesh are reunited? I don’t know if you want it to be a pre-established relationship or one where they both admit their feelings after they get her back, so I’m leaving it up to you. But I need a little rescue/reunion fic to fill the void in my heart that the ending of Ghosts made.

As always, feel free to change it up as you see fit and do whatever you want. I just think that Hesh deserves more love and I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing Riley again (aka: the best dog in the world)!!

Thank you and remember to take care of yourself and I appreciate you and your work!! 💕💕 Love you, bestie!!!!

Lengths Of Love

PAIRING: David 'Hesh' Walker x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You'd loved Hesh for as long as you can remember, and you'd pulled him out of trouble for even longer, but you'd never had the courage to tell him how you feel. Until you do. Until you're being dragged away from his broken body.

WORDCOUNT: 10.7k

WARNINGS: Major spoilers for CoD: Ghosts, heavy angst, blood, guts, descriptions of wounds, canon-typical violence, weapons and firearms, death, torture involving: drugs/hallucinogens, physical violence, mental stress, talks of PTSD, anxiety, paranoia, rescue fic, best friends to lovers plot, wounds that would 100% kill you that you live from (plot armor fr), etc.

A/N: Bestie, I don't know what you put into your prompts, lmao, but I always end up writing so much for you!! Thanks so much for sending something in <3<3

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The beginning of the end started with good intentions and one statement.

“You hear this? It’s Rorke. He’s here. They’re evacuating on the train system below.” Hesh’s green eyes darted to you and Logan, his painted face a collection of rage and surety. The three of you were, in an instant, in agreement of revenge—there was no question as to what had to be done. Merrick couldn’t stop you, not on this.

Rorke had made one of the most dangerous decisions of his life, and that was underestimating the Walker boys and their partner in sinful crime.

“Harp,” you look away from the body of the warhead as it enters the atmosphere, locking onto Hesh’s hard eyes; the ones that had grown steadily colder since the death of his father, Elias. But it wasn’t just him—the patriarch had been close to you as well. The knowledge of his passing, witnessing it as the rope restraints seared into your flesh, had lit an all-consuming fire in your gut.

Like hounds, the scent of blood had hit the air.

“Let’s get the bastard. Now or never,” you ease out, and Logan darts his gaze down to you from behind his balaclava.

“Damn right,” Hesh barks, nodding firmly to you.

Anyone would have missed the way your gaze lingered on him as he darted off and began rushing down the stairs from the control room, Logan ever quick at his heels. But they wouldn’t have missed the way your breath pushed out a soft sigh as your eyes kept locked on the back of Hesh’s head as you followed after.

You’d been childhood friends since practically infancy, a neighbor to the Walkers. It was natural that Hesh would grow to be the object of your daydreams ever since grade school; a constant and digging knife into your heart when he’d repeatedly pick other girls over you.

But such was life.

All that mattered now was bringing down Rorke, silly love could wait.

“Merrick,” Hesh yelled down his line, the world outside this building rampant with open war. “The missile’s away and we’ve got a lead on Rorke, we’re going after him!”

The white double doors meet the three of you as you all rush to them, and the panicked man’s voice flashes down the line immediately.

“Negative Hesh! You three get back here and return to the rally point. We’ll track him down together.”

You call, “Isn’t an option, Merrick. We can’t let this one go.”

You and Hesh ram your shoulders into the doors, Logan darting through first with his weapon drawn down the hallway. The brunette’s and your shoulders brush in a jostling of gear—pulling the back as your eyes lock. Cold light seeps from overhead, metal under your feet clanking in-key.

You look away before Hesh agrees and levels with the Ghost over the line to push your point. “Sorry, Merrick. Your mission is complete…ours isn’t.”

Federation heads pop up from behind makeshift barriers of barrels and other stacked items and as you all enter and clear rooms, alarms blare with the ferocity of fighting lions. Hesh keeps by your side, offering you openings that you greedily take as another soldier falls with a stiff twitch of your finger on the trigger.

Darting behind cover, the man slams to the space beside you, calling over above the noise and the whizz of bullets.

“How long till impact?!” You shove a new clip into your FAD, brushing sweat and blood from your cheeks, smearing patches of your own paint.

Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you hear Logan pushing the line. You dart out of cover to help—locking onto hostiles and backing up the younger brother with quick feet.

“Eight minutes, Hesh! You got a plan that doesn’t leave me with scorched hair?” He finds it in himself to laugh, clocking a soldier to your left and riddling him with bullets.

“We need to get to that train, Harp. Don’t worry—I’ll kiss the burns away for you.” He rushes past and sends a smirk over his shoulder. You’re left stunned for a second, wishing that the teasing tilt to the older brother’s words was more than that. You blink, and the feeling is forced away.

Later.

“Keep pushing, Logan,” Hesh moves on. You all sprint down descending ramps, farther and farther underground with every step; adrenaline building to a breakneck level like weight slowly being added over and over to a chest. “We need to get to Rorke!”

You didn’t want to tell him, but, while revenge was on your plate as well, this was a very reckless idea.

As you grab for a grenade from your belt and jerk on the pin, you chuck it down the way and call out a warning to the boys, who, like a well-oiled machine, dart and wait for it to detonate. Bodies fly, bloody splashes of torn limbs, and three Ghosts materialize from the smoke with masked and painted faces; eyes like fire and veins boiling.

“Fire team suppressed in 3-1,” Hesh shouts through the line as you slide your knife into a man’s eye, his goggles breaking in a shattering of glass. “Advancing to loading bay!”

There’s a large elevator ahead for transporting crates, and all of you jog inside as the gate creaks shut.

Merrick’s stiff voice replies, “Roger that.”

Silently, you click into the channel and mutter out as a moment of relative peace coats your body like a blanket, even if for a few small seconds.

“I’ll keep ‘em safe,” a small twitch of your lips, “Commander.”

A deep and unimpressed voice wafts into your ear with a large sigh. “Know you will—just remember to keep yourself safe in the process, Kid…Don’t do anything stupid.”

You shift your gaze to Hash and find green already staring at you. Blinking, the man quickly darts his vision away and after a moment you turn your face back down to the connection and huff through a burning epidermis.

“Haven't you heard?” The elevator shows the train as it descends down, and you call to the boys, ‘six minutes’, with a firm voice.

“Stupid seems to follow us three everywhere.”

Hesh points as the figures of more soldiers walk around below. “There’s Rorke’s train, straight ahead!” Sure enough, the worm of black and gray metal extends to your eyes across the large room

“He’ll be on there soon. Logan, take left.” You order and the brown-eyed man nods from beside you, shouldering his rifle and checking the clip. “Hesh?”

“Taking right—you got Point, Doll.” He stares at you, licking his lips. “Clear the way?” You tilt your head at him as the elevator jumps to a stop, the barrier sliding away. It pains you to look away.

There were so many things you had to tell him. Too many things.

“Always.” Shiting your face forward, you take a breath and take notice of points of cover, scoping the room in three seconds flat. Screeching wheels and alarms ingrain your eardrums. “On me.”

As you head out first, fire the first bullet, the two peel off in opposite directions, Hesh only sliding up beside you and uttering into your ear.

“Be safe.”

That comment makes you want to be anything but, if only he’d whisper into your ear like that again.

Clearing the room, you can’t get your mind off the fact that this crush was overtaking nearly every part of your life—years of quiet agony and staying your tongue in fear of losing what great friendship you had.

The stock set into your shoulder recoils with another burst of fire, Federation soldiers scream in pain, but you barely register over the shadows in the sides of your vision.

“Damnit, Hesh,” you growl, bullet grazing your shoulder as you grunt and slip behind a concrete divider.

“What’s that?” Your eyes widen comedically. Shit…had you forgotten to close the line?

“Eh,” you clear your throat, grimacing at the small sparks of pain in your shoulder. “N-nothing.”

There’s a bout of silence and then a panting voice, rough and growing more serious. “You alright over there, Harp?” You can’t even respond before Hesh quickly continues. “I’m comin’ to you. Stay there.”

You violently shake your head, although he can’t see it.

“Hesh, I’m fine! Keep right and clear that hallway.”

There’s a deep grunt. “Fine, but if I see one scratch I’m makin’ Riley chase you down the Base when we get back.”

If we get back.

You roll your eyes with a growing smile, steeling yourself and slamming your weapon to the top of the divider before locking onto your targets. “Please, we both know he loves me too much for that.”

“Most I’ll have to do is put a treat in your pocket, Sweetheart.” His sly smirk is heard easily, and you swallow tense-like and breathe shakily. That low drawl in his tone left you more distracted than you could ever get used to. “Hell,” There’s a struggle over the line before the shink of a knife meeting flesh. A breathless chuckle that leaves your gut swirling. “Maybe I’ll just chase you down myself.”

Logan coughs over the line and you have to click off before you scream. Your face flares up until your ears ring and you have to duck behind your cover again before you get metal right to the forehead.

Behind the barrier, you glare at the floor.

When did general teasing get so hard for you? Jokes and jabs carrying weight—since when? Sure you’d liked—more liked loved—Hesh since before all of this, but you’d carried on well enough.

“Fucking hell,” you grumble, shaking your head to clear it and rushing.

The brothers pop through the side hallways to flank the enemy, taking out the one or two hostiles that were still breathing after you level your barrel with the last standing head; firing with a burst of gunpowder.

“Train’s leaving, let's go!” Hesh screams, waving an arm quickly at you, walking backwards on quick feet. “Harp, C’mon!”

You chuff, hopping the divider and sprinting as the metal object speeds up—there’s a moment where you fear you might miss it, Hesh and Logan both forced to hop on even in your absence.

“Harp!” Green eyes flash, one hand on the railing and the other extended out.

“On it!” Snapping, you slam your palm into his and feel his strong fingers curl to clutch you. Logan grabs your collar and helps; the both of them easily yanking you over just as the wall of the tunnel engulfs you all in illuminated shadow.

Back meeting the train’s body, you pant and chuckle as Logan shakes his head, amused, and pats your shoulder. You wink at him jokingly.

“Good save there, Walker Number Two.”

Hesh grabs the side of your neck, looking you over as he leans back with a breathless chuckle at the title for his brother. He blinks quickly at your shoulder, eye narrowing before he reaches out and looks at the blood on your gear.

“You mind telling me what this is, Doll?” You make a nose in the back of your throat as the smell of his musk hits your nostrils; the deadly concoction of his scent and his digging gaze.

Stuttering, you huff. “Eh…bullet graze?”

You’re leveled with thin lips, but Logan grabs his brother by the upper arm and peels him off you, motioning to his radio as the train gains even more speed. Wind whips past your face as Hesh clears his throat, quickly avoiding your eyes.

The man’s splotchy paint shows his red skin under the darker pigment.

“Merrick, we’re on the train,” he speaks, shifting past you without another look. “We’re going after Rorke.”

“Solid Copy.” You watch the brunette walk away and hold your breath, though you don’t know why—heart beating not just because of adrenaline.

Embarrassment breeding in your stomach, you ignore Logan’s knowing stare and push off the wall, rubbing at your bleeding shoulder with a stiff hand.

—

You break a man’s neck against the wall, hand on the back of his head before you slam it into the hard metal. There’s a crunch of bone and a broken rattle before the broadcasted feed from the screen on the train’s panel spits out a message in panicked Spanish to the already deceased men.

“Evacuation protocol C is in effect. All personnel secure cargo and supplies—”

Hesh interrupts ahead of you as you let the body drop, scowling at the heavy sound of its dead weight. At his angry voice, you perk and tune in.

“Tell Rorke we’re comin’ for him.” There’s a quick shove from the other end of the feed, the previous man disappearing as the individual that takes his place makes your eyes go to slits. A great growl like a wolf echoes from your heart and seeps from between your clenched teeth.

Rorke’s scarred face appears with a smirk and a cocky voice.

“Why don’t you just tell me yourself?” You look at your boys, more concerned for them as you watch firsthand the trauma the death of their father brought them.

Logan holds his weapon tighter, fixing his grip. Hesh is a bit more direct. He leans closer to the screen, bearing his teeth like a dog and snarling with rage and hatred.

“You’re done, Rorke.” All of a sudden he peels back a fast fist and sends it careening into the screen—making a shattering of glass and a hard thud emanate deep into your bones.

Blinking quickly, you tense as it happens, not expecting that. But as soon as you try to make sense of it, the brunette is already banking off to the side door, calling a sharp, “Let’s finish this!”

He grabs the side of the train car and wrenches on the handle, grunting and pushing with all of his might.

“Hesh,” you try to reason, stepping in now before things get too hot. “We need to think of a plan before you rush into things. This could get us in a heap of shit that we might not be able to get out of.”

It’s like he doesn’t hear you, and you spare a glance with Logan for help. But he, too, has already joined his brother with a swish of gear on the handle. With one great push, the door opens to the outside brightness, making your face turn away for a moment.

Along the far expanse of open sand dunes outside; mountains flanking the bridge this train flies across, you get the perfect view of a warhead meeting the ground in an explosion of fire and death. It bursts far across the valley, and you cover your eyes as the sharp ball of light burns your retinas.

The shockwave hits moments later, and Hesh says easily as the train shakes and squeals like a metal pig, “Looks like Icarus got control of the rods!” The boys step out onto the platform along the train, and you have no option but to follow. “All that’s left is Rorke, let's go!”

“Hesh,” you try again, hissing out his name, and you’re graced with a quick glance.

“Harp,” he comments, “what is it? We can’t wait any longer—”

“What we can’t do is go in blind!” You shout above the wind, legs stanced to help you stay up. Green eyes twitch with confusion, perhaps even a little hurt.

“Blind? What are you talking about, we push forward and take what’s owed.” You know how much this means to him—to Logan—but there was a point where pride and stubbornness outweighed sense. This was dangerous, especially for Hesh.

You were always the one to keep him level; keep him from becoming too much like his dad.

You’d promised that old bastard you’d look after his boys, albeit in a teasing sense, but to you, it had been a stark vow on your soul. Logan was a brother to you, and Hesh…Hesh would always be more, but that only made your love for them both grow.

“You keep those two from getting in their heads, you hear? They mean well, but there’s no one I trust more than you to level them out, Harp. I’m proud of you. And I’m sure your folks would be too.” Elias had said that, and when he died you bottled it up and used so much force that coal had turned to diamond.

You would keep Logan and Hesh safe. Safe, and level, and not hard-headed.

For as much as you secretly loved your brunette, he sure was stubborn as all hell.

“If you want out, Harp,” Hesh calls to you, gritting his teeth. “Just wait back in the train car. This is something we can’t put off like everything else—this ends now; today. I’m not letting Dad’s killer survive.”

“Son of a bitch, that’s not what I’m saying!” You’re quickly losing your standing. Logan jogs ahead to scout, time ticking. “Hesh, you know that I loved Elias as much as you two did—not one is denying that this needs to happen. I'm with you. But this is too damn dangerous! We can’t rush into this without a plan of attack; of exfil! Do you even know how we’re going to get off of this thing?!”

Hesh had been isolating the few days he had on the U.S.S Liberator, keeping to his room. The man idolized his father and put him on a pedestal of gold even when he was a teenager. He’d even pushed away from you, which all together was unheard of. Logan had nearly had an aneurism when you’d come back to the cafeteria and shook your head in disappointment after trying to get him to open his door.

The two of you told each other everything. Always. That was just…how it was.

But the man that Hesh had donned the skin of was not the man you loved.

Hesh glares at you, eyes going alight with anger.

“If you were with me, you wouldn’t be holding me back.” He turns and runs after Logan, leaving you behind in the open air as the train banks left and right with the sway of the bridge.

Staring. Barely breathing. Mouth parted and eyes wide.

When the man is at the end of the current train car, having to jump a small distance to the next, he pauses. His back is tight, and under him, his feet shuffle.

There’s a moment you hope he’ll turn around and come back, take you into one of his hugs, and squeeze the life out of you. It wouldn’t be such a cruel way to die, you think, to be held in his arms.

But the next moment you see the back of his head shake, and he jumps over to the next section, not even giving you a second glance.

You don’t want to admit how long you waited there, your mind jumbled and confused.

Don’t take it personally, you try to tell yourself, sucking down a breath before slowly walking forward. He’s hurt. Grieving. He didn’t mean it.

Rationality was a tool of the level-headed, and you were anything but that nowadays.

Over the line Hesh’s voice makes you flinch as you slowly follow after, train car after train car.

“Rorke must be at the front of the train!” You step over dead bodies and lend merciful bullets to the ones still writhing, boots coated in crimson. Following a trail of wreckage with stiff lungs.

Stay out of his way? Fine, you could do that.

You stayed back from the head-to-head fighting, laying covering fire and keeping off the comms—whenever Hesh managed to look back at you, you simply moved on to the next hostile.

Eventually, you all ended up on the rooftops, the boys far ahead and yourself blank-faced at the rear. Logan was acting more concerned than Hesh was, glancing at you constantly in confused worry. But it was very much short-lived.

“Incoming!” The right side of the railcar bursts with fire, and you gasp before grappling for the opposite side of the train, keeping you there before the swaying beast leveled out. “Helos. Take cover and take out the gunners!”

You scoff, quickly making your way behind a connector joint to lean your back against it and catch your breath. Two helicopters fly alongside the train, Logan already firing at one, and Hesh…your eyes narrow with annoyance. Hesh was already running ahead of the pack, his low grunts and growls over the line giving way to his impatience.

You click your jaw and try to remind yourself that this is the same man who held you close during movie nights and carried you to bed when you fell asleep. Made you waffles when your boyfriend in eighth grade broke up with you on Valentine’s Day.

Stitched your wounds before he gave them a teasing ‘kiss better’ and looked up at you through dark lashes.

You wildly shake your head to force yourself back to the present.

The gunners are harder to hit not only based on wind and distance alone, but on the erratic movements of the pilots. It’s several clips before you down the second Helo, and Logan’s follows immediately after as they both collide and ram into the mountainside.

You both share a glance and rush after the misguided brunette.

At the end of the train, only the engine remains.

“Clear!” Hesh relays, jumping down from the roof of the railcar and hurriedly walking to the white door, leaning against the wall. “We’re at the last car, Logan. Rorke’s pinned, he knows we’re comin’.”

You gaze down from the top as Logan follows, silent and brooding. Your hands along your FAD tighten under your gloves. You don’t even look at the man.

“Merrick, do you copy?”

“Copy, Hesh.”

“We’re moving in on Rorke.” You slide him a look, seeing him glaring those pretty greens into the ground. “If you hear the word “Checkmate”, you will fire on our position! Confirm?” Your eyes snap with horror, heart lurching.

Surely, you hadn’t heard that right.

Merrick’s voice echoes your frozen confusion. “Say again, repeat your last.”

You jump down and stagger for a moment, barking out a harsh, “What the fuck are you doing?” Inside of your chest, your heart rampages like it never had before. “That’s suicide!”

He was going to kill everyone to bring down Rorke, and you get no answer beyond a clenched jaw and a quick side-eye.

“You heard me, Merrick, on “Checkmate”, hit this train!” The connection is cut and Logan gets into position to shoulder the door open, you watch, stuttering.

Hesh levels with his brother, “We can’t take any chances, Logan. Even if we fail, Rorke dies.” Panic builds, and you’re taking quick steps forward.

You keep those two from getting in their heads, you hear?

You have to stop them, you have to drag them away—but even you know that deep down the only thing that will stop these two is a bullet.

Eyes snapping back and forth, you only get close enough to try and snatch at Hesh’s arm right as he finishes a countdown of three; at the end, Logan kicks down the engine room door with a violent connection of his boot.

Even with the drop on the three guards inside, it doesn't stop the bullet from ripping through your lower side, preoccupied and distracted yet again. You yell loudly, balking back into the door frame and hunching over as blood spurts out of you. Hesh’s head whips your way immediately, jaw going slack and a soul-deep hysteria takes over.

So now he pays attention.

“Shit, Harp!” So little time.

Logan can’t take care of the last remaining Fed soldier by himself, and in a large act of self-sabotage, that very soldier just happened to have a missile launcher.

The entire left engine explodes—the train jerks; everyone is sent in a back-and-forth motion, first hitting off the last train car before being sent right back through the engine room entirely. A transference of force gives you whiplash as your head bounces off the door frame.

The world goes blurry, body hitting and slamming through layers of glass and pain before the control room is suddenly where you end up, using the body of a stunned guard as a cushion.

There’s a second of muffled gunfire, struggling and yelling—and then it all comes back into focus like a sniper’s scope being correctly sighted. You gargle an expletive and shove the guard under you back down despite the searing heat in your side and head; struggling to unsheathe your combat knife as the world tilts.

Hands push at your cheeks, grip at your neck futilely, but when you get the blade out and struggle the hands down once more, you hammer the point into his throat with a thump of your boot pressing for purchase on the floor.

The man spasming, you push off of him and slam to the ground, coughing in great lung-shattering segments.

“You can’t win, Rorke!” Hesh’s voice brings you back from the swirling, and you hear your blood patter to the metal floor like rain.

“Shit,” you mutter, gasping for air.

Gazing up you see Rorke holding Logan in a chokehold, free hand pointing a gun at Hesh. Your eyes bulged, trying to push onto your knees and reach for your weapon as you saw Hesh continually looking away from the target and worriedly watching you. His hands at his sides are loose, but when you lock eyes with him, they clench and shake.

“It’s over—” He tries, but the loud gunshot bounces off the train’s enclosed space. You’re yelling before you can think, darting forward and leveling your gun right to Rorke’s head as Hesh’s form collapses to the ground.

Standing on unsteady feet, you pant and stumble, but the devil’s brown eyes hold you captive. Rorke smirks as you guard Hesh behind you.

“Well, well, well, seems the girl’s just as promising as you, eh, Logan? She’s the other one who slipped her binds in Las Vegas.” He laughs. “Look at me, I’m surrounded by young talent.”

“I don’t exactly care if you are or aren’t,” you growl, shuffling to keep Hesh even farther behind you as you instrumentally cough again. Your legs are wobbling. “Just that you put my fucking friend down.”

“You willing to die for him?” Rorke looks demented, with his scar and his intimidating build. Whatever torture he had been through to make him like this—a Ghost killer—it had worked perfectly. There was no coming back from this. He whistles lowly. “That’s some loyalty you have there.”

His mind was dead to all else.

You don’t hesitate in an answer, even as the man behind you grabs your leg, trying to move you with a wheezing breath.

“H-Harp,” his spine moves in a cough. “Don’t…please.”

“Always.” Interest alights in those dark, tiny eyes. Logan tries to give you messages with his gaze, but you ignore him. Ironic. “That’s not something I’ll break on. Unlike you.”

“Shit, Kid,” there’s a grand laugh, “now that’s heartless…but good,” Rorke glances at Hesh, raising a brow and chuckling. “I’ll love to see the look in his eyes when I—”

“Checkmate!”

“Checkmate confirmed.” You look down at Hesh and see him watching you, his gaze open and bare.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, but all you can do is watch.

There’s no time to think.

“I love you,” you confess in a fleeting moment of bare nothingness, blurting it out. “I’ve loved you.”

Hesh’s body entirely halts, jaw slowly slackening in horror; something shifts behind his eyes but before he can open his mouth, a rageful bark bullies the smooth tone of his throat back.

“What did you do?!” Your form is bodied into the controls behind you, colliding as you snarl and are forced to recover. With a snap of your finger, you fire a shot into Rorke’s foot.

He yells and whips his wrist back, slamming the butt of his gun into your temple.

As the bridge ahead of the train explodes, Hesh drags himself to cover your body, muttering into your flesh words you cannot name as the darkness sets in.

“It’s over,” Hesh speaks grimly to Rorke, turning to look at him silently as he presses your head into his chest, sharing a nod and thin-lipped look with Logan still stuck in his arm. “It’s over.”

“Shit, Son…” The train gets thrown and broken in a wave of utter destruction and rebirth; and through it all, Hesh never lets go—not even when the water below comes up to meet you.

—

The beach’s sand is coarse, and it sticks to your gear with a fervent hold. To your skin, the paint, and blood, for the moment washed away as hands dragged you from the water, small puffs of breath and whimpers greeting you.

“C’mon, Sweetheart.” Hesh. And he sounded frantic. “C’mon, open…open your eyes, dammit. Please, you just told me the best thing you possibly could. Please.”

Water slips off your neck, and as you’re weakly lying back, propped against a rock, hands slip to your cheeks, moving the skin as a barely conscious body tries to make you wake up.

A forehead hits against your shoulder, a deep groan of pain emanating from the man who grips at your gear.

“No, no, c’mon,” Hesh can barely keep himself sitting up, bloody and broken. Logan had to drag him from the water not seconds prior, and in turn, Hesh had grabbed what little strength was left and helped him get you. “Logan!” Green darts to brown, and the older brother pleads in a broken voice, “Help me!”

You bend your head forward and cough up blood and water, shoving Hesh away from you so you can collapse on your side and expel your stomach.

“Harp,” the man quickly mutters, dragging himself over and grabbing your shoulder to keep your face out of the sand. “Fuck, okay—it’s okay I’ve got you.”

“You,” your voice cuts out, and you shake as you gasp and sputter, “A-are a fucking idiot!”

Hesh chuckles, and you feel his head hit off your arm, his struggling breath. “God, I know. I know, Sweetheart.”

Logan crawls over to you, pushing you back against the rock and grappling for his medical pouch as Hesh patches into the comms. You grunt and look down at the younger brother, head swirling in colors and ears pounding with your pulse.

“Merrick, do you copy? Merrick, come in.”

“Hesh! Hesh, is that you?” You weakly smirk at the shock and relief from the tone, letting your head tilt back as Logan hurriedly packs your gunshot wound with gauze. You wince and stare at the sky—blood infectiously tinging the sand below you.

Hesh tries to help too, but you and the man are in far worse shape than Logan. The older brother’s shoulder leans into yours heavily, and you shift your eyes to the side as they flutter.

You haven't forgotten what you told him, what you confessed, but right now pushing back the black in the sides of your vision was more important.

And Rorke. What had happened to Rorke?

“Yeah,” Hesh watches you, face screwed with concern. “Yeah, I’m with Harp and Logan. We’re…we’re alive. Rough shape, but alive.”

“And Rorke?” You hold your breath.

“Dead.” Logan ties off a quick tourniquet and your spine tightens in agony, hissing out as your nerves spike with electricity. The brown-eyed man spares you a sorry glance but you shake your head in dismissal. “He’s dead.”

Out in the water, the enemy warships are firing off missiles inland, some smoking and others already sinking. Merrick gives you the news as Hesh brings a hand up to your chin, tilting your head his way. You go willingly, skin on fire from the scrape of his gloves.

Logan moves back, having done what he can, before he collapses back into the sand, panting with an arm over his stomach. His older brother’s forehead bumps into yours, eyes stuck.

“Copy that. The Federation is in full retreat—the rest of the payload is inbound to finish the…”

Whatever else Merrick relays is lost and Hesh’s lips splay over yours, his nose letting out a long breath and body sagging, dead-weight. Cheeks hot and mind running, you let instinct take over and reciprocate, quick fingers pulling at his vest straps.

“Since when?” He asks, breathless when he moves back an inch.

“After you introduced me to your first girlfriend, Cassie Albrook,” you smile, eyes crinkling. “Seventh grade. The one with the black hair? God, I was so jealous.”

Hesh chuckles deeply, body jerking as he kisses you again, pulling back and holding your cheek in his hand. His eyes are wide and open.

“You mean to tell me, I could have been kissin’ you all the way back since seventh grade?” Your face moves with pure love, flesh going soft—even the pain diminishes somewhat.

Merrick’s voice still gruffly moves down the line, and the last bits of his sentence are heard.

“...Sit tight, Recon’s comin’ for ya.” Everything was looking up.

Missiles slam into the Federation ships out in the water, the sudden burst of liquid and fire making Hesh briefly cover you with his side to protect you from the shockwave. When you turn to look, nothing but sinking metal remains.

“I’m sorry,” Hesh tells you, and you don’t have the energy to pull away from his neck as you let your head rest—the thumping of your brain and the calming shadow of his form giving way to believe you had a concussion.

“Hm,” you hum, letting him continue. His voice echoed in his breast.

“I…I’ve been an ass these past few days, weeks, I shouldn’t have said what I did—wanted to take it back as soon as I turned away from you.” You close your eyes and sigh long, sarcastic even now.

“You owe me dinner and a movie, then I’ll see if I can forgive you.” Hesh chuckles, nose pressing down into your scalp. He kisses you there as water falls from his chin.

“Sounds like a plan, Doll.” The man lets himself rest, curled around you and waiting for the recon team as the sand and the water move. “I love you too…just so you know. Long time.”

Your failing mind lets off a scoff. But a happy one.

When you wake again, not remembering when you’d fallen asleep, it is to the sound of screaming.

“Logan!” You jolt up and have to place a hand on your head to stop the pounding. Hesh is struggling to move, fighting to get to his younger brother who you turn as quickly as you’re able to face. “Logan!”

Your face voids of blood.

Rorke is dragging the other man away, pushing him to the ground as Logan tries to fight like a dog on his back, with only one arm working properly. Growling, you try to stand—body falling and sliding right back down as Rorke kicks Logan’s combat blade from his hand, walking over to you and Hesh.

He stands and pants, limping from your shot to his foot and a hand across his abdomen in obvious pain.

“Look what you did,” Rorke motions behind him to the still-falling missiles being disposed of from space into the ocean; atop the wreckage of what Rorke had been a part of. Falling to your side, you leave behind a raging Hesh who attempts to move and get to Rorke while you go to Logan. The devil wheezes and points from you to the boys, forcing a grunt of approval. “You’re good.”

Hesh is shoved back by a ruthless boot into the rock, and you snarl, coming over to Logan and his very broken arm as he weakly writhes on the ground. You place your body over his and bare your teeth as if a beast.

“Rorke!” You bark. “It’s over! It’s done. Everything you’ve built is dead and recon is on its way for us…you’re finished.”

“Nothin’s finished, no,” Hesh tries to lunge again as Rorke’s body stumbles closer to you but falls into ragged coughs and stays on his side in utter agony.

“Stay away from them!” The man you’d just confessed to hisses, hand grasping futilely at the sand. Green eyes run back and forth from you to Logan, desperate and breaking by the second. “Rorke! You son of a bitch!”

“Nothin’s ever finished.” Grabbing you by the scruff of your neck, you’re being tossed off Logan and thrown to the side in a cloud of sand, body screaming at you as you yell out loudly.

Rorke bends a knee to look Logan in the eyes, shaking his head.

“You’d of been a hell of a Ghost.” Yelling, you wrench at the combat knife in your vest, set your feet, and tackle Rorke off of the Walker boy with a feral curse on your breath.

“Get the fuck off of—” Your leg twists with a defining crack as you’re grappled and thrown off, only able to slice a nice long cut down his jaw and at the beginning of the man’s throat.

Screaming you hear briefly Hesh’s rageful bellow, his calling of your name in high keens of helplessness. Promises of revenge and justice.

Breath breaking as tears line the back of your eyes, Rorke comes over you and pins your dominant hand to the ground—you look up and grimace, trying to make your body function.

Move!

Rorke laughs, great shoulders shaking with glee. He’s fucking demented as he continues his sentence from before your fruitless attack.

“...But that’s not gonna happen, is it?” The man smiles and you struggle as Logan and Hesh rapidly try to assist.

“Harp!”

“There ain’t gonna be any Ghosts.” Rorke’s eyes shift to Hesh, and you follow with a sense of dread and horror. The man’s mind had been made up when he turned back around, disregarding Logan entirely in favor of you and your ‘unbreakable’ loyalty.

The joy it would bring him to destroy you and set you loose after such. Set you loose on Hesh.

He leans in close to you, so you can feel his breath and his conviction.

“We’re gonna destroy ‘em together.”

“Harp!” You’re shoved back, knife grasped and ripped from your hand as your broken leg is grabbed and pressure is applied.

You scream again, arms carding across the dunes as Rorke begins dragging you backward like a child holding onto a stuffed toy. Blown green eyes meet yours, Hesh reaching out and screaming at the top of his lungs for you.

But he can’t move.

“Harp!”

And you can’t feel your fingers.

“I love you,” you whisper, perhaps for the last time and he sees your lips move. Hesh screams and slams his hand into the ground, Logan stumbling to his knees but immediately dropping back with a small cry.

And Rorke chuckles.

—

You don’t know where he took you, but you do know the jungle floor is cold and wet, and the mud under your fingernails makes you feel gross.

What you do know is that the earthen walls of the pit you are in are pointless to try to climb—the top is slatted with a covering of long sticks with wide square openings. You know it’s going to rain by the smell in your bloodied nostrils.

You know that your leg is broken, your bullet wound is festering through the tourniquet, and your concussion is making you sleepy.

In your head, you count these ‘knowns’ and sprinkle them like seeds as you stare blankly at the sky far above. Everything aches; hurts. When you breathe, it comes in and out with a wheeze.

You know that Hesh loves you, and perhaps that’s the only fact you care about. Wherever he is, you’re glad he can’t see you like this.

Rain patters against your head, the storm clouds finally rolling through. Leaves can be heard shuffling on their branches. You breathe in and out, rising and settling your lungs slowly.

You can’t break—not like Rorke.

No matter what he did to you, you can’t betray the Ghosts. Logan. Hesh.

Elias’s words echo as you curl into a tiny ball, shivering and whimpering as your wounds move and pull.

...I’m proud of you. And I’m sure your folks would be too.

You know this game. Torture. They’ll pump you full of hallucinogens, starve you, beat you within an inch of your life; and through that you cannot give in.

But it’s easier said than done.

In the middle of the night, the top of the pit is pushed away and there are the voices of multiple people that dance above the rain storm. They jump down and in the state you are, there’s nothing you can do to stop them from hooking their arms under yours and hauling you up, limp and motionless.

The words are in Spanish, and you still can make out some over the commotion and the way your hearing dips in and out.

“Where do we inject….”

“...neck, I believe…arm could work too…”

“...nasty…was it? I heard…mix of drugs…Who knows?”

Your head is harshly yanked back, and the sharp pinch of a needle digs into your neck, the action making your good leg kick out in panic but there’s little you can do.

A flood of thick fluid enters your veins and like sap seeping out of a tree some drops exit the wound and mix with the rain weighing down your clothes. They’d taken your gear, only your undershirt and cargo pants still clothing you.

When they’re done, they let you drop back to the floor, where you flop and smash your face into the mud with a weak drag of your cheek along the sludge. With calls from above, a rope is tossed down and they all ascend. The top is clattered back over moments later.

Laying still and groaning, teeth clenched, already you feel ten times more strange than before.

“Ah,” you grasp at your head, which was bursting to begin with, as it gains a looseness to it—the mud below you shimmered with puddles, the chill got colder, and your clothes felt grating against your skin. “Not good. N-not good.”

You pull at your shirt collar, coughing as your eyes bulge; your heart breaks itself as it immediately can be felt hammering into your ribcage far more sensitive than you’d ever experienced. It felt like your chest was going to rip open.

Panicked sounds emanate from the back of your throat, fingers digging into your scalp as the drugs carry their venom through your blood.

Your wounds blazed.

You start screaming, babbling for nothing, and pulling at your flesh, but the overhead striking of lightning leaves the desperation mute to all but the trees.

—

Hesh stares at you from the corner of the pit, but his eyes are not green. You watch, silent, barely moving, from where you curl into a tiny heap of bloodied flesh. You’d torn at your skin for days; time looped together with more injections and no food. Water you got from the sky.

They had offered soup, but you knew better even as you dug harsh lines into your neck. There were just more drugs in the broth.

But Hesh. Hesh.

He wasn’t right—didn’t stand like him, or breathe like him; there was something off about his smirk as he watched you gaze at him in an addled stupor.

“Feelin’ good over there, Kid?” Not Hesh. Not. Hesh.

You’re panting, your body sweating profusely in the humidity and so, so hungry.

Not Hesh takes a step forward and his image tilts like the turning of a page with Rorke taking his place, but as soon as it happens it flips back on itself to your Love.

“N-not right,” you hurriedly whisper.

Not Hesh puts a hand to his ear, kneeling down in front of you. “What was that, now?” A long chuckle. His voice is…is…deeper. Your eyebrows flinch up and down. “Who do you see, Sweetheart?”

“Hesh,” you whimper out. “Hesh, what are you talking about? What’s going on? I…I feel like I’m…I’m twisted inside out.”

“Hesh, huh?” The man looks to the side, smiling. “Well, that’s better than I expected. This’ll be fun.”

“W-what—” A fist connects with your face and you get catapulted into the wall. Before anything else, your stomach is kicked, making your call of alarm get forced out as a gasp as your clotted bullet wound reopens in a great tear. A large hand grips you hard by the chin, snapping it forward to stare into those wrong eyes but the familiar face of Hesh.

What was he doing to you?

“H…Hesh,” you can’t even stutter out his name before you break down into coughs and gagging; tears rolling down your cheeks, and blood and mud everywhere.

“Yeah, that’s right. You just keep lookin’ at me.” You dry heave and push at his hands, fingernails digging into his skin to create crescent moons. “Keep lookin’ at Hesh.”

—

It’s three months of the same, and you can’t go on anymore.

You lay in a near comatose state on the ground, flesh completely covered in mud and open wounds—maggots eat at your dead skin, wriggling deeper. Not having the heart to pick them out, or even move the few non-broken fingers you have, you lay in blank agony. Pain so deep you can’t scream or make a single noise. It would make it worse; it is making it worse.

Breathing is becoming a chore.

“Is today going to be the day?! God, I sure hope so.” Hesh looks down from over the edge, fiddling with another syringe of drugs. “Enough blood down there to make a fuckin’ painting out of. Shit…You lasted longer than I thought, Kid.” You don’t look at him. At his dark, wrong, eyes.

“I’m nearly impressed.” There’s a low chuckle and the crackling of branches.

You close your eyes and try to think of a single kiss and green eyes, but the rest of the image is tainted to you. Your mind can’t call it forward without the corruption of the puppet ahead of you, this shifting specter of mist and smoke.

Memories that used to bring you comfort call to fear and spine-curling hurt.

This couldn’t be Hesh, you told yourself for the millionth time, but…who else could it be? Your body was too broken to try and work through the hallucinations, to think or rationalize.

There’s a thump of boots and a grunt. Someone coming closer as birds speak far above. Singing. It's the first you can recall another living creature being this close to the smell of infected decay.

“Now, now, let’s see that neck of yours.” You’re seized and pushed onto your back, head lulling and eyes fluttering. Hesh’s image shifts and bends into another, one you should be able to name but can’t quite recall. It’s hard to focus. “Just one more, and we can fix this. Together. No more Ghosts, huh? We’ll make it right.”

Birds songs. Birds and flying shadows. Rapid wing beats like an eagle or the pound of paws on the ground.

There is an un-godly snarl and a call of rage.

“Rorke!” The dark-eyed Hesh snaps his head away, his needle stilling in his grip only inches from your flesh. He’s grappled and ripped away, thrown up and slammed down into a full-body jerk of pure strength not a second later with a cry of shock. “Get the fuck off of her!”

Shadows roll and wrestle, feral yowls like that of beasts bounce off your impaired hearing, mud stuck in your ears. You think your vision cuts out for a moment because the next there’s a different man gripping your shoulders, slightly shaking you back awake.

Blue eyes like the ocean. Your brow barely twitches in confusion.

Keegan?

“C’mon, that’s it. Right here.” A light is taken and directed right into your eye in the fading light. “You’re doin’ great, Harp. Just keep lookin’ at me.”

The light passes over your blood-coated eyes and barely diolates. Keegan’s lips under his balaclava thin to an alarming degree.

“Fuck,” he grunts, looking down at you before he darts his vision over to Hesh, the actual Hesh, who’s locked limbs with the former Ghost; fists to guts and primal anger.

In his haste to get to you, Hesh had damned himself—he’d left no opening for any of the others to get a clean shot at Rorke. But no one could blame him, even if it was reckless; incredibly stupid.

The man had been on your trail nearly every day since you’d been taken. Barely sleeping, eating little. A man possessed.

The Ghosts had been half convinced something had taken over his image and scooped out his personality.

“Merrick,” Keegan patches into the secure line, looking back down at you. “Positive ID on HVT, three klicks West. Hesh has engaged—we found Harp.”

There’s an instantaneous response, worried breath. “Solid copy…how’s she doing?”

“We need MedEvac immediately. She won’t last another night.” There’s a curse on the other end, a loud and quick call to the rest of his squad.

“Copy! I’ll call it in!” Keegan tries to stabilize you as Hesh and Rorke rip each other to shreds, and Hesh, who had the upper hand in the beginning, is quickly losing it.

“Awe, look who tracked ‘er down!” Rorke snatches at Hesh’s collar and lays two jabs to his ribs—there’s a definitive crack as the younger man shouts in pain. “Young love! So fucking pointless.”

“I’m going to rip you into pieces,” Hesh bares his teeth, eyes wild and unrestrained. For a moment Rorke looks taken aback by the utter conviction in his green gaze. “And make you choke on your own damn teeth! You hear me?!”

Ripping away with a tear of fabric, Hesh bends low and tackles the former Ghost to the ground, splaying him out on his back before his fist is snapped back and brought down; again and again and again.

“Hesh!” Keegan shouts, pressing deeply into your wounds and trying to give you fluids with one hand. “This fucking kid.” The Sergeant gives up, shaking his head.

Trust had to be given, and Keegan knew that at this moment he had to trust Hesh to hold his own. He needed to keep you conscious.

“Easy, Harp.” You can feel the cracks in your dry throat as the water seeps past them, and you cough up droplets before the blue-eyed Sergeant tilts your head and helps you. “Easy, Sweetheart.”

Keegan doesn’t even want to look at your body as the brutal sounds of a fist on bone continue, clothes scuffling and gargled breaths—the savagery and barbarous remnants of mental and physical torture too much even for him.

“Christ,” he hisses.

You gulp down water slowly and let it fill your stomach like a brick.

Hesh reduces Rorke’s face to a mess of flesh and busted bone, sweating and not even stopping as his knuckles split under his gloves or his fingers dislocated from their sockets. His eyes burn, his face goes red—he looks insane.

He looks like a spirit of utter revenge.

Only when Logan and Merrick drag him off the spasming body does he stop, but not after he tries like hell to fight out of that hold as well. Whipping around, he attempts to land a punch on Merrick before Logan is forced to put him in a restraint hold.

Hesh’s cheek meets the mud, face being sunk into it as his right arm is twisted so far behind his back it nearly breaks. The older brother growls, free arm and legs moving—back sliding.

“David!” Merrick barks at him, face pulled in a sneer, enraged at the man’s lack of sense. “Shut this shit down. Look at her, dammit!” Logan gets bucked off, but the youngest Walker boy has enough sense to wrestle him back down and grab onto his chin; forcing those green eyes to lock on you and Keegan.

The second he sees you, he entirely freezes.

Merrick sighs out harshly, jogging over to you and already checking in with the MedEvac that Kick’s flying in. There would be no resistance—all the other hostiles were dead.

“Jesus Christ,” the Commander breathes, kneeling by you instantly and studying your body.

Hesh’s reaction is slower, but the spread of vile tears burns the back of his eyes. Logan lets him go at seeing this, standing and holding out a hand, but the brunette stays on the ground a moment longer; utterly still.

Hesh’s mouth opens and closes.

All at once he’s rushing over and limping up at your side as Merrick grabs more medical supplies from his packs to help you.

“Oh my God,” Hesh breathes, and Keegan sends him a glance. You’d drank all of the water. “Harp, hey, you’re going to be okay—it’s gonna be alright, you hear? I’m right here, Logan and I are gonna get you home. Back to California, okay? Riley’s waitin’ for you, Doll.”

You flinch at that voice, and Merrick looks sharply at the blue-eyed Sergeant. Their eyes lock, holding for a long moment. Logan’s brows tighten in confusion.

The brunette seems not to notice it at all, hands finding your cheek before Merrick can give him a warning. Your eyes slowly shift to him before they peel back with fear.

Hesh’s vision goes glossy, clenching his jaw. “Shit, what did he do to you—”

“Hesh!”

You yell and yerk back, shoving the man off of you with a fear-filled sob.

“No!” Keegan and Merrick grapple to keep you down, not wanting to aggravate your wounds as Hesh falls to his ass, hands slapping behind him before he hisses and brings them back up. He blinks quickly in confusion and panic.

Logan rushes over and hides him from your view, beginning to understand what was going on.

“No!” You call again, Keegan having to hold your head into his chest to hide you away. Merrick yells down his comms to hurry the Helo up, and that he doesn’t care about anything else. “No,” your voice gargles off as you sob into Keegan. “Please, no more.”

“Shh,” the Sergeant mutters, looking over his shoulder at a pale and shaking Hesh. “Nothin’s going to happen to you. Not anymore.”

“Harp,” Hesh whispers, jaw slackened. “I…I don’t…”

“Hallucinogens,” Merrick says grimly, watching you shake and wail. Logan has to look away, his fists clenching. “Who knows what she’s seen. Reckon it wasn’t anything good.”

It’s like he doesn’t hear anything besides your cries. Whenever you gasp Hesh tenses as if he wants to run to you—comfort you the best way he knows how.

Hallucinogens? He thinks and feels tears dribble down his cheeks as he blinks, rubbing at his jaw and shakily placing a hand over the back of his neck. Logan puts a heavy grip on his shoulder, weighing them down even more.

—

Rorke’s death should have been a time of celebration—of honoring the fallen. Elias Walker, Ajax, and countless others. The Federation was nothing more than broken factions now. Dust to the wind.

But no one can celebrate when they’re trying to fix one of their own.

You were being kept in the secure medical ward under twenty-four-hour surveillance and around-the-clock care; only Keegan was allowed in, seeing as you were the closest to him outside of Logan and Hesh and had no adverse effects to his presence.

Merrick had said he didn’t want to risk Logan going in, as it might worsen things. Hesh was taking it hard.

He just got you back, how was this right? How was it fair that you’d had to go through that right when it was supposed to be over and done with? The man got sick over it, thinking about what Rorke had done to…break your mind like he had.

Two months.

Two months of nightmares plaguing him, of your eyes when you looked at him. If Hesh had just been stronger, then that bastard would never have dragged you away on that beach. He resulted in working out more, running laps around Fort Santa Monica with Riley at three in the morning—he grew bags under his eyes. He grew quiet.

When all of his broken ribs and fingers healed, the artificial wounds, he was offered awards for taking down Rorke; even a summon by the President.

He’d denied all of them.

If a medal was going to get you better faster, he’d have taken them in an instant. But he wasn’t that stupid. Hesh was withering, and everyone saw it. He loved you more than anything—more than fame or recognition. The man lay awake at night fearing that you were too cold or uncomfortable in the far-off ward, he was paranoid about your safety.

More often than not, the nurses found him and Riley fitfully sleeping outside of your door on the hard ground, arm used as a pillow. They didn’t have the heart to move him.

In the last two weeks before the third month of your isolation and evaluations, in his nighttime routine, Hesh finds your door open.

He stares at it now with a blank expression, fatigue once burning his eyes all gone for a deep and pounding panic. With a hand gesture, Riley halts and sits, and, sensing his handler’s mood, lets his ears go straight up in attention.

Hesh reaches for the gun in the back of his pants, peeling it out slowly and taking a nearly silent step forward. Ready, his ears strain for a sound…but there is none.

His free hand reaches for the door, the short sleeves of his gray sleep-shirt bunching. A moment later, he lightly taps the barrier farther out before entering the room with the gun drawn.

He said he wouldn’t get distracted, but it would be a lie to say his eyes didn’t immediately go to you.

You were there, asleep, curled up on the far recliner chair instead of the bed. Head lulled to the side and knees kept close to your chest. But it was the scars that broke Hesh.

They were large and long—on your face and arms; legs. All moving and stretching like a child’s drawing up your sleep shorts and shirt, disappearing only to reappear somewhere else. Healed over but still fresh.

Hesh drops the gun and turns his body slightly away, staring at the side wall before he takes an unsteady breath. He re-hides his weapon and turns to leave, not seeing anyone else.

Maybe Keegan had forgotten to close the door…he’d have to chew him out for that. Already a dull point of anger was making his jaw clench at the sly older man.

“Bastard,” Hesh mutters.

Before he can exit and close the door softly behind him, he hears a broken squeak of alarm. He halts as you stare heavily into his back—awoken by the sound of nearly silent feet. In a steady motion, the man’s hands are by his sides, open and visibly holding nothing.

“I was just leaving,” Hesh whispers, not looking at you. His heart hammers. “I’m sorry, I thought someone else was in here—the door was open, okay?”

Your hands twitch, body still and breath held tight.

“Hesh?” He flinches, eyes closed tight.

Don’t look at her. Don’t turn around. Leave.

“Are you really…him?” You ask silently, eyes darting nervously around the room and quickly waking up fully.

It’s a moment before he answers you.

“Yeah,” he forces out, voice tiny and sad. “Yeah, it’s me, Doll. Just David Walker.”

Your throat bobs with a thin swallow. Treatment was still ongoing, but it’s not every day you wake up to find the man who you had nightmares about standing in your room.

Breathe, you have to remind yourself. It was the drugs. Not Hesh. Never Hesh. Rorke.

But you were still scared.

“I…I need to see your eyes,” you say.

Hesh turns carefully, staring hard at the floor. His heart lurches, hands going clammy.

What if she has a setback? He asks himself. What if I mess this up…Shit, Hesh, you couldn’t have minded your own business?

Oh, but he never could when it came to you.

“Then look at me, Sweetheart.” The man breathes slowly, darting his eyes up to your face. “They only belong to you.”

But your gaze can’t slip to his sockets, only able to glare fearfully into his neck. But this Hesh felt different, more like the one you grew up with—those memories still coming back but tainted; you need to see green, but it was hurting you to think that you might not.

“I’m scared,” you admit, shakily. The man’s thighs tense, but he stops himself before he can go and take you into his arms. That wouldn’t help. “I’m…I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“I’m real. I swear to you, Harp, I’m real. I’m right here and I’ll wait for you as long as it takes. Even if it’s years, I will always be right here.” He pleads, hands still at his sides and going nowhere if you don’t tell him to. It’s like a floodgate opens, months of internal pain and heartbreak spilling out. You needed to know this, even if he never got to see you again.

“I have loved you since I saw you get jealous over Cassie Albrook in seventh grade and tried to hide it because you thought she made me happy—she could never make me happy, Harp. That was you. That was always and will always be you. I…I can’t breathe when you’re not near me, I don’t know how to act right when you’re hurt. Seeing you hurting is…is…” Hesh’s voice breaks and he falls silent.

“Please, if you need to look into my eyes, I’m beggin’ you, Sweetheart, please, do it. Even if it’s only one glance.” Your breath is stuck in your throat, tears welling and sliding down your cheeks.

In your skull your brain pounds, bordering on hysteria and an urge to flee. There was so little that you trusted anymore. Keegan, yes—the nurses and doctors? You had no choice there.

You knew that the Hesh you’d seen in the pit was Rorke, Keegan had explained it all to you after the drugs had been pumped from your system; you understood that part. But it didn’t make the sickening confusion any better.

Symptoms of severe PTSD, paranoia, anxiety—you’d seen the charts when the nurses thought you weren’t looking at them.

You still wouldn’t let anyone with a needle anywhere close to you, had to be put under for it.

But you’d been so lonely here. A simple kiss seared into your mind before the horror set in, a stain of a smile on your lips. A chest vibrating with a content purr.

Hesh. You want your Hesh back.

Taking a stuttering breath, your eyes dart upwards. You push through your misty gaze and lock on a color that can only be described as a grassy field of verdant growth. Great open plains of viridescent being—showing you a world bathed in tender belonging.

Home.

You sob and rush from the chair on legs that still hurt even now, meeting Hesh in the middle as he takes a step forward and wraps his arms around you. You’re covered and kept in a hold so tight it’s like he’ll never let you go, heart pounding and his face loose with shock.

But he says nothing beyond a loud shuttered exhale of relief, pressing you to his chest and burying his face into your scalp, breathing you in; taking you down like a sinner in church until all that remains is you. Your fingers digging into his shirt, your face in his neck, how you call his name as if calling a ghost back from the dead.

“Oh, my Girl.” Hesh chuckles through the tears in his eyes. “My Girl. I missed you so much, you won’t even believe it.”

You push yourself into him tighter.

Riley, at some point, had come to stand in the doorway, his dark beady eyes seeing only the colors in gray, brown, yellow, and blue, though that never truly mattered. Color was only half of the picture.

And the rest of the image in front of him was seeped with the pigment of love.

The dog’s tongue lulls from the side of his mouth, and in the air behind him, his tail moves back and forth into a soft arch.

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