#that’s one of the things i’m gonna be on the lookout for the next time i watch the movie

[dont-let-me-eat-pears]

did i hear wrong, or did lucy gray sing, “a necklace of hope”—plutarch’s edit in mockingjay—instead of “rope”?

[aurorawritestoescape]

IN HIS ARMS || QZ!Joel Miller x f!reader || 5,2k

Summary: You meet a smuggler in the QZ and can't resist your attraction to him.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, a bit of fluff, unspecified age gap, Fedra soldier!reader, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, mirror sex, degradation, rough sex, praise kink, size kink, reader really loves Joel’s arms (who doesn’t), manhandling, alcohol consumption, use of a morning after pill, mention of guns, mention of canon-typical violence. Reader has hair. Joel can pick her up. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no other specific physical descriptions.

A/n: this is written for PPCU Body Worship writing challenge, created by talented, sweet and beautiful @joelmillerisapunk 💖 I got ‘Arms’ and immediately thought of meaty, beefy QZ Joel. Smooches to my lovely beta @milla-frenchy 😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 Love y’all! Hope you will like the story!❤️

MASTERLIST

“Let’s go.”

“Sure you need me there? It’s your deal, Ronnie. And you know you’re armed, right? Why do I always have to hold your hand?” you complain, while your eyes are scanning the crowd at a public hanging for any sign of disturbance. It’s not your favorite task but Fedra sends enough soldiers here to keep things under control so it usually goes smoothly. That’s probably why your friend Ronnie arranged a deal right in the middle of your shift.

“I’m nervous, ok,” he admits, glancing at you, “The dude’s fucking scary. Never worked with him before. But I’ve heard stuff. You’re just gonna stand there, that’s all. Don’t need to talk.”

You’ve known Ronnie since you were teens in a Fedra camp. Now both officers, you are still inseparable, though at this moment you’d prefer to be as far away from him as you could because in case you two get caught, you both will be a spectacle of the next hanging. Ronnie’s pleading eyes always work on you and the little weasel knows it well so you curse and follow him to the place of the meetup.

As soon as you see the smuggler, standing in a secluded spot far away from the prying eye, your heart starts beating faster. And not because he scares you. Yes, he’s huge and looks very unfriendly, thanks to his furrowed brows and the closed off stance which actually happens to be the culprit of your unexpected reaction. His pose accentuates the beauty of his arms as he’s crossing them in front of his chest. It’s a threatening sight, same as his gaze, but like a moth to a flame, you’re pulled to the man immediately. All thoughts in your head are replaced with only one - he’s fucking hot.

Ronnie slowly comes up to the man, feigning confidence.

“Who the fuck is this?” the smuggler asks, nodding at you with his chin.

“Just a friend. Don’t worry, Joel.”

“I ain’t the one to worry here, kid,” he gruffs, uncrossing his arms as his fists clench in a threatening gesture and you can sense the waves of panic, coming from your friend. “I prefer to do these things one on one. Don’t need an audience. Ya got me?”

“Yeah, ‘k. Next time I’ll be alone.”

“Hope so.”

Joel looks you up and down and you suddenly feel too hot. Standing a step further from him than Ronnie and not saying anything, you’re ogling the man with hungry eyes. Joel seems to relax and the men finally exchange the goods— pills for your friend and ration cards for the smuggler. They’re talking about the product, scheduling the next deal, and you should be on the lookout, should be attentive to the surroundings, like you always are, but your mind, as well as other parts, is fully focused on the stranger.

Joel’s hairy forearms are thick and strong and every little move makes his muscles flex and bulge out of his rolled up sleeves of the denim shirt. His shoulders are broad and the fabric, containing them, is strained to the limit. You’ve never been a biter in bed but suddenly you want to sink your teeth into his arms, lick them all over, glide your hands over the vast expense of his skin, grab them and feel them tighten around your body, encompassing you fully, while his cock stretches…

“Hey!” Ronnie exclaims, interrupting your horny daydreams, pulling on your sleeve and you blink at him, trying to shake away the visions of the man, doing filthy things to you.

“Let’s go!” he says for what appears not the first time, and you smile awkwardly, noticing Joel’s smirk. His arms are crossed again, but now he’s looking at you with a twinkle of curiosity in his piercing eyes, his heavy gaze lightened up.

You take a step away, following your friend, but Joel stops you.

“Sweetheart, wait!”

The pet name hits you right in the pussy and you pause and turn back, confused by why he’s calling you.

“C’mere,” the man motions for you to return to him with a shake of his head, his bear hands shoved in the jeans pockets.

“We’re in a hurry, man,” Ronnie frowns, thinking he’s coming to your rescue, but you turn to him and say,

“It’s ok. Wait for me over there.”

You have no idea what Joel wants from you, but you’re eager to find out. Not hiding his anxiety, your friend takes a few steps away from you and stands at the gate, glancing in your direction from time to time while his hand is resting on his gun.

“Yes? Joel, right?” You ask, coming up to the smuggler and using every last drop of your will not to leer at his mighty arms again.

“Yeah. What’s your name?”

You reply with a little smile and see a smirk tug at his plush lips when he asks, “Like what you see?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been starin' at me like at a piece of meat. No use denyin' it."

You avert your eyes, chewing on your lip. You probably should be embarrassed to be caught ogling the man, but life in this miserable world taught you to take what you want whenever you can. Especially if it's being handed to you.

"I'm not." You look back at Joel with defiance in your gaze. "I think you're hot."

Joel’s chest expands when he takes a deep breath, the shirt’s buttons hanging for dear life. His piercing eyes turn a shade darker as he asks,

"Wanna do somethin' about it?"

Your heart rate increases and the warmth of arousal between your thighs makes you shift on your feet.

"What are you suggesting?"

"Come over to my place tonight. Around 8. Ask your friend for the address. He knows."

You don't reply for a few seconds, making it seem like you're thinking about your answer, although your pussy has been aching since the moment you saw the smuggler so there's no way you're going to reject his invitation.

"'K", you reply, feigning nonchalance, while excitement is twisting your stomach.

“What?! Are you out of your mind? You're gonna see him?” Ronnie hisses at you, as you two are walking back to the square. “He’s dangerous! Do you realize that? He’s huge! Have you seen his arms?”

“Oh, I’ve seen his arms alright,” you reply with a dreamy smile, sensing butterflies in your belly.

“Fuck, you’re so stupid when you’re horny. If I find you tomorrow dead in a ditch, I’ll tell your lifeless face ‘I told you so!’”

“Jesus, man,” You giggle, playfully punching Ronnie’s shoulder. “I’ll be ok. I promise.”

The night can’t come soon enough. Still wearing your uniform, you rush to meet the man who's been occupying your mind all day. When Joel opens the door to you, you swallow loudly seeing him in the same denim shirt and dark blue jeans. You’ve been dreaming of his huge arms around your body, so your panties are completely soaked, and having had no time to change after your shift, you hope to slide them off as fast as possible.

“Hi,” you greet the man, stepping into his apartment.

“Howdy.”Joel closes the door and stands next to you, while his gaze is sliding up and down your body. You look around the apartment, getting a whiff of his scent— sweat with a subtle trace of whiskey.

“Are you from Texas originally?” You ask, glancing up at him, slightly intoxicated by his closeness.

“Yeah. Want a drink?”

He walks to the living area and you follow before leaving your guns at the door.

“What do you have?”

“Whiskey, vodka…water.”

“Vodka’s fine,” you reply, stepping up to a worn out couch and sitting down.

“Oh, are you a vodka girl?”

“I’m a ‘whatever burns’ girl, but vodka works faster on me,” you smile and Joel smirks, crossing his arms again. You swallow loudly, seeing his sexy tan forearms in the golden light of the setting sun. Fuck, you wanna touch them.

“Why d’ya need it to work fast? Doesn’t seem like you need any liquid courage.”

“Really?”

Joel goes to the kitchen and in a few seconds returns with a half empty Smirnoff bottle and two shot glasses. He plops next to you on the couch with a grunt and pours out the alcohol.

You drink yours in one go and Joel follows. The vodka burns and calms you down a little. Joel clears his throat before he speaks,

“This morning your friend was shaking like a leaf. And you… You were practically undressing me with your eyes, sweetheart.”

You smile and drop your gaze down to your lap.

“Well, Ronnie is a nervous guy and I’m …”

“A needy little slut?”

You shoot your eyes up at him and see a smug smile, tugging at his lips, as he awaits your reaction. You should probably feel offended or angry, but instead your core burns brighter at his degrading comment and your pussy flutters, as if proving him right.

He reads your reaction immediately.

“Oh you like that, huh?”

“What?”

“When I call you a slut.”

“I don’t mind,” you mumble while your mind is shutting down with every dirty word he throws at you.

“Yeah, you looked like a thirsty whore this morning. And I see that nothing’s changed.”

You’re barely breathing at this point, as waves of arousal ripple through your body, making you squirm in your seat.

“I…I just really like your arms.” Your gaze shamelessly slides over his body, so big and powerful.

“My arms?” Joel’s brows shoot up and he turns his head to look at his arm, resting on the back of the couch, as if trying to understand your attraction.

“Yeah,” you nod slowly, ogling the muscles straining his sleeve.

“Wanna touch ‘em, baby?”

“Yes, please”.

“So polite. Wanna call you a good girl but we already know that you prefer ‘a slut’.”

Joel chuckles and narrows his eyes, watching you for a few seconds, while you’re melting under his lustful gaze, sinking in the sticky pit of desire. Through the fog in your head you hear his voice, low but still powerful.

“How about we skip the pleasantries then and get to the thing you came for.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m gonna fuck you. And let you touch my arms.”

Your breath hitches and your body tingles all over. You can’t agree fast enough.

“Yeah, ok.”

“Do you always say ‘yes’ to everything, little slut?” he smirks, playing with you like a cat with a mouse.

You try to come up with a witty response but your mind is clouded with lust so you just shake your head with probably the dumbest look ever.

“Can I use your bathroom?” You mumble and when he points you in its direction, swiftly walk there.

You close the door in the little room and check your face in the mirror. It’s the same as every day except for your glossy eyes. You rinse your face, trying to come to your senses, look a little less horny but it’s all in vain. The desire overtook your body completely so you dry yourself and leave the room.

When you return to Joel, you find him on the couch in the same spot and in the same position. Only now he’s completely naked.

A shiver goes down your spine from a new surge of arousal, tightening your core.

You barely hear him, your mind is fully occupied by the image of this gorgeous, huge man, waiting to fuck you. Everything about him makes your pussy beat with the rhythm of your heart - his soft belly, his long, girthy, slightly curved semi hard cock, resting on his thick thigh, his broad hairy chest and muscular arms. Seeing them without the confines of the clothes completely shuts off your brain and you take a step towards him, mesmerized by his muscles, wishing to feel them already.

“Take your clothes off, baby.”

You hardly hear him, taking in every inch of his body.

“Girl! Undress. Fuckin’ hell,” Joel groans and you shake your head, waking up from a horny trance, and start discarding your clothes hastily, piece by piece while his dark gaze is set on you. You should be more graceful and seductive taking them off, but your aching pussy makes your movements rushed and determined. When you’re completely naked, except for your panties, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of the last piece of clothing, but Joel stops you.

He gets up and walks to you, his big cock in his veiny hand.

“Wanna do it myself,” he mumbles and stands next to you, at your side, so close that you feel his warm breath on your cheek and breasts, his naked chest brushing against your shoulder, his manhood poking your thigh.

“Pretty little thing,” he whispers, taking in your body, while his hand slides down your back, leaving chills in its wake. You raise your big eyes at him, your lips parted. “Pity you get so dumb though,” he chuckles and lightly squeezes your asscheek. His hand stays there while the other one cups your breast and grazes your nipple with his calloused thumb, making it stiff. You moan and he groans.

Joel’s palm on your ass moves lower, and reaches your pussy, covered by the wet panties. He slips his finger between your asscheeks and rubs your drippping hole over the gusset. You softly whimper and he plants a light kiss on your cheek, stroking your folds over the fabric.

“She’s been crying for me all day, huh?” he mumbles, placing his large warm hand on your belly, the other one still caressing your cunt. “Pussy so needy she shut down your whole little brain. Yeah, baby?”

All you can do is nod, your senses fully focused on the way his thick fingers are rubbing your aching cunt over the underwear.

“She must be cold, sweetheart, being in a pair of wet panties all day like that?” He coos at you.

“Yeah”, you reply, barely breathing, already feeling your orgasm build because of his light touches. “Didn’t have time to change. I have a sexy pair at home.”

Joel breathes out a chuckle, “I bet you do, little slut. Would love to see ‘em too one day.”

The only response you can give is a mewl.

He steps in front of you, his hand leaving your pussy, and you whine. Joel tsks at you and pinches your chin with his fingers to lift your face to his.

“Oh, my pretty bimbo, already cock drunk,” he laughs, locking eyes with you.

Joel’s so huge, you should probably be scared, but all you feel is a pathetic need to be completely destroyed by him.

“Lights are on but…fuck, you’re gone,” he mocks you, looking into your hazy blown out eyes.

“Listen to me,” he commands, as his fingers slightly shake your head, getting your attention. “How do you want it? Gentle or rough, sweetheart?”

“Rough,” you croak back without any hesitation.

“Good. Then do what I say and we gonna have a great time, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good little slut.”

Your breaths are short and fast as you’re blinking, starting at him like a mindless fuck doll. Suddenly, you gasp when he grabs the back of your thighs with his massive hands and lifts you, throwing your legs around his waist. You grab onto his broad shoulders and he carries you away from the couch and to the bedroom.

He drops you on the bed, old and stiff, but you don’t care. You have no time or ability to think about anything, because as soon as you’re on your back, Joel pins you to the lumpy mattress with his heavy torso and kisses you. He’s not asking for a kiss, he’s taking it but you willingly open your mouth, welcoming his hot tongue. A happy moan escapes your mouth, when you finally glide your palms over his huge arms. He slides your panties off and cups your pussy with his huge warm palm.

“Messy whore,” he mumbles against your mouth.

Joel’s assertive, passionate and as horny as you are, and you smile against his lips, enjoying his desire for you.

He begins peppering kisses along your jaw, your neck, leaving hickeys on his way to your breasts.

You whimper when his mouth finds your nipple and gasp when he nips at it. He licks the pain away and starts sucking on it while his hands are roaming your heated body.

You grab onto his shoulders and shift your hips under his arm. Joel’s slurping and growling, caressing your breast with his lips and tongue, but you crave more so you start grinding your wet pulsating pussy against his arm. Your movements immediately send you to the precipice of your climax. His muscles flex as you rub your clit against them, smearing your slick over his tan skin, and Joel parts from your tit for a few seconds to watch you use his arm to get yourself off.

“Look at this sloppy little pussy. Gonna need a shower after this. Or…,” he smirks and gets back to suckling your other breast.

Each motion of his muscles is helping you to come as you’re dragging your pussy up and down his heavy limb. Soon you throw your head back, dipping it into the pillow when a hard climax hits you and your cunt contracts around nothing, as euphoria is coursing through your veins, taking away the last of your clear thinking.

“That’s it— take it, slut— come for me — jus’ like that,” Joel mumbles against your trembling chest but you hardly hear him, so deep in the ocean of desire, all sounds around you are muffled.

The next thing you feel is his hands grabbing your shoulders and lifting you. Joel makes you sit up and wraps his heavy hand around the back of your neck.

“Look what you’ve done, messy girl.”

He nods at his arm, glistening with your cum and slick and then growls, “Lick it clean.”

With a hazy smile you sit on your heels, getting comfortable. Then you take his arm between your hands and reach for it. Your tongue slides over his hot wet skin and you flutter your eyes shut, reveling in the sensations of his firm muscles under your tongue and the earthy taste of your juices.

“Attagirl,” Joel praises you and slightly squeezes the back of your neck to make you move your head lower and lap up all the mess you’ve left on his skin.

When you finish, Joel lifts your head and sees you staring at his throbbing cock with empty but hungry eyes. It’s leaking precum generously and you almost drool looking at it. You should probably be nervous to take his huge length but all you feel is feral lust.

Placing his palm under your jaw, Joel tilts your head up and searches for your eyes.

“Damn, lookin’ so dumb right now. Lucky you remember how to breathe, little whore.”

He laughs at you and grabs your face, as his fingers dig into your cheeks, making your lips pout.

You whine and he pulls you into his chest. You hug him as if afraid to float away and he gives you a few moments of rest while you are panting, snuggling into his embrace after the shuddering orgasm.

Then he lifts your chin and locks eyes with you. Your breath hitches as you’re struck by his handsome face, which leans down and he kisses you again, gently and slowly, wrapping you tighter in his embrace. Then he asks,

“Why do you like my arms so much?”

You blink a few times, trying really hard to understand the question, drunk on his taste and the way he’s holding you, but when the meaning finally reaches your brain, you stumble over your words.

“I… they… jus’ so big. And … fuck, very hot.”

You feel his broad chest shake with a quiet laugh. “Ready for my cock, baby?” You nod your head with a soft mewl.

“Wanna watch my arms when I’m railing you?”

“Yeah, yes, please.”

Joel hums and gets up before manhandling you off the bed and leading you to a wardrobe. He’s holding you under your arms, noticing that your weak legs are barely able to move, still tingling after your orgasm. He places you like a fuck doll in front the wardrobe door with a mirror and stands behind you. He’s so big and broad that you can see his shoulders and arms perfectly in the reflection. Your gaze glides over your own naked body, and you notice a path of hickeys along your neck and breasts and your core ignites again at the sight of his passion. Then you look at Joel, his eyes are obsidian, the expression is carnal and hungry, and you moan, feeling his cock slap your lower back.

His gaze drops down before he pushes your legs aside with his knee, his thick fingers dig into your hips and he pulls your ass, making you stick it out. Trying to steady yourself, you brace your hands on the mirror in front of you, but he grumbles,

“Not the mirror, stupid. You’ll break it, cut yourself.”

You swiftly move your hands further apart onto the wooden surface.

“Sexy but so dumb,” he mumbles as his eyes return to your ass and his cock. You watch his face, serious and concentrated, and sense his tip prod your sopping hole.

“Fuck,” he curses and pushes his cock deeper, slightly bending his knees to insert it into your tight pussy easier.

You push your ass out more for him, already whimpering like a whore, as you feel your walls slowly part to accommodate his stiff cock. It stings but you welcome the sensation of his manhood spreading your pussy until he bottoms out and you both moan at the sensation.

“Ahh— she feels amazing, baby,” he grunts and you smile dumbly at his reflection in the mirror.

“Such a sloppy cunt,” he murmurs, starting to plunge his length in and out of you with a fast rhythm, “oh, yeah — yeah — yeah—.”

His fat cock is massaging your walls deliciously, kissing your cervix with every deep thrust and you mewl with pleasure and scratch the wooden surface of the wardrobe with your nails.

“Naughty kitten. Tess will kill you if you leave marks on her furniture,” Joel chuckles through heavy panting, squeezing your hips and watching your cunt swallow his glistening cock.

“Who’s Tess?” You ask, not really giving a fuck and he doesn’t reply.

Instead he grants you your biggest wish - he pulls you flush to his chest and wraps his arms around your torso from behind. Your hands immediately fly to grab onto his strong limbs. Joel’s right arm is under your breasts, slightly pushing them up. The other one is keeping you in place, pressed to your chest, between your tits, his giant hand on your throat. His thick fingers curl around your neck but he doesn’t squeeze it, just holds you close against his broad torso.

The sensation and the vision of his powerful muscular arms bonding you to him like that, make your pussy contract and Joel growls in your ear, his breath hot and wet,

“Squeezing me already? Fuck, you’re easy.”

You whine and Joel nibbles on your ear lobe and rasps,

“Hold tight, baby, it’s gonna be a wild ride.”

As soon as the words reach your ear, he begins rolling his hips and dragging his cock in and out of your tight pussy, hard and fast.

You grab onto his bulging muscles better, and as he’s increasing the pace, you’re scratching him with your nails, leaving white marks on his golden skin and whimpering.

“Yeah, take it, dumb little whore. Gonna fuck the last of your brain out of your pretty head.”

Your breasts bounce while he’s fucking you and you bite your puffy lips, trying to muffle your moans, but Joel commands against yout ear,

“Want you to be loud, baby. C’mon. Let them all hear how good im fuckin’ ya.”

You would do anything he told you this moment so your lips part and you let your pleasured noises out, as they mix with the sound of skin rhythmically slapping against skin and his animalistic groans.

Reveling in the sensation of Joel, pounding your crying cunt, you let your hands wander all over his forearms and shoulders, squeezing and scratching them slightly, wishing to memorize the feeling of their strength under your hungry touch. Your vision is shaking with every mighty thrust of his hips but you’re watching the reflection of you two closely, drowning in the image of this tall broad man using you like a mindless fuck doll, caging you in his powerful arms and tears well up in your eyes at how amazing it feels. Your mind and body are focused on this pleasure, suffering and worries of the reality are gone and the drops of pure happiness spill and fall on his arms.

Joel notices you crying and stops fucking you, swiftly pulling out and turning you around.

“What is it, baby? Did I hurt ya?”

His dark eyes, a second ago filled with carnal desire now worried and concerned, dart all over your face and body, searching for the reason of your tears.

You grab onto him and shake your head,

“No, no, i’m fine — feels so good - you feel so good, Joel.”

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he breathes out, pulling you into his bear hug and rubbing your back with his warm hands.

“Please keep fucking me,” you mumble against his hairy chest and he barks a laugh before throwing you back on the bed, making you squeal with excitement.

Joel lies down and manhandles you to straddle him.

“Sit on my cock, little slut,” he commands, eyes darting between yours, reading your reaction.

“Yes, yes,” you mumble, wrapping your hand around his hot hard cock and lifting your hips, hovering over it. You don’t make him wait and immediately sink down on his weeping manhood, as your mouth falls open and your head tilts back.

Joel’s hands are holding your hips when you start riding him, and then snake up to your breasts to knead them, pinch and twist your pebbled nipples.

You run your fingers over his forearms from the elbows to his wrists and grab his hand, intertwining your fingers. Not pausing your lustful dance on his cock, you gently kiss his palm, his hand, then your lips glide down, leaving open mouth kisses over his wrist, the underside of his forearm and his elbow, darting your tongue out and tasting his salty skin. You lean forward, your nipples brushing his chest, and kiss his biceps, using your tongue, and Joel moans, watching you practically make out with his arm.

“Fuck, you’re hot, baby,” he groans while you’re lapping at his skin with your eyes shut. You’re softly whimpering at the sensation of his body, big and strong under you, his cock caressing your walls, making your pussy flutter around it, pushing you closer and closer to your second climax.

“Shit,” Joel curses, pulls your head off his arm and kisses you, while hugging your torso with his python-like grip. He’s holding you tight and you whine, not being able to move your hips and chase your orgasm. Sensing your impatience, Joel plants his feet on the bed and begins jackhammering his fat cock into your slicked up pussy, giving it to you rough and fast, not sparing your little hole.

You’re moaning against his scruffy cheek, your body shaking with his feral thrusts but Joel’s iron hold is keeping you in place.

“Usin’ you like a fuck doll you’re, yeah? Brainless little slut. Made just to make my cock happy. Perfect for me.”

His filthy words, leaving his mouth through gritted teeth, are barely audible because of the loud slapping of his body against yours and the squeaking of the old bed.

“Joellll…,” you moan, and after a few more thrusts explode on his thumping cock, caged by his strong arms, sobbing with heavenly pleasure flooding every inch of your body.

“Hnggg—shit—can I come inside?” You hear a gruff roar in your ear and with Joel fucking your brains out right this moment, you breathe out, “yeah, oh, yeah.” You crave to be full of him, drip him for days after, getting turned on just from the memory of him. As soon as you agree, Joel starts spurting his hot cum into your pulsating cunt, filling you up, emptying his balls into you.

You’re lying still, nuzzling his neck and taking everything he’s giving you, milking his cock to the last drop with your contracting walls.

Gradually intense ecstasy morphs into a pleasant satisfaction and you both bask in the afterglow of your orgasms. You feel almost high on endorphins, not used to such an amount of happiness in your veins, in your life.

Joel softens his embrace but still holds you, letting you rest and you almost doze off, lulled by his warm chest rocking you up and down like a giant wave.

“Don’t sleep yet, ya need to take a pill,” he gently shakes you, sleep heavy in his own voice.

“Oh, yeah…fuck, you came inside,” you murmur, blinking at him, as your mind fog slowly clears up.

“I have a Plan B, don’t worry.”

He moves you off him and lays you down on the bed, then gets up, making the bed squeak.

You can’t move your limbs even if you tried to so you’re lying there, feeling his warmth between your legs, kisses of the afterglow all over your heated skin and smile lazily when he returns to the bed with a glass of water.

“Look at you, as cock dumb as they get, huh?”

He plops down next to you and hands you the pill.

You sit up with a tired smile, swallow the pill and chase it with a few sips of water.

“Good girl,” Joel takes the glass from you and shakes his head when you murmur that you need to go.

“No way. Sleep here. They'll hang your ass if they catch you out and about at this hour.”

You turn your head to the window, just noticing that it’s completely dark outside, only the street lamps illuminate the room with a yellow light.

“Aww, you care about me, Joel? Don’t fall in love,” you giggle but your heart flutters as you look up at the man, so handsome and huge, looming over you.

“I’ll try,” he deadpans and shakes his hand, motioning you to scooch.

You shift to the other side of the bed and he lies down on his back with a grunt. You’re still sitting up, shamelessly admiring his naked body.

“Quit starin’,” he mumbles with eyes closed and pulls you down onto his chest.

You’re lying on his shoulder for a few moments and then whisper,

“Can you big spoon me?”

“Jesus…,” he sighs but turns on his side, scooping you in his embrace and you smile, closing your eyes as your hands gravitate to his arms, heavy and secure around you. You press your back into his warm chest and fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!💖🌸

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[pombeom]

no escape from you | beomgyu fic (part 1)

pairings: enemies to ??, roommate! beomgyu x reader

warnings: suggestive content

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for days but i finally wrote it the way i want. might make this a series with smut in the next chapter so keep a lookout 👀 (not proof read)

You were the responsible one between you and your roommate. You always kept things clean, even picking up after his dirty dishes. But being his partner for a paired project was not what you signed up for. Gambling your grade and trying to work with him? Not a chance. 

When are you free? We really need to start our presentation! 

Your frantic spamming of texts went straight to delivered and were probably not going to be read for another 24 hours at least. You would think that being assigned to do a presentation with someone who was quite literally your roommate would be a breeze, but with Beomgyu never being around, the task seemed impossible. You hated the guts of this guy but you were willing to work through it for the sake of your grade. Well that’s only if he comes backs to your shared dorm before the end of the fucking day. Your sleep schedule awaits no one. 

Sat at the kitchen table, you spend the next 3 hours researching for parts of your presentation knowing that it’s probably be easier to start it off without Beomgyu. Scrolling through websites and watching videos on the topic, you write down the notes in your notebook but eventually, without meaning to, your eyes slam shut, falling alseep in your folded arms which rest on the table. 

A lock clicks as the door screeches open. At the early hours of the morning, you are awakened by your drunk roommate. You jolt your eyes open upon hearing the noise of his shoes, his footsteps uneven, indicating his intoxicated state. Anger bubbles in you as you turn sharply to face Beomgyu, giving him an intense glare which he meets with his half open eyes, appearing to be laughing at you. 

“Aww, did you wait up for me, sweetheart,” he taunts, knowing how much you hate the stupid nicknames he gives you on purpose. 

“No. In fact, I fell alseep trying to finish our fucking presentation which is due in fucking 2 days! Do you know how many times I called and texted?” Your tone came out harsh and direct which in some ways was exactly what you were going for but more so, you just wanted to get your point across. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart. I was out.” 

“I can see that. And stop calling me “sweetheart”. It sounds so fucking stupid. I have a name and that’s what I’d like to be called.”   

He inches closer to you, stumbling a little, grabbing onto your arms for support. His grip is gentle but firm, cautious to hold tight but not to hurt you.  

“Listen sweetheart, if you’re gonna yell at me at least do it when you’re not dressed like this. I can’t help but get a little turned on.” 

“Fuck you!” You turn a shade of crimson as you feel a sense of angry embarrassment. Your slip dress was short and the low cut did nothing but show off your cleavage to Beomgyu who towered over you, getting a clear view of your chest. 

“Well if that’s what you want, sweetheart. I’m down. But maybe tomorrow or something. I’m tired right now.” He smirks, saying goodbye with a two finger salute. 

With that, he makes his way to his own room, leaving you filled with a cloud of confusion and unease. He may have been joking but his words made your stomach flutter, carrying and intense heat throughout your body. 

I really need to go to bed. 

————————————————————————

Getting approximately 4 hours of sleep last night had you waking up on the wrong side of bed. You were cranky beyond help and your mood only depleted when you saw Beomgyu sitting at the kitchen table, munching away at his cereal. 

“Good morning sleepyhead, get a good night of rest?,” his remark was sarcastic, almost shaming you for your evidently tired appearance. 

“Beomgyu please. It’s too early in the morning to be arguing with you.” 

“As you wish.” 

You joined him at the table, grabbing yourself some fruit and toast and you both continued to eat in silence. The air was stiff as you could feel Beomgyu constantly looking up from his bowl to stare into your face whilst you desperately attempted to avoid looking in the same direction to prevent any accidental eye contact. 

Why was he being so intense today?

As you finish your last bite, a wave of relief washes over you as you quickly get up and head over to the sink, washing up your plate before you feel a presence behind you. Beomgyu’s chest came in direct contact with your back sending a flush of pink straight to your cheeks. You tried to move away but his arms caged you. You could hear his breath against your ear, leaving a tingling sensation on your sensitive skin. 

“You know my offer from last night still stands. If you’re up for it,” his whispers send you into a frenzy and you turn around faster than the speed of light almost challenging him as you look up to his face. 

“Listen to me Choi Beomgyu. You have no right to speak to me like that. Nothing of the sort will ever happen. Do. You. Understand?” Your voice was firm and confident, concealing any embarrassment you felt earlier. 

“Shit. That was kinda hot, sweetheart.” He places his hands over yours which had somehow made his way up his chest, grabbing ahold of his white t-shirt. “Now, we have a class to get to. Wouldn’t want to be late now would we?” 

The realisation struck harder than lightning as you jolt you eyes over to the clock, knowing you had a little over 7 minutes to make it to your class. If you ran. 

You push Beomgyu away and grab your bag and slip on your shoes by the door and dash out the door, without care for your roommate who was also in the same class. 

“Hey, wait for me!” His voice yells from behind you, almost catching up. 

“Beomgyu, I really don’t have the time for this right now. I’m gonna be late.” 

“I know a shortcut. Follow me.” He grabs ahold of your hand, dragging you in the opposite direction from the one you’re used to. What started off as speed walking had evolved into a sprint as you’re left huffing and puffing trying to match the strides of his long legs. 

Within minutes you arrive at the door of your lecture theatre, astounded that you made it on time. As you both walked in, still clutching hands, you quickly noticed the limited seats available. Almost every row was full apart from 2 seats on the furthest end of the 7th row on the left. 

“There,” Beomgyu points, upon identifying the seats, ”Guess we’re sitting together today.” He sounded rather pleased, the corners of his mouth lifting to display his smug expression. 

“Brilliant. Sooo excited,” you sneered, ensuring that the sarcasm in your tone was conveyed as you squeezed past the entire row, making your way to the end, as Beomgyu takes a seat to your right. 

“You better be, sweetheart.” 

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [8].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. swearing, vomit, heeseung is sick, tormenting said sick man, sex jokes, and loser hee backstory reveal. WORD COUNT. 3.8k.

NOTE. merry christmas. my gift for u all is the heeseung chapter. let's pretend that it's still summer for the sake of the fic yes thank u hope u enjoy.

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 8 — hot, drenched, and sweaty.

“I THINK HEESEUNG IS IN A FIGHT CLUB.” That unprompted statement catches the interest of all the four boys currently in the living room. Soobin looks up from his half-finished crocheted bonnet, Jake and Jay pause their game of scrabble, and Sunghoon drops a rubik’s cube on your face because you gallantly decided to use his lap as a pillow on the lounge sofa. 

“Oh god, I’m— I’m sorry,” he sputters out an apology. You take this as a sign to stop invading his space. “What do you mean though? Fight club? Heeseung?”

“Listen.”

You spring up from your position, sitting with a very determined look on your face which simply prompts their attention further. “Heeseung leaves the house at exactly 10 p.m. every Saturday night and comes back at like two in the morning. I asked him about is once, and all he said is that he’s doing ‘business,’ whatever the fuck that means. It’s suspicious as hell.” 

The only reason why you were up at 2 a.m. to catch him in the act in the first place is because one time, you challenged Beomgyu and Jake to a no-sleeping contest and those two are the most gullible and have the most money from the lot. Little did those suckers know that you slept for fifteen hours prior to challenging them. They dozed off at the thirty six hour mark while you were still awake enough to catch Heeseung sneaking into the house at the devil’s hour.

After that, you had more money in your bank account, and a new curiosity that’s begging to be satisfied.

“I think he’s in an underground fighting club,” you declare. “There’s no other reason.”

“No, no,” Jay contends. “It might be something else. He could be a stripper.”

A silent moment of consideration.

Then you all release a unified, “Nah.”

“Maybe it’s private,” says Sungoon. “What—whatever it is, it could be none of our business.”

He has a point, but you’re nosy and bored. So are Jake and Jay because turns out, today’s a Saturday, and you have nothing to do, and you’re acquitted from any charges of instigating things because it’s Jay who announces, “Should we follow him?”

You grin. Sunghoon doesn’t approve of your expression. “We should follow him.”

“I’ll keep a lookout.”

“Text us when he’s about to leave.”

“You got it.”

Thus starts your mission of finding out whether Heeseung is secretly an underground fighter or a stripper. Sunghoon refused to be a part of it, but Soobin wasn’t strong enough to deny your puppy dog eyes, so it’s you, him, Jake, and Jay who might be charged for stalking and invasion of privacy because the moment you get a signal from Jake that “the target is out of the house, over,” the four of you, willingly or otherwise, start to tail him.

It’s disconcertingly easy to follow Heeseung without him noticing the four not so discreet people lagging behind him. When he takes off on a bus, you quickly hail a taxi for the four of you to jump inside of and continue the trail. 

“I think—I think we should head back,” says Soobin, squeezing his arms against his torso because there are three of you cramped in the backseat. “The sky is glum. I think it’s gonna rain.”

“The sky is glum because it’s the fucking night. Mr. Sun has died. Wait, he just got off the bus. Let’s go, let’s go before we lose him!”

As you stalk down the sidewalk, you can’t help but feel a sense of deja vu because you swear you’ve crossed this same path before. You’ve been here before. You’re sure of it, and it’s not just because this area is just around your university, of which you haven’t stepped foot on since the beginning of summer and since living with Jake and his friends.

“Hey, he’s over there, he’s going to that cafe.”

Your deja vu is answered when the familiar facade of The Lounge shows up right before you. Heeseung enters the building. Sunghoon knew all along, that fucking rat. That’s why was so against this plot, that’s why he refused to tag along with you. “I’m going in,” says Jay. You postpone your revenge plan against Sunghoon for later and quickly follow behind Jay into the cafe. Once you enter however, it starts pouring.

The clear glass windows of the place get stained by an assault of raindrops. Crap. None of you brought an umbrella. “I knew it was going to rain…” Soobin laments, and you pat circles against his back to apologize for doubting him, further telling him that he has a knack for weather prediction and if he’s considering switching career paths.

“What now?” Jake asks.

“We can wait for the rain to stop or call Sunghoon to pick us up and bring us umbrellas,” you tell them. “For now, let’s find out what the fuck Lee Heeseung is up to here. This wasn’t part of any of our calculations.” The calculations being either violence or promiscuity. You didn’t make a lot of calculations.

The problem is, Heeseung is nowhere to be found. You end up ordering some drinks and food and decide to settle in a booth at the corner of the place so that you guys can have a full and complete view of the cafe’s entire interior, yet you still can’t find him, so you end up reminiscing the time Sunghoon dumped your lemonade on you which catapulted your hobby of messing with these guys because they become so nervous around you it’s funny.

“Did we enter the wrong building? Did he catch us tailing him and left through the back door?!” 

You doubt Jake’s presumptions, and you’re correct to doubt him because right at that moment, Heeseung finally shows his stupid fucking face.

Not only does he show his stupid fucking face— he shows his stupid fucking face on the mini stage in the other corner of the cafe with a freaking guitar. What? So he’s not an underground fighter? Heeseung leans into the mic and a singular “ah,” resounds from the speakers mounted on the walls, muting down the muffled sound of the rain outside in that single instant.

When Heeseung starts to play the instrument followed by the sound of his voice, the rain is forgotten entirely.

This is a surprise. This is unexpected.

“This is disappointing,” says Jay, and you snap your head at him with eyes wide in alarm and disbelief because what does he mean disappointing? Disappointing where? You’ve been living with an angel all this time and you didn’t know? 

“Yeah, it’d be cooler if he was in a fight club,” Jake adds, as if their friend isn’t putting the Billboard’s Hot 100 to shame right now. What kind of bullshit are they saying?

“Did you guys know he could sing like that?”

The three look at you, even Soobin, and respond with a yes, a nod, a hum. Your mouth gapes. But you don’t get why you’re surprised when these guys have known each other for years prior to you barging in unannounced— so, of course they know, of course you don’t, and in the midst of all this, your thoughts are interrupted by the sharp screech from the speakers, because Heeseung has stopped singing, and is instead now looking at your table, looking more alarmed than you.

You’re pretty sure your eyes met before he decided to bolt out of the cafe.

“Oh, he’s getting off stage. Maybe he’s going to greet u— why is he skipping our table? Why is he running outside? Hyung, wait!”

None of you end up chasing after him because it’s still pouring outside, and you can already predict what the aftermath of this is going to be. Thus concludes your mission of finding out whether or not Heeseung is secretly an underground fighter or a stripper, with the answer amounting to neither because Heeseung is a performer during The Lounge’s open mic nights, and you don’t get why he’s been acting so secretive about it all this time.

Heeseung wakes up feeling like shit. And not the regular kind of shit. He feels like Satan just chewed him up, only to spit him back out— slobber and the inferno’s of hell included because he’s sweating through his shirt, his blanket feels like a prison, but if he kicks it of, he gets attacked by cold flashes, so he’s in a sticky and uncomfortable limbo between overheating and freezing to fucking death.

His throat is dry. The only thing that escapes his throat is a guttural and inhuman rasp. He wouldn’t be this sick if he didn’t run out in the rain last night. 

Rather, he wouldn’t have ran out if you weren’t there last night.

Heeseung rolls to his side with a groan of pain and anguish, muffled against the pillow as a different kind of fevered heat washes over his face. Seriously. Why the fuck were you there last night? He could give less than two shits if his roommates find out that he sings Taylor Swift every weekend at The Lounge, but you— you’re a different story. Because he knows you’re gonna use this information against him somehow, just like how you like to fuck around with his friends.

Too much. Heeseung has always thought you were a bit too much for him. The time you chased Beomgyu around the house in the dress(?) Jay made is the only evidence he needs to affirm that.

Then again, maybe he shouldn’t have bolted out like that immediately after meeting your eyes. You already suspect that you gross him out (which, by the way, couldn’t be more wrong) for always running away from the threat of skin-to-skin contact with you. Why was it raining when it’s still summer, anyway? It’s like that night was a curse made especially for him.

He curls up further into a ball, hoping you just forget about it all and don’t question him about it.

Yet the very opposite happens because what interrupts his spiraling thoughts is the sound of your voice— already threatening a wave of torment.

“Oh, god. You’re in a worse state than I thought.”

Heeseung regrets springing up from his bed because his head immediately gets slammed by the recoil of a headache. “Why...why are you here?” he barely scratches out. You’re by the doorframe, arms crossed and eyes laced with pity. He didn’t even hear the door opening. 

“Jake told me about your illness,” you say, walking over to the side of his bed and Heeseung flinches back the moment you set yourself down on the mattress. “He said you have a chronic case of bitchless syndrome.

He looks at you. Your face is dead serious. Heeseung feels a drop of sweat trickling down his neck, then you break into that devious smile of yours and laugh out a grin.

“Kidding. Jake would never say that. He told me you were sick and needed someone to nurse you up, so here I am.”

Holy shit. Heeseung lets out a breath, nearly teetering off his bed to maintain a comfortable enough distance from your overwhelming presence. “Why—” some throat phlegm cuts him off. He lets out a violent cough before reclaiming his voice. “Why you? I—I mean, why did Jake ask you?”

“Ouch?” you remark. “No one else is around. Jake’s out hiking, apparently. Sunghoon’s covering someone’s shift. Beomgyu’s obviously still at his parents. Jay says he’s out on a mission, and Soobin left the house with a giant backpack. I was too afraid to ask. Anyway, I know my very physical presence disgusts you, but deal with it for now, you goober. You look like hell.”

“That’s— that’s not—” You take this opportunity to pull his sweaty blanket off in one swift movement. “That’s not it! You don’t— don’t disgust me, I’m just— you know—”

“I know, I just wanted to fuck with you.”

You’re grinning. You haphazardly fold the sheet before throwing it down to the foot of the bed, sitting over it. Heeseung feels the blood drain from his face— “Anyway, sit up and let me feel you up,” —only for the blood to shoot right back up and nearly knocks him out unconscious. “Feel your temperature up, perv. I’m not taking advantage of a sick man. C’mere, let me see how sick you are.”

Heeseung, however, still has enough marbles to quickly evade your incoming hand. He swerves to the right. You blink at him, arm reaching out to thin air, before trying again, only for Heeseung to swat your hand away with gritted teeth and fearing for his life. “S—sorry,” he chokes out. He sees the glint in your eyes. Crap. He shouldn’t have done that.

“For fuck’s sake, just let me check your temperature— Heeseung! What the hell?!”

“Just—just leave me alone!”

Earlier, Heeseung thought he was about to die. He didn’t think he had enough strength to fight for his life as he squirms underneath you on the bed, driven solely by the desire to protect his fucking pride because there’s no way in hell he’s letting you touch him when he’s all gross and sweaty and gross from the fever. There’s no way in hell he’s letting that happen.

“What are you—”

He yanks out his blanket from underneath you, causing you to roll of his bed and he throws the sheet over his red, hot, and burning face because holy fuck. Holy shit. That was a close call.

When he peeks out from the blanket, Heeseung instantaneously feels a threat to his life.

You’re glaring at him. You look like you want to skin him alive and he gulps and nudges himself away, ass nearly falling off the bed when you get up from the floor and dust yourself off. “Okay,” you huff. “Fine. Have it your way. Die from a heatstroke, or whatever the fuck. I’ll be downstairs if you need me, and if you do, I’m expecting you to get down on your knees and beg because every time you’ve swatted my hand away was an additional jab at my pride.”

Okay, damn. You leave his room, not without slamming his door close to emphasize your anger, and on top of feeling like absolute crap, Heeseung now also feels guilty as hell. 

“Fuck,” he rasps out. It’s not like he’s doing it out of malice, or hate, or because he thinks you’re a germ that he cannot touch, like you always accuse him with. Heeseung still remembers how his whole no touching quirk started: sixteen years-old, when Heeseung finally mustered the courage to hold his first girlfriend’s hand, only for her to laugh and joke and pull away while saying, “ew, gross. Your hand is all sweaty.”

Twenty-two year old Heeseung has been traumatized to this very day.

Especially now when he’s all disgusting and icky and very much ew and gross because of his fever. Stupid, he knows, but the last thing he’d want to see is a disgusted grimace from your face the moment the back of your hand presses against his damp and sticky, sickness-induced forehead. However, it seems like he’s been inflicting to you the very injury he’s been trying to protect himself by constantly avoiding the threat of contact of your skin against his.

Stupid. It’s really stupid. 

But he can’t avoid dehydration by simply ignoring the dryness of his mouth. With much struggle, Heeseung forces himself out of the bed, despairing the amount of stairs he has to climb down— and the suggestion of calling for you help does tease his brain for a split second, but decides against it with a shake of his head as he continues the awful trip to the living room, body weighing thirty times heavier, and skull feeling like it’s about to crack itself open.

The problem is, his skull does almost end up getting cracked open. Because as he’s finally nearing the bottom floor, he misses a step, causing him to hit the ground with a harsh thud.

“Ugh,” he grunts, pushing himself with his forearms, but he stops, nearly face planting into the floor once more because you’re there, you’re walking up to him, looking down at him, and holding a cold and refreshing glass of water above his head like some sort of fucked up display of powerplay against a sick and thirsty man.

“Need any help?” you hum. 

“I’m fine,” Heeseung tries once more to get up only to feel the nausea rise up to his head, and he stops, pauses, and decides that the floor is more comfortable after all. He looks up at you. “Can I...can I get a sip from your glass?”

There’s a glint in your eyes. You crouch down. “Sorry, what was that?”

Are you enjoying this? Do you like watching him in pain? (Likely answer is yes because you yourself have admitted that you enjoy their suffering and torment). “Water,” he rasps out. “Can I drink some of your water?”

“This?” You swirl the glass in your hand, ice clacking against the crystal, before taking a long, tortuous sip on the straw (why does it have a straw?) Heeseung swallows down his spit. “Say please,” you say with a smile. Heeseung chokes on said fucking spit and hacks out a cough because you’re fucking insane.

He feels his face grow hotter. And it’s definitely not just from the fever.

“P—please, give me some of your water.”

You don’t prolong his agony any further and hand him over the glass.

“Need any help getting up?” you ask as you watch him agonizingly sit up against the bottom steps and toss down the water into his throat in one shot as if it was at a company dinner. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and feels your disappointed stare pricking his conscience. “I can’t help you unless you ask me to, Heeseung.”

He frowns, deflating. “But I’m all gross and sweaty.”

The last thing he expects you to do is to roll your eyes at him and stand up with an arm stretched out. 

And the next thing he knows is that you’re lugging him over to the couch, an arm around his waist, his around your shoulder, and you set him down the cushions with a grunt. “Jeez, I’m not made for manhandling men,” you say, very dubiously. “Lie down.” And when he doesn’t lie down, wide-eyed and unresponsive, you poke his forehead and he tips back, falling into the couch.

What…what is going on...

“You know, I’m very tempted to ask you to take your shirt off just to laugh at your reaction, but you actually look like you’re about to die, so I decided against it. Aren’t I sweet?” 

You’re back with a basin and some towels (when did you disappear?) and Heeseung’s brain starts malfunctioning, growing dizzier and dizzier by the second when you touch his jaw, damp towel wiping off the sweat coating his face and neck and he feels his throat tightening. “Christ. I think your temp is over forty degrees, my guy,” you say, squeezing the towel over the basin. “Hello? Heeseung? What the hell, did you catch Sunghoon’s disease? Are you unable to talk to me now, too?”

“It’s—it’s not that,” he chokes out. He’s about to justify himself, but you press your palm against his forehead, cutting off all the oxygen pipes leading up to his brain, and he feels like passing the fuck out.

Shit. Shit. Holy shit. 

“Ah,” you say. “You’re not running away.”

He’s not. He’s not running away. But he feels a different sort of problem coming up.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

You blink at him. This doesn’t help his case at all.

“Wow, this is an upgrade,” you say from the other side of the bathroom door while Heeseung pukes his guts out into the toilet. Heavy metal playing from his phone is trying to block the noises out. He’s heaving over the bowl and wants to kill himself from embarrassment. “Now my very presence makes you vomit. I’m sorry for everything so far.”

There’s a flush. The music stops. Heeseung cracks the door open and you pass him a glass of water without some bedroom-esque powerplay this time. “Seriously, why did you run off into the rain last night? Look where it got you.” It’s a shocker that you haven’t told him he’s gross yet. You’re standing there in front of the bathroom and in front of the mess of his post-vomit presence, and all you’re doing is looking at him in worry. 

“I wasn’t expecting you guys to be there,” he says, still sounding like death, and you take the now empty glass from him and head over to the kitchen, pointing at his makeshift deathbed on the couch. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to give Mariah Carey a run for her money, either.” After you place the glass into the sink, you’re back to the living room. He’s down on the sofa, eyelids heavy, unable to say or do anything when you push back his hair to place a damp towel on his forehead. “Like damn, I knew you guys have known each other for a while now, but I totally felt like an outsider when I was the only one surprised to hear you sing.”

You’re not making fun of him. You don’t make a comment about how sticky his skin feels or how gross his sweat-drenched shirt is.

“I like your voice. Too bad it sounds like shit right now, but you should let me hear you again once you feel better.” The doorbell rings. “Oh, right, I ordered some porridge. You can feed yourself, right? Hold on, let me get it.”

He hears your footsteps padding across the floor, unable to find the strength to open his eyes as the coolness of the cloth seeps into his forehead. Heeseung has always thought you were a bit too much— case in point, everything that just happened and all the other times you’ve teased, tormented, and actively tortured to the point of tears all the inhabitants of this god forsaken house. 

Yet it is also your excessive nature that has let Sunghoon speak more than five words around you, that has stopped Beomgyu from hermitting in his room twenty-four-seven, that has helped Soobin and Jay in two very important instances this summer, and has allowed Jake to offer you a spot in their lives after leaving that room on the third floor empty for a good two years.

“Fuck, I can’t believe they left me behind with a sick man when I can barely even take care of myself.”

You’re back. He opens his eyes and tries to lift himself up but his body is way too heavy. “Uh,” he says. “Can you…please…open the container for me?” He doesn’t miss your amused fucking grin when he mumbles out the please.

“Ah. Open up.”

Heeseung has always felt you were too much. Maybe it’s his fever talking, maybe it’s not, but maybe too much exactly what he needs right now.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[its-time-to-write]

Final one for today

This one is a little odder but I feel like a single parent story would be great for Jamie

Like maybe reader is a single parent and is out in the park where the child is playing alone with a football (maybe trying to do some tricks) and accidentally kicks it to far and it hits Jamie (Who maybe is jogging by) jamie brings it over and does some tricks and the kid is like omg can you show me how to do that! reader is like embarrassed but Jamie is like sure so they spend a bunch of time playing football. The kid is a fan of Richmond but tickets are expensive so Jamie invites them to a game (Free) and they get to meet the team and it becomes a regular thing

Jamie is trying to work up the nerve to ask out Reader (He has never dated someone with kids before) and he doesn't want to mess up the relationship finally the child is like please ask my parent out!

I can't wait to see what you do with these!!

Here’s another one that I’ve been sitting on forever! Finally got around to it. And in case you couldn’t tell, I freakin love Keeley Jones. I think she’s great. Enjoy!

if only love were true

Thank god that Keeley Jones is your friend and she promised you’d never have to go stag to a work function.

“Keeley,” you say over the phone, “I need you to be my date for this fancy dinner/gala/thing I have for work next Sunday. I absolutely cannot go alone.”

“Next Sunday?” she says. “Let me check my calendar.”

You wait a moment as she presumably scrolls through her phone, checking her availability.

“Sorry babes,” she says after a long moment, “I’ve got a work thing too. Otherwise I’d totally be down to go as your hot trophy date.”

You groan. “Is there any way you can get out of it? Out of all the things I’ve taken you to, this is the one I need you at the most.” 

Keeley’s silent. You can tell she’s thinking. She knows why this one is important.

“Alright,” she says finally. “I can’t go, but what if I sent you with a friend of mine?” She continues loudly over your beginning protests. “He’s really sweet and fit and funny, and he owes me favors pretty much for the rest of his life. You’d have a great time I SWEAR.”

“I don’t know,” you say. “Do you think he can go along with everything? There’s a 50/50 chance it’ll be a shitshow.”

“Absolutely,” Keeley replies without hesitation. “He’s fucking great. Can be a bit of a prick sometimes, but he’s learned how to use those skills for the greater good.”

“Uh huh,” you say. “Right. I’m trusting you on this one, Keels. If he’s as good as you say, I’ll take him. But I really, really need this to be good.”

“Trust me,” she says, “You won’t regret it.”

—

Jamie Tartt arrives at your doorstep, fully briefed by Keeley as to his responsibilities. 

Be a gentleman, make her laugh, don’t fucking leave her with Harry.

Keeley showed him pictures of Harry’s instagram so Jamie would know exactly who he is on the lookout for.

It’s funny and it’s weird, but he’s not uncomfortable standing at the door, waiting for some woman he doesn’t even know. He’d do anything for Keeley, well aware that if she’s asking a favor, it’s for a good cause.

This is far out of his usual realm of expertise, but he reminds himself that he’s a person outside of being a footballer. A regular person would be a blind date for a friend of a friend at an awful work function.

Right?

Jamie doesn’t have time to dwell on the normality of this situation because the door is opening and you’re standing in front of him in some long gown that he swears outshines the stars.

“Hi,” you say. “It’s nice to meet you. Sorry about this.”

You call a goodbye down the hall before shutting the door. Jamie assumes it’s to a flatmate or something, whoever the owner of the other car in the driveway is. He just smiles. 

“I’ve had weirder dates,” he says. “Don’t worry about a thing, love. Tonight’s gonna be fucking mint.” He offers you his arm.

You take it and feel yourself relax. It’ll be fine.

—

It is not fine.

Harry’s there, and god help you if you don’t want to kick him where it hurts. He’s surrounded by girls, shining that far-too dazzling smile and you’re pretty sure you’re going to throw up. Your grip on Jamie’s arm tightens, and he follows your gaze to your ex-flame.

“He’s fucking old,” Jamie comments.

“Yeah, well, that’s kind of how he gets you,” you reply. “Acts all charming and smart and shit and then next thing you know, you’re in his bed. Soon as that’s over, you’re done.”

“Twat,” Jamie responds with such conviction that you chuckle a little, despite yourself. That is, until Harry sees you and sheds his little entourage as he makes his way over.

“Shit,” you whisper. “How do I look?”

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Jamie replies without missing a beat.

The words are barely out of his mouth when Harry is upon you, leaning in for a hug that Jamie doesn’t allow. You’re grateful for his block as he pretends he was going for a handshake. You don’t want Harry touching you and the sentiment is reinforced as he gives you a once-over and says, “Didn’t expect to see you here, darling. What, are you neglecting your duties for the evening?”

That sentence must have some hidden meaning, because your teeth are bared and it’s gone over Jamie’s head.

“My duties,” you say through clenched teeth, “include being here at this gala because we both work for the same company.”

Harry tilts his head in mock sympathy. “Yes, but if I recall your priorities have… shifted.”

Jamie might be losing circulation in his arm and he may not know exactly what is happening here, but he knows enough. Keeley told him Harry was a right git without really saying why, but he is in no need of an explanation. In fact, he thinks that “a right git,” is too much of a compliment.

Harry turns his attention toward Jamie. “Has she told you?”

Jamie doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but he’ll be damned if he lets this prick win.

“Yes,” he replies forcefully.

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Ah, and that’s not a dealbreaker?”

Jamie shakes his head. 

“How…progressive of you,” Harry replies, meaning the exact opposite. “You see, I wouldn’t want someone who… well, you know.”

Jamie’s about to say, “No, I don’t know,” and also maybe punch Harry when more people come up, demanding your attention. As you both turn away, Harry calls, “Let me know when you get tired of the immaturity and need a real man. My bed is always open to you.”

Your face is bright red and you think you’re going to bolt. Jamie starts like he’s going to fight Harry and for a moment you wonder if Keeley sent him because he’s a little bit feral. 

Unfortunately for Harry and fortunately for you, he spoke a bit too loudly. 

You’ll find out later that he was heard by some higher-ups and removed from the premises. However, since that information is not made available to you until the next day, you spend the rest of the evening looking over your shoulder for Harry’s reappearance.

Jamie, god bless him, is a wonderful date. He goes the whole nine-yards, holding your hand, tucking your hair behind your ear, cracking jokes with you and others at your table. He’s making you look good, and feel relaxed in the process. By the end of the night you’re feeling confident and have made a good impression on several people on the board. 

You have new opportunities at your disposal, as well as a potential promotion. You put a reminder in your phone to send Keeley some daisies as a thank-you. You’ll send something for Jamie as well.

—

He walks you to your door, ever the gentleman. You thank him profusely for the night, and tell him you’ll be rooting for him next time Richmond has a match. He grins. “You a fan?” he asks.

You laugh. “Yeah, I am. Used to go to every match till… well, I just don’t get out much anymore.”

Jamie grins. “We’ll have to change that, darling.”

Darling. 

He says it so differently than Harry. It’s all… bubbly. Not condescending, not designed to make you feel small. 

“Good night, Jamie,” you say. 

—

You don’t really expect to see (or hear from) Jamie again, except you do. Because he’s texting you.

The content varies, from messages passed on from Keeley to gifs to memes to weird little stories from training. You think you’d like his coaches, even Roy. It already felt like you knew them from all their interviews that you’ve seen, but hearing the behind-the-scenes snippets solidifies the feeling even more. Your chatting is regulated to the early morning and your lunch breaks, as you’re not much of an evening person anymore.

Jamie doesn’t seem to mind, he’s up early to do extra training with Roy and you’re up early to prepare for the day. You enjoy hearing from him at 6am on the dot every morning.

Saturdays are nice, because you don’t have work. Keeley comes over sometimes, but today you’re on the Richmond Green. You’re sitting on a bench, watching a boy kick a small football. You’re so completely absorbed in the way he’s running back and forth that you are startled when a shadow casts over your face.

“Fancy seeing you here,” says a distinctly Mancunian voice.

“Jamie!” you exclaim. “What’re you doing here?”

Jamie points to his trainers. “Going for a quick run. Roy’s out of town, but he still makes me take laps. Fucking mental.” He shakes his head. “What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to reply when the boy with the tiny football comes flying over. “Are you Jamie Tartt?” he asks.

Jamie crouches to his level. “I am. What’s your name, mate?”

“Liam!” he replies. “I have a football like you!”

Jamie smiles. “Good lad. Keep up with the practice, and you’ll be better than me someday.”

Liam’s bouncing up and down, so excited that he throws his ball in the air. Jamie catches it and does a trick. At this point Liam is completely enamored with Jamie, and you are as well. He’s giving this kid his complete attention, making his whole day. Anyone else would have just shooed him off, but not Jamie.

He’s good with kids, your brain yells. 

You tell your brain to shut up.

Jamie tosses the ball back to Liam. “Where’s your mum?” he asks. “Might have tickets to a match for you.”

Liam points. Jamie turns to look behind the bench where you’re sitting, as that’s where Liam is pointing. There’s no one.

“Which one?” he asks, turning back to Liam.

“Me,” you say. “I’m his mum.”

Liam climbs into your lap and holds your face in his tiny hands. “Mum, Jamie Tartt says we can go to a match!” he says.

You laugh. “Don’t get your hopes up, love, Jamie hasn’t made any promises.”

Liam settles into your lap, facing Jamie. He can’t see your face or the pleading look you’re giving Jamie.

Please don’t mess this up, you try to say with your eyes. Jamie must get the message because he keeps smiling and asks Liam if he wants to kick the ball around for a bit. You watch them go, dreading the imminent conversation.

—

Liam’s asleep in his little Richmond pajamas. He loves football, and you watch every single match the Greyhounds play. Tickets are expensive, and you promised you’d take him to a real game one day. Truth is, you aren’t sure when that will be. It’s not easy being a single mum, but as you watch Liam’s sleeping face, you know you wouldn’t trade him for anything.

You sigh and get out of the rocking chair. Might as well call Jamie and get it over with.

Please pick up, you pray, and he does; you’re in the dim kitchen lights, poking at a cup of tea.

“Hey!” comes Jamie’s surprised voice. “You alright? Need anything?”

You shake your head even though he can’t see. “No, I wanted to talk about today. And Liam. Harry’s his dad.”

“Figured,” Jamie replies. “Made his comments at the gala make more fucking sense.”

“Yeah,” you say. Harry is a fucking prick. “Harry… he doesn’t have any custody. He’s not allowed near Liam. He also doesn’t pay child support. Or want a child. Or anything, really. He just wants to fuck around and do what he wants with no consequences. I should’ve known better honestly, I’m not even one to go around like that. Figures the one time I do it ends up like this. Not that I’m complaining,” you continue, “Liam is the best part of my life. It’s just hard when I keep losing people because they don’t want him too. Keeley’s the only one who stuck around. Did you know she’s a surprisingly great babysitter? Even kicks around a football in the yard with him.” 

Jamie makes a surprised noise. It’s hard to picture Keeley in that exact situation, but not hard to imagine her doing anything that her friends needed.

“Anyway,” you continue, “I get if this makes things weird. You don’t have to get us tickets to the match. Liam’s still pretty little anyway… always taking bathroom breaks and needing snacks.”

“The owner’s box would be perfect,” Jamie blurts.

That isn’t the reply you were expecting, so you’re silent for a moment as he continues, “I mean… It’s easy to get in and out of, Rebecca’s got a fridge and a restroom…People bring their kids all the time. He’d love it. I’d love it,” he finishes.

You’re not sure. This is the longest anyone has ever stuck around when it comes to Liam, and you don’t really want to go to jail for murder if Jamie breaks his heart. All he could talk about for the rest of the day was how Jamie Tartt played football with him. Isaac McAdoo is is number one favorite, but you think Jamie is now a close second. 

“Alright,” you say finally. “We’ll be there.”

—

It’s past Liam’s bedtime, like way past, and he’s asleep with his head on your shoulder. Your arms are tired from holding him and your throat is sore from screaming at the Richmond match. Jamie was right, Liam loved it. He wore his McAdoo jersey and got to meet the whole team before the game. You have a picture of him on Isaac’s shoulders, smiling so big. It’s weird to think that he probably won’t remember any of this when he’s older. 

You’re waiting in a lobby of some kind for Jamie to come out. You’re leaning against a wall, feeling Liam’s steady breathing as he dreams. 

Meanwhile, Jamie’s in the locker room, freaking out. 

“Coach,” he says, wearing a hole in the floor, “how do you ask out a girl who’s got a kid?” 

“Well Jamie-” Ted says. 

“Are there some kind of rules I’m supposed to follow?” Jamie continues, oblivious. “I mean, what the fuck am I supposed to say?”

“I think-” Ted tries again. 

“Nah fuck it, I’m just going to ask,” Jamie says.

Ted grins. “That sounds like a good plan, son.”

Jamie smiles back. “Thanks, coach. You always have the best advice.”

Ted shakes his head, still smiling as Jamie leaves the locker room.

—

Jamie rounds the corner to find you half-asleep against a wall near some trophy case, with Liam breathing out tiny snores. He swears that he’s never seen anything more beautiful, and it freaks him out for a moment. It’s…domestic in a way he didn’t ever expect his life to be. 

He shakes off the weirdness and walks over. 

“Hi,” he says, unable to contain a smile. “D’you want me to hold him for you?”

“That would actually be amazing,” you reply. “My arms are killing me.”

The sight of Liam asleep in Jamie’s arms is enough to make your brain go oh shit. Because, oh. Shit. This boy is going to break your heart if you’re not careful.

“How’d you like the game?” Jamie asks as you begin to walk to the car park.

“I loved it,” you reply sincerely. “Haven’t actually been to a match since this one.” You pat Liam’s back affectionately. “Kid had a great time too. Talked about meeting Isaac McAdoo the entire match. He’s like some football aficionado in a four-year-old’s body, swear down.”

Jamie’s still smiling as he helps you get Liam into his car seat. “What’re you doing the rest of the night?”

You laugh. “Oh god, I wish I could say going to sleep. But I have to meal prep for the week while Liam’s asleep. Otherwise he gets his sticky fingers in everything. Gonna take a solid two hours, at least.”

Jamie hesitates. It’s now or never. “Could I come over?” he asks. “Can’t cook for shit, but I could keep you company.”

You pause. “Jamie- I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

But god, you want it so bad.

“I’m being serious,” Jamie says. “Not trying to mess with you. I like you. Think you’re fucking fit. I like being around you and I liked kicking the football around with Liam. He’s a good lad. I think it’s worth giving a try.”

You look at Liam. He’s still fast asleep, oblivious to his mum’s turmoil.

“Alright,” you say, still not looking at Jamie. “Let’s give it a try.”

Jamie grins and ghosts his thumb across your cheek, making you look at him.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says. “So now’s your moment to tell me to fuck off.”

You smile. “Can’t say that in front of Liam anyway,” you say as you crash your lips into his.

[reds-skull]

Dual Loop

[AO3]

(Note: TW for suicidal idation, mild gore, self harm, depression. That being said, there's no MCD, and it has a happy ending. This one is a little heavier than my usual stuff, stay safe <3)

So... I expected this to be like... 5-6k words. It ended up being over double that. Enjoy!

Also, I decided to have a sort of mini post-script in comments in AO3, so you're welcome to check it if you're interested!

The 141’s common room might be Soap’s favorite. It’s nothing fancy, a couple of ratty couches shoved into one corner, and a kitchenette in the other. It doesn’t have a TV like the other common room, and they have to constantly clean off mold from beneath the sink.

Soap wouldn’t have it any other way, as it has something no other room on base has - his taskforce. Despite not having much to do, just lying beside Gaz and shit talking the rookies with the Captain is pleasant, Ghost moving about in the kitchen.

He watches the giant man turn around and reveal a steaming mug of (probably) tea, and decides to call him over, “oi, LT! Come over ‘ere, I’m sure ye got some horror stories from your recruits.”

Ghost’s dark eyes drag over him for a few tense seconds, before he responds, “got paperwork to finish, MacTavish.” he nods toward the others, “Garrick, Captain.” and leaves.

His displeasure must’ve shown on his face, because Gaz reaches over to pat his head, “awwh, maybe you’ll convince him next time Soapy”.

“Awa’ wi’ ya, yer messin’ mah hair!” he bats his hands away, pouting at Price’s laughter.

The Captain’s moustache twitches with a hidden grin, “Simon values his alone time, Soap. It’s nothing personal.”

“I know, I know. Wish he could stay around at least one night, though…” he frowns.

“He will in his own time.” Price groans as he gets up from the couch, “right lads, rather not stay out of bed after eleven. Don’t go to sleep too late.”

Soap and Gaz both answer “okay dad!” in unison, cackling when Price flips them off as he exits the common room.

They fuck around for a little longer before calling it a night as well and separating ways to their barracks. He spends a while tossing and turning in bed, mind too restless for him to fall asleep.

Maybe there’s one thing he’d like to change about the common room, and perhaps in the 141 in general. And it all starts and ends with the masked bastard they call Ghost.

What they have right now is fine, relatively close work relationship, joking around on lookout duties, trusting each other with their sixes. It’s good.

Soap huffs and finally settles down under his scratchy blanket. He battles with opposing emotions, daydreams of him and Ghost being close, closer than a Sergeant and a Lieutenant have to be, and anger at his own ridiculous thoughts.

He falls asleep to memories of brown eyes staring at his.

Soap wakes up to a knock on his door. He quickly blinks away the remaining drowsiness in his mind, and reaches for the handle.

Out of all the people he expected to find, Ghost was definitely not one of them, “morning, Johnny.”

Johnny? Soap tilts his head, “LT, did something happen?” they must have gotten some time sensitive intel about their latest target, if Ghost himself has to come and get him first thing in the morning. Last he heard, they were operating within the UK…

Ghost’s eyes crease in a way he’s never seen, and for a moment Soap wonders if he’s still dreaming, “no, was about to go to mess. Know you were gonna go there soon.”

“Oh” he says intelligently.

Ghost lets out a half-laugh,  “you coming?”

His brain finally wakes enough to process his invitation, “oh! Uh, aye, just gonna change…” he motions awkwardly to his rumpled clothes.

“I can wait.” Ghost leans back against the wall, and Soap slowly closes the door. He stares at it for a second before walking to his closet, pulling out a shirt and a new pair of pants. His mind wanders as he automatically goes about getting dressed.

He never sees Ghost before noon, and that’s if he’s lucky. The masked man doesn’t eat with them in mess, wakes up before the sun rises, and begins working before most soldiers have blinked away the last of their sleep. It’s… certainly a first.

Then again, you shouldn’t really look a gift horse in the mouth. He adjusts his fatigues and exits his room. Ghost is still leaning against the wall, motionless as a very foreboding statue.

He wordlessly motions Soap to start walking, and they make their way to mess. They should bring Gaz and Price along, really take advantage of Ghost’s practically unheard of great mood. Gaz’s room is just a few doors from his, he could knock as they pass-

Ghost places a hand on his shoulder and stops him. Soap opens his mouth to question him, but not a second later, Gaz’s door opens, almost hitting him square in the face, and Kyle busts out.

“Oh shit- sorry Soap, didn’t see you there.” Gaz straightens his baseball cap, and clocks in Ghost’s presence, “Lieutenant, sir! Didn’t see you either.”

Soap tenses. Well, there goes that once in a lifetime opportunity to see Ghost actually socialize with the team-

“All good, Garrick. In a rush to get the chocolate pudding?” Ghost asks calmly. What the fuck?

“Yeah, Smith texted me.” Gaz grabs his arm, dislodging Ghost’s, “c’mon, we have to get there before they run out!”

He lets Kyle drag him, throwing a cautious look back at Ghost, relieved to see he’s still following. As much as he wants to reach mess fast, no pudding in the world is worth leaving Ghost behind.

Mess, expectedly, is chock-full of hungry soldiers, and the table serving the pudding is barely visible between the bodies.

Soap almost instantly loses all hope of reaching the table in time, but Ghost once again surprises him by diving head first into the crowd. His reputation and imposing appearance clearly aids him in making his way to the table, and Gaz sends him an incredulous look.

“Am I seeing things, or is the Lieutenant carrying two cups of pudding for us?” Gaz grins.

Soap can’t help but join him, “aye, don’t know what’s gotten into him today, but Ghost is certainly in a special mood.”

“Hearing Simon’s in a ‘special’ mood doesn’t calm me in the slightest.” the Captain’s voice appears behind them.

“Come and see for yourself, Cap. It’s a bloody miracle!” Gaz subtly points to Ghost, who at last reached them with the prized puddings. 

He hands each Sergeant a cup, and greets the Captain, “I know you don’t like this sweet shite, Price. Maybe they’ll have sausages tomorrow.”

Price blinks a couple of times, “right… well, let’s get to our table. You two better eat some actual food before you start shoveling that garbage into your mouths.”

They sit down, Gaz taking his right, and Ghost his left. He takes a moment to marvel at the simple act of Ghost existing in a nonwork related situation, a calmness in his movements that Soap didn’t know he needed to see. He has to temp down a goofy smile at the sight.

It really shouldn’t shock him anymore, but Soap senses all three pairs of eyes in the table snap to Ghost, who rolled up his mask above his mouth like he doesn’t care if anyone else sees, and started eating.

“It’s… nice to see you here with us, Ghost.” Price says slowly.

“Wouldn’t want to miss this five-star meal.” Ghost points his fork to the grey sludge on his tray. He decides to go along with whatever Ghost’s odd behaviour throws at him.

He elbows him gently, “hey, LT” the giant man hums, “why did the skeleton need to go to the barbecue?”

Soap waits for a beat before continuing, “because he wanted to get a spare rib”

Gaz groans to his right, absolutely done with his awful sense of humor, but Ghost…

Ghost smiles. It crinkles the scars bisecting his lips in an unexpectedly endearing way, and his dark eyes crease into little half moons, and his stomach drops because fuck, he’d do anything to see that smile again.

Those brown eyes linger on his, and Soap knows he should look away, that his infatuation could be dangerously visible on his face, but he can’t.

Price saves him after all, “Kyle, you got recruits in 20, make sure they don’t pass out in this heat.”

Gaz just groans louder.

“I’ll go with ‘im.” Ghost pushes away from the table, Kyle jumping from his sit, “you will?! I mean, uh, the more the merrier, I guess.” and rushes after him.

Price’s eyes meet his, and Soap gives him a hesitant smile, “told ye he was in a special mood.”

The Captain picks up his tray, “can’t say I’ve ever seen Ghost act like this in the time we’ve known each other.”

And that’s saying something, coming from Price. Soap has only been on the team for a few months, the newest member of the taskforce, but even he can tell this is unprecedented. It worries him a little, if he’s honest. People don’t just… wake up one day and decide to completely change everything about the way they act.

But then again, Ghost isn’t like most people. That has also become obvious very quickly.

He could write a book worth of Ghost’s little oddities, like the way he shoves knives up his sleeves even while on base, how he likes to go to the gym at night, how he somehow has a mask for every occasion.

It’s infuriatingly charming, it makes him want to know more, find all the little things that make Ghost the way he is, open his chest like he does with explosives, and see the way everything ticks. Find that off switch that keeps the Lieutenant calm, learn which wires go where.

By now, Soap can confidently say he knows a lot about Gaz and Price, but Ghost remains an enigma to him. Today just solidified that.

Price rises from his chair, stretching his back with a groan, “do remember you have paperwork due today, Sergeant. You don’t have time to play with your Lieutenant until that’s on my desk.”

Fuckin’ hell. He forgot to finish that last night. Dejectedly, Soap answers, “yes sir.”

Writing down reports might be Soap’s least favorite part of his job. They went on a mission, killed some guys, found a bloody USB stick, came back at an ungodly hour. Why does he have to write several pages on that is beyond him.

After hours of semi successfully trying to harness the last of his attention span towards that, Soap enters Price’s office to place the accursed reports on his desk. The Captain isn’t there, but that way there’s no risk of him giving him even more menial tasks.

Soap wonders about base, searching for someone to entertain him (perhaps someone very specific, whose name starts with G, and ends with host).

He eventually comes across Gaz in the larger common room, “how was training with Ghost?”.

Soap flops down onto the couch, jostling Kyle, who kicks him in retaliation, “was a lot less annoying than with you cunt.”

He gasps theatrically and puts a hand over his heart, “you don’t mean that!”

Gaz laughs, “no, but…”

“...but?”

Gaz’s brows furrow, and his tone becomes more serious, “we had a… surprisingly deep conversation. He kinda helped me through a few things, with responsibility and death and... Never expected him to be this understanding.”

Soap puts his legs in Gaz’s lap, getting comfortable, “you told me before that he cares, even when it doesn’t look like it.”

He still remembers the talks both Price and Gaz gave him, about Ghost. They were quite protective of their most legendary member, and for Soap it cemented his love for this taskforce; they don’t act like other teams he’s been on at all. They actually care about each other, beyond watching the other’s six.

Gaz sighs, “I still stand by that, but the reason I said it is that Ghost usually doesn’t show it. And if he does, it’s in a roundabout way.”

“Where is he now?”

“He dragged the Captain out of his office after we finished with the rookies. Dunno to where.”

Soap pouts, crossing his arms and staring at the ceiling. Everyone gets to have one-on-one time with Ghost but him, it seems. It feels only a little unfair.

Gaz coos, “are you sulking because our scary Lieutenant didn’t come to spend time with you today?”

“Ah’m not sulking!” Soap kicks Gaz, the Brit giggling and pushing his legs away, “and you have no place to talk! I was alone the whole day doin’ steaming paperwork!”

Kyle picks his legs back up, giving them a comforting pat, “you’ll have tomorrow, and the days after that. I don’t understand why you’re in such a rush.”

He exhales roughly, “what if he won’t be in a mood to talk after today?”

“Then he’ll just go back to how we all know Ghost to be. Was that that bad?” Gaz asks.

“...no.”

“There you go. Now, I heard there’s a footie match with Scotland in a few minutes-”

Soap reaches for the remote before he could finish the sentence, “they better fuckin’ win this time!”

Scotland did not win this time, but he and Gaz enjoyed shouting at the players and howling whenever they missed a goal. As much as he complained about not hanging out with Ghost, Kyle is as good company in his eyes.

Gaz left him after the match, too tired from a day of standing in the sun and running after recruits, leaving Soap alone with his thoughts. 

The hour was still too early for the gym to be completely empty, and he really wasn’t in the mood for some small talk, so Soap made his way to the shooting range. The lights were on, but he’s not likely to be pestered if he takes the furthest stall.

He stops in his tracks when he sees someone leaning against the opening. No, not just any someone.

“Ghost? What are you doin’ here at this hour?”

Ghost kicks off the door frame, “waiting for you.”

Soap brows furrow, “but- how did ye know I’m gonna-?”

“You’re predictable.” Ghost drawls, bone-white skull mask reflecting the moonlight, “also heard you were sulking from Gaz.”

He steps closer to the Lieutenant, “I was not sulking! It’s just…” he looks away, “you were busy, I get it-”

Ghost puts a hand on his shoulder, directing him to the step in front of the shooting range’s door, “I understand. Wanted to see you as well.”

“Ye did?” a little voice in his head cheers loudly. Soap shoves it back into the hole it crawled out of.

“Affirmative”, they sit down, knees knocking into each other. Soap expects Ghost to move. He doesn’t. “Noticed the looks you were giving me all day.”

Soap grimaces, “I was just-”

“Confused?” Ghost’s eyes are hidden in shadows, but he can still feel the weight of that stare on him, “that’s what I wanted to talk about, Johnny.”

There’s that nickname again. Ghost has never called him that.

“I decided something this morning.” Ghost looks away, to the dark training grounds and the base, “I’m… tired. Done in. So I’m not going to try anymore, I’ll take whatever I can get, and if it means this little bits of time with each of you, then so be it.”

Soap feels even more out of the loop than before. Furthermore, he’s even more concerned. What does Ghost mean by “not going to try anymore”?

“Ghost-”

“Simon”, Ghost corrects him, “I like it when you call me Simon.”

“I… I never called you that.”

Ghost’s head bows, his shoulders tense, “...right. Go on.”

“You- I’ll be honest, Yer worrying me. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy seeing ye finally talking with us, hanging out with Gaz and Price, but Ah just… are you solid, Simon?”

Simon lifts his head then, the meager light from the range finally allowing Soap to see his eyes, and it feels like a knife in his chest.

This calm demeanor has had for the whole day… isn’t from him being relaxed and content.

No… that’s the calm of a man in the gallows. Accepting his fate. Waiting to die.

Simon’s eyes crease again, his voice almost brittle, “I am, Johnny. Really. I understand now that I’ll never escape this. It’s fine. It will be fine as long as I have you, and Garrick, and Price.”

“What is ‘this’?” Soap wants to help, wants to know what is making those brown eyes so somber, but Simon is keeping something from him.

A gloved hand lifts, takes hold of the mask, and with it Soap’s breath, and slides the fabric and skull off.

Blond hair, curled when the strands have enough length, long nose that has been broken and reset one too many times, and scars, so many scars. Dark eyes surrounded by darker paint, running down pale cheeks.

Soap couldn’t have imagined a more heart-stopping face under that mask.

“You’ve asked this before, and I always answer. All it does is bother you, makes you sad, angry. I don’t want to see you burdened like that.” Simon murmurs, face oddly relaxed.

“I’m already worried, you numpty, so just let it out.” irritation bleeds into his words.

And the man simply smiles, an emotion Soap can’t identify in his eyes, “you never saw me as just the Ghost. Somehow, you can read me even through the mask.” Simon leans in a little closer, “always liked tha’ about you.”

The lights in the range abruptly cut off, plunging the both of them into inky darkness. Soap swivels his head to the rest of the base, where everything is dark as well. That… that shouldn’t happen. They have a generator, a backup source of power for situations like these.

Awareness prickles at his nape, an air of danger that isn’t supposed to permeate their home base.

Soap attempts to get up, “I’m going to check what-”

Simon pulls him back down, grip gentle, “stay.”

“What?” Soap turns to where he knows Simon is, nothing but a silhouette in the night now, “what if something happened, we should-”

“You won’t be able to fix this, Johnny. They destroyed the generators before going for the main power.”

“How-?!” flashes of light cut him off, distant explosions at the walls on the other side of base. Soap’s heart starts beating faster at the echoing sounds of battle crossing the desolate grounds, shots and screams and-

“Ghost, someone is fuckin’ attacking our base, we need to warn the others-!”

Simon doesn’t let him go, “too late now.”

“Too late- are you just going teh leave Price and Gaz-”

“They’re dead.” Simon’s voice is terrifyingly cold, no shadow of a doubt in it, “or, they will be within the next few minutes.”

Soap slumps back, shock shooting through his limbs, “how… Simon, what…?”

How could he know? He can’t, right? Gaz and Price… they can’t just be dead like that…right?

“Soap”, Simon pulls him closer, bodies leaning against each other, “what I’m going to ask of you is selfish, and weak of me, but I-” Simon exhales shakily, “I can’t do this anymore.”

His hand moves to his belt, and Simon pulls out a revolver, one of the models they have on range. He places it in Soap’s hand. Without uttering a word, Simon rearranges Soap’s fingers to be on the trigger, and lifts the barrel to line with his head.

He instinctually flinches away, but Simon hold’s on him tightens, keeping the gun aimed at himself.

“Simon-”

“Shoot me. No matter what I do, I can’t save all of you. I can’t watch you die anymore.” Simon’s voice quivers, “I can’t- can’t see your eyes like that, looking through me-” he feels the tremors in Simon’s body travelling down from his arms to their joined hands.

Soap shakes his head minutely, eyes wide open staring at Simon’s dark form, “Ah don’t want teh kill ye, Simon.”

Simon’s finger caresses his, gently lowers to his trigger finger. “I know, I’m- I’m sorry, Johnny. But you won’t remember any of this.”

Soap’s breath catches, his body frozen in shock, “don’t-”

Simon squeezes both of their fingers on the trigger.

Soap’s body startles awake, breaths coming out in small puffs. He rips the blanket off his sweaty skin, sitting up in bed.

This… nightmare, was more realistic than anything he’s ever experienced. He can still feel the revolver in his hand, Ghost’s pressed against his, pulling the trigger-

A knock startles him from his thoughts, and automatically Soap rises to open the door.

The last person he expected to see was Ghost.

“Morning, Johnny.” he greets.

Ice-cold shock shoots through his veins along with a sense of déjà vu, “Ghost…”

Ghost tilts his head, eyes narrowing, “...you solid, Sergeant?”

“A-aye.” snap out of it, it was just a fuckin’ dream, “something happen, LT?”

Ghost takes a moment to answer, “no, I was about to go to mess. Came to ask you to join.”

Soap nods, opening the door wider to step through, “yeah, yeah of course. Let’s go.” He starts walking towards mess, stopping after a few steps when he notices Ghost isn’t following.

“You’re going like this?” Ghost motions to his shirt. His moth-eaten, sleeping shirt.

Fuck. “Right. Give me a sec” he rushes back to his room, shutting the door loudly behind him.

Soap violently opens his closet and drawers, pulling out the same clothes he did in his dream. Because that was all it was, a dream. A stupid nightmare, not a premonition of any kind. Because people don’t get visions of their friends’ untimely death the night before it happens.

He just needs to screw his head on right. He opens the door again, giving Ghost a sheepish smile and restarting their walk to mess.

When they almost reach Gaz’s door, Soap stalls. He’s about to move again, scolding himself for even entertaining the idea that Gaz is about to burst out, just because it also happened in the nightmare-

Except he does, not a moment later, “Oh shit- sorry Soap, didn’t see you there.” Gaz rights his hat, stare drifting away to Ghost, “Lieutenant, sir! Didn’t see you either.”

Soap turns to look at Ghost as well, only to find him already looking at him, with wide eyes and stock still body.

“...Ghost?” Gaz asks after a few seconds of silence.

Ghost blinks rapidly, “affirmative. You’re in a rush for-”

“The chocolate pudding in mess.” Soap finishes for him, gaze still boring into Ghost.

Every single thing that happened in the nightmare…

“Yeah, Smith texted me.” Gaz continues, oblivious that he’s simply reciting lines from a predetermined text. “Are you two sure you’re alright-?”

Ghost’s arm shoots forward to grab his, something akin to fear and rage in his eyes. Soap gets dragged away with a considerable amount of force, his legs almost tripping on nothing. He can hear Gaz exclaiming behind them, but all of his attention stays on the bastard crushing his bicep.

“Ghost- fuckin’ hell, let me walk-!”

The Lieutenant is silent, walking with quick strides and shouldering the door to the training grounds open.

“Simon, stop-”

Ghost slams him against the outer wall of the base, Soap hissing when his head bounces off the rough concrete.

“How long?” Ghost growls.

“Wha’?”

Ghost shakes him once, shouting, “for how long have you been stuck?!”

Soap stares up confusingly, “stuck- what the fuck are you talking about?!” he yells back.

“The time loop, Soap! You fucking remember yesterday!”

“Time loop-” his muscles slacken, the fight instantly leaving him, “...it wasn’t a nightmare?”

His hearing becomes muffled with the sound of blood rushing past them, vision blurring. Ghost’s grips becomes lighter, until it leaves him completely.

His voice is gentler when he answers, “not a nightmare, Johnny.”

“I-” he looks up at him, “I killed you.”

Ghost stiffens, before he exhales roughly and turns away from Soap, “fuck…”

They stay silent, and the reality of their situation sinks in. They’re both stuck in a time loop, like some kind of steaming sci-fi movie. Soap wants to laugh, part of him grasping desperately at the notion that this must be some sort of prank. But he knows Ghost wouldn’t, couldn’t have known what happened in the “nightmare” otherwise.

Their conversation in the dark resurfaces in his memory, “Ghost… this is the first time I’m repeating a day.”

Dark eyes return to his, a sort of relief loosening Ghost’s muscles. He nods, taking in a slow breath, “good. Wouldn’t want you hiding it from me.”

“How long have you been stuck…?”

Ghost hums, eyes unfocusing, “stopped counting after the second month.”

“Steamin’ Jesus…”

Things start clicking in Soap’s mind rapidly. Ghost’s odd change in behaviour, the way he knew when each and every event in the day happens, how he knew where to find him…

When the attack will begin…

Ghost’s entire speech before it… how he’ll never “escape this”...

“You gave up.” Soap walks around Ghost, attempting to catch his eye contact, “yesterday. Is that why ye wanted me to kill ye?”

Ghost avoids him again, murmuring quietly, “thought it would stop it.”

“You-” realization hits him, “you thought you’d stay dead. Have ye never died in the loop before?”

Ghost sneaks a hand under his mask, scrubbing at his eyes, “never had anyone else kill me. Killed myself plenty, but whenever I tried getting killed by someone else… never works.” the gloved hands retreat from under the balaclava, marred with greasepaint, and it strikes Soap just how tired Ghost looks. Body bowing under the invisible burden of countless days, countless deaths.

Simon doesn’t have anything left to give. A flicker of determination lights up in Soap’s chest, a decision to do anything to lessen that burden.

“Then go on, tell me the rules of this shite.”

Ghost squints, “the time loop?” he sighs, “day resets when I die or kill myself, and if I don’t, it will the moment the clock strikes midnight.”

Soap nods. It sounds like it’s not Ghost’s survival that is the requirement to break the loop. Then…

“Ye think if we manage to save everyone, we’ll stop repeatin’ days?”

Ghost leans back against the wall Soap was slammed into earlier, “undoubtedly.”

Soap tilts his head at Ghost’s solemn tone, “but…?” he prompts.

“It’s impossible.”

“C’mon LT, you can’t just-”

Ghost pushes off, stomping to tower over Soap with a sudden burst of movement, “you think I haven’t tried everything already, MacTavish?! I can save one of you, but the other two die. If we separate, you all die. If I tell everyone about the loop, Price reports me to medical because he thinks I bloody lost my mind, and if I don’t, I can’t explain how I know an attack is incoming.” Ghost exhales harshly, “I tried… everything.”

Soap doesn’t back down despite the sheer amount of rage dripping from Ghost’s tone. Because he recognizes what that rage is hiding.

“But it’s different, now.”

Ghost’s shoulders drop, “yes. Now I fucked you over as well. We’ll never escape this.”

Soap shakes his head, “we haven’t tried doing it together yet, ye can’t jus’ give up!” he decides to risk placing a hand on his shoulder, “please, Simon.”

He didn’t expect the words to budge anything in Ghost’s grim resolve to abandon hope, and he watches in astonishment as Ghost sighs and nods, “alright, Johnny.”

Soap wonders what has happened to Ghost before, what he has experienced with other versions of himself that made him trust him so readily. A pang of jealousy at them rings through him, that they got to see Simon open up to them.

What could they have told him? Which one called him ‘Simon’ first? When did Simon start calling him ‘Johnny’?

A heartbeat later, he shook it off, choosing to be grateful to them instead. Without them, Soap isn’t sure he would’ve been able to convince Ghost.

Soap smiles at him, letting his arm fall from his shoulder, “right. What intel do we have?” approaching this as any other mission is probably the only way he could keep from losing his mind.

He watches as Ghost enters the same mindset, “Power shuts off at 2125, but a rat causes a malfunction in the generators at the start of the day. I can’t wake up before 0600, so I can’t catch him.”

“Do ye know who it is?”

“Affirm. Got access to the cameras once, they leave base at 0530.” Ghost continues, “we can’t prevent the power outage, if we can’t fix the generator. Main power failure at night comes from somewhere outside base.”

So they’ll have to fight in the dark in any possible outcome… 

Soap is reminded of the explosions he heard yesterday, “what about the charges that went off?”

Ghost sighs, “they run along the outside, placed approximately at 2136.”

“I’ll be able to disarm them.”

“They’ll catch you before you get a pinky on ‘em.”

“Well, good thing we got infinite tries, aye?” Soap smirks. “Wait… will the loop reset if I die?”

“I…” Ghost looks away, “I don’t know.”

Soap frowns, looking at the recruits making their way to the training grounds. Gaz should arrive here soon…

“We should test it.” Soap reaches for Ghost’s sleeve, telegraphing his movements clearly so the man doesn’t spook.

Ghost bristles, “Johnny-”

He rolls the dark fabric back, revealing a long blade hidden beneath it, “I killed ye when you asked, only fair you do the same.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember.” Ghost mutters quietly, allowing Soap to take the knife despite his verbal protests.

Soap flips the blade in his hand, offering the hilt to Ghost. He doesn’t reach for it for several long seconds. “Ye rather I do it myself? Won’t be pretty.”

Ghost’s frowned brows regard the blade, before he takes it with a heavy sigh, “turn around.” he orders gently. Soap complies, feeling his heart rate jump at the touch of gloved hands on his nape. 

He’s not sure if it’s fear or exhilaration.

The hands tilt his head forward, and the tip of the knife barely scrapes the ends of his hair.

Ghost almost whispers into his ear, “relax. I won’t let you feel a thing.” he angles the knife so the blade will drive straight into his brain with a push, “tell me when you’re ready, Johnny.”

Soap takes a big breath in, forcing his muscles to loosen. He just needs to trust Ghost. Trust Simon.

It’s… scarily easy to.

“I’m ready.”

The world goes dark in a blink.

Soap opens his eyes to the sight of his barrack’s ceiling. He sits up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. It felt painful for only a short moment.

Well, that answers his question, he muses to himself.

As the minutes trickle by without a knock at his door, Soap becomes worried. Where’s Ghost?

He quickly changes to his fatigues and walks out, feet taking him to Ghost’s door at the very far end of the hallway. It’s surrounded by supply closets and sits at a dead end, so most people don’t pass through here, making it unnaturally silent for how crowded the other parts of base are.

Soap knocks on the only door with a nameplate, “Ghost? Ye there?”

Nothing. Soap tries the handle, finding it unlocked, and slowly pushes in, “hope yer decent, LT…”

He spots Ghost sitting at the edge of his cot, elbows resting on his knees and eyes staring blankly at the bare wall in front of him.

“Simon?” he carefully walks over, crouching in front of him, “...ye solid?”

“...Didn’t reset.” Ghost eventually murmurs, jaw tight under his balaclava, “your death doesn’t reset it.”

Soap sits back on his haunches.

Ghost continues, “they found me, Price and Gaz. I didn’t- didn’t just want to leave your body there. They…” his voice breaks, and he clears his throat. Soap’s gut wrenches. “They apprehended me and shoved me in a cell. Interrogated me ‘till midnight. Never seen Price that angry, Gaz-” he shakes his head, as if to expel the memories, “kept screaming, threatened to come into the cell to off me, and-”

“Simon.”

Simon gets up with no warning, hands flexing by his side, unable to meet his eyes, “I’m- Johnny-”

Soap rises to his feet as well, and in the spur of the moment wraps his arms around Ghost, pulling him into a tight hug. Instantly, Simon sags into him, his head dropping to his shoulder.

He was callous to think Simon could kill him and think nothing of it. This is not the Ghost he knew a few days ago – this is a Ghost that saw his team die again and again, stuck in a loop he couldn’t break, for months.

Soap doesn’t think he could conceive of a crueler method of torture.

“Ah’m sorry.”

Simon’s fingers twist into his shirt. 

“Promise me… that you won’t die.” Simon whispers, sounding so much like a young child, afraid of the monster under his bed, and not like a decorated SAS operator. “I can’t- can’t-”

“I’ll do my best.”

He feels Simon’s head shake, “promise.”

“...I promise.”

They stay silent after that, holding onto each other like they’ll fall apart once their hands retreat. Soap lost in regret, and fear, and unfathomable worry, that Simon really will just give up. Even with him here, stuck in the same loop.

They may have all the time in the world, but how long will it take until there’s nothing of Ghost left to save?

They leave Ghost’s room, hands still unable to leave the other. Soap wants to get back to making progress on their mission, but he worries Simon’s drained. As if sensing it, Simon squeezes his hand, making Soap look at him.

“I think we should tell Price and Gaz.”

Soap blinks, “but ye said it never worked?”

Simon nods, eyes half-lidded, “Because it was only me. They won’t be able to excuse it with hallucinations when two people experience the same thing.” he lets go of Soap, his hand instantly mourning the loss, “they’ve left mess already, if they’re still behaving like usual.”

Right. This is new territory for Ghost, so he can’t rely on previous days anymore, “I’ll call Gaz, can you get Price?”

“Affirm. We’ll meet in the Captain’s office.” the Lieutenant turns to leave, and Soap opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, wanting to say something to encourage Ghost, or help him in any way, before he gives up and pulls out his phone.

The call rings only twice before Gaz picks up, “where were you this morning?! You missed the chocolate pudding!”

“Good morning to you too, Kyle.” he huffs, “had to deal with an emergency.”

Gaz instantly starts interrogating him, “what? You alright, mate?”

“Aye, but we need to get to Price’s office.”

“Copy. Stay safe, Soap.”

“You too.” he ends the call, and makes his way to the office. Anticipation roils in his gut. He had a hard time believing the time loop, and he saw it first hand. How are they going to convince the others of it?

Gaz is waiting outside the Captain’s office when Soap arrives. He gives him a reassuring nod, before knocking on the door.

“Open.” Price’s gruff voice calls.

Ghost is already inside, leaning against the far wall, and if Soap didn’t know better, he’d look as composed as he is every day. But he does know better, and the tension in his shoulders doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Right.” Price addresses Soap, “Ghost told me he and you have something important to tell us, and that it absolutely can’t wait for later, so let it out.”

Soap looks towards Ghost, a little lost with how to begin.

He regrets letting him start when he simply states, with no prior warning, “We’re stuck in a time loop.”

The office is quiet for a few seconds, before Gaz half-coughs, half-laughs. Soap sends him an unimpressed stare when he sees his lips tighten in an attempt to stay silent.

Price doesn’t sound amused in the slightest, “...if this is some sort of joke, it’s not very funny.” his tone becomes gentler, “but if you’re serious, Ghost, we can go to medical-”

Ghost takes a step towards Price, “I’m not having a psychosis episode, John.”

“Son-”

Soap intervenes, “Ah’m also in the loop, Captain.”

“MacTavish, this is not the time to fuck around!”

Shite, this is not working at all. He watches Ghost deflate, practically hears him give up again. He can’t watch him like this.

“Gaz” he turns to Kyle, “Smith texted ye in the morning, that’s how you knew about the pudding, right?”

Gaz’s brows shoot up, “yeah? How did you…?”

“There’s going to be a football match with Scotland today, ye were gonna invite me to watch with you.”

“You could’ve looked that up, Soap.” Price doesn’t sound convinced, but his expression loses the edge of anger it previously had.

“Scotland is gonna lose 0-2.”

The Captain sighs, “the match is at 1900, and even if you’re right, it still can be a lucky guess.” he leans back against his chair, “look, I can tell you’re serious about this, but I’ll need more proof before I can believe something like time loops exists.”

There must be something that could prove it, something one of them said that he shouldn’t know-

“Your favorite food is sausages, a specific recipe your father made. He died when you were nineteen, and you haven’t had them since.” Ghost murmurs. Price freezes, and his head turns slowly to stare at the Lieutenant.

“...I’ve never told that to anyone-”

“Garrick’s biggest fear is to watch his squad die.” Ghost continues, “he feels responsible for any injury any of us get, any loss. When one of us goes on a solo mission, he stays awake for as long as he can so he won’t miss any information about us.”

Gaz gapes, “How-”

“Price calls me Simon because he worries I’ll stop being used to the name.” Ghost crosses his arms, almost hugging himself, “Garrick was mocked during basic, was called weaker because he showed care to other soldiers, until he beat the records on several tests.” he doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

The Captain removes his hat, brushing a hand through his short-cropped hair, “fucking hell. Okay. I believe you.”

“Yeah…” Gaz shakes his head, “alright. You two are stuck in a bloody time loop. How do we get you out?”

A weight lifts from his heart. Soap smiles in relief, and it broadens when Ghost finally looks at him.

“There’s going to be an attack on our base this night. At least two of you will die, caught off guard.” Ghost explains, the soldiers in the room listening with rapt attention, “we need to keep you alive.”

“A surprise attack? How is that possible?” Price frowns.

Soap joins in, “they sabotaged emergency power this morning, and they’ll cut off the main source tonight, while breaching the south wall with explosives. And ‘fore ye ask, we can’t fix it, unless any of ye know how to operate a generator.”

“Do we know who it is?” Gaz asks.

“Anthony Simmons. Our latest target.” Ghost grounds bitterly, “think we disrupted his business enough he decided attacking an SAS base is worth the risk.”

Simmons… responsible for most illegal arms dealing in the UK. He must’ve joined forces with some of the 141’s enemies to have enough manpower to storm a base, but then again, those aren’t hard to come by, are they?

“Wait,” Gaz frowns and turns to face Soap, “how many times have you repeated a day to know all of that?”

“This is only the second time for me. Ghost has been stuck for… much longer.”

“And out of those loops, how many times have you tried telling us?” Price looks over to Ghost, concerned.

“...Twice.” the masked man answers, like it doesn’t twist Price’s features in shocked anger.

“Twice”, Price scoffs, “I’m… do you really trust us that little-”

“He trusts you plenty, Captain.” Soap cuts him off, hands clenching and nostrils flaring with anger, because he won’t let him insinuate Simon hasn’t been trying, “ye don’t trust his word, you always jump to the conclusion he must’ve lost his mind instead of telling the truth. You’ve done the same today, and if Ah wasn’t also stuck in this shite, ye would’ve sent ‘im to a shrink ten minutes ago.”

“Soap…” Gaz tries to placate, but he ignores it in favor of sending death glares at Price.

“Johnny.” Ghost breaks his resolve, “enough. He doesn’t need to apologize for something a different version of him did.”

Price sighs, “I don’t need to, but I will. I’m sorry, Simon. For not believing you.”

Ghost’s eyes widen, and Soap thinks they become a little shinier. He drops his head to the ground, clearing his throat. “Don’t worry about it, Captain.”

“We should each tell you a secret.” Gaz says, “something that will instantly make us know you’re telling the truth.”

“Good idea.” Soap hums. He hates approaching this day knowing they’ll likely will have to repeat this conversation again, but if they could speed it up tomorrow it’ll make it less demoralizing. “Do ye have anything in mind?”

Gaz blinks, and looks away with a bashful smile, “it’ll have to be something I would never admit under any other circumstance… yeah, I think I got something, unfortunately.” he plays with the strings on his sweatpants, “Captain, you remember Farah and Alex?”

The names are unfamiliar to Soap, but a glint of recognition lights in Price’s eyes, “of course. What about them?”

“Uhm… fuck, I really would not say it if it didn’t help you.” Gaz’s voice lowers, “I might be a little… interested in them.”

“...In what way?” one of Price’s brows lift inquisitively.

Gaz pulls on the bill of his baseball hat to hide his face, “in a romantic way.” he almost whispers.

“Oh.” the Captain softly exclaims. “That’s… completely fine, son-”

Kyle hides behind his hands and groans, “can we please not talk about it, sir?”

Soap pats Gaz’s shoulder, “we won’t ask, mate.” he grins towards the Captain, “yer turn, sir.”

Price sighs, and strokes his beard in thought. When he grimaces, Soap knows he found a suitable secret.

“When I was about fifteen, I smoked my first cigarette. Couldn’t take more than a couple of breaths of it before I puked.”

Gaz removes his hands from his face to point at Price, “there’s no way this is the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done!”

Price gives him an unimpressed look, “I puked directly on my crush at the time.”

“...Oh.” Gaz winces in sympathy.

“Yes, ‘oh’.” Price rolls his eyes, “now, let’s get back to that attack. You got anything else we can use, Ghost?”

“Affirm. I know how each of you dies.”

Soap almost laughs at how chilling that statement is, coming from a guy dressed like the grim reaper.

Ghost shoots him a look that makes Soap sober up, “Price leaves his office at 2122, gets caught on his way to our common room. Garrick fights along a few other soldiers from the rooms next to his barracks, they all die to a frag. And Johnny…” Ghost’s eyes meet his, “Soap’s the only one with a decent gun inside base at the moment of the attack, so he runs off to help the others. He dies last, with an empty mag and a knife in his throat.”

Soap swallows around the bitter taste on his tongue at the mental image of Ghost finding his body like that, “You said ye can save one of us, but never more. What happens then?”

“Only reason you’re saved is by either knowing of the attack beforehand or by acquiring gear.” Ghost grounds, hand flexing in an odd way, and Soap realizes he’s fidgeting with the knife up his sleeve, “and as I’ve said before, I can’t warn you because you won’t believe me. I can’t carry enough gear for four.”

“But we know now.” Gaz interjects, “we can go to the armory, ask them for our vests and rifles.”

“We can. But that won’t save the rest of the base.” Price sighs.

“I have no reason to believe it’s necessary for breaking the loop.” Ghost states firmly, arms crossing.

The Captain’s brows lift, and he narrows his eyes at the Lieutenant, “you… we can’t just let the base fend for itself, while we know something’s going to happen.”

“I don’t care-”

“Simon Riley, I swear to all that’s good and holy if you finish that sentence-”

“I can’t care, Price!” Ghost growls, hunching over the desk menacingly, “I can’t save three people, you think I can afford to try and save hundreds?!”

Price stares at Ghost, his expression mellowing. “We have to try.”

Ghost lets out a laugh that sounds closer to a sob than anything else, “sick of trying, Captain.”

Price pushes off his chair, and puts a hand on his bicep, “I understand, son. I… can’t say I can imagine what you’ve been going through.”

Ghost takes a few deep breaths, nodding slowly and gently stepping away from Price’s touch, “we’re burning daylight. We need to come up with a plan.”

Soap wants to pull Ghost into another hug, the way he did this morning, but he doesn’t think that’s what he would want right now.

Instead, he says, “I got an idea.”

“Soap, Gaz, what’s your status?”

He lowers into a crouch, walking along the outer wall of the base, “solid. Still not in position.”

“Copy, you got twenty before power’s off.” Ghost’s low tone rumbles over their comms.

The area surrounding the base is made up of mostly flat land, to allow the huge floodlights around the walls to illuminate it and leave no place for a hostile (or a confused tourist, mostly) to hide.

Tonight, this will be a disadvantage for their side, as they won’t have any cover if they get caught by hostiles out here.

Gaz, whose been walking in front of Soap, motions him to stop, and points to one of the watchtowers above them. The soldier on duty seems to be alert, and Soap resists the urge to hold his breath while they wait. Not a few seconds later, the soldier startles, and pulls out his radio. He exchanges a few words with the caller before getting up and leaving the tower. That would be Price’s work.

The Captain reconnects to their line, “Watchtower’s empty, boys, you’re clear to proceed.”

“Copy.”

They continue their careful walk to the wall between this watchtower and the next - the planting site for the charges that will breach it.

Their plan, which was mostly Soap’s idea, is to separate to 2 teams; the first stays on base, making sure the soldiers are gathered together and ready for an attack, and the second slows the infiltration of Simmon’s men.

Both teams have to do so covertly, since they’ve come to the conclusion that even if they alert the higher ups of an approaching attack, without any more concrete evidence than ‘two of our elite operators are stuck in a fucking time loop’, nobody would believe them. They decided that Price and Ghost will stay, as they have higher ranks and therefore are able to order around more soldiers with less need to explain their reasoning.

Soap and Gaz, then, were left to be here, waiting for the hostiles to plunge the base into darkness.

Before leaving, Ghost pulled Soap to the side, his eyes a fake veneer of professionalism, but shaking fingers betraying him. Soap only gave him a smile, a soft punch to his shoulder, and walked before he could allow his nerves to show.

Because he is nervous, in a way he hasn’t been on a mission since he joined the 141. Not because he’s afraid to die, but because he doesn’t want Ghost to hurt any more than he already is.

Soap promised Ghost he’ll try to not die - and he will drag himself back to him with broken arms if he has to.

“Two minutes to power shutdown, get ready.” Ghost rips him away from his thoughts.

Soap flips his NVG’s over his eyes, blinking while they get used to the muted green-blue hues. Gaz ahead of him does the same.

“Copy, in position and ready.” Gaz radios back.

The seconds trickle by slowly, Soap feeling his heart rate rise in anticipation, and mentally chiding himself for being this anxious. He shouldn’t, considering he knows he can’t die (or stay dead, really). But somehow, the stakes feel higher than any other mission he’s been on before.

Maybe just like Simon, Soap too can’t watch someone he cares about fall apart.

The power shuts down, the electrical hum that previously filled the night air abruptly cutting off. Sop checks his clock.

2126. Ten minutes left.

He quickly pulls out the several kilograms of explosives he packed into his tacvest. Ghost gave him an approximation of the enemy’s trucks parking locations, but he hasn’t spent enough time in his previous loops here to give him exact coordinates. Soap decided to stay on the safer side, and pack more than he would’ve.

He throws the packs of C4 a good distance from Gaz, as the last thing he needs right now is to explode both of them. It might not be enough, but hopefully it will slow the hostiles down enough for their soldiers to realize something is wrong.

In the unnatural silence, Soap can hear the engines of several trucks approaching their position. Gaz clicks off the safety on his assault rifle. He gives one last check that the explosives are connected correctly to each other and the detonator, and returns to Kyle’s side.

His heart screams that they’re not going to win this time around.

“Hey Gaz?”

“Yeah?”

Soap gives in to the sinking feeling in his gut, “if I don’t make it… can you make sure Ghost doesn’t see my…”

“I won’t, Soap.” Gaz reaches for him, putting an arm around him as much as he can with all the gear on them, “let’s try to not get to that, though.”

“Aye.” he can make out the shapes of trucks filled to the brim with hostiles hurtling towards the base. Gaz switches the sights on his gun.

“You got about 5 seconds before they reach the explosives.”

Soap’s finger hovers over the detonator, counting under his breath.

Three…

Two…

The trucks roll over the half-circle of charges around them. Soap presses the button.

One second the vehicles are there, the next a flash of light blinds them both. Even though he knew to squeeze his eyes shut, Soap could still see colorful shapes dancing in his vision when he opened them. A smaller explosion shakes the ground, Simmon’s men screaming at the surprise attack. Serves them right.

Unfortunately, they regain their footing quickly enough, and soon bullets started ricocheting off of the base’s walls.

“Soap! On your two, three hostiles!” Gaz shouts while aiming to his left, fire messing with their NVGs.

Soap shoots two men down, the third ducking away and only getting grazed. He takes out a Semtex, throwing it in the last man’s direction and averting his attention to Gaz right as he yells.

“Kyle!” he watches in horror as a bullet rips through his thigh, a matching wound in the other. Gaz goes down hard, with grunts of pain and bared teeth. Soap runs towards him, shooting another hostile down, but he’s not fast enough.

Gaz stares at him, eyes full of horror, gaze flickering back to the fight when a bullet almost hits his head. He’s stuck, unable to get to cover, fate practically sealed.

Soap slides to a stop. He changes course to the nearest wrecked truck, more mangled steel than a vehicle. The lingering fire singes his arm hairs, but he doesn’t feel a thing.

They’re trapped, pushed against the wall with no backup in sight. They may be able to fend off by themselves, but the moment they run out of bullets…

He lifts a shaky hand to his comms.

“Ghost?” Soap whispers.

“Soap. What’s your status?”

He swallows thickly, “Don’t come to the wall.”

“What?” Ghost’s voice sharpen.

“Ah’m sorry, Simon. Gaz, he’s- his legs are fucking shot, they’ve got us surrounded, not gettin’ out of this alive-”

He cuts himself off when he hears a small sigh, clothes rustling on the other side, Price’s voice shouting from far away, “SIMON DON’T-”

And like a curtain at the end of a show, Soap’s vision goes black.

Soap wakes up with a sharp inhale, clean air jarring, when all he smelled a moment ago was smoke. He jumps out of bed, changing quickly and running out of his room.

He almost runs into Ghost in his hurry. Ghost, who was on his way to his room.

“Easy, Johnny.” he gets caught by his shoulders.

Soap pants, “Ghost- it was my fault, I should’ve placed the explosives farther ahead, detonated them later-”

“Sergeant.” Ghost squeezes his arms lightly, “I’m not mad.”

And he really isn’t, when Soap actually takes the time to look at Ghost, he discovers him completely calm.

“...You expected this to happen.”

Ghost’s eyes crease, in the way Soap has learned means he’s smiling, “this is what always happens. I’m just happy I ended the day before all of you were dead.”

Soap feels his lips twist downwards, adrenaline leaving him unmoored and tired. He’s not sure if he’s telling it to Ghost or to himself, when he says, “we have to keep trying.”

Ghost doesn’t answer, instead letting his hands fall away. “You got a new plan?”

A door behind them opens loudly before he can answer, “where’s-” Gaz turns his head to them, “oh, Soap! And Ghost. C’mon, we need to go to the cafeteria, Smith texted me-”

Soap drops his head, slightly irritated for having to repeat this conversation again, but happy to see Gaz nonetheless, “aye, there’s chocolate pudding in mess.”

“Yeah! How did you know?” Kyle gives him a lopsided smile.

He sighs and throws a thumb behind him, “stuck in a time loop with Ghost.”

Gaz stares at him before a laugh erupts from his throat, and he bends over giggling. Soap allows him a few moments before he comments, “are ye done?”

“Fuck mate you can’t do that to me this early in the morning, the look on Ghost’s face-” he laughs a little more, before forcing a serious expression, “yeah, yeah I’m done.”

“Good. You have a crush on Alex and Farah.”

Gaz freezes for a moment, and his brows shoot up, “how the fuck- how do you even know who they are-”

“I don’t. Ye told me yesterday.” Soap frowns, “or, well, today… was yesterday for me.”

Ghost taps him on the shoulder, “we need to get going, Johnny. Earlier we get everyone together, the more time we got to prepare.”

“Right”, he takes Kyle’s arm, nudging him in the direction of Price’s office, “let’s go.”

Gaz makes a confused sound, “prepare for what?”

Ghost mutters quietly, so lowly that Soap almost misses it, “another death.”

Fifteen times. They’ve tried fifteen times since that day.

The first three were similar, the same plan as before with minimal variation. One time, he went out with Ghost instead of Gaz. Soap ended up with a bullet to the shoulder, incapacitated and waiting to die. Ghost made sure he didn’t wait long.

After that, they tried telling more people. Alert the soldiers at the watchtowers, supply others with weapons. For the most part, they didn’t believe them, even when Price and Gaz vouched for the credibility of their story. And when they were believed, it wasn’t enough. The base too big, their enemy too strong.

On the fifteenth try, Soap managed to slow the infiltration with precisely placed explosives, toppling a recently vacated watchtower over the entrance. Ghost was alone, using the cover of night to pick off anyone getting close to the barracks, where most soldiers are at the time. Gaz and Price were with Soap, leading the charge on the main group of hostiles.

It went well. They reached 2240, the furthest they’ve ever seen.

Maybe it was that fact, or the fact that Soap has done this so many times, each day starting to blend together, each defeat the same shade of bright red.

He doesn’t know what it was, but he lost focus, and while the others were fighting ahead of him, he got blindsided by a heavy body slamming into his.

The hostile tackled him to the ground, and Soap barely managed to get his arms up in time to block the knife heading for his throat. He grunted as the blade dug into his forearm, and attempted to push off the enemy. The man was built like Ghost, big and muscular, and Soap might’ve been able to win, if he wasn’t on his fifteenth day.

But he was, and the hostile breaks his guard, stabbing Soap in the chest, then the shoulder, then the stomach. Soap can’t breathe, but by instinct alone his arm reaches for the pistol at his hip, and shoots the heavy bastard three times in the head, until the body drops.

Every single part of him hurts. Most of all, the vile taste of another loss on his tongue, and a broken promise.

Soap futilely tries to get the lifeless body crushing him off, but his muscles feel like jelly, and every small movement shoots fire through the several holes littering his torso, making more blood bubble up.

So Soap gives up. He clicks his radio on, listens to the others check in, notice his absence. He knows he should say something, let Ghost know this loop is a bust and restart, but…

He finds he doesn’t want to. For once, he just wants to stay here, bathing in his own blood, pain so blinding he can almost pretend it’s not there.

“MacTavish, fucking answer me! What’s your status?!” Ghost’s voice sounds… frantic. Soap doesn’t like it.

It takes a lot of effort just to click the button to answer, “s’rry, Ghost. Ah’m… Ah’m here.”

“...Johnny? Where are you?”

He coughs a little, a flush of cold making his vision swim, “in general? Stuck.” he laughs at his own stupid joke, the sound turning into a bitten off cry when pain shoots through his body again. “Fuck-”

“How bad is it?” Ghost asks, gently, in a way Soap doesn’t think he’s earned to hear from him.

“Bad. H-hurts.” Soap feels tears run to his hairline, “but Ah don’t want to die. Don’ want ye teh die. I can survive, just-” a whine rips from his throat without his permission, “just a wee bit over one hour till midnight, righ’?”

“I’m not going to let you keep suffering-”

“We are s-so close.” Soap’s eyes cease to see, blood loss taking his vision and plunging him back into the darkness he grew to despise more than anything, “Ah don’ want teh do this again, Ghost… please…”

Ghost sounds more muffled when he murmurs, “I’ll see you in a few, Johnny.” a finality in his voice that tells Soap he’s putting a gun to his temple yet again.

“No…” Soap wants to beg, but talking is starting to become more difficult than it should be, “Simon… please… don’t…..”

He hears a gunshot, and then nothing at all.

When Soap wakes up, he doesn’t bother opening his eyes. He knows what he’ll see, the same ceiling, in the same washed-out white shade, bathed in the same morning sunlight of the same fucking day.

It must’ve been a few minutes of him drifting into uncomfortable consciousness, when there’s a knock on the door. Same one he’s heard all the way back when this shit started.

“Soap? You still there?” Ghost asks behind the thin plywood. Soap can hear the handle rattle as Ghost checks if it’s locked.

Apparently, ‘yesterday Soap’ locked it. He couldn’t remember if he tried - it’s been weeks since ‘yesterday’.

“Johnny?”

How did Ghost survive this long alone? The world around him oblivious to the glitch in time, lives around him continuing like normal, as if they aren’t also stuck?

A heavy weight squeezes his lungs, a despair in a magnitude he’s never felt, the knowledge they’re not going to ever escape this caving in his rib cage. Soap keeps his eyes closed, because if he opens them, he’ll need to face another day, fight and die, like he won’t just do it again in the next.

The flimsy lock on his door clicks, and it slides open slowly, “I’m coming in”, Ghost warns, not that Soap cares.

He’s facing the wall, but he can sense Ghost walking towards the bed, and sitting down after a few moments of silence. Soap lets one eye blink open, still staring at the wall in front of him. Somehow, with just his presence, Ghost lends him strength.

Soap clears his throat quietly, words spilling out before he can stop them, “I don’t know if I can keep going.”

A hand finds his calf, slowly caressing him through the thin blanket, “we can stop.” Ghost murmurs, his tone similar to the way he talked when he understood they’re not making it out this time.

“Stop? And what, stay stuck?” Soap scoffs.

The hand warms his skin, more than this sun ever could, “yes.” Soap hears clothes rustling, “give up. But that’s not what you want, is it?”

“An’ how do ye know what Ah want?” anger starts bubbling within him, Soap regretting his harsh tone a moment after he lets it out. Ghost doesn’t deserve it, never does.

The hand leaves him, and Soap raises his head in alarm, because if Ghost leaves, there really is no point to continue-

His eyes widen when he sees him, mask in his hand, knee coming up to rest on the bed. Gentle blond curls almost glowing in the sunlight, brown eyes like dark pools that anchor him in the spiral he found himself in.

Simon’s thin lips move slowly, Soap enchanted by the way they pull on the scars, “I know, because you kept me going.”

“But-” Soap brings his knees up, “Ah didn’t know what ye were going through before. Didn’t know it really is…”

“Impossible?”

“Aye…” he drops his head to stare at his own lap. A gloved hand appears at the edges of his vision.

Ghost nudges his shoulder softly, “move over.”

Soap blinks up in confusion, and scoots closer to the wall, allowing Ghost to sit beside him. The bed was certainly not made for two people their size, and their bodies are pressed together. It’s comforting.

“That day wasn’t the first time I tried to get you to kill me.” Ghost lets out eventually.

Soap stares at him, “what happened the other times?”

“You got mad.” Ghost smiles sadly, “threw the gun away, as far as you could. Grabbed me by the face and forced me to look, really look, at you. And you talked.”

“And what did Ah say?”

Ghost’s light eyelashes flutter, “you’d always let me know, before anything else, how much of a ‘dafty’ I am.” Soap laughs a little at that, while Ghost continues, “then you’d say that I’m not allowed to give up.”

Soap frowns. “Why?”

Ghost turns to stare at him, “you said I haven’t seen everything this world has to offer yet. You promised to show me, if I stay. You were so…” he sighs, mind clearly far away in an unreachable fantasy, “determined. Sure that you could change my mind. I didn’t understand why you cared so much.”

Soap’s heart hammers loudly in his chest, his own words swirling with distant memories. Of yesterday, and the days before it.

“I called you Johnny, once, on a whim. Wanted to see your reaction.” Ghost huffs, “and in all the days I’ve been through, you never acknowledged it, never told me to stop. Always smiled wider instead.”

“Simon…”

He leans closer to Soap, their noses almost touching, “I know you want to live, because you made me continue living. I know how you look when you lie, and you never lied to me.”

Soap exhales shakily, “but Ah’m not that person anymore. Neither of us are.”

Simon wraps a hand around his nape, pulls his head to rest on his shoulder, “no. But we haven’t seen everything yet. We’ll keep changing, and maybe we’ll become something better by the end of it.”

Soap buries his nose in Simon’s neck, “and what if we won’t? What if this is really how the rest of our lives is gonna go?”

What if there really is no way out?

“Then… Then I’ll be glad it wasn’t alone. I’m glad it was with you.”

In the safety of strong arms, a warm body beside him, Soap nods. In acceptance of their unknown fate, of their hopeless endeavour. An understanding, that they have to try anyway.

Because trying and failing is worth something too, if they get to have this small moment; so insignificant in larger scale.

And yet nothing means more to Soap, than the fingers drawing small loops on his skin.

He doesn’t know how long it takes for someone to take notice of their absence, but it becomes obvious that it has, when both Soap’s and Simon’s phones start buzzing with no end.

Soap pulls away first, after several minutes of gearing himself up to it. Doesn’t make the jarring shift any easier. He leans over Ghost to grab his phone from the bedside table, and cringes when he sees the number of missed calls from Gaz and Price.

His phone rings again, and he swipes a finger to answer, “he’s still not picking up- Soap?!” Gaz’s voice becomes louder, as if he put the phone back near his mouth, “where the fuck were you?! I’ve tried calling you all day mate!”

“Uh- Phone was on mute, sorry.” he mumbles.

Soap winces a little at the answering sigh from Gaz, “...alright. You solid?”

He doesn’t know why that innocent question made tears well up in his eyes. Soap quickly wipes them away, not fast enough for Ghost to miss, though. “Aye, Ah’m good.”

Soap can tell from Kyle’s voice he’s not entirely convinced, “good. Wanna come torture the recruits with me?”

He smiles softly, closing his eyes, “yeah, think I’d like that right about now.”

Gaz laughs a little, “I’ll see you on the training grounds?”

“See ye.”

Soap tosses the phone on the bed, scrubbing his face. He looks up at Simon, who stayed close for the entire call, “what’s on the table for us today? Are we gonna tell ‘em after training-”

“Take the day off, Johnny. You need it.” Simon gets up with a groan, stretching his back and reaching for his mask. Soap stops him with a gentle hand on his wrist.

“Ye need it too. Come with me.”

Simon’s brown eyes turn a honeyed color in the bright morning light, “...alright.”

It’s been a while since Soap had what almost felt like a normal day, acting like tomorrow will come. Betting on who could come up with the weirdest exercises with Ghost and Gaz was more fun than anything he’s done since entering the loop, shooting the shit with each other and trying not to crack up when the recruits would look at them with bewildered eyes before hurrying to follow their orders.

In the afternoon, they went back to the common room, Gaz inviting them to watch the football match with him. Despite knowing Scotland will lose, Soap agreed, and they even managed to drag Price to sit with them.

And at that moment, Gaz throwing sunflower seeds at the screen, Price confiscating the bowl with a wide smile on his lips, and Ghost’s thigh pressed to his, eyes mirthful, Soap realized something.

He wants to have more days like these. Ones where he can just exist with his team, his friends, the people he holds most dear in the entire world. 

At about 2100, Gaz and Price say their goodbyes, leaving Soap and Ghost by themselves, TV off and the rest of the room silent. As the clock ticks closer to the attack, it feels as if all of his muscles twist tighter, a coil ready to snap.

He didn’t notice his leg started bouncing, until Ghost stops it with a firm hand. “I can stop today right now, if you want.” he asks.

Soap’s breath hitches, and he’s instantly thrown back to the first day, shaky hands wrapped around his, pulling the trigger-

“No.” he blurts, “I- I don’t want ye to…”

Ghost scans his features, before nodding and standing up, offering a hand for Soap. He takes it, a bit flustered when Ghost doesn’t let go.

“We can leave, then.”

“Leave?”

“The base. For tonight.” Ghost offers, “I have a place in mind. Will take us about thirty to reach it.”

Soap frowns, guilt gnawing at his heart, “and the others…?”

Ghost lowers his gaze, “won’t remember a thing.”

He swallows his feelings down, nodding weakly. It hurts, to let them die and do nothing to stop it, but they both know it won’t matter by the end of the night.

They would’ve been dead a dozen times over if it did.

Ghost leads him outside, motioning him to stay low and quiet as they reach the northern side of the wall surrounding the base. The Lieutenant kicks at the fence, a section surprisingly loose, enough for them to crawl out and into the grassy hills outside. Soap sends him a look, to which Ghost just shrugs and says, “I’ll report it when we reach tomorrow.”

When, he notes. Not if.

He continues walking beside him, his figure almost melting into the night skies, save for the bone-white skull mask he grew to love.

A gale brushes upon them, the tall grass and bushes sway along with it. It’s… peaceful.

Until a far away explosion rattles the earth.

Soap freezes, hand pulling on Ghost’s. He knows his eyes must be desperate, when they meet his.

Ghost delicately untangles their fingers, to instead wrap a supporting arm around his shoulders. He leans in to whisper, “just a little more, Johnny.”

It’s odd, how those arms can instantly make Soap feel safer, that voice guiding his mind away from base, to a little bubble of their own.

They walk up a small hill, where at its top stands a single, ancient looking tree. Soap marvels at the place, the fact that somewhere like this exists so near to their base, oblivious to the horrors of their endless deaths.

Ghost sits down, ignoring the crunch of dry grass beneath him, and lays back to stare up at the stars. Soap, as always, follows.

The sky seems endless this way, like his tether to the ground can break with a small tug. Stars shine brightly across the darkness, tiny specks that are still so beautiful despite being so far away.

Soap turns his head to look at Ghost, those brown eyes almost black now, reflecting the universe back at him. It makes something hurt in his chest, reminds him just how much he has to lose, if he chooses to give up.

And Soap finds he really, truly, doesn’t want to give up. If only to see the stars again, feel a cooling wind against his skin again, laugh with Gaz and get a pat on the back from Price, lay back and watch colors swirl in Ghost’s, Simon’s, eyes.

“I want to try again, tomorrow.” Soap whispers, watches the moment Ghost processes the words, “and the day after that, and after that, until we reach an end. Whatever it may be.”

It brings him a significant amount of joy, that he has learned to tell when Ghost smiles by now, “whatever it may be.” he repeats.

Ghost’s wristwatch beeps three times, and Soap stares at it as he brings it closer to his face to read.

“Two minutes to midnight.” he informs.

Soap sighs, wishing the day wouldn’t have to end so soon, and yet also eager to get up and fight, “I’ll see ye in a few, LT?”

Ghost drops his arm, nodding resolutely, “always, Johnny.”

The stars melt into the void as they stare into each other’s eyes. 

A new day greets Soap, as it always does. This time, however, it feels different.

Soap gets out of bed, diligently dressing up, before a knock sounds on his door. Without opening, he knows whose behind it, and asks with a smile, “did ye ran outta bed today, Simon?”

“You’re just slow, Soap.” a muffled answer comes back, making him smile wider.

He unlocked the door, taking in the sight of Ghost. Same dark clothes he wears every single day (even before the loop, if he’s being honest), but the look in his eyes…

Seems like they both needed yesterday.

“Ready to talk with Price and Gaz?” Ghost motions with his head towards the hallway.

Soap cracks his knuckles, “let’s get teh work.”

Five minutes to power shutdown. The watchtower above him has been cleared, Price’s orders to the soldiers doing their work. Soap finishes planting the last of the charges, nerves somewhat settled by the fact he knows this part will work. There is a comfort in knowing exactly how a mission will go, for once. Well, this part at least.

“Got an eye on you, Johnny.” a low voice murmurs to him through their comms. Soap huffs fondly, sparing a moment to glance back at the base, searching for a sniper glint.

He smirks when he finds it, knows Ghost can read his expression with the scope he’s using, “only one? I’m offended, LT. Don’t think I deserve your full attention?”

“Think you’ve earned it?”

Soap makes a show of thinking over it, “hmm… What if I say yes?”

“Then I’d say you’re right, Sergeant.” Ghost radios back with a warmer tone. “Remember your promise?”

“Of course.”

A promise to try. A swear to fight. A vow to live.

“This is Price, me and Gaz are in position, what’s your status?”

“Explosives are set, in position.” Soap answers.

“Two minutes to power shutoff.” Ghost warns. Soap clenches his jaw and backs away, detonator in hand.

Their plan for this loop is similar to the last one, with Soap dropping the watchtower on the infiltrating group, while Gaz and Price take point at the barracks. They made minor adjustments to positions, using the intel they’ve collected in the previous run, and one major change.

This time, Soap has Ghost to watch his six.

He’s been through this so many times, he didn’t need to watch the clock to know exactly when the lights will go out.

The darkness makes his breaths quicken a tad, but Soap grinds his teeth and pulls the reins on his own mind. Even if they fail today, they have an infinite amount of tries.

He takes a sharp inhale, covers his eyes, and detonates. The familiar sound of dozens of tonnes of metal crashing down is like music to his ears, and Soap opens his eyes to watch bullets flash through the night sky. Ghost picking off the remaining hostiles.

“How was the light show?”

Ghost sighs, putting on an air of irritation that Soap has learned to see past, “splendid, Soap. I’d put a picture of it right next to the definition of a pyromaniac in the dictionary.”

Soap begins running towards the barracks, knowing he has mere minutes before the hostiles reach it, “ye say the sweetest things teh me, Simon.”

“Wasn’t a compliment.” Ghost mutters, “I’ll meet you on ground in ten.”

“Copy.”

The barracks building fast approaches, dark windows flaring every few seconds with gunfire. He’s about to rush in when a hand wraps around his nape. Soap reaches for a knife he slipped up his sleeve when he hears a gravelly voice near his ear.

“Thought we’re not runnin’ off on our own anymore.” Ghost murmurs, scolding him lightly.

Soap sags against his grip. “Attacker doesn’t get me for another thirty-four minutes.”

“Don’t care. Haven’t been through this version of the loop enough times to know where every hostile is.” Ghost guides him to the direction of the side door, “be careful.”

Soap nods, skin feeling cold when Ghost releases him. They make their way down dark hallways, NVGs on, echoing bullets getting closer and closer. Someone runs out of a door to their left, and Soap has mere seconds to figure out which side they’re on.

Tactical vest, rifle in hand, ready for combat. A clean shot through the head and the man is dead.

The air around them is charged, his lungs almost choking on the tension, but his hands are steady on his gun, as years of military training drilled into him.

“Soap, Ghost, we’re getting overrun in block B! Where the fuck are you?” Gaz pants into his mic, choppy gunfire slips around his voice.

“Clearing block A, but Ah can come yer way-”

Ghost cuts him off, “we are on our way to you, Garrick. Don’t take unnecessary risks.”

“Copy.” Gaz clicks off. Wordlessly, they start running.

So many things can go wrong, finish their loop early, make them fail. Before, it felt like the entire world was fighting against them, the very fabric of time and space coiling around their throats and smothering their lungs.

Ghost sprints ahead of him, a long blade in hand as he opens the door to block B, and the knife gets buried into an unlucky hostile.

Things are different now. Soap lines a shot with another bastard trying to flank Ghost. The Lieutenant turns to give him a thankful nod.

They have to be different.

Block B houses the 141, among other squads. Usually at this hour, its hallways are empty and quiet, the occasional sleepless soldier drifting towards the common room.

Tonight, barracks have been turned into cover for both friendlies and hostiles, every uncleared room a possible hiding hole for a henchman waiting to blow a hole in their face. Soap and Ghost find the rest of their taskforce in the middle of shooting enemies running between the rooms.

“What’s the situation, Captain?” Ghost crouches down beside Price, peppering a few shots when hostiles pop their head to return fire.

Price grunts, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, “fuckers keep crawling out like roaches up ahead, we can’t push forward like this.” He glances at Soap, “got anything left that we can use, Sergeant?”

Soap mentally runs through the supplies he gathered this afternoon from the armory, “got five Semtex, three frags, a drill charge-”

“Give me a Semtex.” Ghost orders, lifting a hand without looking away from the target-rich hallway. Soap places it in his palm, curiously watching him throw it on a hostile rolling to cover. The man had too much momentum to stop his slide, and he shouts when he realizes he’s just brought a grenade into a room full of his teammates.

A loud explosion, and Soap whistles lowly, “feckin’ ruthless, Ghost.”

The 141, along with the rest of the soldiers who have been sleeping in block B until the base was invaded, use the break in the enemy’s defences to push forward, overwhelming the henchmen and making them scramble back to avoid death.

As they fight, Soap notices a group of hostiles around a single man, seemingly protecting him. When one of them moves, he catches a glimpse of their face, and his blood boils over.

Anthony Simmons, in the flesh. The man responsible for the attack.

Soap knows, somewhere in the recesses of his mind, that Simmons isn’t the one responsible for the existence of the time loop. He had no way of knowing, that attacking the base will cause time to break around Soap and Ghost.

But he has watched his teammates, his friends, get shot by his men countless times, felt unimaginable pain, helpless when that pain broke him, broke Simon.

Soap knows it’s not his fault, but fuck if he’s going to let him walk out of this intact.

Before anyone can stop him, he breaks into a run after Simmons. The man has lost more of his henchmen at this point, his little circle of soldiers dead at his feet, so he fled deeper into the building. The rest of his men, however, still stand between Soap and Simmons.

Soap pulls out his knife again, this time intending to use it, slipping under thick arms that try to wrestle him down, and stabbing his opponent in the ribs. He quickly slits his throat and continues the chase.

Voices ring out of his comms, a mix of concern and anger from his squad. Soap plans to ignore them, until one stands out.

“You fucking promised me Johnny, don’t do this to me!”

His steps falter, and after a beat he decides to answer, “Ah’m going to end this, once and for all. In pursuit of Anthony Simmons.”

“You’re going after Simmons alone?!” Gaz grunts, clearly in the middle of fending off an enemy.

Ghost’s voice is dripping with rage, “is he really worth killing yourself for, Sergeant?”

Soap can tell, behind that furious voice, that Simon is scared. That anger for Ghost is a smokescreen for anything else.

…They are the same in that regard, aren’t they?

“No.” Soap realizes, “it’s not.”

The comms are quiet. He scans the way ahead, understands that Simmons has no other place to hide besides…

“He’s in our common room. Waiting for backup around the corner.”

“...Copy. We’re five minutes out.” Ghost sighs, previous anger fizzling out.

Soap stares ahead, at the familiar path to their common room, now dark and lifeless. It’s a path he never walks alone, and today will not be any different.

His team arrives one minute early, bloody and bruised and worse for wear, but alive, so blessedly, wonderfully, alive.

“Gaz, keep an eye on our six, Ghost, Soap, with me.” Price commands, back straight and weapon at the ready.

They take measured steps to their common room, small noises and grunts like gunshots in the silence. Simmons sounds agitated, whispering orders into his radio. He clearly didn’t expect anyone to follow him, evident by the door he left wide open, and the fact he left his gun to lean against the wall.

Ghost walks ahead, footsteps perfectly noiseless, slinking behind their target like a predator circling its prey.

Soap cringes inwardly when his boot connects with the end of the couch, a small thunk alerting Simmons. As unprepared as the man was, he still noticed, head perking up and hand dropping from his comms.

Shite.

Simmons gets up with a sudden flurry of movement, hands instantly on his weapon. Ghost attempts to apprehend him, but the man starts shooting wildly all around him while screaming, “not gonna let you 141 rats fuck with me again!”

Simmons swings his gun to his left, and Soap watches in horror as the barrel lines with Price’s heart. He makes the split second decision to tackle the Captain.

They both grunt when they hit the floor, Soap feeling hot pain spread through his shoulder. Bastard got lucky.

Ghost takes the opening to Simmons’ right, and Soap barely sees the meager light in the room reflect onto his blade before it slices into Simmons’ neck. Ghost twists it once, and pulls it out, allowing the body to fall.

Gaz rushes into the room at that moment, spotting Ghost looming over their target’s dead body, and him and Price still on the floor, “fuck- Captain, Soap, are you broken?”

Soap pushes off Price with a groan, the Captain answering, “negative. Soap, what’s your status?”

Price places a hand on his shoulder, one that would be comforting in any other scenario, but in this one makes him yelp in pain. Price pulls his hand away, Gaz crouching down beside him to inspect the gunshot wound, “shit, Soap’s been hit.”

Soap’s mind transports him to the last loop, to Ghost’s unshakeable decision to reset before he could suffer any longer, and blurts out, “jus’ a gunshot wound teh the shoulder. I’ll live.”

He turns his head back to Ghost, the giant man standing above him like a fucked up guardian angel.

The power chooses at that moment to come back on, blinding all of them. They flip their NVGs up, rubbing their eyes and groaning, when Soap notices Ghost’s watch beeping. They make eye contact.

“Two minutes to midnight.” Soap whispers. He reaches with his uninjured hand to Simon’s, making him sit back on his haunches. He brings the watch closer to his face, senses Gaz and Price huddle around it as well.

Four pairs of eyes watch the little clock tick closer and closer to midnight with bated breath. Thoughts begin to whirl in his head, that perhaps this wasn’t the answer, that there is just no possible solution to this wretched loop.

2359…

0000.

Midnight. Soap looks up, sees his shock reflected in Ghost’s dark eyes.

They’re free.

The 141’s common room might be Soap’s favorite. It’s nothing fancy, a couple of ratty couches, a kitchenette. No TV, and near-constant mold under the sink.

Soap wouldn’t have it any other way. Sitting here, chatting with Gaz about nothing and everything, laughing when Price acts in a way that reminds all of them how old he is, feeling Simon’s arms wrapped around him, Soap wouldn’t change a thing.

Well… one thing has changed. A clock has been mounted on the wall, along with a calendar.

Time continues moving. Soap knows his future will hold unmeasurable amounts of pain, that his end might be closer than he thinks it is. That their little common room will eventually fall silent, for good. But Soap also knows he will get to have more days like these, memories of incomparable comfort and soul-deep calm. Moments that are worth the pain.

And it’s that knowledge, that makes hope bloom in his chest. In his heart, and in deep brown eyes, that now crescent for him more than Soap could’ve ever wished for.

[mr-walkingrainbow]

TORALEI ANGST LORE DROP???

TORALEIS FINALLY IN FUCKING THERAPY WAHOOOOOO!

NOOOOO ITS FAMILY THERAPY MEANING SHE HAS TO SEE HER FUCKING NIGHTMARE OF AN ABUSIVE ASS MOTHER. IT ALSO PROBABLY MEANS SHES GETTING RETRAUMATIZED NEARLY EVERY FUCKING TIME

COME ON CLAWDEEN WHY ARENT YOU LOVING YOUR GIRLFRIEND?!?!

THE REFORM CENTER FOR BEASTIE BADDIES?!! THE FUCK DID THEY JUST COMBINE JAIL. A MENTAL HOSPITAL. ALCOHOL ANONYMOUS AND CHILD PROTECTIVE SERVICES ALL INTO ONE ?!

ALSO? CATARINAS ALIVE? THATS UH? Not bad I guess? This is literally the first confirmation we’ve gotten that she survived the finale. So uh. That’s good I guess. Somewhat. HAHA ALOWS ME TO TORTURE TORALEI MORE IN FANFICS HAHAHAHAHAH!

I’m literally in love with this so fucking much. But really. Come on. The society could do better. Get toralei in individualized therapy. Catarina should be in rehab WAY longer then she’s been before they even initiate such type of conjoined therapy. Operating under basic guidelines. They can allow supervised visits between mother and daughter but they shouldn’t be in something like therapy till the mom’s somewhat proven/served time that allows them to see she’s headed on the right path. Not to mention they’d BOTH be in individualized therapy as well. It wouldn’t just be family therapy like this. Also. I love that Toralei got to stay at the Wolfs house. But??? What the fuck was CPS thinking? They’d never put a child with a random family who has no foster care license when she has ALIVE AND WELCOMING NEXT OF KIN. Toralei literally could have stayed with the weretwins and her aunt/Uncle. Like??? The cousins ADORE her! (Too a concerning agree. Don’t get me wrong I love their relationship. But Persephones treating dissapointing toralei like it’s life or death. I could somewhat understand that panic for a parent. But it’s somewhat unhealthy for a cousin. Although it’s not completely odd. I know I’d be destroyed if I ever dissapointed my older cousin who I look up too. I feel like it’s somewhat like that?)

Anywho. I LOVE how supportive Meowlody and Pursephony are with toralei and family therapy. They don’t judge her. And they don’t judge their aunt. Just tell her to say hi for them. They offer unwavering support and with how much Toraleis currently getting I’d say it’s dearly needed.

also. Not related but I LOVE Meowlody having adhd. I have adhd and I connected with her SO FUCKING MUCH in this episode. Jsut in this clip. Her volume control and excitement about the ‘wrong things’ just is so relatable. Her being confident but also somewhat not confident about a list of tasks. Practically begging her sister to realize she really did listen but it’s so hard to remember and things get confused and to show that we DO have good memory! We just see it in different ways! God. Amazing. My only thing is I wish she would have audibly confirmed it. Like we know they had Twyla verbally say she’s autistic. Why couldn’t they do that for adhd? It’s odd but I’ve never actually seen it verbally stated in tv before.

anywho uh- I’m gonna be writing so much fucking toralei angst so yall should be on the lookout!

AND YO THAT OPERETTA GENERATION ONE REFERENCE WAS UNHINGED I LOVE IT

And yo was that a hint of FUCKING YARN SALT AKA MEOWLODY X BARKIMEDES I SAW???

[zeldadeservesabreak]

“Where did all the Sheikah tech and shrines go?”

… is one of the most annoying questions I’ve seen repeated over and over again by people and theorists. Because the answer is quite literally in your face the entire game if you just pay attention to the details.

There’s actually 3 very obvious reasons for the shrines and towers disappearing. And since I get this question a lot, I’m gonna answer them here:

1. They were repurposed by Robbie and Purah.

This is the most direct answer with evidence you can clearly see. Purah and Robbie are still tinkering with stuff, and the Purah Pad is a perfect example of this. It is very clearly still Sheikah technology. It looks and acts just like the Sheikah Slate, but it’s more refined and streamlined. So it’s pretty apparent that since the events of Breath of the Wild she and Robbie have continued their studies and made improvements on the tech.

Additionally every one of the sky view towers houses guardians underneath. This is very clear in the little cut scene that plays out when you activate one for the first time. Guardian legs pop out, and then apply the appropriate gear to you before launching you into the sky. If you pay attention to Link’s reaction as well, the first time this happens in Lookout Tower he is visibly FREAKED OUT by this. No doubt a reflexive defensive reaction to his time fighting Guardians in the last game.

So the tech isn’t entirely gone. It’s been repurposed.

2. It was dismantled on Zelda’s orders.

This is not explicitly said, but it’s heavily implied. Zelda has been traveling with Link since the first game and helping to rebuild Hyrule. Part of healing from a calamity is removing evidence of that calamity so that people can move on with their lives and not be reminded of the thousands that died.

This is also probably because Zelda feels guilty about the role she played. After all she was the one who unearthed the guardians in the first place. She set up the very same guardians that eventually got possessed by Calamity Ganon and DESTROYED THE WORLD.

Also, having finally stopped the calamity it is in Hyrule’s best interest to remove technology that could still be beneficial to your enemies. The last thing they need is another calamity happening that reactivates all the dead Guardians… again. (More on this later)

You can find evidence of this in many places where shrines once existed now only exist an empty patch that resembles the shrine’s shape. These patches are clean, do not disturb the landscape much at all, and it seems much more controlled and surgical compared to what I’m about to talk about in the next section. I believe these patches are where Zelda’s construction team are responsible for dismantling the shrines.

So it’s pretty clear to me that healing the land from the calamity by removing them and any other Sheika tech/shrine would be a priority.

3. Ganon’s Gloom destroyed the rest.

This is also not explicitly stated, but is pretty clear when you examine the facts. Gloom is extremely dangerous. Far more dangerous than the calamity’s corruption. Gloom saps your life away and is the reason all weapons in Hyrule just suddenly decayed when the upheaval happened. It’s so powerful that it literally decayed the Master Sword! The most powerful weapon in the Zelda franchise got instantly destroyed by gloom from Ganon’s initial attack.

So taking this evidence and extending it further… what’s something Ganon would want to get rid of? How about something that could be used against him? Like, say…. The divine beasts and the guardians… or how about a magical shrine that could resurrect a fallen hero?

His calamity form was destroyed by the technology initially, and while he took his revenge by possessing them the next time, the divine beasts were eventually ripped away from his control by Link and the sages were able to fire upon him yet again. So that tech is dangerous and Ganon isn’t dumb. He’s not gonna risk the same mistake happening again.

And there is evidence of this as well. If you travel around Hyrule, in many of the places where Sheikah shrines once existed you will often find bandit camps or giant gloom infestations with sink holes into the depths.

So what happened to the divine beasts and the rest of the Sheikah shrines and tech that wasn’t repurposed or dismantled? Ganon’s gloom destroyed it.

Conclusion.

I know that it’s frustrating that there aren’t many reference to these things by NPC’s. It could easily have been handled by a couple lines of dialogue by a few random characters here or there. But to be honest I look at this as just another puzzle left by the developers.

Like so many aspects of the Zelda franchise, it’s often left to you (the player) to piece together clues and small details to form your own conclusions to things. Environmental storytelling is very much a huge part of both Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom’s world building. To me the fact that there are so many clues about what happened is an indication that the developers did understand that people would question this.

The problem I’m seeing is that after asking the question “where did all the Sheikah tech go?” people are either too unimaginative or very unobservant, and don’t bother trying to ANSWER that question.

The answer is in the game. It’s all around you. You’ve been walking over it, around it, and diving into it (quite literally) while you’ve been playing.

[prasidice]

i’m replaying tgaa so, so slowly and it’s because every fucking time kazuma speaks i feel the need to write an essay on it. so here’s essay #1 of many — today focusing on the ending of 1-1!! the interplay of faith/hope and cynicism in 1-1 is SO compelling and it’s so easy to miss on your first playthrough. major major tgaa1+2 spoilers ahoy!

i’m gonna start with the assassin exchange. i’ve always been really curious about if kazuma had any idea if jezaille was his assassin counterpart, and now that i’ve replayed 1-1, i’m soooo certain he knew or at least heavily suspected:

kazuma is the one who brings up jezaille’s fate even though he really should be the one most knowledgable on what happens next here. curious in and of itself. and then his silence—as opposed to any sort of outrage, dismay, or disbelief—when the consular court is brought up is SO telling, especially considering how kazuma often shuts down a bit when the assassin exchang is brought up (e.g., turning “grave” when jigoku reminds him of his mission as he pronounces his verdict on ryuu). 

so then i think this next exchange is really curious:

it’s egregiously on the nose, especially the “serious incident of a highly political nature” and “secret agreements” comments. i think this is the most compelling evidence we have that kazuma heavily suspects or is outright certain that jezaille is his assassin counterpart—and it makes sense, especially given that he was just reminded of the assassin exchange and would have it at the forefront of his mind. 

but besides that, i think these comments are interesting in multiple ways—in how kazuma seems to almost be wheedling mikotoba and hosonga for information, but more importantly, in their cynicism. 

i think so much about how kazuma had to agree to be an assassin to get to england at all—to say nothing of the confirmation bias of it (in that genshin is seen as a murderer and now kazuma is seemingly following in his footsteps), just… the moral weight of it, the feeling of being a pawn, and how it ruins the idea of justice/morality existing in england or japan. to see that this is how the exchange plays out—that it could’ve effectively ruined not just an innocent person’s life, but ryunosuke’s life, can only intensify his moral injury. and, what, when the truth is found out, it’s not even used properly?

so then let me take you to the heart of this essay:

it makes sense, with all this going through kazuma’s head, that he doesn’t think he has the makings of a lawyer anymore. or that he should be one to begin with! because with all that he’s been through wrt genshin’s death and the letter and then the assassin exchange and now this, kazuma’s been conditioned to see the ugly side of things, always. to never give the benefit of the doubt. he’s only able to believe in ryunosuke because ryunosuke is his best friend, not because he has any actual ability to believe in or trust others. 

and even then, his demonstration of trust isn’t that wholehearted, at least to others—as can be seen with the whole affair of smuggling ryunosuke onto the burya without telling susato and how he is completely unable to tell ryunosuke or susato about the assassin exchange. and i think he desperately wants to, but completely lacks the ability to—like a muscle that’s atrophied away. he’s never been able to trust anyone, so he can’t now. which is why i think he gets so stuck on ryunosuke believing in him despite everything—it’s utterly foreign to him, and still ryunosuke does it, like it’s Just That Easy. 

i especially want to draw attention to “like you believed in me when you said i didn’t do it” / “i’m human, just like you.” “being able to remain faithful… that’s not something everyone can do.” i don’t think kazuma ever thought that ryunosuke Did It, but this exchange is so raw to me in that i think kazuma has such an innate suspicion of everyone around him that he probably was constantly on the lookout for something to sneak up on him—for something to prove that, no, ryunosuke is just like everyone else. and then—look—ryunosuke isn’t like everyone else. and imagine how that must feel for kazuma, to have that suspicion turned right back around and thrown in his face—yet another layer of shame for him. 

i’m really rambling at this point but i also think these passages are so poignant:

i know. i know. it’s a true level of insanity when you’re analyzing the “get you off” quote. but i do think it’s really interesting how every time ryunosuke’s faith in kazuma is brought up, it’s first and foremost about ryunosuke’s faith in kazuma’s ability as a lawyer, not anything about their relationship. “as a lawyer,” first, then “as a friend,” and “faith” that kazuma can “get him off.” the distance put between them here by kazuma, intentionally or unintentionally, again points to how kazuma just can’t trust others—can’t even trust in that others believe in him or hold him in any regard. like he’s internalized all the shame and ick of the law/politics that he’s been steeped in for so long. like he thinks of himself as nothing more than a product of it—a tool of it.

this is all to say that i think 1-1 frames faith/cynicism so beautifully and it is such an artful depiction of kazuma’s mental state at the time as well as how he and ryunosuke are foils to one another.  kazuma’s inability to believe in himself or others comes across so well and it illustrates how/why his relationship with ryunosuke really is that important. i think also it speaks to the degree to which kazuma has fashioned himself into a tool to avenge his father and nothing more—to the point that he can’t see himself as anything beyond it, and once the integrity of it is called into question, well, then what? 

i hope you enjoyed this silly little brainrot… i had so much fun typing it up :’) 

[whydontyousaeso]

“Dashing”

Dashing era Cody Rhodes x reader

Warnings- swearing

Type- Enemies to lovers

A/n- haha so guess what the wheel chose(I screamed when it landed on Cody). Tbh I’ve been obsessed with his dashing era recently so this was perfect for me. Next will be tattooed in your brain pt 5! So be on the lookout for that!

Tag list: @alyyaanna @queencherryberry @codyswhitebelt @lizzyd1ish @southerngirl41

“Hey y/n, you’re gonna be in a mixed tag team match against Brie Bella and Daniel Bryan”

“Okay, with who?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, you’ve got an hour before the match”

And with that the producer walked away.

You sighed, frustrated with the lack of answers.

It could literally be anyone, the miz, Randy orton, hell— even Batista.

You normally didn’t like mixed tag team matches, but you couldn’t stop what the people booked for you.

“There you are, I was wondering if you were purposely running away from me.”

Fuck.

You turned to see Mr “Dashing” Cody Rhodes standing there.

How pleasant.

“A little birdie told me that we were working together for the match tonight.”

“Well that same little birdie forgot to tell you to fuck off.”

“Hey hey, no need to be so hostile. We’re both in the same boat here.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your bag with your ring gear in it.

“I’m gonna go get ready. Don’t bother me until the match Rhodes.”

“Trust me, if there’s anyone I listen to it’s gonna be you baby doll.”

You huffed as you finished your hair, seeing the hour turn into fifteen minutes.

You were really dreading this.

“What’s wrong Y/n?”

You looked over at AJ

“I have to do a match with Cody”

“Wait seriously?”

“Yes and he’s a prick! He just cares about how he looks”

“But he looks good y/n! Come on you can’t be atleast a little attracted to him!”

You rolled your eyes.

Every diva was obsessed with him.

You didn’t see the appeal.

“Come on, he seriously looks good!”

You shook your head.

“I just want this match to be I’ve already.”

You came out first, making your way to the ring while Cody did his entrance.

You watched him, and in reality he did look good today, but you still hated his guts.

As he made his way onto the apron he winked at you, causing you to scoff.

Unfortunately you had to act like you liked him.

You turned your attention to the other two making their entrance.

They had just started dating recently, so of course they had to feed the crowd with lovey stuff.

You watched Bryan twirl her around and dip her, kissing her on her lips.

“Hey, you think that could be us?”

You turned to see Cody looking at you and smirking.

“Are you seriously trying to get laid while our match is about to start?”

He just shrugged with that shit eating grin.

“You’re unbelievable Cody.”

“Here is your winners, Dashing Cody Rhodes and Y/n!”

You stood up after pinning Brie, a smirk on your face.

Cody slid into the ring and reached out, but you turned away quickly.

“Come on y/n, I’m not that bad really.”

You shook your head and held up your hand with the ref, quickly getting out afterwards.

You saw him follow you, chasing quickly.

He wasn’t gonna let up any time soon.

You tried to make your way backstage as soon as possible, but it was like he just kept following you.

When you finally did make it you turned towards him, upset.

“I’ve done told you no, what do you not understand Rhodes?”

You grabbed your things quickly and started making your way out, hearing him chase after you.

“I know that you’re also extremely stubborn. I don’t chase after women surprisingly.”

“Then what are you doing now?”

“Okay I am chasing after you now but it’s because I’m genuinely attracted to you y/n.”

You shook your head and turned around, facing him and his smirk.

“What will make you leave me alone.”

“Let me take you on a date now. It doesn’t have to be long but please.”

You looked at his facial expressions, despite that shit eating grin you could tell he was desperate.

“Fine. I’ll be ready in thirty minutes.”

You met Cody outside, he was gonna be the one driving you.

“Ready pretty lady?”

“Let’s get this over with.”

He took your bags from you and helped you get in the car.

Atleast he was a gentleman.

The car ride was mostly silent, he would ask a question or two and you would give a single word answer.

When you guys got to the restaurant, it seemed to change.

It was like he dropped the fuck boy persona and was just a normal guy.

“What’s with this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just drop the persona to woo someone?”

“You know how it is, if I’m not that I’m no one there y/n.”

You shrugged.

“I get that, but seriously you choose that?”

“It was the best I could come up with.”

“I don’t believe that.”

You felt the hate you had slowly slip away.

Damn him.

“I could say the same thing about you.”

“It’s only because of the attitude you had. I didn’t like it.”

He chuckled and crossed his arms.

“I’ve got a chance now?”

“Thin ice”

“That’s better than in the river drowning.”

“You taking me home after this?”

“I can do more then that”

“Don’t push it Rhodes”

“I had to take my shot somewhere”

You shook your head and chuckled, watching the waiter as your food came out.

He wasn’t bad at all.

As he helped you out of the car at your house you gave him a small smile.

“Thanks for dinner Cody.”

“It’s nothing, sorry I annoyed the shit out of you at the show.”

You laughed.

“I think it’s okay now.”

You smiled bigger snd pulled him closer to you, pulling him down slightly and kissing him on his lips.

Surprisingly his lips were soft on yours, and he knew what he was doing.

He didn’t grab your waist, but instead held your face gently with one hand and your hand in the other.

You pulled back and kissed his cheek.

“We’re gonna have to do this again Cody, you gotta let me know though.”

He smiled from ear to ear, letting you walk to your door.

“I most definitely will.”

[btsgotjams27]

this is us - ksj

✨ title: this is us - an alternate timeline

✨ pairing: jin x f!reader

✨ word count: 1.1k | ✨ rating: pg-13

✨ genre/au: fluff, romance ✨ warnings: kiss

✨ a/n: hi everyone! it’s been a while since i’ve revisited this story, and who else could give me inspiration atm besides jin (hehe). so this takes places two years after oc + jk’s breakup. just wanted to dabble in things that could’ve happened if oc didn’t go to LA! i’m also throwing around ideas for yoongi too, so be on the lookout for it. enjoy my friends.

“Who would've thought? Our best friends becoming best friends?” Yuna says before darting off to tuck Indie in bed.

You and Jin give each other a look before laughing off her words.

Two years ago, you wouldn't have dreamed of being close friends with Jin, but losing the love of your life pushes you closer to others when you need it most.

After Jungkook left, Jin kept a close eye on you, inviting you to hang out for game nights or when he wanted to try out a new recipe, you were a casualty to his delicious food. 

He’s always made an effort to make you laugh and keep things light, and it's something you've been missing for a long time. Being with Jin is easy because he doesn't expect anything of you. Let's you be, but is always there to pick you right back up if you go astray.

“I can't believe another year has passed by already. How do we make time stop?” You ask, picking up an empty champagne flute, bringing it into the kitchen.

“Hm, maybe I can come up with an invention that'll keep me looking Worldwide Handsome forever. Whattya think?” Jin purses his lips and raises a brow.

“I don't think you'll never not be Worldwide Handsome. We'll just need an invention to keep me from becoming an old lady,” you chuckle, rubbing your hand. The numbing sensation in your nerves hasn't gone away. You blame the endless amount of sitting in front of your laptop, trying to write the next episode of your new show.

Jin puts down a party hat, taking your hand in his. He rubs the palm of your hand, trying to soothe the pain. “Still numb?”

You hiss when he hits a certain spot, trying to pull away, but he doesn't let you. “Yeah, only when you're around and stress me out.”

“To be fair, I’m only around because I don’t want your death on my hands. Can’t have you go dying on me. I’d never hear the end of it from Yuna,” he says.

Your eyes fall on his thumb softly circling the palm of your hand. Heart’s racing, pulsating harder than normal. His brows are furrowed, concentrated on removing the numbing that’s causing your current pain.

“Does it feel better?” he asks, eyes flicking to yours then back at your hand.

Yeah, it does. It feels better when Jin’s around, tending to you, but you also feel guilty because he’s always worried about you. Who worries about him?

“Egg Puff—hello—are you listening?”

You huff when you hear him calling you egg puff. “Can you please call me anything but ‘egg puff’? I hate that nickname. But yeah, it’s feeling better now,” you answer, removing your hand from his grasp.

Jin laughs. “Not my fault all you eat are egg puffs, and by the way, you’re welcome for making you feel better.”

You point your finger at the handsome man. “Egg puff waffles are delicious and I’m helping the sweet woman by bringing her business.”

“Every day though? That’s a lot of carbs.”

“You’re one to talk with all the….the…” What the hell has he been eating everyday? “With all the jajangmeyon you’ve been scarfing down!”

“Aye—stop with all this bickering and just kiss already,” Taehyung says, creeping up behind you with Hyunie trailing behind.

You roll your eyes at your friend’s husband. You love Taehyung, you do, but sometimes he deserves a good strangle.

“It’s almost midnight!” Hyunie squeals along with light claps. “Who are you gonna kiss?”

You stare blankly at your friend. Kissing on New Years is such a dumb tradition. “No one—like I have been doing for the past two years. This year isn’t going to change,” you reply.

“Ugh—you’re no fun! Come on,” Hyunie comments, then leans in to whisper, “It’s just a measly kiss. Besides, sometimes you have to kiss your friends just to relieve all that sexual tension—make sure it really does mean nothing.”

It's just a kiss, right? You're friends with Jin, that's all. It’s a meaningless kiss on New Year's.

Jin gives you a look and shrugs. “It’s up to you.”

“Promise you won't fall in love with me?” You ask.

Jin snorts. “Can't make any promises.”

You gasp, smacking his chest. “Okay, yeah, no kissing.”

“You'll get bad luck for five years if you don't,” Hyunie yells toward you.

“Yeah! It happened to me once,” Taehyung affirms.

You roll your eyes at the two insane lovebirds. Know they're lying just so the two of you will kiss. “Well, I already have bad luck. What's five more?”

“Just say you're a bad kisser and I'll find someone else to kiss before the New Year. I don't want bad luck.”

“I'm not a bad kisser!”

Jin shrugs. “Guess I'll never know.”

“Kiss him. Kiss him,” both Hyunie and Tae begin taunting the pair of you.

You huff, looking up at the handsome man. “If you use tongue, I will cut it off!”

Jin raises his hands up in defense. “No tongue. I promise. I don't do that until the 5th date or so,” he teases.

“This kiss means nothing. Just lips on lips!”

“Damn, you're kinda harsh. Kinda don't wanna kiss you now.”

The hushed crowd that's still around begins to countdown.

“Now I gotta find someone else to kiss before I get bad luck!” Jin exclaims, looking around to see who’s free.

“You know they're just lies, right?”

“Easy for you to say! You already have bad luck. I don't want it.”

Six, five, four….

“Why are you so easily swayed by Hyunie and Tae anyway?”

“I'm not! I don't understand why you just won't kiss me. It's just a dumb kiss.”

Three, two….

“Friends just can't go around kissing friends. That's now how it works!”

One…

And before you know it, Jin's pillowy lips are on yours.

Everyone's cheering with greetings of Happy New Year, but you're only focused on his fresh, clean scent invading your space. His lips capture yours once again before he slowly pulls away. Eyes are still closed. Noses brushing against each other. His breath is still warm.

You're lingering far too long. Not wanting to let the moment go.

It's just a dumb kiss, you remind yourself.

Kim Seokjin is nothing more than a friend. Someone who has seen the ins and outs of your happiness and heartbreak. Someone who has kept you smiling and laughing for the last two years. Someone who expects nothing but for you to be yourself. There's no judgment from him, far from it. 

But you have to admit, what if he was your date for Yuna’s wedding? What if you had gone out with him instead? You'll never know the outcome if that timeline continued instead of the one you journeyed through with Jungkook, so you shouldn't toy with those ideas. 

“You're not falling in love with me, are you?” Jin breaks the lingering moment between you. 

“In your dreams.”

[pimosworld]

The ties that bind

Pairing-Dave York x f!reader x Frankie Morales

Series summary- Dave is a private investigator who tracks down soulmates. He’s tasked to find Frankie’s, but what happens when he finds you and wants you all to himself?

CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW, angst,fluff,(m) masturbation,talks of loss of a parent and spouse, kissing,lots of music references, PTSD,slow burn

WK-7.9k

A/N- If I knew what was going to happen with Dave and Frankie I’d tell you but I don’t yet. Santi and Alicia (that’s all I’m going to say). Reader has some tough decisions to make.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter IV

You were starting to worry that Dave hadn’t contacted you since your lunch date. He didn’t really owe you anything. As much work as you’ve done on yourself you can’t quell those thoughts that run wild. What had you done wrong? He seemed genuinely interested in you, but maybe you were reading too much into things. 

  Your shirt clings to your sweaty skin, another unbearable hot and humid Florida day. The only difference is the store ac went out again and the repair man won’t be able to come in for a few days. 

Your current predicament is the only distraction from your own mind threatening to drive you crazy. 

  You contemplate closing the store for the day as you stare up at the poor excuse for a ceiling fan. Slowly whirling the warm tepid air amongst the room. The sound of the soft crackle of the speaker can be heard signaling the record is done but the back of the store might as well be a mile away. 

  Your phone buzzes and you glance down seeing Dave’s name on the Lock Screen. Part of you wants to ignore it but you told yourself you would work on not getting upset over trivial things. 

  “Hello.”

  “Hi hummingbird.” He sounds a little distressed and you prepare yourself for the let down. “I’m sorry I haven’t called…or texted.”

  “Mmm.” 

  “There was an emergency and I had to go home. I know that’s no excuse but I want you to know that I’m sorry and I’d like to see you again when I get back.” It’s all rushed out like he’s out of breath but he sounds sincere. 

  You were honestly expecting him to ignore you and the apology is something foreign to you. Taking accountability is admirable….but. 

  “Did Mrs. Dave need you home with the kids?” You hate the bitterness in your tone but the heat and your emotions are running high. 

  He sighs deep on the other end. “I know you have no reason to believe me. I’m not married and there’s no one waiting for me at home.” As much as it hurts to say out loud it’s the truth. “My last name is York by the way.”

  “I’m sorry.” You let out an exasperated breath. “I don’t mean to be so crass. I really like you and that scares me because I know next to nothing about you.” 

  “If you give me a chance I promise I’ll tell you everything.” You can sense the desperation in his voice. “I actually have something planned for you if you’d like to spend some time with me tomorrow night?” 

  It’s sweet that he’s already thought of you. You really want to see him again and you know Alicia will be busy with Santiago anyway. You hope what you’re feeling are the good kind of butterflies at the prospect of spending more time with him. 

  “Okay…I like surprises.” Your voice perks up a little at the end. 

  “Great, I’ll meet you at the store at 7. It’s not a far walk from there.” 

  You’re curious and excited as to where you’re going. You find yourself nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as you wait for one of you to hang up. 

  “I’m gonna hang up first so we don’t end up doing the thing.” You hear him chuckle on the other end with a faint ‘bye hummingbird’ before you end the call. 

  ****

  Frankie has had a day to calm down and clear his head. He decided against Santiago being his lookout for Dave. He wanted to have this experience all on his own without the threat of an altercation or further involving Santi who is now majorly distracted. 

  Santi and his connections called in an anonymous tip about Dave’s house being compromised which will surely put him out of commission for a few days. 

  Plenty of time for Frankie to swoop in and have you forget all about Dave. 

  It’s really so simple…he just needs to tell you who he is, how he met Dave and leave the ball in your court. Things aren’t ever really that simple. 

  It stings a little as he exits route forty one and sees the ‘Welcome to Naples’ sign. You were right under his nose but you might as well have been on the other side of the world. What were the odds that he’d ever find himself here let alone walking into the place you worked. One in a million he thinks. 

  He cranks up the ac in his Jeep as if that’s going to quell the heat trying to penetrate his skin through the windows. He probably should’ve done his hair instead of wearing his hat but now his sweat soaked curls are trapped underneath. 

  He subconsciously brushes his thumb along the roses where his ring used to be as he sits on the street where you work. His fingers tapping some song that’s been stuck in his head against the steering wheel as he practices what he’s going to say to you. 

  Fuck it just go

  The sun beats down on him as he slams the door to his Jeep and crosses the cobblestone street. He takes a few deep breaths not quite the way his therapist instructed but close enough as the window with the plants comes into view. 

  He had a plan to peruse the store if you were busy with other customers. He had a general outline of how he would approach you if you were alone in the store. He was however not prepared for the sight of you standing at the window as you flipped the closed sign. 

  ****

  You can’t take this anymore, it’s too hot and no one has come in for hours. Your boss can shove it for all you care. He can’t even be bothered to check in once a month. Closing up shop and going to the beach with Alicia sounds like a much better way to spend your afternoon. 

  You peel yourself off the chair at the front desk and grab your purse. As you flip the closed sign on the window you lock eyes with a rather handsome and distressed looking man. 

  He looks like he’s seen a ghost as he scrubs his hand behind his neck nervously. You’re not sure when the record store became a beacon for hot middle aged men but today was certainly not the day to entertain anymore. You hastily fix your hair and smooth out your shirt, while trying to put on your brightest smile. 

  “I’m sorry, we’re closing early. The ac is on the fritz and I just can’t sit here anymore.” You’re not sure he heard you as you wait for him to respond. “If you…want to come back tomorrow I can set something aside for you?” 

  “You’re so beautiful.” He says like he’s in awe as you give him an inquisitive look. 

  “I think we have that one,it’s just not available as a single. You’d have to buy the album.” He laughs as he realizes what he’s just said out loud. 

  “I ugh…sorry. I meant…never mind.” Fuck he’s totally bombing this. “You know I can take a look at it if you want. I’m pretty good with my hands.” That sounds worse than he intended but he can’t stop the words before they leave his mouth. 

  You glance over your shoulder at the empty store as you bite your lip. 

  He seems to notice your apprehension. “I’m not a creep or anything.” He takes off his hat running his fingers through his gorgeous curls. 

  “Hmmm, that sounds like something a creep would say.” You grin at him and lean back against the door signaling for him to come in. “I would appreciate it honestly, I have no idea when they’ll be able to come take a look. Then I’ll have to wait for approval to have it fixed and it’s just a whole thing.” You stop your incessant rambling when you see him taking in the surroundings. 

  His hands are on his hips as he stares at the posters on the wall. He’s broad and his shirt stretches taught along his back. He rolls his shoulders and turns to see you still standing in the doorway gawking. 

  Now who’s being a creep

  You clear your throat and fix your face to a neutral expression as you gesture for him to follow you toward the back. 

  Goosebumps trail along your arms as you walk in front of him, it’s assuredly not cold enough to cause such a sensation. His cologne and sweat is flooding your senses… perhaps you’re ovulating or something similar to desperation. 

  “You’re gonna have to talk handyman, I can’t stand the silence.” You tease as you peer at him over your shoulder. “Or maybe I can put some music on. What’s your preference?” 

  He tries not to focus on the way your hips sway when you walk and of course any music he’s ever listened to has left his brain entirely. 

  “Queen.” He blurts out and you laugh. It’s so disarming he relaxes his shoulders a bit. The letters of the cities are hard to make out on the back of your shirt but he can tell it’s Queen from the design. 

  “You cheated handyman.” Your voice drops to a flirtatious tone that he can’t ignore. You lift the dust cover and place a gently used record into a sleeve of The Essential Mozart.

  He leans on the table next to you, so close his breath ghosts over your neck. “So you're a classical gal.” 

  You snort as you raise your eyebrows. “No one’s ever called me a gal. And yes I enjoy the occasional Mozart, Debussy, Bach—.”

  “Okay now you’re just showing off.” You notice the dimple in his cheek when he says it and the way his arms look as he fold them across his chest. 

  “I’ve gotta put this useless music degree to some use.” You absentmindedly thrum through the records on the display until you find the one you want. “ aha…Queens greatest hits.” 

  He scoffs as he takes it from your hands. “I would hardly say it’s useless by the collection in your store.” He flips it over and gives you a questionable look. “And I would hardly call these the greatest hits.” 

  You snatch it back as you narrow your eyes. “Not my store. Although I’ve dreamt of running my own.” 

  Noted 

  A momentary glossy expression crosses your face as you carefully place it on the cloth. He watches as you delicately handle each piece like you’re plating a five star meal. You gingerly place the stylus on the edge as he hears the  familiar sound of record buzzing just before the music starts. 

  Is this the real life?

Is it just fantasy?

Caught in a landslide no escape from reality 

  You turn to him, arms crossed mirroring his stance as you lean into the table. A bead of sweat glides down your neck as he follows it to the v in your top before his eyes meet you again. 

  Open your eyes

Look up to the skies and see

  He throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, I stand corrected. But you have to admit there’s a few questionable picks here.” 

  You brush past him and he gets a whiff of something strawberry, maybe your shampoo. “I’ll admit it when you fix my ac handyman.” You wink and he’s no longer disguising that he’s checking you out because you’ve been shamelessly checking him out since he stepped foot inside. 

  He follows you into a small stock room, mostly empty boxes and a shelving rack with old paint and a few picture frames. He can see the old unit in the corner as you bend over to open the side panel. Fuck. You’re making it very hard for him to keep his mind in an appropriate place as you stand and wipe your hands along the back of your jeans. 

  “I’ll be honest, I have no idea what I’m looking at. I’ll get out of your way.” It’s too small in here as you awkwardly maneuver past him and he brushes against you murmuring apologies as you hold your breath. 

  He somehow already found a flashlight amongst the odds and ends on the shelf as he crouches down to take a look inside. You watch the way his shirt lifts up slightly revealing a small sliver of skin on his back. 

  “Now who’s being quiet.” His muffled voice comes from inside the unit. 

  “I just didn’t want to be a distraction while you’re working.” You hear an uncomfortable grunt as he sits back on his heels. He smirks at your stance as you lean casually on the wall with a perfect view of his ass. 

  “Mhm I’m sure…” He turns his hat around and it somehow gets impossibly hotter. “Listen, you can distract me all you want if you happen to have a screwdriver?” 

  You chew on your lip as you think and then start rummaging through the shelves when you find one amongst an abandoned project. 

  “Will this work?” You hand him a flat head and he looks particularly pleased as he takes it from you. 

  “This is somehow exactly what I need.” He resumes his work and you wince as you hear some questionable noises coming from within. “There’s just some ice build up on the evaporator coils.” His voice raises a little so you can hear him over the sounds of ice chipping from metal. 

  “Whatever you say handyman.” You pull out your phone to check the latest text from Alicia. You’ve been giving her subtle updates just in case he decided to turn into a weirdo. 

  “Francisco.” He says as your finger hovers over the send button of your last text. You watch him rise and lift his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. 

  You’re staring at the way his soft belly dips into the front of his jeans. You wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers along the seam of his boxers. 

  “Breaker?” The corners of his lip curl up into a smile as he catches you mid thought. “I need to see if this worked.” 

  “Sure ya…right over here.” You stammer out as you point him to the small box on the wall. 

  He flips a few switches and the sound you make when the air comes out of the vents is bordering on sinful. 

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You’re ecstatic and he’s got that satisfied look on his face with just a tinge of pride. 

  It’s a flicker of a moment as he hands the screwdriver back to you. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest when you see it. 

Distinctly your hummingbird tattoo on the inside of his right wrist. There’s no way he can’t know. Things were too easy with him, it’s almost laughable that it feels just like they said it would. 

  You turn to leave and stumble searching for the door handle, he pulls you back just as you're about to faceplant. “Slow down there. I can’t fix you if you break.” His voice in your ear and his hands on your waist…it’s all too much. 

  “Sorry I’m a little clumsy at times.” You grip the handle with an unsteady hand as you step out into the hallway. “There is a bathroom at the end of the hall if you need to wash up.” He offers a polite thanks as he takes in the concerned look on your face. 

  ****

  He stares at his reflection in the small bathroom mirror wondering where he went wrong. Everything was going so well. It was almost too easy. Maybe he was coming on too strong. He takes off his hat and splashes some water on his face. He’s looked better, but he’s definitely looked worse. 

  Get it together Morales

  He sees you when he returns seated in the lounge chair. The music has stopped and your foot is nervously tapping on the floor as you finish texting and place your phone face down on the table. 

  Your face is expressionless as you look up at him. “Have a seat please.” 

  He’s trying to think of something to say but he’s lost for words. 

  You cautiously grab his hand as he sits in the chair next to you. “Can I see?” He nods and holds his breath as you turn his arm over. Goosebumps raise on his skin as your soft hands trace the patterns of the wings on his forearm. Your breathing hitches as a small jolt of electricity runs through his veins. 

  He notices the roses on your ring finger. Roses meant for someone else, yet they look so perfect on you. Like they were destined to be yours.

  “Why roses?” You say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

  He clears his throat and shifts in the chair. “They were my ex-wife's idea. I didn’t dislike them.” He sees your shoulders drop a little at the confession. 

“Why a hummingbird?” 

  He sees you smile then, while he waits for your answer. “My mom…she always said I had endless amounts of energy.” You tilt your head and point to his other arm. “What’s with the hawk?”

  He tenses a little and his fingers flex in your hand. “Sorry, if this is too much.” 

  “Don’t be.” He quickly interjects “I’ve wanted to know for so long…everything about you.” 

  “I don’t even know who you are.” You try to keep your voice steady as he stares at you with those deep brown eyes. “You don’t even know my name.” 

  You tell him then…he has to pretend it’s a name he hasn’t heard before. 

  How does he even begin to tell you? Telling you about Dave would ruin everything. 

  You stand from the chair before he has a chance to start. “Do you maybe want to talk about this over some drinks? I owe you at least for fixing the ac.” 

   He relaxes at that as the air of flirtatiousness returns to the room. “If you think I’m letting you pay you are sadly mistaken.” 

  In the few brief seconds you had to yourself, Alicia practically screamed at you to go for it. Her tone let on that she may know more than you think but you shelved that for the moment and decided to be spontaneous. 

  You hold your hand out. “Let's go handyman.” 

  He snickers under his breath. “How long are you going to keep calling me that?” 

  Your hand in his feels right as it should, when you lead him to the front of the store. Dropping it briefly to grab your purse and keys to lock up. 

  “I doubt Francisco is your real name, so we’ll see.” 

  ****

  After the initial shock wore off of learning that Santiago was the one who tipped him off to you, you settled into the idea of how nervous he must have been to approach you. 

  You’ve got a crash course over the last hour in Francisco Morales. He prefers Frankie and you think that suits him better. He was a helicopter pilot in the military but now he flies commercially. His apprehension when you first mentioned the Blackhawk tattoo was something he wasn’t sure he was ready to address with you. 

  The way you listened so intently to his story of how proud he was when he first joined, he left out some of the more gruesome details of his time in the service. When he retired he wanted to commemorate it somehow and you were the one that ultimately helped him with his decision. 

  Your hummingbird was your first tattoo, your mom actually let you get it when you were seventeen. It was one of the last things you did with her before she passed. Frankie wanted to match. The guys gave him shit for it but seeing the way your eyes lit up when he told you made it all worth it. The whole ‘birds of a feather’ sealed the deal. 

  This isn’t quite how Frankie thought he would be spending his afternoon. He followed you out the store as you confidently led him to one of your favorite spots along the beach. A small bungalow bar overlooking the shore. Despite you having told him you weren’t from here, you seem to be a regular. The older red haired waitress Trudy gestures to your usual spot that's open and sends a wink your way. 

  You ran through all of the stereotypical questions, favorite color, favorite movie, favorite food. Hobbies, dreams and aspirations. He didn’t laugh when you mentioned you were afraid of the dark. You didn’t laugh when he said he was afraid of the rain.

  You talked about your dream of owning your own music store, getting to curate things to your liking. Much like you did at your current job…but it didn’t belong to you. 

  Frankie didn’t necessarily give off rich guy vibes but he let on that money was no longer an issue. He recently became part owner of the company he currently flies for. 

  It’s so easy, like long lost friends catching up. The way you listen so intently as you rest your head on your hand. He catches you often looking out into the water like you’re waiting for something. 

  Maybe he’s trying to make up for lost time or perhaps he wants all his cards on the table in case you determine that his baggage is too much. You don’t really think it’s baggage when he tells you that he’s in recovery and his ex wife left him for her soulmate. He’s been putting in the work to better himself, and if she hadn’t left you would’ve never met him. 

  In between the plate of shared nachos and beers the conversation shifts to you. You decide since he’s shared such intimate details about his life that it’s only fair you return the favor. You tell him about your mom…the reason you believed in soulmates in the first place. Your mom and dad, highschool sweethearts. Somehow destined to spend the rest of their lives together. When she got sick it all happened so fast, too fast for you to come to terms with the fact that your dad had already moved on. 

  The idea of soulmates left a sour taste in your mouth after you moved out of your dad and step moms home to go to college. It’s why you think you were so inclined to not find yours. People fell in love everyday and lived happily ever after without theirs. 

  You and Frankie’s stories are so similar in some ways. 

  You signal for the bartender to bring you another round before you tell the rest of your story. A comfortable buzz runs through your veins as your foot brushes the inside of his calf under the table. 

  You gasp as he grabs your ankle and places it in his lap. “Ticklish?” You shake your head as he raises an eyebrow at you. His fingers trace the gun tattoo and your body betrays you as you nearly kick him in his stomach. “The jury's out, maybe I should keep testing.” 

  “No please.” You giggle and his hands travel further but stop just before the crook of your knee before he gently sets it back down. 

  “So…what kind of gun is that?” You ask cautiously as you tilt your leg to the side. 

  He sighs deep. “It’s an M sixteen…it was a dare.” He hangs his head a little, knowing how that must look on someone like you. 

  “Oh right of course.” You say sarcastically as Trudy drops your drinks off at the table. 

  “Can I get you two lovebirds anything else?” She clicks her pen to the pad as you both lock eyes and burst into laughter.

  “No Trudy, we're fine, thanks.” She sends you a mischievous smile as she tends to the other patrons. 

  His eyes widen as you take a rather large sip of your drink. He can tell you have something to say so he waits patiently as he takes you all in. The way you squint your eyes when you’re thinking, the way you tap your foot when you're nervous. How bright your smile is and how everyone you seem to cross paths with has a special connection with you. It’s why he’s not prepared when you tell him about your ex. 

  “The gun was the last straw.” You trace the lines of condensation on your glass. “He couldn’t take anymore reminders that I wasn’t his.” 

  “You don’t belong to anyone.” His voice is stern as he takes your hand. “I would say sorry but…it’s his loss.” He gently presses his lips to your fingers and you have to fight to keep yourself calm. 

  “Ya…hers too.” 

  You squeeze his hand as you take in a sharp breath. He sees it then, the thing you were waiting for. As the sun sets through the palm trees and the yellow bleeds into red and orange. It’s a task not to watch you instead of the aquamarine water and the gentle waves kissing the shore. 

  Something so simple, that so many people take for granted and he thinks this may be the most perfect day he’s ever had. 

  Without second guessing himself he leans in close. “It feels wrong if I don’t kiss you right now.” 

  Your face is mere inches from his and you’d be a fool not to admit that you wanted to kiss him in the stock room earlier. “What are you waiting for?” 

  His lips are soft against yours, it’s like he’s breathing you in with each passing second. Your hand plays with the curls at the nape of his neck as he cradles your jaw. You don’t care if anyone’s watching right now because you’ve dreamt of this moment a thousand times. It’s electric, sending a shiver down your spine and he groans as you pull away biting his bottom lip. 

  Your forehead rests against his as you catch your breath. “I didn’t want to give anyone a free show.” 

  He chuckles and pecks your lips one last time. “We certainly wouldn’t want that.” 

  ****

  The walk home felt like you were floating. His hand in yours as he tugged you close. Stealing kisses whenever he could. The heat of the day was long forgotten as the gentle breeze rolled in with nightfall. It scared you a little how fast you fell into this domestic bliss with someone you just met. But isn’t that how it’s supposed to feel? Isn’t that why people are made for each other? 

  As you approached your apartment you could see from below the light was on, no doubt Alicia waiting up for you to hear all about Frankie. 

  “Well this is me.” You point up to the loft as you await the dreaded conversation that you’ve been wanting to avoid all afternoon. 

  He can sense your shift in mood as you rock back and forth on your feet. 

  “Frankie I…really want to see you again. I want to see where this goes.” You sigh as you look down at the pavement. 

  He grabs your hands in his as he steps into your space. “But?” 

  “But I met someone recently. I’m supposed to see him tomorrow.” You shrug as you look up at him. “I’m not the type of person to just abandon something, it’s not in my nature to be that cruel. I want to at least see it through, even if that means I’m letting him down easy.” His face is unreadable as you wait for his response. 

  He swallows thick trying not to let on that his blood is boiling. He can’t tell you who Dave is, he’s too far gone. 

  His hands drift from yours as they travel up your arms, your heart rate picks up and your eyes are wide with desire. His large hand cradles your face as he caresses your jaw. “Like I said…you don’t belong to anyone. You’re free to do what you want, all I ask is that you give me a chance. Do you think you can do that?” The way he asks you and the look in his eyes you would say yes to anything. 

  You nod your head in his hand as he licks his bottom lip, still tasting your chapstick from earlier. “I wouldn’t mind something to think about on my date.” 

  His eye twitches slightly at the word but he quickly recovers. “I was hoping you’d ask.” His lips meet yours again and the way your body fits against his is almost too much. Your hands grasp at the back of his shirt as he consumes you. You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as you feel the obvious bulge in his pants, a little overwhelmed at how quickly he’s got you falling to pieces. 

  “Get a room!” He inhales sharply as you laugh against his lips. Your laugh grows at his obvious confusion because of course you recognize the voice of your best friend. 

  “Ignore her please.” You half whisper as you kiss the small patch on his cheek where the hair is missing. “I don’t know how Santiago is gonna handle all that.” You gesture up towards the open window. 

  “Oh I’m sure he’ll find a way.” He pulls you into one last hug and reluctantly steps away. You have to distance yourself from him or you just might invite him up right now. “Don’t have too much fun tomorrow.” He says it in a teasing tone as he walks backwards, not wanting to tear his eyes from you. 

  “I’ll try.” You wave at him as you hear Alicia buzz you up to your apartment. 

  ****

  “How.could.you.keep.that.from.me.” You mercilessly hit your friend with a pillow as your crowd over her on her bed. 

  She laughs as she blocks your futile attempts at causing any permanent damage. “Once he told me it was too late to let you know.” She tilts her head feigning innocence. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m so sure.” You huff as you roll over laying next to her. “I’m so fucked.”

  “Not yet.” She laughs and dodges your last blow with the pillow. “I’m just kidding. I’m glad we can finally go on some double dates…maybe tomorrow?” She wiggles her eyebrows at you playfully. 

  You sit up against her headboard as you tuck your legs beneath you suddenly feeling a little ashamed. “Well…I’m actually going out with Dave tomorrow. I told Frankie and he seemed to be okay with it.Now saying it out loud it sounds a little ridiculous and to be honest with you, I have no idea what I’m doing.” You facepalm as you throw your head back ending your rant. 

  She sits up next to you and gently pulls your hands down, giving you that look that only you know a friend would give. She knows your mind is running a million scenarios of what you should be doing and how you should be acting. Trying to be ten steps ahead of every situation so you don’t find yourself in the one that landed you here. 

  “Listen to me.” She rubs your hands softly grounding you. “You don’t have to figure it all out yet, you’re just going on a few dates. As long as you’re upfront with your intentions with them, and they agree, what more could they ask for?” She sees you staring off into space not quite grasping her words. “Babe, you just met Frankie.”

  “Ya and I let him stick his tongue down my throat. In public. Twice.” 

  “No one said you can’t have a little fun. And just so you know, I’m very jealous and very happy for you.” She nudges you slightly as you sink back under the covers. She rolls over to her bedside table and turns off the light. “I take it you’re sleeping here again.” 

  “Your bed is so much more comfortable than mine.” You whine as she laughs and gets under the covers. 

  It’s quiet for a moment as you think over everything you learned about Frankie. How fiercely he loved his friends. How passionate he was about his work. How he loved so deeply despite being hurt. How easily he opened up to you and how comfortable he made you feel. You trusted him with things you hadn’t told anyone but Alicia after just a few hours of knowing him. You also can’t stop thinking about his lips, and they felt against yours. How you fit perfectly in his hold like you were meant to be there. 

  The phone on her nightstand buzzes illuminating the dark room. She laughs as she stares at the text and sends a quick message back. You’re trying not to eavesdrop as you move your head on the pillow trying to make out some words. 

  “Santi says hi.” She says as she turns toward you with a smirk on her face. 

  “Oh…he’s Santi now? Well tell him I said hi.” You reply half in a whisper. 

  She clears her throat. “He also said you might need Frankie’s number if you want to see him again.” 

  You groan as you roll over realizing both of you forgot to exchange information in your haze of the whirlwind afternoon. 

  ****

  “How do I look Fish?” Santi holds his arms out with a stupid grin on his face. 

  “Like an asshole.” Frankie grumbles on the couch with his arms crossed in defiance. 

  “Look hermano it’s not my fault you didn’t tell her.” Santi grabs his keys from the table and Frankie looks on at him wide eyed. 

  “How is this not your fault? What was I supposed to say!”  He stands and Santi holds his hands up trying to calm his friend. “Oh hi…I’m your soulmate. I hired someone to find you for me. They did, and now you’re sort of daring them.” He rips his hat off aggressively, running his fingers through his hair. “Fuck.”

  Santi regards him cautiously. “Sorry Fish, I didn’t mean it like that.”

   Frankie sighs heavily through his nose as he plops back down. “I know Pope…I'm sorry. You like fine by the way, I hope you have a nice time.” He grits out the last part. 

  Santi punches him lightly in the shoulder “I know that was hard for you to say so I appreciate it. Plus you said so yourself she really likes you. Don’t think about it too much.”

  ****

  Easy for him to say. He was about to go on a date and Frankie was gonna sit here and try not to stew. 

You’ve consumed his thoughts over the last twenty four hours. He knew meeting you would be overwhelming but he did not anticipate falling head over heels, rom com, quintessential love at first sight, completely crazy for you. The thought of Dave being anywhere near the parts of you he wanted to explore made his blood boil. His mind ran wild last night with the scent of you still on his clothes. The way your body felt pressed against his, the way you said his name Francisco like some forbidden secret. 

  His hot shower ran cold as he stroked himself to thoughts of you. Imagining the way your lips would feel wrapped around his cock. The way your breast would feel on his bare chest as grind down on him. The soft moan that escapes you when he bit down on your lip and how you would sound if you didn’t have to be so quiet. 

  You awoke something in him he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

  He can’t think about it anymore sitting alone on Pope's couch half hard. He needs to go home and hope sleep comes easy tonight so he doesn’t have to think about the prospect of losing you before he’s even had a chance. 

  ****

  The last two hours have been chaotic to say the least. You both needed to get ready at the same time so of course the hot water ran out. Alicia blew a fuse in her bathroom trying to blow dry her hair so now she was in yours while you sat on the floor in her room in front of her floor length mirror doing your makeup. 

  Judging by the pile of clothes on her bed you don’t think she was planning on bringing Santi back to the apartment. Perhaps she wasn’t planning on returning either as you notice a small overnight bag placed next to her door. 

  She rushes into her room and grabs the bag before placing a kiss to the top of your head. “I gotta go hon, he said he’s coming up but I don’t want him to think I’m messy.” She wildly gestures to the state of her room as you meet her eyes in the mirror. 

  “He’s gonna have to figure it out at some point.” You state dryly as you finish your mascara. 

  “Not tonight though.” She fixes herself once more before addressing you. “Please try and have fun tonight. Call me if you need anything, you know I’ll be there in a heartbeat.” 

  “I got it Alicia.” You laugh as you wave her off. 

  “Oh and don’t wait up.” She yells out over her shoulder before slamming the front door. 

  You breathe a sigh of relief  that you’ll at least have a few moments to yourself before meeting Dave at the store. You loved your friend but you could tell her nervous energy was bleeding into your mood. So many emotions were running through your head. This would be your first real chance at getting to know him. You were giddy at the thought that he had a surprise planned for you. In the five years you spent with your ex he’s never once planned a surprise. It didn’t really bother you but it was just one of those things you assumed you would never get to experience. Looking back on it now you realize it’s a blessing in disguise that he broke up with you. You had put up with so much apathetic behavior that it became second nature to put yourself last. 

  Your phone pings on the floor beside you and you glance down to see Dave’s name. 

  Dave: Can’t wait to see you hummingbird 

  You sit for a moment trying to come up with a clever reply when another text comes in. 

  Frankie: I hope u have a nice time tonight 

  This can’t be your life right now.

                          can’t wait to see you too 🥰

  You double check that you sent that text to the correct person.

                   I promise I won’t have too much fun 😘

  There’s a feeling you can’t pinpoint at the moment. You’re not sure if it’s even right that you’re feeling this way. To be the object of two men’s affection is a situation you never thought you’d find yourself in. It would be a lie to say that you’re not riding this high. The end game however is something you haven’t quite worked out. 

  ****

  The sun is just starting to set as you make your way down the familiar street towards your work. Checking your reflection in every car parked alongside it like it’s somehow going to drastically change. He didn’t really give you very many details so you opted for a long black sundress and some strappy sandals. Your phone and lipgloss tucked neatly into the brown cross body purse Alicia got you for your birthday. 

  His back is to you when you see him, his hands in the pockets of his tight blue jeans. Almost sensing your presence he turns to you with that devilish smile on his face. He’s in front of you in a few brief steps, his woodsy cologne invading your senses and a hint of aftershave. The black short sleeve button up pulls taught along his biceps and you have to stop yourself from reaching out and grabbing him. 

  As if on cue he pulls you into a tight hug, you wrap your arms around his waist feeling his muscles flex in your grasp. He sighs long and deep like your embrace was the only thing keeping him from losing his sanity. He doesn’t say anything for a while as you both just sway for a moment, like two lovers who’ve gone weeks without seeing each other. It’s so comforting you almost forget about the impending doom of having to tell him about Frankie. You decided on the walk over that you would be upfront with him from the beginning. Just in case he wanted to call things off. You didn’t want to come off as some girl who wanted a free date from him just to break the news to him at the end of the night. Ultimately you would leave the decision up to him and go from there. 

  “Hi hummingbird, I missed you.” He speaks softly into your hair as you try to stay on your feet. 

  “I missed you too.” He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes. It feels wrong but it’s true, you did miss him. 

  “I hope you like what I have planned for us tonight.” His eyes twinkle when he mentions it again but you can’t quite meet his gaze. “Something on your mind?”

  You take a deep breath and put a little more space between you as he holds your hands in his. “I have a lot to say before we go on our date so just give me a moment okay?” He nods once acknowledging what you said. 

  He’s stoic on the outside but internally he’s starting to panic. You didn’t say you didn’t want to go on the date but there’s clearly something wrong. 

  “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you and getting to know you better, but I have to be clear about some things since you’ve been gone. I’ll spare you all the details but…I met my soulmate yesterday.” His hands tighten their grip a little but you don’t seem to notice. “I know this may sound confusing but…I’m not going to just drop you for someone I just met. At the same time, I feel like it would be crazy to not give my soulmate a chance.” 

  You stare down at the ground hoping it will stop your rambling and give you the words you practiced in the mirror that are coming out all wrong. “I understand if this is too much-“

  He cuts you off as he tips your chin up with his finger. He’s comfortably stepped into your space again and you wouldn’t know by the look on his face that he’s seething. 

  “I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a really long time, and I’m not about to back down from a little friendly competition.” Your eyes are challenging him when you don’t pull away. He leans in, his lips barely ghost over yours like he’s waiting for permission.

  You’re not sure what reaction you were expecting from him but it certainly wasn’t this. You’re sick of trying to predict what your life is going to do and instead decide to go with the flow. 

  You kiss him first. 

  It almost knocks you off your feet how different he is from Frankie as he takes back control. He’s more sure of himself like he’s kissed you a thousand times. His hand travels behind your head, while the other grabs your waist. You gasp at how close he has you pulled into him as you taste the hint of mint and something else that’s entirely Dave. He chuckles a little at how he’s already got you so worked up. If it’s a competition you want then it’s a competition you’ll get. 

  “It’s not really customary to kiss before the date.” He’s a little breathless and you laugh as his muscles twitch beneath your fingers. 

  “I don’t think anything we’re doing is customary.” He huffs at that, yet you have no idea the full weight behind it. 

  “I’m just glad I haven’t lost my touch…it’s been a while.” He laces his fingers with yours. “I hope you like what I have planned.” 

  “Oh I’m sure I will.” 

  ****

  You don’t care how ridiculous you sound as you scream the lyrics to don’t stop believing at the top of your lungs. It’s just one of those songs no matter how many times you hear it or how many times it gets overplayed, you can’t help yourself. 

  Dave is doing his best to hide the fact that he’s been singing every song word for word as he hovers close behind you in the crowd. 

  He was a little nervous at first when you arrived at the venue…picking a concert for a first date was a bold move. He’ll be replaying the excited jumps you did on a loop in his head when he revealed it was a Journey cover band. He remembered from the first time he walked into your store and somehow got lucky when he saw a place on the waterfront hosting the special event. 

  You’re a stone's throw from your impromptu date with Frankie the previous night. The setting is much similar as you look out onto the water. Your stomach does a flip every so often when he possessively shields you from someone getting too close, or the way his hands instinctively wrapped around you during the slow songs. 

  Thankfully he made time before the show to get some dinner at one of the many food trucks outside the venue. You’re excited giggles when you said you wanted to try everything so that’s exactly what he did. You both shared a little from each one and of course donuts for dessert. You also shared a lot with him about your life. No doubt hoping he would reciprocate. 

  He rarely if ever talked about his wife with other people and most wouldn’t consider the topic a great first date conversation. Except for you. The way you made him want to open up and be better at sharing. It wasn’t awkward at all, in fact it felt a little freeing. If only he could tell you that’s how he found you. Resigning his life to helping people find their soulmate, it’s really his karma that he’s now competing with Frankie. He did this to himself and now the question lingers in the air of how he found you and why don’t you know about who Dave really is. He’s not sure what kind of game Frankie is playing but it’s making him uneasy. 

  His phone vibrates in his pocket as he glances down to see the aforementioned name. 

  Francisco: I hope ur having a nice time let’s talk soon

  He hears a small gasp from you and immediately breaks out into a cold sweat. He tucks his phone into his pocket hoping he hasn’t been found out this way. 

  You’re staring at him with those sad eyes half pouting and it’s quite possibly the scariest and most adorable thing he’s ever seen. “It’s the last song.” 

  His eyes tell a different story than yours as he takes your hand. “We’ll just have to make the most of it then.” He spins you in his arms and you feel a bit like Cinderella, you’re time at the ball running out soon. 

  When the lights go down in the city 

And the sun shines on the bay

  It’s hard to enjoy your favorite song when he’s singing it so sweet in your ear. His face nuzzled in the crook of your neck as he sways with you. Your stomach is doing flips for an entirely different reason now because you know at the end of the night you won’t be calling it off with Dave. 

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[vintagenetwork]

All I've Ever Desired: Resurfaced Memories

2012!Leo x Fashion Model Reader

A/N: Hi tumblr! Okay, please bare with me because I'm a little new to this place, but I've been DYING to write this ongoing series. Hope you enjoy! :)

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You were a fashion model, he was a crime-fighting leader in blue. You and Leo shared a long past as friends back in highschool, hoping to grow even closer than ever. You were going abroad to Italy to pursue the dream of becoming a fashion designer, then return back to NYC just like you planned. Until one day you got separated from the family after the Krang took over New York, leaving the turtles to run to April’s farm house while you were nowhere to be found. Three years have passed, and an upcoming fashion show is taking place in the city. As advertisements covered the streets, Leo would've never believed the girl who stole his heart and disappeared would be starring the front covers.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Angst, use of Y/N

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The sound of laughter rang through the cool night air, I watched my brothers sit in a circle as April walked toward them with a box of pizza in hand. We just had to celebrate another mission, I wasn’t too fond of being so out in the open though, especially with how loud Mikey was talking and the recent discovery last night. It was one thing to deal with the Krang, but now them working alongside the Footclan? Could’ve fooled me. “Always on the lookout, aren’t you, Blue?” Her voice chirped from behind. I could already see the smile painted on her face as her footsteps grew closer. “Someone’s gotta keep watch,” I muttered in response, leaning back against a wall. She sighed as she swung her legs over the edge of the rooftop. “You know I was against us coming back up here. We’re supposed to lay low, especially now that the Footclan is teaming up with the Krang.” “You worry too much, you know that?” She tilted her head back toward me, that smug smile still on her face. That damn smug smile. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that, but, if you keep this up you’re gonna start like, shedding your shell from stress-!” “Turtles don’t shed.” She huffed a laugh as she shook her head.

“Yes, they do. And what I’m trying to say is that you need to relax, Leo,” I watched her swing her legs back onto the rooftop, dusting her pants off before walking toward me.  “You and the gang deserve a break-! Besides, how many more times are you gonna get moments like this?” Our direction turned toward Mikey belching in Raph’s face, a visible vein throbbing on his forehead as he clenched his fists.

However, before I could make my way over to break up an upcoming fight, the sudden warmth that enveloped my hand caused me to freeze. 

“You’re an amazing older brother and leader,” Y/N continued, her fingers slipping in between mine. “They all look up to you, and they know they can depend on you. Even Raph. We’ll be ready when the Krang and Footclan come down our path. But for now, you need to take one shell of a break.” I felt my eyes roll to the back of my head at that last sentence, her laughter at the ridiculous pun cracking me a smile. 

“You’re gonna tell me all of that then ruin the moment for a stupid pun? Guess you can call me shell-shocked.” Now her eyes were rolling back as she tried to hide her smile.

“Hey-! If you guys still want your slice, you better hurry up before Mr. No-Manners downs it in the next three seconds!” Raph called out, headlocking Mikey to the ground as he chanted ‘uncle’ endlessly. Casey filmed the whole showcase, cackling like a witch as Donnie poked Raph with the end of his staff in hope to calm things down (things did not calm down). The two of us exchanged a small smile before walking back to join the rest of the group, my hand still clasping hers before we released hold. For a split second, it felt as if she didn’t want to let go just yet.

I didn’t either.

⇷^⇸

“Thanks for getting pizza this time, April,” You sighed, plopping next to her orange-haired friend in exhaustion. “I know how packed that stupid pizza parlor can get.” “No worries, I get my pay back when one of these four scare the hell outta those delivery guys on their little vespas,” She laughed in response, sliding the box toward you. “Speaking of vespas… are you gonna… you know?” You froze mid-bite at April, choking on the dough, tomato sauce, and cheese as the boys turned their attention to your coughing fit.

“I, uhm, I was hoping to… tell them a little later,” You squeaked in response. The sound of your nails digging into the styrofoam plate caused Donnie to raise a non-existent eyebrow, his brown eyes meeting Leo’s confused look.

“Is there something you wanna tell us, Y/N?” You jumped at Donnie’s question as you lifted your gaze from the plate. Now your look met everyone’s stares, including April’s supportive one. 

“Nope! Well… Not uh, really relevant until later this year,” You replied, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Oooooo! What’s happening later this year?” Mikey teased as he laid flat on his plastron. “You getting married~?” “WHAT?!” You and Leo screeched, Leo’s voice however, was much more high-pitched. As Leo looked away from the eyes on him, you scrambled to get your words together. “I am NOT getting married, Mikey. Let me make that clear to EVERYONE.” “So, if you aren’t getting married,” Casey started, freezing mid sentence at your glare.

“Then what’s happening ‘later this year?’” Raph finished, resting his arm on his knee. Now the spotlight turned back to you, silence along with the faint car honks leaving you to respond. You dug your fingers into your pants, trying to spill the words like a can of beans. This really was one shell of a situation. Heh, Leo would’ve loved that…Leo…

“April, Casey, and…uh, turtles,” You started, taking in a deep breath. Another few moments of silence passed as you felt your throat slowly starting to close up. But, you knew you had to get this over with, the weight will probably kill you at this point if you don't tell the truth. 

“I’m gonna be moving abroad for school in three months. I’ll be in Italy for college to become a designer. Fashion designer specifically.” As you paused for a moment, you saw the shocked faces of your friends before you. April gave your hand a gentle squeeze to continue.

“I… don’t know when I’ll be back specifically,” You dropped your head, staring at the leftover pizza crust. By now, Mikey would’ve snatched and stuffed it in his mouth, but from the sudden change in atmosphere, you understand why it’s still sitting on the plate. “And I would turn down the offer to go to school here-” “Then why won’t you?!” Casey blurred out as he sat up straight. “NYU is only, what,  a couple of blocks away? Wouldn’t it be cheaper to stay here and take whatever fashion class they had? You’ll probably be saving an arm and a leg flying over there AND renting a dorm-!” Even though none of them showed it, the brothers agreed in silence as they looked back at you for a response. “She’s going to Italy because she got a full scholarship, dingus,” April glared at his interruption. “If she could stay here she obviously would. But, it’s her life and her choices to make, not ours… even though… I wish I could convince you outta this somehow.” With a light hearted chuckle, April released your hand as she stood up, clenching her fists.

“I wasn’t planning on telling you guys yet, especially with everything going on but… I’m a little glad I got it done and over with. Probably would’ve hurt more if I told you later on anyways.” Your heart ached at the turtles’ stares, especially Leo’s. Just looking at his eyes spoke millions of words, his lips slightly agape as you looked away. But two words specifically rang in your head after reading his plea:

 Don’t go.

“WE’LL MISS YOUUUUUUUU~!” Mikey cried as he wrapped his arms around your neck, full on wailing into your shoulder. You chuckled softly as you patted the back of his shell trying to soothe the youngest brother. You were gonna miss the sewer murals you’ve worked on together…

“Hey hey, calm down, Mikey! It’s not like I’m leaving tomorrow!” You tried to brush it off, gently prying Mikey off you to look into his eyes. “We still have another good three months together, and you already know damn well we're gonna make the best of it.” “So you’ll finally try my homemade pizza-bite cereal and grand algae slushies?!” “Don’t push your luck.” “Worth a shot.”

“This was really unexpected, Y/N…” Donnie rubbed the back of his neck as he stood up. “B-but of course, we’ll wish the best for you in Italy! The architecture and landmarks there are astounding, especially with the history behind them. Uh, promise to send us photo cards?” “I promise I’m gonna call you guys everyday, Don,” You grinned as you offered a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. “Maybe you can give me a history lesson about the country, or show me tips on how to survive over there.” Donnie’s sad expression wavered at your response, his smile growing as he patted the back of your hand.

“Hey, think about the positives-!” Raph said, resting his elbow on top of Mikey’s head. “She’ll be heading off to pursue her dreams and we finally have more room in the lair! No more listening to hair dryers early in the morning or her screwing up our missions somehow.” The group, especially Leo, all turned to glare at the him as he let out a chuckle. You did the same though, shaking your head as you laughed to yourself.

“Oh, I’m so gonna miss you, big guy,” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’ll make sure I’ll make Mikey find the best possible ways to annoy you in my honor…” Raph scoffed as he placed his hands on his sides, feeling the weight of your chin on his shoulder. “Promise me you’ll always take good care of the family…alright?” Within the silence, you smiled to yourself as you felt a hand gently pat your lower back in response.

“Three months away, so right when we graduate you’re kissing April and I goodbye?” Casey questioned as he leaned on his hockey stick. “Guess it’s back to good ol’ Red and I. Why’s it always the chicks that gotta leave?” Casey was immediately met with scolding from April, playfully smacking his head while he cowered and tried to shield himself.

You pulled your gaze away from April’s parenting instincts to turn to Leo, who just happened to be staring back at you. Stepping away from the group’s loud antics, you and the turtle stood infront of each other as the once melodic mood turned melancholic. 

“I was planning to tell you first, by the way,” You broke the silence, holding onto yourself as you tried to keep your composition. “Leo, please trust me when I searched for so many different ways to try and come to this outcome. And… Now the more I think of it, the more I’m starting to regret i-”You were cut off mid sentence, however, as a pair of hands held yours ever so gently. You remained quiet once Leo gave you a serious yet soft look. 

“Y/N, I don’t want you to be reluctant about your goals because of  us,” Leo started, his thumb softly brushing back and forth against the back of your hand. “Getting a scholarship is amazing, and I’m genuinely proud of you. You’ve made your choices and you have your dreams, so hurry up and chase them. Then, come back to us, alright?”

You felt water appear at your lash line, you thought you were gonna break down right then and there from the sweet words the turtle had to say. Quickly, you two hugged each other as tight as possible, faces burying into each others’ shoulders as you refused to let go. You were going to miss goofing off with Mikey, learning from Donnie, pissing off Raph, hanging out with Casey and April… but most of all you were going to miss your leader in blue.

“I’ll be back here before you guys know it,” You smiled, reluctantly pulling away from his grip. “Besides, three months to hang around with you guys? That’s more than enough time to have a Space Heroes marathon, no?” You could feel Leo’s smile  as he chuckled to himself, the two of you walking side by side back toward the group.

“More than enough time…” He repeated to himself. Maybe for once, life would treat him and his brothers right. They’ll get rid of any dangers lurking within the city, he’ll become a true leader, and he’ll spend as much time with his friends before they all go their separate ways.

.

.

.

But life isn’t always fair; it never was, in fact.

Krang everywhere. The skies were rolling with gray, not a pinch of sunlight shining down on the chaotic streets of NYC. The screams and wails of citizens grew louder as droids destroyed anything and everything in its path. One thing led to another, from April accidentally bringing a droid to the lair, to Leo and Splinter getting separated from the group, everything felt like a blur.

The gang was crowded in April’s apartment. Everyone was arguing on how to get out of the city, where to go and how to get there. It was quickly interrupted when a turtle in a blue mask flew through the window, shattered glass flying everywhere. Hearts dropped the moment he came crashing down onto the floor.

Leo swore he could’ve heard the desperate cries of his name as his vision faded in and out of view. Why couldn’t he move? Why couldn’t he get up and tell everyone that he’s okay and they had to find Master Splinter? 

Why couldn’t he be strong?

The last thing Leo remembered was his brothers laying him down in the back of a van, the engine humming as doors slammed shut. Then he heard a scream, punches flying and struggle depicted. The weight of his brothers on the car was lifted followed by more faint screaming and yelling. Some were of anguish, others were in anger and frustration. Their voices kept on repeating a name… your name.

Again, everything was a blur. After waking up after who knows how long, Raph explained to him about how they escaped to April’s old farmhouse and everything that happened… almost everything.

“As we were getting into the van, some special force group…” Donnie started, lowering his head toward the ground. “They saw us, and assumed we were the bad guys… or, something like that.” “She charged toward them as they started shooting at the van,” Raph sounded tired, he looked just as tired physically. “They didn’t aim at her, thankfully. But… they took her.” Leo nearly collapsed forward before April and Mikey helped him settle on the sofa, feeling more dizzy than ever. You’ve been taken? You’ve been in danger this whole time and here he was, unable to even stand up for more than five minutes. Fear overcame him, not only for Master Splinter or his family, but for you too. 

The moment they returned to New York, successfully defeating the Krang and reuniting with Master Splinter, everyone searched top to bottom. April broke into your apartment, but the paint on the walls crumbling off and trash scattered across the floor showed that no one has been here for a long time. Donnie tried calling your phone, your T-phone, emailing, even trying to get in contact with your parents to get word that you’re okay somehow. Defeat never felt heavier.

Everyone was drained, but the person taking it the hardest was Leo. Calling your phone just to listen to your voice on the voicemail, or dropping by your old apartment to collect anything special lying around. The night he found a picture of you on your vanity, he decided that was the last thing to grab before avoiding that building for the rest of his life. Now that beautiful photo of you was placed on the shelf in the dojo, resting next to the family portrait of Master Splinter and his first family. 

Eventually, time passed and life went by, yet things seemingly never changed within the family. Other than April and Casey starting a relationship together and his brothers still being the goofballs, you were nothing more than a memory. Crime in New York had dropped tremendously thanks to the gang, and for once, they could all finally live without any problems.

One night, however, everything would change. As the brothers got ready to cut their nightly patrol short due to an incoming storm, the four turtles hopped down a nearby fire escape. Leo watched Mikey step on the cold metal plate, but something distracted him, leading him to gasp wide and sway back and forth. “DUDES-!” Mikey yelled, catching his balance with the railing. “That billboard! Right over there! IS that-?!”

His brothers’ attention turned where he was pointing, focusing on a newly installed billboard in the distance. It was for one of those super fancy fashion brands, the bright gold font was almost eyestraining. It featured the title, “Bellezza Per Sempre’’ and a girl wearing a feather boa and black dress, smiling wide with her eyes shut. Leo froze in his tracks as he looked at the girl. No. It couldn’t be. 

His brothers called out his name as he leaped toward the billboard, but he ignored them. His focus was only on one thing as he grew closer and closer. Sliding across the rooftop adjacent to the advertisement, Leo ignored his burning lungs and shaky hands, he couldn’t believe it. It really was…

“Y/N…” Was all he managed to utter before the rain started falling from the night sky.

[number1jaymerrickhater]

Marble hornets driving headcannons

Jay

Can not drive for shit

There are not enough words in the english language to describe what an awful driver he is

He’s the type of guy to put on his turn signal 2 seconds before trying to cut across 6 lanes of traffic

One time he gave Alex a ride to set and Alex vowed to never get in a car with him again

“Shit this is where we’re supposed to turn, hold on.”

Proceeds to slam on his breaks, jerks the wheel so hard he almost flips the car and nearly causes a 12 car pile up

It is a miracle he hasn’t died in a car crash.

He is banned from borrowing anyones car ever

Despite all this he still says he’s not that bad of a driver.

“See guys! We made it here in one piece. I told you I’m not a shitty driver” meanwhile Alex is riding shotgun with his life flashing before his eyes, Tim is in the backseat trying to make peace with god, and Brian is squeezing the door handle so hard it looks like he’s trying to break it.

They all unanimously agree to take Jay off the carpooling rotation.

Surprisingly his car would be relatively clean. Other than some crumbs and a few half empty water bottles I don’t think his car would be that messy.

Alex

Two words. Road rage.

I hc that before Marble Hornets Alex wasn’t an angry dude 99% of the time

Yeah that 1% of the time is when he’s behind the wheel

Scares the shit out of everyone in the car when he’s driving

He just gets so mad that someone’s putting him and his friends in danger because they can’t follow the rules of the road

Has a lot of anxiety about driving which manifests in him yelling for 20 minutes when some asshole cuts him off in traffic

His car is super clean, he absolutely hates it messy

He isn’t just a backseat driver he is the backseat driver

The only thing worse than letting him drive is having him sit next to you while you drive

He gets possessed by the spirit of a middle aged dad teaching his teenage kid how to drive every time he gets in the car with anyone

“Hey don’t you think you’re going a little fast? Maybe you should slow down a little?” While aggressively holding onto the ceiling handle thing by the door type deal

Idk he just seems like the type to be very passionate about road safety

His car has a “back off grumpy driver on board” sticker bc Brian put it there as a joke and Alex just never took it off

He says he hates it but secretly he does think its a little funny

Tim

He just does not give a fuck

Like he’s not going out of his way to be super reckless but he’s also not giving himself a panic attack over road saftey

He just accepted it is what it is, if he gets into an accident then it be like that sometimes

“Buckle your seatbelts everyone, or don’t its your funeral I guess. Just be on the lookout for cops I don’t want a ticket.”

His car reeks of cigarette smoke

He’s not a heathen, he won’t smoke when other people are in his car, but he smokes so much it hardly makes a difference

His car is also an absolute mess

Empty soda bottles, food wrappers, random papers, flannels, his car is so messy he could have anything in there

He’ll make an effort to clean it if he knows he’s gonna have people in his car, but his definition of clean is “everyone has a space to sit and a relatively clean section of floor to put their feet”

Does not put up with Alex’s backseat driving, if he tries it he’ll just turn the radio louder to drown him out.

Brian

Brian is also a bad driver, but unlike Jay it’s intentional

I mean what’s the point in driving if you’re not going 20 miles over the speed limit at all times?

The first time he carpooled everyone to set, he scared the shit out of them because (besides Tim) no one had ever been in a car with him

Like you look at Brian with his dorky smile, get in his car that has a million stupid bumper stickers on the back, and you expect a normal drive

Then Brian starts blasting the worst music you can think of and tearing down the street like he’s the main character in a fast and furious movie

He was also voted off the carpool rotation

Has a playlist specifically for when he’s in the car with other people and its just the worst music you can think of

Think like the gummy bear song and crazy frog (did those exist in 2006??? Well now they do)

He has actually good taste in music, he’s just a massive troll and thinks its funny

Same with the bumper stickers, bro has a million “honk if you’re homo” and “my other ride is your mom” type bumper stickers all over the back of his car

Still he’s a bad driver in a fully intentional good driver kinda way? Idk how to describe it but unlike Jay he actually knows what the fuck he’s doing

The only time he’s been pulled over was when he was with Alex. He managed to convince the officer that he was only driving so crazy because he was trying to get his friend to the hospital because he was having an asthma attack.

The cop bought it both because I mean look at Brian he looks like an honest stand up dude, and because Alex was actually having a panic attack at being pulled over so he sold it pretty well

[thefuseoftemptation]

tis' the season! how about Eddie and r getting a tree but to get it, they STEAL it. let's just say I've been watching the 70's show....

I've been waiting for a request like this...

EDDIE MUNSON X GN!READER

WARNING(S): cussing, established relationship (but it’s more of my way of seeing it which is ‘your dating best friend’ type thing) m’not too sure what genre this goes under. ft. Steve Harrington. NOT PROOFREAD.

—

It was that time of year again, where everyone was out getting a tree that would be sitting in their living rooms for the next few weeks until it was time for it to go. The tree lots stuffed with every type as people went through each one so they could be on their way.

Yet here you stood on the side of the street, on the lookout, as Eddie- who was behind it all and why you were currently standing there in the first place, was picking out your guy’s tree. 

Well more so Steve’s tree. 

He should’ve known than to send you and Munson out to get something for him knowing how you two were. And maybe he had been right…in his mind. Wherever it was. Because here you guys were.

But to be honest, this wasn’t your initial go to. You and your friend had gone to a tree lot, and had looked through what was there but none of them seemed to be ‘the one,’ as people often said. Not only that, but putting money towards something that wasn’t even going to be up for long was never understood by either you or the boy who was currently on his knees cutting.

So, you guys opted to keep the money, put it towards something worth getting and then just pull over to get yourself one that hadn’t had so much time spent looking for. 

“You almost through, Munson? I’ve just been standing here and it’s damn near cold! How long does it take to cut down a tree?!” You said, turning your head slightly over your shoulder to see where he was at.

Eddie lifted himself from his current spot, pushing aside the stems that had been in his way.

“Well, I’d like to see you get down here and see what it’s like! It isn’t easy, y’know? My arms feel like they’re gonna fall off and I’ve been on my knees so long m’not even sure I could stand….” Eddie said, leaning back.

You sighed and extended your hand. “Give it here.” He hadn’t hesitated to pass the saw over, “be my guest.”

You only pushed him aside as you got down to the position he had been in, beginning to pick up where he left off.

“Y’know we should’ve thought of this to begin with, we probably would’ve already been on our way, and with a time still to spare!” Eddie says to you but with you busy cutting, it was more to himself. “Y’know what? Everyone should take after us and pick their trees from here! Or y’know, just not get a tree at all- even better! Who even needs a tree anyway? It’s just gonna end up outside again….”

“Are you through yet?” You ask from your spot, looking up at him. Eddie had been so busy talking he hadn’t heard you stop.

“Uh, are you? Because as far as I could tell, it isn’t supposed to be standing still.” He lipped back using your own words against you, and you rolled your eyes before continuing.

“Get down!” Eddie stated as he got to your level, seeing lights from the distance.

“What, why?” You go to lift your head only for you to be pulled back.

“When I say get down, I mean there’s someone coming!”

“Well I’m down already though.”

“Then stay there. Don’t go showing that head of yours.” You roll your eyes and go back to cutting.

It’d had been a while of you guys being there, with you cutting and Eddie still standing on the look out— until he heard you speak up. “In cominggg!”

“Look at that! We got ourselves a tree!” 

“Uh huh! Now let’s load it up before someone sees.”

—

“Jesus, it’s about time you guys showed. What took you so long?” Steve asked when you guys came through the door, holding it open.

You and Eddie could only share a look, carrying on.

“Well Harrington, if you hadn’t sent us out with such short notice to get something so close to the holidays, we probably would’ve been back on time! But y’know, you’re welcome!” You say, setting your end of the tree down, stepping up to the guy and clapping the back of his shoulder as you went by.

Eddie stood in front of the tree trying to fix it, making sure it was set where requested when Henderson and Mike came up to him.

“Where'd you guys find it?” The curly one asked, tilting his head and standing a little too close to the older boy.

“Uh, where else would one find a tree?” Eddie said only to earn a swift foot to the leg when you came back into the room. He flinched at the feeling, rubbing it while covering up his previous response. “We bought it like everyone else.”

“There’s no way. You guys stole it, didn’t you?” This time, it was Mike who spoke. 

“We did not steal the damn tree.” You butted in before Eddie could.

“What makes you say that, huh?” You had caught him with your question because he couldn’t speak, the words falling from his lips were incoherent.

“Well, I– I’m just saying–you know what, I just know! It’s you guys for god sake!” Mike let out, exasperated by the question and looks he was getting.

“You got proof, Wheeler?” Eddie asked as he stood by you, arm going around your shoulder.

“No.”

“Then how could you know?” You say, tilting your head as you eyed the younger yet tallest of Wheeler’s. You ruffled his hair as you left, Eddie putting his hand on his shoulder as he gave him a look. 

“There, there.” And it only had Mike shrugging him off before he left too.

–

It was later on when there was a knock on Steve’s door- pulling the guy from his living room to go answer it. 

You all had been trying to figure out how to get the star on the tree, because leave it to Eddie to cut down the one that reached Harrington's ceiling, which obviously left no room for the star, hence your guy’s current situation.

Steve’s brow lifted upon being met with Hopper, who stood on the other side of the door. “Uh, hello…”

“Steve.” Hopper tipped his hat. “I’ve got some questions to ask, mind if I come in?” It left Harrington unsure of why the sheriff was there in the first place, much less at his place to begin with.

“Could I ask what’s this about?” Steve questioned, moving from his position of leaning on the threshold- opening the door a little more for the sheriff.

“Well, there’s word that some property was stolen…” Hopper said as he took a step in. “We think there’s been some involvement with the removal of state property.”

“State property?” Steve repeated, he wasn’t sure where Hopper was going with this. There’s no way he’s been involved in any sort of– and then he stopped in thought.

While he knew he wasn’t the cause, he knew who was. But of course, who was he to say anything? Because Steve Harrington was nothing, if not someone who stood by his friends, even if he knew that some of them could be a little much at times and never quite thought things through.

And if you had well, you and Eddie hadn’t thought it through enough.

“Uh, I’m not sure what you’re going on about, Hopper.” Steve shrugged as he tried leading the sheriff the other way from where you guys were at and back to the door. “Because there’s no way, there’s been any sort of involvement in removing state property.” 

And as if on cue, from behind Steve, Hopper sees Eddie run across the room and onto the tree– a star in his hand. 

“Like I said, not sure what you’re going on about.” Steve repeats, as the tree falls behind him with Eddie in tow.

“Jesus Christ!”

—

feedback and reblogs are appreciated.

[wildsupernova]

summer nights

part 2 of “summer, sun, and a smoking engine”.

summary: after steve came to your rescue when your car broke down, he offers to take you out to dinner and show you around hawkins. you decide to take a chance, in the hope it could lead to something more.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: no use of y/n, fluff and awkward conversation i guess?

a/n: i know it’s been a while since i posted anything (like over a month but we’re gonna ignore that) but i’ve been super busy working practically every day and i have been insanely exhausted but i had a burst of inspiration the other night and finally got something ready to be posted. this is part two to my last little fic so if you haven’t read that and want the context, i’ll have it linked below. there may be a part 3 to this if i can get the motivation to do it so be on the lookout for that as well. like, comment, reblog (any little bit helps) and i hope you enjoy! :)

part 1 | masterlist | prompts list

“You mean to tell me you’re going on a date with a guy you just met? You? The girl who wouldn’t even go on a date with the guy she had a crush on since 8th grade?”

“It’s not a date.” You wrung out the rest of the water in your hair into the scratchy motel towel, phone pressed between your shoulder and your ear. Your best friend scoffed on the other end of the phone, prompting you to roll your eyes. “He’s just showing me around the city.”

“Yeah, okay. You don’t just show someone around the city at 7:00 pm when they’ll only be sticking around until morning.”

“Okay, so maybe it's a date.” Your friend chuckled on the other line, and you shifted the phone to your other shoulder while you searched through your bags to find something to wear. “It’s one date, not like it’ll go anywhere. I mean, when am I ever gonna be back in Hawkins, Indiana besides when I’m driving through to visit you?”

“You don’t have to be in the city to date someone, you know.” You could hear her rustling along on the other side, the sound of a duvet crinkling as if she were rolling over in her bed. “Long distance is a thing.”

“Yeah, I tried that, remember? He cheated on me within a week of being gone.” You pulled a dress from out of one of your bags, holding it up to your body as you looked in the cloudy motel mirror. 

“At least give it a thought. You always say that love will come along at the right time, maybe this is it.” You stayed silent for a moment, soaking in her advice. It was true, you did say that it was only a matter of time, but it was more a self soothing mantra to make you feel better about your shitty dating life. You never really meant it as anything more than that.

“Yeah, yeah. Look, I gotta go, okay? I’ll call you when I’m back on the road tomorrow morning.”

“You better call with good news, okay?” You could hear her laugh on the other end of the line when you let out a groan. “Have fun, love you.”

“Love you, too.”

You put the phone back down on the hook with a click, staring down at the mess of clothes now thrown across the small motel bed. Every combination you’d held to your body in the mirror just hadn’t looked right, making you run your hand through your still damp hair. Never once had you worried this much about what to wear, especially for some guy. Now here you were, worried about if you were dressing too casual or too fancy or too colorful. You took in a deep breath and dug to the bottom of your suitcase, pulling out a simple black skirt and plain lavender top, not too flashy and not too simple, either. Deciding it best to just settle for what you had in your hands and not overthink it, you shoved all the other clothes back into the suitcase and zipped it shut.

Next thing you knew it was 30 minutes later and you were rushing to finish putting yourself together, your hair never quite falling right and your makeup always seeming to be smudged no matter how much you tried to fix it. The knocking on your motel room door had your heart lurching in your chest, swiping on a quick stripe of lip gloss before you took a deep breath and opened the door. 

Steve was standing on the other side with his hands in the pocket of his jeans, an untucked polo with the first few buttons undone wrapped tight around his chest. Somewhere in the last hour he had taken great care to get his hair styled, and the expensive smelling cologne he wore wafted towards you when a warm summer breeze blew in from behind him. He smiled when he saw you open the door, shoulders relaxing as if he had been nervous that you wouldn’t answer.

“Hey.” His smile seemed genuine, not like the fake charming ones you usually got from the few guys you tried to date back at school.

“Hi.” There was a moment of silence where neither of you knew what to say until Steve cleared his throat. 

“Come on. I know a good diner that’s open late where we can grab something to eat.” He nodded his head towards the parking lot, taking a step back as you stepped out of the room and shut the door behind you. He walked with you down to his car while trying to make awkward small talk, opening the passenger side door for you and shutting it gently once you’d gotten settled in the seat. He climbed in himself and started up the car, engine humming as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. 

The silence in the car was cut up by the occasional short conversation and the sounds of music softly playing through the radio, street lights illuminating the sharpness of Steve’s face as the car traveled down the road. After about 10 minutes, maybe less, you arrived at the diner, a slightly run down building lined in neon lights with three cars already in the parking lot. After pulling into a parking space right by the door, Steve turned the car off and ran over to your side of the car quickly, opening the door for you before you even had a chance to reach for the handle. You were thankful that the lights above you weren’t quite enough for him to see the blush forming over your cheeks. 

Inside the diner, the pair of you picked a booth over in the corner, far away from the other couples and families who had also decided to get a late dinner here. The waitress, a kind older woman with bright red lipstick and heavy blue eyeshadow, took your orders and left, leaving the two of you alone to sit in a lingering, slightly awkward silence. 

Each of you tried to start a conversation, but it felt as if you had no idea what to say, eventually sharing a choked laugh to fill the silence. Apologies naturally turned into conversation, and before you knew it, you were already halfway through your plate of burger and fries. 

“So, you said you go to school in-state?” You nodded, swallowing the fries you had been chewing.

“Mhmm. There were no good options back home, and I’ve got friends in Indiana so I figured it’d be a good choice.”

“What are you studying?”

“Chemistry.” Steve’s eyes widened for a moment and he let out a small laugh. “What?”

“You are way smarter than me to be studying something like that. I barely passed chemistry in high school.”

“I don’t know, you seem like a pretty smart guy to me.” He scoffed. “I’m serious! Maybe you just haven’t found what you’re good at yet.”

“Well, I’m glad you have so much faith in me.” You laughed, and another silence fell over the table.

“So, your boyfriend gonna be mad that I took you out tonight?” You choked a bit on your drink and gave Steve a small smile, eyebrow raised at his bluntness. He cringed at himself a bit, failing quite miserably at his attempt to subtly feel out whether you were single or not.

“He might be, if I had one.” Steve’s head perked up a bit. “Fortunately, my dating life is quite abysmal.”

“Really? Girl like you and no boyfriend?” Steve’s voice had a bit of a teasing lilt to it, lips upturning at the sides in a charming smirk. You felt your face heat up at the way his eyes scanned over your features, lingering a bit longer in some spots.. 

“Guys don’t really ask me out much, and as you can probably tell, I don’t really go around asking guys on dates much, either.”

“Well, what changed this time?” He leaned his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his hand. “I mean, you just met me and you let me take you out.”

“Well you never said it would be a date.”

“Would it have changed your mind if I told you it was?” You stayed silent for a moment, giving him a smile of your own as you sipped your drink.

“No.” Steve’s smile grew wider at that. 

“Good.” Steve fished his wallet out of his pocket and pulled out several bills, placing some atop the bill the waitress left at your table and throwing a few more in the middle of the table as a tip. He stood from the booth, reaching his hand out towards you. “Come on, I’ve got somewhere else I want to show you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and sent him a curious smile, taking his hand in yours and letting him lead you back to his car.

The drive was probably 15 minutes, although it felt much shorter with the small talk that kept the two of you entertained the whole drive. You found out that he’d been working at the Family Video you met him in for a few years, he still lived with his parents even though they weren’t around much, and he spent a good chunk of his time looking out for a group of kids a few years younger than him. He was humble every time he was talking about himself but bragged on and on about his friends, and every time you asked him a question about his high school years he seemed to cringe and change the subject. 

You let out an airy laugh as he turned down onto a dark dirt road, ending abruptly a few feet into the woods surrounding it. 

“You know, if you were anyone else, I’d think you were a serial killer taking me out to the middle of the woods like this.” Steve kissed his teeth and his face flushed red. 

“Yeah, I really didn’t think about how that would seem when I thought about bringing you out here.” He turned off the car and undid his seatbelt, giving you a slightly apologetic look. “I swear, I did not bring you out here to kill you.”

“It’s okay, I trust you.” He gave you a smile before hopping out of the car, once again running over to your side to open the door for you. He held out his hand to you again and you took it, gripping it tightly as he helped guide you down a worn down path that snaked through the trees. 

His pace slowed as you came up to a small clearing, a collection of large rocks the main feature in the center of it. A warm wind rustled the leaves in the trees, and you gripped Steve’s hand a bit tighter when you heard some animal running across the leaves behind you. 

“So, this where you take all of your girls on the first date?”

“No, not anymore.” You wondered what he meant by that, but decided not to question it. “Just figured you’re a girl who likes to look at the stars.” You let out another laugh, probably your hundredth of the night.

“You’re pretty good at making assumptions about people, I’ll say that much.” You leaned against one of the rocks and turned your head up to the sky, looking up at the stars that dotted it and connecting the constellations with your finger. “They’re so clear here, nothing like Indianapolis.” 

You heard the leaves crunch under Steve’s feet as he came to stand next to you, barely a shoulder apart. 

“You can see them even better at Lover’s Lake, but I figured it might be too soon for that.” 

“Well, I guess you’ll have to take me some other time then.” You turned your head to face him, surprised at just how close he was to you.

“Yeah? You’d like that?”

“Yeah. I think I would.”

You felt crazy. You never went on dates, never asked a guy out, never even sent a slightly romantic glance towards a guy, and here you were, flirting with someone you just met today, who you may never see again, and blushing when he gave you those stupid soft eyes and that charming smile. You told yourself that dating was this long, drawn out process and that you would never date someone who you weren’t friends with first, but yet right now, staring at Steve and practically melting with the way he was looking at you, you were filled with this overwhelming urge to just grab him by the shirt collar and kiss him until you couldn’t breathe. It didn’t make sense, how you could go from being so scared of relationships one minute, to imagining what it would be like if you never met your friend in Indianapolis and just stayed here for the rest of the summer. It had your mind running through a thousand different questions all at once, the loudest of them being ‘do I kiss him?’

Nature made up your mind for you as a loud crack of thunder sounded overhead, breaking the staring contest the two of you had been having for the past minute. Steve muttered something under his breath and grabbed your hand again, pulling you behind him quickly in an effort to beat the rain that was sure to fall soon. 

You were able to make it back to the car before the first drops started to fall, but the drive back to the motel was filled with a tense silence accompanied by the sounds of heavy raindrops hitting the car from all angles. When Steve finally pulled the car into the same parking spot he placed it in when he picked you up, he broke the silence. 

“If you want, I can take you down to Eddie’s garage in the morning to check on your car. He rarely ever sleeps, so I bet he’s gonna be up all night working on it.” You gave him a tight lipped, unsure smile.

“That’d be nice, thanks.” He gave you a nod and a tight smile back, staring at his hands as you got out of the car and walked up the stairs to your motel room. Your key was halfway in the door when you stopped, hair and clothes dripping as you got more and more soaked with rain water the longer you stayed outside. 

You couldn’t let this chance go to waste. You just couldn’t.

Without enough time to stop yourself, you ran back down to Steve’s car, yanking open the passenger side door and leaning your top half inside. 

“Hey, did you forget someth-” You grabbed him by the shoulders and cut his words off with a kiss, a bit sloppy and unsure, but he didn’t seem to mind. After a few seconds, one of his hands came up to meet your cheek, and you found it hard to pull yourself away. 

“Goodnight, Steve.” He floundered for the words he wanted to say, smiling lips moving like a fish out of water when he couldn’t form the words. With one last laugh, you closed the car door and ran back up to your room, sliding the key the rest of the way in and taking refuge from the rain. 

Clothes still dripping and hair still soaked, you leaned against the door to collect yourself, then rushed over to the phone with a squeal. 

Your best friend was probably asleep, but she wouldn’t mind being woken up to hear about this.

< part 3 coming soon >