#the more logical me: NO we need the time to finish everything!!!!!! NOT right now!!!!

[deoidesign]

My comic is so pretty...

The hiatus is letting me take a little extra time on these episodes, and I'm definitely putting it to good use!!!

[evanhereonearth]

The Insidious Cycle of the Abuser Who Says They Love You: Mythal and Solas

Likely goes without saying, but Veilguard spoilers all under the jump.

I have been absolutely wrecked by the end scenes in Veilguard for weeks now, and I want to do a deep dive into Solas's relationship with Mythal and how it absolutely reeks of abuse. Long post incoming!

CW for heavy discussion of cycles of abuse, trauma response, and abuse tactics.

When I finished my first playthrough, this moment hit me like an absolute freight train. His visceral response to her presence and the way he instinctively retreats and flinches back/puts out a hand to protect himself is a full-blown trauma response.

And then she starts talking and moving towards him, and it gets worse.

Solas curls in on himself; his body goes even further into self-protection mode. His face is downcast, not the way he bowed to his vhenan moments before with a straight back and open posture, but shrinking.

And then as she advances, he cowers.

He completely folds inward. He crumples; he shakes, he hyperventilates, and the moment she reaches for him, he fumblingly offers her the lyrium dagger to kill him with.

Is this shame? Yes, of course, but it's far, far more than that.

For the sake of brevity, I'm going to limit this list to the four most widely recognised trauma responses:

Fight

Flight

Freeze

Fawn

As someone whose primary trauma response is fawn (wooo CPTSD), which is intensely common among people who experience complex trauma, especially through emotional and prolonged physical/mental abuse where their needs are discarded, pushed aside, or otherwise steamrolled, I felt this right alongside Solas. My own body responded to seeing it. This is, quite frankly, one of the most visceral and realistic (and extreme) fawn responses I've seen depicted in media.

Mythal in this scene is...phew, something else.

"She was the best of them," Solas tells us in Trespasser.

But she was not good, everything tells us in Veilguard.

Let's look at his regrets in chronological order.

Through Solas's memories of regret, we see this germinate in his foundational regret: leaving the Fade to take a physical form.

He does not want to do this. He tells her he does not want to do this. From the conversation, it's clear it's not the first time she's asked.

And the way she asks? Outright coercion.

"You have so long observed the world. Why not consider joining it?" [I want you to do this thing, so I will frame it as logical for you to make the choice I want you to make.]

"But I have no desire to live as humans. Besides, this talk of taking on a solid form. I think you underestimate the danger." [I don't want to do that. It does not feel safe to me.] "When you took the glowing stone to build your body, did the earth not shake?" [This is dangerous and selfish.]

"The lyrium gives us the strength we had when we were of the Fade; we are the best of both physical and Fade." [It makes us powerful, so I don't care about the risks.] "I need your wisdom, Solas, to withstand the louder voices like Elgar'nan's who would go too far." [If you do not come with me, a tyrant you abhor will make others suffer.] "I need you."

"This is madness. You must know that." [I don't want to do this at all. This will hurt me. I don't want this.] "I will always follow where you go." [Because I love you and trust you.]

Mythal's words in this part are classic abusive framing. When appealing to his natural curiosity does not work and he expresses strong rejection of her logical thought process (just because I have observed this place does not mean I want to go there, echoing his comments to the Inquisitor in DAI: "Many Orlesian peasants dream of travelling to exotic Rivain. But not everyone wants to go to Rivain!") and expresses that there is significant danger to continue to build bodies out of lyrium, she changes tactics.

Her second tactic is that it gives them power--she implies that he is limited and not enough for being only of the Fade. If he follows her, he will be the best of both, like she is. She clearly already sees herself as above him.

Her third tactic is pure emotional blackmail: "I need you. I will give in to the tyrants without your wisdom, and having your counsel in the Fade is not enough. If you don't go against your own nature and desires, people will suffer...and it will be your fault for not being by my side."

She doesn't say those things outright, but they are implied by everything she is saying. He says again he doesn't want it--that it is madness and that she must be aware of that despite her ignoring any suggestion that she actually is. All she is seeing is power and her desires: for Solas to do what she wants him to do.

So he agrees. Because she is his friend, and she says she needs him.

As far as core wounds go, this one is a doozy. It's absolutely brutal, because it's irrevocable. It's a point of no return. It's the first in what will become millennia of regret, of her ignoring the Wisdom she coerced out of the Fade to do what she wants regardless, to continue to push him to twist his nature under the guise of the greater good, to continue to cede to Elgar'nan and enable the very tyrants she promised him to balance.

This regret was deeply painful for me to watch. The nuance here is easily lost if people don't understand abuse tactics and how this sort of manipulation is used. It also serves to bind Solas to Mythal, an enormous sunk cost fallacy in the making--once he has made this choice, there is no going back.

And you see Solas curled in on himself in anguish and regret from the trauma of taking a physical form. It is in deep, painful contrast to his open, free wingspan as a spirit of Wisdom; he will never be the same.

"Have you created what we need?" From the outset Mythal is framing this as his idea as much as hers, when from everything he says, that is not true.

"With this, the proper ritual will sunder every Titan from its spirit. But you must know, those severed dreams will certainly be driven mad, a disembodied blight of pain and anger. It--is--awful what we are doing."

"And the only way to end this war."

Again, Solas offers the wisdom she claimed she took him from the Fade to listen to. He warns her, again, of the danger. He does not want to do this. Just like he warned her of the earth quaking when they made their bodies--they, the Evanuris, started this war by taking what they wanted regardless of who it hurt. He never wanted to participate in it, but now he is in the middle of that war. Mythal was one of the initial perpetrators of this war; she brought Solas into it against his will because he loved her, and now he's stuck. He is past his point of no return. And she is still using his heart against him. She has isolated him from everyone he knew in the Fade; he has no one to support him. He. Only. Has. Her.

This is another classic abuse tactic; if the person being abused has no one else, they will continue to enable that abuse even if it harms others, because they cannot see a way out. If you don't do what I say, it will destroy our children, our family. If you don't do what I say, this war will consume all you have, and you no longer have a home to return to. If you don't do what I say and hurt yourself and the Other, more will suffer, and it will be your fault.

Again, his posture, curled up and broken, appearing to cradle a now-tranquil Titan beneath him--and be embraced in return. This is an interesting artistic choice here, one that aches. It speaks to the depth of his own wound and how much it rent his own spirit to follow through with Mythal's wants here; that it sundered him from his spirit as much as it did the Titans.

"You cannot do this, Elgar'nan! You swore we would give up our commands when this war was over!"

"Our people need our leadership. If you are unwilling, leave."

From Elgar'nan, this is expected. From Mythal?

"Our people must rebuild. And we must help unite them."

Solas, once again, betrayed. He put his trust in Mythal and in the other Evanuris to follow through with their promise. Everything he has done thus far is poisoned in this moment; had the Evanuris indeed stepped back rather than stepped on necks, perhaps Solas could have healed, found a way to live with what he had done, maybe even to make amends. But this starts his war anew--and Mythal is standing with his enemy despite her promises, despite every wheedling word she's used to get what she wants from him over the centuries and longer, despite him turning from everything, everything, he loved to love her. This is the moment where he understands that he has only been a tool to her all along.

"So we did not fight for freedom, but to conquer this land and our own."

Let's pick apart Solas's words.

So we did not fight for freedom: He truly believed that he was fighting for freedom, that no matter how bad it got, that he could bear it for freedom.

But to conquer this land: Literally the land, I think, because of the Titans. To subdue them at all costs. This was not what he came for, but he believed Mythal.

And our own: Our own, our people, more spirits we gave bodies for this war, more who may not have wanted to leave the Fade. Our own, our people. To Solas, he is one of them. In this moment, he realises how much Mythal holds herself above all of them.

Elgar'nan's words are all too telling: "We fought to win. And now the Evanuris are as gods. I do not answer to Mythal's annoying lapdog."

They all--all--see him thus. As her pet.

Because he is. She has, until now, controlled him utterly with her manipulation and "need" for him.

"The people are afraid. They must believe in something." Mythal does not even stand up for Solas here; she does not reject Elgar'nan's perception of him. All she does is further distance herself.

The people are afraid: The Evanuris made them. They are as controlled as Solas and more.

Elgar'nan asserts, "They need strength."

"And wisdom." Mythal has the absolute gall to attribute this to herself, when Solas is the source of the wisdom she "needed" for so long. (Belated addition: And another level here: she may also be saying again that she needs him, but doing so in a way that doesn't require her to stand up for him directly. Honestly, fucking gross.)

"They need gods who can protect them," Elgar'nan continues.

"We are not gods. You will learn that." Solas's voice here is pure defeat. The scales are falling from his eyes.

"Every lapdog holds a wolf inside," says Elgar'nan.

Solas knows that Elgar'nan's "protection" is hollow, based on subjugation. And I think in this moment, he learns that Mythal's is based only in her belief that she is better than those beneath her, who cannot possibly handle themselves.

So her lapdog becomes the Wolf.

"I was not certain you would come."

Solas's opening words in this regret show the distance between them already and how much he has realised he does not know this woman who called herself his friend.

And her response is to instantly blame him.

"You are the one who walked away. I never turn my back when my friend needs me."

In putting this post together, this line absolutely sucker punched me. I've watched these several times already, but the absolute audacity to blame him for standing up for his principles for the first time against all her manipulation? Hoo.

She blames him for doing just that, "turning his back when his friend needed him." She needed her enabler, and when he stopped, she turned bitter. Just like any abuser.

That he goes straight into "The Evanuris seek the magic of the Blight" instead of engaging, honestly shows that he's still Wisdom. That is one battle that is unwinnable, trying to stand up against an abuser's bullshit like that.

"Impossible," she says. "The Blight is safely sealed away forever."

Gaslight, girl boss, gatekeep.

"Though I wish I could believe you." [You have lied to me so many times.] "I have sensed the breaking of the wards."

And her answer is patronising. "I will investigate your claims." [I don't believe you.] "If they forget the danger of the Blight, I will endeavour to remind them."

Solas knows this is futile. "What if, instead, you left the Evanuris and remained with me? Do you not wish for freedom from this struggle?"

He asks her, again, to veer from the dangerous path. He desperately wants to believe he was not completely wrong about her, I think. If she were to leave, he could heal somewhat, for not having so thoroughly misjudged her character.

Am I enough for you? Was I ever enough? is the unspoken question here when he asks if she will remain with him.

And in return, he gets back even more patronising bullshit and hubris. "Be at peace, love. I will stop them."

(Can you tell Mythal pisses me off?)

She calls him love. What an unbearable insult after everything, to go on telling him she cares for him whilst ignoring his wisdom--the very wisdom she coerced him into leaving the Fade so she would have by her side--and consolidating her own power at the expense of his people.

"As you must," he says. "The Blight is our mistake."

Might be unpopular, but I do not think Solas bears a split fifty-fifty custody for whose fault the Blight is. Could he have said no about the dagger? Could he have pushed then? Maybe. But by this point, he'd already had probable millennia of complex trauma and a deeply abusive codependent relationship, probably also a level of magical bond. Like, sorry, Trick and BioWare, if you want to retcon everything you shared with us in Inquisition about being in service to the Evanuris ("You have given yourself into the service of an ancient elven god! You are Mythal's creature now. Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her.") AND Mythal casually overriding her servants' will and Solas burning her vallaslin off his face and leaving a scar and devoting himself to freeing the elven people from the Evanuris's domination, fine, but I don't buy it. Even if there was no magical compulsion on him all this time, that is immaterial.

Complex trauma literally rewires the brain to survive. She spent lifetimes programming him, isolating him, stripping from him every bit of agency he had. This man did not have the capacity to say no.

When our no is trampled even for a few months or years, we stop trying to use it. We comply. We, as mortal humans, cannot begin to comprehend the compounded trauma of millennia of this happening with the stakes of worlds in the balance. Solas, quite simply, has lost the entire ability to consent. No one of us can even imagine.

Yet he managed to walk away from her somehow, when she chose Elgar'nan. This man is stronger than anyone gives him credit for.

The dagger was clearly Mythal's idea. The plan to sever the Titans from their dreams, clearly her idea. To end the war. For there to be "peace". For there to be "freedom". Except that never came.

His loyalty was to her and to their people; hers was only ever to herself.

And again, she walks away and lets Solas suffer.

What a good friend.

[screaming from the general direction of Scotland]

She put her trust in monsters instead of her oldest friend, and the monsters ate her face.

Anyone surprised? I'm surprised. (I'm not surprised.)

And on top of this, Mythal finally, finally giving Solas one tiny breadcrumb that she had any principles remaining? I think that cemented his bindings to her forever. Not just that the Evanuris killed her, but why they killed her: because after millennia, she listened to him.

For someone that deep into trauma and abuse? Well. We know what happened.

It cannot be overstated that with his imprisonment of the Evanuris and the Blight, Solas saved the entire world. The entire world. Every living being in Thedas had a chance at life because of him. Only because of him.

Morrigan says it early on in the game, that for all the consequences of the veil (which, it also must be said, was not supposed to be global!), "his imprisonment of the Evanuris was just. Had he not done so, all of Thedas would have fallen to the Blight."

And the world has hated him for it.

He woke after sleeping for millennia, exhausted by this immense act of magic, to discover that not only had it gone horribly wrong, but that it had cost his people everything. That Tevinter had come in and enslaved them, released a trickle of the Blight after breaking into the Black City, used so much blood magic that the veil itself all over Thedas has been in tatters--not least because in releasing the Blight, the survivors had had to face down and kill the dragon thralls (archdemons) of the Evanuris, rendering five out of seven of them mortal, and with their deaths over the intervening centuries, the veil had grown threadbare with only two Evanuris sustaining it.

The risks were catastrophic, the price unbearable.

Everything he'd ever done to protect the world could still come crashing down...and in a sick twist of fate, he would be alive to see it.

And, shockingly, so would Mythal.

Mythal, whose fragment has just been chilling in a swamp for centuries in human form. Mythal, whose abuse of him lasted through the entirety of the world's history. Mythal, who, due to the Evanuris's betrayal and her abusee's abandonment, has become little more than retribution.

Mythal, who could have set him free at any point in all this time and didn't, because he was hers.

Mythal, who is the only remaining person with the power to do what he feels must be done.

I find it interesting that they chose not to use the post-Inquisition dialogue at all. Interesting also that they used Mythal's voice actor and not Flemeth's. This feels like a retcon, but we'll go with it. Whatevs.

"I knew that you would find me soon enough. You need the power of a god, the strength that I alone still carry."

She's still asserting her own godhood.

He's not having it. "The blighted Evanuris will soon break free from their prison. I must make a stronger one that can contain them."

He's not wrong. Not even a little bit wrong. And he's also right that she won't help him. Why would she? She never has.

"While the prison is important, it is not the only goal you seek."

"Why should I not tear down the veil? And bring back immortality to all the elven people? They deserve it."

And this is where I get even more raging, because Mythal's answer is this: "The elven people of today do not deserve to see the world they love torn apart to salve your conscience."

I'm sorry, what?

The world they love? The world that has offered them nowt but literal genocide for thousands of years? The world where in Tevinter, they're chattel slaves and worse, fuel for blood magic without a thought? The world where in the "civilised", slaveless nations to the south, they're either confined to alienages and subjected to repeated genocide (that's what a "purge" is, if anyone isn't clear on that) or the remnants of the Dales, who are the descendents of another enormous genocide? The world where elven magic has been pillaged but elven mages in human settlements are confined to Circles and abused or made tranquil or also genocided by Templars invoking the Rite of Annulment? The world where they're called "elf savage" and "rabbit" and "knife ear" and cannot participate in Thedosian religious life because the Chantry erases every instance of elves from even the Chant of Light? The world where it took the Inquisitor installing a perpetrator of genocide on the Orlesian throne (both Celene AND Gaspard fit this bill) and either having Celene reconcile with Briala (Briala and Celene's relationship could be a whole other post. Boak.) and blackmailing them to give a single elf lands and a title? That world????

What the fuck, Mythal, die faster.

I got real mad there for a second. I'm fine. I'm fine!

Solas, once more, simply says, "I must fix what I have broken. I am sorry."

More than she deserves, frankly. Man's a mess, but at least he tries. She's been chilling in a swamp and pulling puppet strings for ages and abusing her kids. Nudging history like it's some sort of hobby, because it has always just been pieces on a board to her. They have never been people in her eyes like they are in his.

"As am I, old friend."

Aye, get tae fuck. Friends don't treat friends the way you treated Solas. The closest thing to an apology Solas will ever get from her is that she pretty much just lies down and dies when he comes to kill her. And she still won't set him free before he does. Has to continue to twist her own knife.

This scene has me riled.

And this takes us back to the beginning of this post.

To her essence showing up to release him from her service.

In what is, to me, the least accountable, bare minimum non-apology (she never actually says she's sorry) I've had the displeasure to witness in a videogame, with Solas literally cowering before her and offering her a knife to kill him with since this is the first time he's seen her actual, non-Flemythal face since she died.

This was never a friendship of equals. Ever.

She got one thing right. She did break him. But she knew it all this time, and she never took a single step to put it right until pushed. Her corner of the Crossroads, which he built for her in the desperate hope that she would show a glimmer of the friend he believed she was, notably has a pair of wolf statues. Both beheaded.

She's spent all this time punishing him further.

He never went to visit her? I wouldn't either. I could not blame him.

This has gone to an angry place. So let's conclude with what is, I think, the entire point.

Grace.

"I lied. I betrayed you."

"I forgive you."

Has anyone--anyone--in all his long life, ever said those words to him?

I'll say that again: has anyone--ANYONE--in all his millennia of existence, EVER said those words to him?

I forgive you.

Mythal certainly didn't.

The world certainly didn't.

He has shouldered all the blame of an entire pantheon, a war that broke the world, a blight, everything, always, and while people have come alongside him to help him, I am not sure anyone (certainly not anyone he cares about) has given him the grace of forgiveness.

The beauty of this final scene for me wasn't just Ilaana, wasn't just Ilaana reuniting with the man she has loved for a decade who has spent all that time pushing her away so he couldn't--in his mind--inevitably poison the love of the only person who has seen his spirit and cherished it without twisting him.

It was the slow realisation that Rook trusted his love enough to try.

It was Morrigan, who carries all Mythal's memories and her own of Flemythal's abuse and machinations, who responds to Rook's question about her views of Solas with: "Or do you mean to discover if I would stand directly against the Dread Wolf, were there a need? I shall aid you in any way but that. What has passed between Solas and Mythal...I beg you: do not ask this of me again."

Morrigan knows. She will not raise a hand against him. She will not try to stop him. She will let the veil fall. She will not fight with Rook. Because she knows this being whose memories she holds has harmed him enough.

Solas, in these final moments, even before Mythal shows up to gut punch him, realises all these people have somehow, somehow, banded together to help him.

Not work for him.

Not be his agents.

Not worship him.

Not follow him blindly.

To help him. To help Solas. To help him, after all this time, take the first steps towards himself. Towards his own essence, so long twisted into something he never sought or wanted.

The Inquisitor and Morrigan certainly understand what it's like to be seen only as the symbol others raise in your image. Rook will learn that someday, but is still naive.

But even with that naivete, willing. Present. Able to put aside being a chess piece on his board. Able to see that they would never have succeeded without his help. Able to trust two people who know him better than they ever will.

Able to offer him grace.

And when they produce Mythal's essence, how that must brutalise him; to think that perhaps all this has been to let his abuser kill him back. He clearly thinks that's what's happening. He breaks. He fawns. He offers her the blade that has caused so much pain.

Her release of him is the bare minimum she owes him. I've already railed about that.

What is transcendent here, transformative--it is the mortals.

The mortals offering grace to a god who never wanted to be a god.

It's them together showing him a way out of an endless cycle of trauma and abuse. No one of them alone is enough. Without Rook, they wouldn't have Mythal's essence; Morrigan can't go get it, and she can't do what is needed because she's not actually Mythal, only has her memories. Without Morrigan, who can stand there with those memories but from the compassionate perspective of someone who has watched them in horror from the outside. She's far from objective, but she can do this one thing to help.

Without the Inquisitor (romanced or not, still someone he let know him as he most desperately wanted to be known--the Fade-walker, the Dreamer, the humble mage who desperately needed a friend). The Inquisitor, who kneels before him to comfort him. Who sees his hurt and responds.

If romanced, without Lavellan, who kneels to repeat back words he once shouted at the Nightmare in the Fade after Adamant.

"Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ema mar din." (Speak, traitor. Your victory was fruitless. Your pride gives way only to your death.)

To which Solas replied, "Banal nadas."

On the surface, nothing is inevitable, but can also be taken to mean that nothingness is inevitable, entropy, the final void. (Thanks to Dumped, Drunk, and Dalish for this excellent long post on this scene.)

And here is Lavellan, kneeling beside him with those words. "Banal nadas ar lath, ma vhenan."

Nothing is inevitable but the love we share, my heart.

I see everything you are, all you have done, and I love you. I forgive you for the pain you have caused me. I understand, see, and forgive.

No one has ever shown him grace like this.

Ever.

And Solas, this shattered man, sobs.

He sobs.

Someone has taken the trouble to isolate his voice in the video. This man has nothing left. And, after millennia of this trauma cycle repeating over and over, he is finally free to make the choice he wants to make. It's not the outcome he wants; that has to be said. He doesn't want to leave the veil up. He doesn't want to be bound into prison forever with no hope of seeing the world he fought for ever return.

But he is done.

In the Fade after Adamant, there is a cemetery with the worst fears of every companion scriven on shrines and stones. Solas's is dying alone.

After all of this, he is willing to face just that--and would, if not for her.

She knows his deepest fears. She has faced the demon Mythal made of the man she loves. She has given unwitting comfort to the spirit of Wisdom still within. She has seen his sweetest self. Nurtured him, cherished him, and has been nurtured and cherished in return.

Does she want to leave the world behind and spend eternity in a Fade prison? Probably not her first choice. It's not my Ilaana's; she has been on his side all this time, dreaming of a world where the spirits she loves can be reunited with the world in peace and ready to make that happen.

But it was not supposed to happen this way. It did happen this way anyway.

He has sacrificed everything--everything--including his own spirit self, his soul, his life. How could she not offer him what no one ever has? A friend forever, a lover willing to walk the din'an shiral by his side, a companion to ward off the forever alone.

Together, the two of them can begin to heal, with their counterpart who has always seen through the burdens of the world to the soul within.

This is the only thing I've ever had any faith in. Grace I know you carry us Grace And it was such a mess Grace I don't say it enough Grace You are so loved

[supernovafics]

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒

read part one here!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 6.8k words

summary: in which spending the night with steve only makes things more complicated 

warnings: explicit language, cheating (both reader and steve are cheating on their partners), implied smut, a lot of angst

author’s note: did this for the like ten ppl that asked for it<333 i listened to a lot (A LOT) of i, carrion (icarian) by hozier while writing this so that pretty much explains the super angsty vibes we have throughout most of this lol (angst with a happy ending though so no need to hate me! 🫶🏾)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The time couldn’t have been later than six o’clock. 

For the most part, it was still dark outside, but you could see the beginning bits of the sun rising through Steve’s thin curtains. 

And it was then that you realized that you were still in Steve’s bed when you definitely shouldn’t have been. A fresh wave of guilt began to settle in your stomach as you shifted around to face him. He was still asleep, lips slightly parted and hair a mess. 

You needed to leave— you actually should’ve left hours ago, but you’d fallen asleep way too easily in his bed; something that you’d actually never done before. And even now you still couldn’t find it in you to move, so you instead kept looking at him and pushed away the guilt that quietly gnawed at your stomach and told you that you should be running away right now. 

“You’re staring,” Steve mumbled after a few moments, eyes still shut and the tiniest hint of a smirk on his face. 

You quickly shook your head even though he obviously couldn’t see you. “Not true.” 

His eyes opened and you immediately closed yours, knowing that he caught you but you still pretended as if you were innocent. 

You felt him poke your side barely a second later and you laughed despite yourself. Your eyes opened and you didn’t hesitate to meet his gaze, but then seeing the small happy smile on his face reminded you of why you shouldn’t have been in his bed right then. 

You shifted so that your head was back against the pillow and you stared up at his ceiling, focusing on a random spot. “So, um, are you feeling okay after last night?”

You decided against specifying exactly what happened last night to save you from pointing out the elephant in the room— him being drunk and showing up to your house and a conversation that was honest but also not at all somehow leading here. 

“Yeah, just a headache, but not really.”

You promptly decided to use that as an excuse to get out of his bed. “I’ll go grab something for you. Is the aspirin still in the same spot in your bathroom?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to do that.”

You shook your head as you pulled the blanket off and got up. “No, it’s fine.”

You stepped through the door that connected to his bathroom. You avoided looking at yourself in the mirror, for reasons that you couldn’t fully decipher, and simply rummaged through the drawer underneath his sink for a quick second. 

Steve was still in the same position in his bed when you returned to his room, except now he was looking at you with a confused look in his eyes. 

He didn’t say anything or call you out on your current antics though as you tossed over the bottle of aspirin to him, and then you realized something. 

“Oh, you need water too. I’ll be right back.”

“You don’t—”

You waved him off before he could finish his statement and slipped out of his room, not giving him a chance to say anything else. 

It didn’t take long, you knew his house fairly well, and doing the mundane task of finding a glass and filling it with some water was enough to help clear your mind and make you think about everything logically. You realized just how much of a mistake last night was, but the only good thing was that this would be easy to recover from. You two could still go your separate ways and let your different lives completely go back to how they were before you two started sneaking around with each other. 

When you got back to Steve’s room, he was sitting up and leaning back against his headboard. He pushed a hand through his hair, which actually did very little to tame its messiness. 

“Here you go,” You said as you handed over the glass. 

He smiled at you. “Thanks.”

You simply nodded in response at first and then you were speaking. “Yeah, no problem.”

You lingered awkwardly by his bed because you didn’t want to get back in, but you felt as if there was a lot more you should say before you left. “Hey, um, can we agree to actually not do this anymore? I still stand by everything I said in the bathroom yesterday.”

His confused look returned. “We didn’t do anything last night.”

“Yeah, and I think that’s somehow worse,” You told him as you turned away because it became too hard to hold his gaze right then. You grabbed your hoodie off the back of his door and slipped it on. “Let’s just let things go back to normal, okay? You with Nancy and me with Jamie.”

It didn’t necessarily feel right saying the words, but they felt needed. You had to say them. You had to pretend that everything was fine, or that it at least had the potential to be that way. 

“I broke up with Nancy last night.”

For a second, all you could do was simply look at him as the words processed in your brain because at first you were convinced that you heard him wrong. But once they did process, you were immediately blurting out, “What? When?”

“Before I got drunk and saw you,” He answered, voice way too soft to match this huge news that he was dropping on you. 

You shook your head and sighed as you realized that everything wasn’t going to easily go back to normal and be fine like you wanted it to be. “God, Steve, I really wish you would’ve told me that last night.”

“Would it have changed anything? Is it changing anything now?”

“I wouldn’t have let myself come here,” You answered immediately. “If you had told me this when you were standing on my front lawn, I would’ve told you to go and try to get back with her.”

There was a lot more that you could’ve said— that you would’ve seen the conversation you two had last night right here in his bedroom entirely different if you’d known, and you wouldn’t have let yourself fall asleep in his arms if you knew that there wasn’t any hope for things to go back to normal because he no longer had a “normal” to go back to. And you wouldn’t let yourself be here with him in this moment either. 

“Is it changing anything now?” Steve asked again when he noticed that you hadn’t answered that question. 

“No... No, it’s not,” You said after the briefest moment of hesitation and then turned away from him again. “I’m gonna go. You should try to fix things with her.”

“Why do you want me to be with her so bad?” You could hear him ask as you closed his bedroom door behind you. 

Because then I’d feel a little less terrible about all of this. You wanted to practically scream that at him. You wanted him to understand that if things could just go back to how they were then you’d feel okay about how shitty of a person you’d been for the past month and a half. At least, that was the hope. 

However, you didn’t tell him any of that. 

“It’s just, it’s the right thing to do, Steve,” You responded loud enough for him to hear you through the shut door. 

You headed down the stairs, not listening to see if Steve said anything else, and you were in the middle of putting on your shoes when you heard his door open again. You tied your sneakers quickly and terribly because you hoped that you’d be able to slip out before Steve made it down the stairs. 

Perhaps you two needed to have a better conversation that would actually come to some sort of proper conclusion, but you couldn’t do that right then. And then you quickly figured that if you kept pushing him away, maybe he’d get the hint and push you away too, or simply let go. 

You were only able to pull open the front door before you abruptly stopped your fast movements.  

Because Nancy was standing in front of you, finger seconds away from ringing the doorbell. Her eyes met yours and you suddenly wished for the ground to swallow you whole. 

She looked like a girl that had just been broken up with, eyes puffy and red like she’d been crying all night, and you knew that was entirely your fault. An immediate “I’m so sorry” was on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t say that, not right then. She had the saddest look on her face that was quickly replaced with surprise and confusion when she saw you standing where you were.

“Oh, oh, hey. I was, um… I was just leaving,” You said to her, trying to sound as normal as possible but this was perhaps the most not normal situation ever.

Her eyes immediately narrowed at you. “Oh my god, I knew it.” 

You wondered what she meant. Did she mean that she knew that Steve was cheating, or she knew that he was cheating with you?

You obviously didn’t ask her to clarify, though. Instead, you slipped past her and started walking away. The last thing you heard was Steve saying, “Nance, what are you doing here?” and her responding with some angry words that you felt as if you shouldn’t have heard.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

After the moment you and Steve had on New Year’s— an abrupt kiss on a swing set that led to a lot more kissing in his car—  a sort of routine quickly formed. It became a cycle of ending up in his car or your car or his house, and it was exactly three weeks after New Year’s when he finally saw the inside of yours. 

It was a rare one-off situation where your parents were gone for the weekend and you knew that you weren’t supposed to have anyone over; not even Jamie, even though they’d known him for practically forever. 

You had never had the urge to break the rule before and Jamie wanted to keep a good relationship with your parents and was also too nice to suggest breaking it either, so you initially thought that your nights would be quiet. 

Except you now had Steve in your life. And he didn’t mind breaking the rule of your parents who he hadn’t even met, so he came over to your house around ten o’clock. 

You were immediately trying to pull him in for a kiss when you closed the front door behind him, but he pulled back with a teasing smile.

“Can I at least get a tour before you try to seduce me?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him but still nodded at his request. “Of course, I’m so sorry, where are my manners?”

You grabbed his hand before you could think too much about it, and quickly led him through your house and pointed out everything. “Kitchen, small dining room, living room, guest room and bathroom down the hall. And that’s pretty much it for down here. Nothing as extravagant as your house.” 

“I like it.”

“Don’t get too attached because this is the only time that this will happen here.” 

You didn’t outwardly say the exact reason why that was probably the case— it would never make sense for him to come over any other time; it would either be too risky with your parents right down the hall or during a time when Jamie was over. But, Steve understood all of what was left unspoken.

“Got it,” He said and then he smiled at you. “Can I see upstairs?”

You nodded, leading the way once again. “My parents' room is down that way, and I’m right here.”

The door was already open so you let him walk in first. There wasn’t too much you found embarrassing about your bedroom, not the full shelf of books or the few posters that hung on the wall above your desk. The only thing that made your cheeks warm in embarrassment was the wallpaper on your walls that you had since you were a kid and had hoped to change sooner rather than later, but you had just never gotten around to it.  

Steve looked at you after a moment. “Cute room.”

“One day those pink unicorns will no longer be on the wall.”

“I like them. They add character.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes even as you laughed at his words. “Shut up.”

The teasing smirk on his face didn’t manage to annoy you as he stepped closer to you and the distance between you two became nonexistent. He leaned in and kissed you then because that was what was supposed to happen and it probably should’ve happened sooner; what you two were doing wasn’t meant to be anything more or less than physical. 

Your freshly made bed became a mess in a matter of moments and clothes were quickly scattered on the floor; his jeans and t-shirt gone and your own tank top and shorts tossed somewhere to the side too.

It was fairly early for a Friday night, and you kind of wondered how Steve could even be here right now, but neither of you ever asked where each other’s person was. It was just quietly understood that when you two were together it meant that some excuse had been made or some lie had been told so that this could happen. 

A part of you knew that you’d eventually feel bad about all of this, but it had only been three weeks and you were able to forget about how bad you should’ve been feeling when you and Steve were together like this; not an ounce of space between your bodies and limbs tangled beneath bedsheets. Weirdly enough, it just felt too right even though it was objectively wrong. 

Soft kisses trailed along your neck and collarbone and then proceeded to move lower and lower. All you could do was sigh in contentment and your eyes slipped shut as you let Steve turn your mind to mush for the time being. 

“You’ve read all of these?” Steve asked you later; when you were heading back into your bedroom after using the bathroom and you saw him standing next to your bookshelf. 

He was shirtless with only his jeans hanging low on his hips, which made sense since you were wearing his t-shirt right then; it had been the closest thing to you afterward. Now, though, you pulled it off and tossed it over to him and then went to grab your own shirt. 

“Yeah,” You simply answered his question as you searched around your room for your underwear and slipped it on once you spotted it partially under your bed. 

Steve pulled one of the books off of the shelf, you couldn’t see what the title said even as you moved a little closer to him. “This is the one that we had to read for that English project last year.” 

You nodded. “Oh, yeah, I liked it a lot, actually.”

“I barely remember anything that happened in it.” 

“That’s not surprising and it’s probably the reason why we got a B+ on that project.”

Steve placed the book on the shelf and then turned around to face you. “Hey, a B+ is great.”

“Yeah, for you, but for a person that actually really likes English, not so much,” You told him and then smiled to show that, for the most part, you were joking. 

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry for holding you back on that project.”

“Apology accepted,” You said. “I also really don’t even need an apology because I’ve had much worse partners than you on things before.”

“Okay, in that case, I feel honored that I haven’t been the worst person you’ve ever had to work with.”

You laughed a little. “And I hope I was the best person you’ve ever had to work with.”

Steve nodded. “Of course, you definitely were.”

You were pretty sure he was joking— even though he didn’t entirely sound like it— so you continued playing along. “I feel honored.”

He stepped closer to you and for a second you thought that he was going to kiss you again, and although that never happened after, you didn’t think that you would’ve reminded him of that or pushed him away. He didn’t kiss you, though; he stopped before he got that close to you and started heading toward your open bedroom door instead. 

“I should probably go,” He said, and you nodded in agreement. 

He could’ve easily stayed the night if either of you wanted that to happen. But, he didn’t ask and you didn’t offer. It would’ve been wrong to, you both could silently agree on that. 

You were kind of starting to become okay with things becoming more and more wrong, though. 

This was meant to be mindless and solely physical, but it was becoming a sort of routine, second nature in a way, to talk about random nonsense or joke around with each other. 

However, staying the night felt like a line you two shouldn’t cross; it felt different than just talking for a while after. It felt a thousand times more intimate and serious and like it went several steps past just having sex or being two people who talked about way too much with each other sometimes. 

“I’ll see you later,” Steve said before he opened your front door. 

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Goodnight.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Barely a month later, and the line had been crossed.

The unspoken rule was broken and there wasn’t even any point to spiral out about it because that somehow wasn’t the worst thing that happened. 

Everything was ruined, or it at least soon would be because you couldn’t imagine Nancy sitting on this information and not telling anyone. She was rightfully mad and maybe you deserved whatever would happen once all of this spread around the school. 

Your walk home from Steve’s house was quick and the sun was completely up by the time you made it through your front door, but it was still early enough that your parents were still asleep and wouldn’t know that you’d been gone for the entire night. 

A part of you wanted to simply just go to sleep when you stepped back into your bedroom, sleep through the entire day, and just forget about everything. But then there was the other part of you that couldn’t not think about everything; the inevitable explosion that was coming sooner rather than later, and it didn’t even feel entirely dramatic to view it that way. 

Ultimately, you decided to take a shower because it felt like the only thing that would help you feel a little better. It ended up being the longest shower you’d had in a while and it actually didn’t do much to make you feel any differently. There was still the guilt that had made a home in your stomach when you woke up and it was now coupled with a lot of dread. 

You left for school at the time you were supposed to leave, saying a quick goodbye to your parents before stepping out of the door, but you turned left instead of right at the end of your block and ended up at a diner. You stayed there for probably way too long, sipping coffee instead of anything else because you couldn’t stomach the thought of having actual food right then. 

You thought about how you could fix things, and if there was even any hope to fix anything, and also what exactly was there to fix. You didn’t want to hurt Jamie, but you were certain that you did, and what could you even say to him now that would magically “fix” what you’d done? 

That you loved him and still wanted to be with him? That everything that happened with Steve was a stupid mistake and you regretted it entirely? 

You had lied a lot over the past month and a half and you didn’t want to just continue piling onto it. But, then the thought of being a thousand percent honest felt way too scary. 

And when thinking about how fucked your life was became too much, you took the newspaper that a random older man offered you and sipped more coffee, and reread the same articles over and over again. 

You eventually showed up to school halfway through lunch. Missing the entire day felt a bit too cowardly and you also remembered that you had to take a Chemistry quiz at the end of the day. However, you didn’t immediately step out of your car once you were parked in the school parking lot. Instead, you leaned your head back against the headrest and let out a sigh, eyes slipping shut in the process as you mentally prepared yourself for whatever you'd have to face inside those walls. 

An abrupt quick knock against your window scared you and made you open your eyes. It was Jamie standing at your passenger side window and you could feel your heart speed up in your chest, and it wasn’t because you’d just been startled by him. 

But, he didn’t look mad at you, just confused, and that felt like a good sign; maybe that meant that the “inevitable” actually hadn’t happened yet. 

You gave him a small wave and then he opened the door and proceeded to get in your car. 

“Where’ve you been?”

“I wasn’t really feeling good this morning, but then I remembered my Chem quiz last period and I don’t wanna miss that.”

He nodded. “Oh, okay.”

He wasn’t looking at you— you could tell that he was purposely avoiding eye contact with you, actually— and it was that that made you realize that he knew. 

“I’m so sorry,” You blurted out. 

“Is it true?”

“I’m so sorry.”

Finally, his eyes met yours and the hurt look on his face made you want to break his gaze, but it would’ve been too shitty to look away because you suddenly felt bad. “I don’t get it... Steve Harrington? Really? Do you wanna be with him now?”

For a second, you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t; no words would form on your lips. And it was then that you realized that you weren’t ready to be honest with this guy sitting next to you who you’d known since you were twelve and considered your best friend since then too. It shouldn’t have felt so fucking hard, but it did, and the worst part of it was that you knew that you had to tell him the truth anyway. 

“Honestly, Steve has nothing to do with how I feel about us and you,” You ultimately said, realizing that you weren’t completely answering Jamie’s question, but he didn’t call you out on it. “I’d been feeling… off about things for a while, but I wanted to pretend like I wasn’t. I wanted to pretend that everything was fine and normal between you and me, so I pushed those “off” feelings away and buried them down, and acted as if they didn’t exist. I lied a lot to myself because I was scared that I’d mess everything up. And then I saw Steve on New Year’s and we did something stupid and shitty that didn’t feel that way at the time, and that’s when I started lying to you. And all of the lying and what me and him were doing never felt completely terrible and wrong until yesterday. But, by the time I actually wanted to do the right thing and try to be a good person, it was too late. And maybe that’s actually a good thing because I would’ve just kept lying to myself and to you too if things hadn’t blown up this way.”

You were rambling and probably not making any sense right then. The thought of ruining absolutely everything still weighed so heavily on you, even though the damage was already pretty much done. There was no recovering from this and there was no “fixing” things, you realized now. However, you were still explaining and explaining and hoping that maybe things could somehow be okay.  

A confused look crossed Jamie’s face. “Why didn’t you just tell me how you were feeling about us before?”

“Because I’m a coward and I wanted to avoid all of this,” You admitted. “And also because it was just so confusing. I love you, you’re my best friend, so it didn’t make sense to me why I was no longer in love with you. And the thought of having any sort of conversation about this scared the shit out of me because I don’t wanna lose you completely.”

Things became quiet for a second and Jamie looked away from you, staring straight ahead at the parking lot instead. 

After a moment, he started speaking again. “Remember back in seventh grade, and I’m pretty sure most of eighth grade too, you used to make me turn around or close my eyes whenever you wanted to tell me some sort of secret?”

The abrupt subject change surprised you, but you nodded anyway. “Yeah, I remember that.”

You weren’t ever entirely sure why you would do that so much. Jamie was the first person you’d ever gotten super close to and you felt like you could tell any and all of your secrets to him, but the act of doing so scared you, so you’d make him look away whenever you did. He thought it was a little weird at first, but he came around to the antic after the first few times. 

“You eventually stopped doing that and you started telling me everything right to my face,” He continued and you understood where he was going then. “I thought that meant that you felt like you could tell me anything, especially all of the shitty stuff.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” You said, and it was a bad excuse, but it was also honest. “And I know that I just ended up hurting you, anyway. Probably a thousand times worse than if I just told you the truth from the beginning.”

He looked at you again. “So, what’s the truth?”

You wanted to break his gaze so badly, but you forced yourself not to. “I love you, I really do, but I want things to go back to how they used to be with us. I wanna just be friends. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” He said softly, and he didn’t sound completely hurt, but you still felt terrible. 

“I’m sorry,” You told him again because it felt like the only thing to say right then. 

He lightly shook his head at you, like he didn’t want you to keep saying it. “At least I don’t have to be scared of your dad anymore.”

His joke made you smile and inwardly sigh in relief; maybe things actually could somehow be okay. 

“There’s literally never been any reason to be scared of him. He likes you more than me. Who else can he talk about basketball with?”

Jamie cracked a small smile at that and a comfortable silence lingered for a bit as you took a look at the time displayed across the dashboard. There were only about fifteen minutes left of lunch and it probably would’ve been a good use of your time to focus on studying for your quiz later, but you didn’t bring it up right then and you didn’t move to grab your bookbag from the backseat. This moment actually felt okay and you didn’t want to be the one to break it.

“I’m just realizing that you didn’t answer my question from before,” Jamie eventually said. 

You glanced at him, confused. “What question?”

“Do you want to be with him? With Steve?”

You weren’t entirely sure how to respond to that, but you were opening your mouth to stutter out something anyway because staying silent felt like it would’ve been an answer in itself. 

Before you could manage to say anything, though, Jamie continued. “Actually, no wait, never mind, I don’t think I wanna know the answer.”

He still didn’t sound entirely mad, but another soft-spoken “I’m sorry” was on the tip of your tongue. However, he was opening the door and stepping out of your car before it could fall from your lips. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

This time when the rocks began hitting your window in the middle of the night, they were expected. 

You had actually called Steve asking him to come over and he didn’t say no. There was the smallest part of you that thought that maybe he would. 

You pushed your window open and looked down at him standing on your front lawn. “Come up.”

A confused look crossed his face. “You’re not coming down?”

You shook your head. “No, come up.” 

It was risky, your parents were right down the hall and this was pretty different from you sneaking out, but you couldn’t really find it in you to care. 

The way the roof was angled made it easy for Steve to pull himself up and maneuver his way toward your bedroom window. Steve wasn’t completely graceful doing it, but he tried to be, which made it funnier, but you didn’t laugh and instead only smiled at him once he was through the window and standing in front of you. 

“Did that look cooler than it felt?”

That time you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “No, sorry.”

He pushed a hand through his hair and gave you the smallest smile. “A lie would’ve been appreciated.”

“Oh, what I meant to say was that was actually the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” You told him and he laughed. 

“Thank you,” He said and then slipped off his jacket and laid it on the back of your desk chair, which left him in just his white t-shirt. “I didn’t see you around school today.”

“Oh yeah, I didn’t really want to go today,” You said with a shrug that you hoped feigned the proper amount of nonchalance. Your answer was only half of the truth— you actually didn’t want to go, but you also couldn’t seem to force yourself to step out of your car after your conversation with Jamie, it felt too hard to, so you instead ended up back at the diner for another handful of hours. 

You sat on the floor at the foot of your bed now, leaning back against it, and Steve followed suit, leaving only a little bit of space between you two. 

You turned your head to look at him. “How bad is everything?”

“Not terrible,” He answered after the briefest moment of hesitation and you could tell that he was attempting to downplay it all for your sake. “It’ll probably blow over by Monday.”

You weren’t sure that was possible, given just how popular Steve was, but you nodded anyway and your eyes fell to your hands in your lap because it was easier than doing anything else. 

Maybe he saw through the half-hearted nod because then he was whispering to you. “It’ll be okay.”

You didn’t say anything in response to those quiet words, but they did manage to soften something inside of you. You pushed away the thought of school and what Monday would look like for you; what everyone probably now thought about you and the shit people would say because of it. 

You looked at Steve again and he gave you a small hopeful-looking smile that you suddenly felt like you didn’t deserve. 

“I feel like I was way too mean to you this morning and I’m really sorry about that,” You abruptly told him. 

Steve shook his head at your words. “It’s okay. Doesn’t matter.”

His hand found one of yours then, intertwining them. It felt like way too tender and sweet of an action, something that had never been done between you two, but it also felt entirely right. 

“Did you ever think about why it was so easy for us to do it? To lie and cheat?” You asked him, not holding eye contact and instead focusing on the floor. 

You knew your own answer to the question, but you wondered what his was because he never seemed entirely unhappy with Nancy, and since you two rarely ever talked about your respective relationships, you felt like you knew nothing about where his head had been. 

“Honestly, I didn’t think about it.”

“Why did you do it?” You asked. “Why’d you want to kiss me that night?”

There was no pause or hesitation before he answered. “Because it was you.”

That was probably the cheesiest thing you’d ever heard, so you immediately nudged his shoulder and rolled your eyes. “Stop it. Be serious.”

“I am serious,” His hand gave yours a light squeeze, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You remember the first time we met up after school to work on that English project?”

You did remember it, but you only nodded because you really wanted to hear what he had to say about it. 

“We hung out for like two hours that day. Worked on the project for a bit and then just talked about random stuff for most of the time, and it was all just so easy for some reason; so damn easy to talk to you. I looked forward to every day that we had to work on the project after that. And then I think it was one of the last few days of us doing it that you randomly mentioned that you had a boyfriend and I realized that I had zero shot with you.”

You weren’t entirely sure what you had expected Steve to say, but you knew that it wasn’t that. He was right that the conversations you two had then had been pretty effortless and nice, but hearing that he liked you all the way back then felt like something that you immediately wanted to shake your head at and deny. There hadn’t been any moments during those two weeks that gave you any indication that he liked you in that way. Yes, he was flirty, and he wasn’t even dating Nancy yet so it could’ve been plausible that he really was flirting with you, but you figured that was just his personality; everyone knew just how damn charming he was. 

“And then all those months later I saw you in that backyard. And things were going fine with me and Nancy, but I suddenly really wanted to talk to you. Because you were alone, and I thought that meant that you and Jamie were over because why else would you be alone on New Year’s? But, no he was still in the picture, but you didn’t tell me to fuck off because of him, so I didn’t.”

Things got quiet for a second and before you could really even think about how to respond to that, Steve was speaking again. “Why’d you let me kiss you that night?”

“I didn’t think about it too much,” You immediately answered him, suddenly finding it so easy to be honest. “Deep down, I knew it was a bad idea, but that wasn’t enough to make me wanna stop it.”

You shifted closer to him, closing the last bit of distance between you two and leaning your head against his shoulder. 

“It was the kind of bad idea that felt like a good one once it was happening if that makes sense,” You continued. “It felt nice and good and really… Right. Even though it shouldn’t have.” 

“Yeah, it always felt right,” Steve agreed, voice soft. “It still does.” 

A part of you couldn’t help but think that even though this moment felt right too, maybe it also shouldn’t have felt that way. But, everything else— what made this all so wrong in the first place— was already ruined and over, so perhaps it was okay to finally lean into this rightness since you wouldn’t end up feeling bad or guilty about it in the long run.  

You pulled your hand away from Steve’s and then shifted so that you were in his lap, legs on either side of him and knees pushing into the carpet below you.

Your eyes met his soft brown ones that looked unsure of what you were about to do or say next. 

“I really like you.”

It was the first time you were admitting it out loud and as the words fell from your lips and settled in the quiet air of your bedroom, you realized just how long you’d been aching to finally say them to him. 

The smile that spread across Steve’s face practically melted your insides. “I really like you too.”

Your hands came up to settle on his shoulders as you nodded and smiled back at him. “Cool, nice to know that we both like each other.”

“Really like each other,” He corrected you and then leaned in to press the quickest kiss against your cheek, which made you laugh a little. 

“Oh, sorry, you’re right,” You said and then it was your turn to lean in. You brushed your nose against his and your eyes slipped shut as you whispered your next words against his lips. “Really like each other.”

You started pulling back but Steve’s mouth chased yours, putting an abrupt end to your teasing. You gave in easily and leaned into him, returning his eagerness and inwardly sighing in contentment at the feeling of his lips on yours. Your pajama shorts rode up as you shifted in his lap and one of Steve’s hands moved to rest on the sides of your thighs to keep you steady. 

You wouldn’t mind kissing him forever. It was a thought that hit you a lot in moments like this— as mouths explored and hands roamed— and this was the first time that that thought didn’t scare or worry you because it wouldn’t actually complicate things like it would have before.

You pulled away from his mouth after a moment and your lips found his neck instead. He let out a low hum the second you grazed your tongue over a particularly sensitive spot on his skin; you had discovered it the second time you two made out in his car and you adored the soft sound he made when you found it. 

“You still have unicorns on the wall,” Steve abruptly said and the words felt so random that you stopped your movements. 

You let out a laugh against his neck. “Shut up. Why are you bringing that up right now?”

“Sorry, I had to turn down the mood somehow,” He said and you pulled back to look at him. “Since your parents are right down the hall.”

“Well, I guess that just means that you have to be really quiet for once.” 

He let out a sound that resembled both a scoff and an amused laugh. “Me?” 

The tiniest hint of a smirk played on your lips as you nodded, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, you get really loud, Harrington.”

“I think we have very different memories of what this last month has been like,” He said and then he was tilting his head up and finding your lips again before you could potentially say anything in response to him.  

His hands moved from your thighs to your hips and he pulled you down against him. There were some layers separating you two— your thin shorts and the sweatpants Steve had on— but it was still the perfect amount of friction. You were brushing roughly against the tent in his sweatpants, which made you inadvertently moan into the kiss. 

“See?” Steve mumbled against your lips. “You’re the loud one.” 

You pulled back a little, it was too hard not to laugh, even as you playfully rolled your eyes at him. “That was very evil.” 

“I’m sorry,” He said, but smiled at you. “Come on, let’s go to my car. Maybe head to the lake? You can be as loud as you want there.”

You nodded at his teasing suggestion, but still slotted your lips against his once more, not wanting to move out of this position just yet. Steve didn’t seem to mind at all and he pulled you closer, as close as you two had been so many times before.

You could recognize that this was a weird set of circumstances and the smallest part of you was trying to figure out how much of it you’d end up looking back on and regretting— the lies and secrets that started all of this and ended up hurting people just like you knew it would. But, in this moment, you deliberately didn’t think about that. Instead, you focused on Steve and how glad you were that he was here and how happy you were to have him in your life. 

You whispered those sentimental words to him moments after they hit you; labeling them as cheesy and he immediately shook his head and told you that they weren’t. 

“I’m happy too,” He whispered back and one of his hands came up to find your cheek. The way he stroked your skin so tenderly made you suddenly turn shy under his gaze, but that didn’t make you want to look away from him. “That I’m here with you. And that you want me to be.”

“I think I’ll always want you to be,” You said, voice still soft and quiet, and it didn’t hit you how true those words were until they were out in the open. Maybe they were a bit blindly optimistic, but that didn’t change how much you meant them right then.

Steve kissed you again and you two stayed like that for a little longer before you moved out of his lap and the two of you finally headed to his car.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know ur thoughts<333

[pamicakery]

₊✩‧₊˚౨ LOA IS EXHAUSTING ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Let's be honest.. We have been trying to force ourselves to affirm, visualise and it's been years that we are waiting for our manifestation. We can't even manifest in field we used to success, we try more and more techniques but fail again and again. We got depressed, exhausted, sad and we want to give up. We see success stories over success stories. We see tumblr Loa blogs coming and deactivating.

You want your Sp? You are chasing after them.

You want your job? You're distributing resumes everywhere waiting for an answer.

You want your ideal body? You are avoiding mirror.

You are affirming that you are that bad bitch that gets everything you want? You're crying and asking every Loa blog how to manifest this with many accounts or on anon.

The error is not the world. You are. Well.. Said like that is harsh but let me explain.

You are manifesting with ego.

You want to manifest with logic, reasons and known pattern. You are not using the subconscious mind but your ego. You want to convince your Rational ego that you have that body that you don't have, that your boyfriend is this guy who blocked you, or this job that you don't have. Let's put it like this :

🧸: I have my ideal body!

🧠: No you don't look at the mirror you are the same.

🧸: I swear I have it!

🧠: No you don't, you don't work out or diet.

🧸: but I have it.

🧠: Why are you avoiding mirrors if you have your ideal body?

🧸: Because... I don't have it yet but it will come soon!

🧠 : Who told you you don't have it?

🧸: I see it in the mirror.

🧠:So you don't have it, I was right.

🧸:Yeah you are right, I don't have my ideal body.

Why are you relying on a rational person to prove a miracle?

You are more stressing out and forcing yourself to visualise more than anything.

What you should do then?

Nothing.

🎀 When I mean nothing, it means relying on the miracle person to prove the miracle. Make it easy for yourself. You can speak to the subconscious mind, who doesn't have any limiting belief, agrees with you, prove you right, show you and tell you what you want and believe in you and will do anything for you.

🎀 Your subconscious mind is not your bitch, your whore or your slave. It's your best friend. You don't need to tell it everyday :

'' Make me breath ''

'' Make me walk ''

'' Make my heart beats ''

'' Digest my food ''

. It takes care of everything but you prefered to listen and talk to your ego instead.

Let's put it like that :

🧸: I have my ideal body.

🎀: Yes you have and you are so beautiful.

🧸:no... I still have the same body.

🎀: what? Of course not, in your 4d you have it!

🧸: Really ? But in the 3d -

🎀: I've finished the painting in the 4d, let me start sketching here so you can see it too. It Will be beautiful, trust me.

🧸: But what if it doesn't come.

🎀:You have to trust me, because I trust you when you tell me how's your life is going in the 3d. You're my eyes, remember?

🧸:Okay then, I trust you.

It's like someone ordered a commission for a cake. The person told how exactly they want their cake okay? With detailed. So now it's for the baker to catch up to do the exact replica of the cake. But if everytime the customer calls '' Is the cake is finished yet? '' or '' You won't make it in time '', the baker doesn't have time to bake so when the day will come, there will be nothing on the table.

But

If the customer trust the baker, and let them cook, the baker will be more concentrated on the cake and will give a stunning result.

You need to trust the subconscious mind and let it work. Your only job is to know what you want and how would you feel if you already have it. If you want to send a reminder to the subconscious mind, send it the feeling of already having it.

🩷know that your subconscious mind is your best friend, if you trust it and enjoying in advance because you know it will bring your the best results it will thanks you with your desires.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Where Soul Meets Body - Ghost x Reader

Ao3 Link

Content Warnings - afab!reader, no pronouns used, reader has a call sign, canon typical violence, ghost's past :(, angst, smut, fingering, oral, thigh riding, PiV, unprotected sex, happy ending. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary - Simon Riley has been your best friend since the two of you were five. You've been in love with him since you were 15. It's too bad life has other plans

WC: 18k

Big thanks to @shotmrmiller for helping me with the last chapter and big thanks to @itsagrimm for listening to my rambling about this since January. I'm so happy to see it written and finished.

Rainy days in the United Kingdom were far from abnormal. Seeing the bright sun with no clouds obstruction was abnormal. Seeing someone without an umbrella, even a jacket, in the rain was more than abnormal to you. Who in the world would set out to school without a jacket or umbrella? You approach the strawberry blond boy and tentatively hold your umbrella over his head. "What are you doing without an umbrella?" You ask, head tilting ever so slightly at the boy looking up at you. Oh, he's from your class, what was his name again?

"I don't have one."

"Did your mum not buy you one?" There was a small silence but you smile, "Well it doesn't matter now, I'm here and we can share." You give him your name and get the smallest smile from him.

"I'm Simon Riley." Ah, that's right, Simon Riley.

"Well then Simon, let's get to school." The umbrella was hardly large enough for you to fit under but you held it over his head as the rain came down. It rained all day but that was okay because you and Simon sat together all day. "I'll walk home with you so you don't get wet." You say while playing another round of Sorry!.

"You don't need to." Simon mutters as he moves his piece, his brown eyes downcast. You frown, brows pinching together as you try to piece together the logic behind that statement.

"I don't need to but I want to." You respond with a toothy grin. "It's what friends do." You say with confidence as you draw a card.

"We're friends?" Simon asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours.

"Of course. We're sharing an umbrella." You laugh and move your piece according to the card. "And when you get your own umbrella, we can be umbrella friends." He repeats the term umbrella friends as if testing the waters and then smiles. A smile suits him much better than a frown you decide. During lunch, you offer part of your sandwich when you realize how sad his packed lunch is. "Here, I'm full." A lie but he hardly had half of what your mum packed. He looked at the triangularly cut sandwich with apprehension. "Please eat it." He continues to stare at it before picking it up and taking a bite then looking at you. When he sees your smile, he keeps eating it. "You have very brown eyes." You suddenly comment, unable to keep it to yourself. "I like them."

Simon easily fit into the routine of your life, each day after school he would walk home with you on Fridays. Together the two of you would chatter about anything and everything, conversation flowing easily. Somedays were worse than others, like right now while you treated Simon's busted lip with a bag of cold peas pressing against his cheek. "I'll beat him up." You promise. He seems different these days, he had always been a bit timid before but any loud noise scared him. You don't ask what happened, you could see it in his eyes that he didn't want to talk about it. Those same eyes were always looking down all the time now too, you wish he wouldn't. You like to see his eyes.

"You can't beat up Tommy." He insists.

"He beat you up, I'm just returning the favor." You huff as you dab the blood away from his lip and hand him a bag of cold broccoli. The attic of your home had become a safe haven to him and the walls and ceiling were decorated in drawings that the two of you had created over the last two years. A plate of triangle sandwiches sat half eaten on the box-made-table. "I'll just punch him. Serve him right." You huff and cross your arms after throwing the wet rag in the corner. Books and half put away board games were scattered all around the little attic.

"Please don't." Simon begs, his brown eyes downcast again.

"Will it make you happy if I don't?" You ask, twisting your shirt and pulling at the loose thread. Simon nods and you sigh, pushing your hair from your face. "Fine then but you're staying the night." You declare.

"Don't you need to ask your mum and dad permission?" He asks.

"They'll say yes. They always do." It was true, there hadn't been a time your mum hadn't let Simon sleep over if you had asked. Simon tapped your arm and handed you a book from the pile.

"Out of your head, let's read." He says while giving a frail smile. When did his smiles get smaller? You take the book from his hand, you hope it'll make him happy. A knock on the attic door as your mum peaks her head up.

"Are you staying for dinner Simon?" You mum asks and you jump on the opportunity.

"Can Simon stay the night mum? Please." You draw out your please and put on your best puppy eyes. Your mum looks between you and Simon who still held the bag of broccoli against his mouth.

"Of course he can stay. Just be quiet after eight pm." Your mum disappears back down the ladder towards the kitchen while you turn to Simon with a victorious smile on your face.

"Told you so."

You knock rapidly on his home's front door, "Come on Riley! I'm not gonna stand out here all day waiting for you." You would, of course you would. Rain or shine, warm or hot. The door swung open and you scrunched up your nose when Tommy was standing in front of you. "You smell like a sewer rat." You remark, "Where's Simon?"

"Don't you ever shut up?" Tommy snapped, "Simon isn't your boyfriend."

"He doesn't need to be my boyfriend in order for me to ask where he is." You immediately respond. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Tommy, Simon's younger brother, had been teasing the two of you for years since the first time he saw you walk Simon home. "Simon!" You say, a smile immediately appearing on your face as he finally appears behind his brother. "Come on!" You push Tommy out of the way and grab Simon's hand. "I got my drivers license." You boast, "Dad's letting me drive his truck around whenever he doesn't need it."

It was a rare day in spring when it wasn't raining and you weren't gonna let it go to waste. The windows of the truck were rolled down and the wind blew through your hair. The city of Manchester slowly disappears, the loudness exchanged for the quiet of the countryside.

"Don't look so grumpy Simon." You say when you notice he had his head in his hand and a scowl on his face. "You're acting like I'm driving you to your death."

"With how you drive, I'm sure you are." He retorts, a small smile growing on his face as you bark out a laugh.

"Well we're almost there so your death won't be quiet so soon." You remark. You slow the truck down before pulling off into a dirt road and coming to a complete stop. You turn the truck off and tuck the keys into your pocket and grab the basket you brought from the back of the truck. You look at the fence blocking the way into the flower field before you toss the basket over the fence before you launching yourself over the fence. "Come on Simon, just jump it!"

"Isn't this illegal?"

"Only if you get caught." You laugh and wink before helping Simon over the fence. The field of flowers stretch far and bumblebees buzz around from flower to flower. You open the basket and lay out the thin blanket onto the ground. Lowering yourself onto the blanket and you motion for Simon to join you.

"What's all this then?" He asked with a brow raised as you began to pull out a few cans of coke, a couple of sandwiches and apples.

"Happy 15th birthday." You say with a grin, "I got your present back at my house but I figured you'd like it out here." Simon stares at you, brown eyes wide as he looks between you and all the food you somehow managed to pack into the basket. You shift a little his heavy gaze as anxiety crept up as your cheeks turned red. "Do you not like it?" You ask.

Simon looked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face, "It's great. Thank you."

"What are you planning to do after school is over?" You ask after taking a sip from your coke. "I mean, we only have next year left. Are you going to attend University?"

"I'm gonna take a butcher's apprenticeship."

"What?"

"My grades aren't doing great and I figured why not." Simon shrugged, "Not like it's a bad idea." You punched his shoulder lightly and glared at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling Riley? You know I would have helped." The wind blows softly, the flowers and grass rustle, birds sing in the distance. "You're a smart man Simon, if this is what you want to do," You take a steadying breath, "then I'll support you."

Simon smiles at you, "You took it better then my mum did at least." He sighs and takes a bite from his apple.

"She just wants what's best for you." You say, softening your voice. If there was one thing you learned about Simon Riley after these five years, it's that he loves his mum more than anything. You lean against him, coke can still in hand as the silence blankets the space between you and him. After a few minutes of silently eating and drinking, he nudges you.

"Look." He whispers and points to a flower by his side. You lean over and a massive smile grows on your face as you spot a very tired bumblebee resting within a flower. You look at Simon and feel something within yourself turn on or maybe become louder as you see his soft gaze at the sleeping bee. Suddenly, you wanted him to look at you with that same soft expression.

"You know Daisy?" Simon asks one day while you were driving to the flower field. It had become a place to get away from school and home, away from all the stresses of life for at least a few hours. Daisy was a classmate in the same year, you had never been close with her but you had grown up with her the same as you had with Simon.

"Of course, Daisy Lockmon right?"

"Yeah." There's something in the way he says it that makes your heart clench. It's the softness of it, the fondness and the soft sigh, even the sort of dreamy look in his eyes you spot in the mirror as he gazes out into the countryside.

"Yeah?"

"I'm dating her. She asked me out a few days ago." Few days ago. Why did that sting so fucking much? You smile at him as you grip on the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white and your fingers go numb. It doesn't compare to the squeezing grip of whatever is holding your heart. No, you know who holds your heart and he doesn't even know it. It's my fault, I never told him. You try to reason with yourself but it doesn't stop the hurt.

"Congratulations then. Daisy is a sweet girl."

A few months later, you feel like you're going to throw up. You fight back any words threatening to come out of your mouth besides something good and kind because he doesn't deserve your anger or sadness. Simon doesn't know, you keep reminding yourself, you're just his best friend that he's confiding in. Just the person he's grown up with since ten years old, just the person who treated his busted lips, cuts and bruises. Just his best friend. Not the girl, not Daisy Lockmon who he thinks he loves. He probably does love her, you've never seen him look at someone the way he does Daisy.

You lay in the field, something that allows your stress to melt away, does nothing for you. Not as Simon lays next to you, not as you think about the times before all of this you could have said something. Simon says nothing, you say nothing and the two of you just watch the clouds float by. Simon sits up as he speaks, "I'm ready to leave, how about you?" Your heart clenches again, time in the field has been getting shorter and trips less frequent. You know it's not just because of his relationship and it's just how life is sometimes. He has his butcher's apprenticeship and you're studying for university classes but logic doesn't dictate emotion.

"In a moment, I'll catch up with you at the truck." You say, pasting on a smile. Simon shrugs and grunts as he gets up. You wait until you're sure he's already hopped the fence and heading towards the truck before you move over to his spot. Where the grass and flowers are flattened down into his shape, slowly you curl into the spot. For a moment, you imagined that you were the one he says he loves. For just a bittersweet moment, you pretend that you're his and he's yours.

"I'm joining the military." Your ceramic mug shatters on the floor. Just like that, everything comes crashing down. The world was still reeling from the twin towers attack in the United States, the sense of safety shattered in a terrorist attack.

"What?" That was the only word that could come from your mouth. You look at Simon with wide eyes, the cozy atmosphere of your flat turned cold. "You're joking. Right Simon?"

"I'm not."

"What about your apprenticeship Simon? You've been working as a butcher since you were 16. You're nearly done." The words come flying out of your mouth, "Simon-"

"I'm not asking you to understand my decision. I'm just telling you that I'm doing it and you can't stop me." You laugh bitterly and the sound is so foreign to both your ears and Simons.

"As if I could stop you Simon." You mutter, moving to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the shattered mug on the floor. "But why? You've never once shown interest in joining the military." The answer is clear, its reason why many people were joining the military and you already know his answer before he opens his mouth.

"The attack in the US." Of course, he doesn't elaborate. "I'm being sent to bootcamp in two weeks."

"Two weeks? That's hardly any time at all." You sigh and sink down into your couch, putting your face in your hands as you try to process everything. "What about Daisy?"

"Broke up with her." He says so plainly and with a shrug of his shoulders. You have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something back handed. You're not petty, you're not petty, you're not petty, is the thought running through your head but you can't deny how good it feels to know he isn't dating her anymore. Not like you have much of a chance now since he's going off to bootcamp. "She said she didn't want to date a guy in the military. It's a deal breaker apparently." It's not for me you think quickly.

The day comes too quickly, for once you wished life would slow down and let you soak up Simon's presence in your life. It's not like he's dying, he's just going off to bootcamp and then he'll be back is what you think to keep yourself from falling apart. Nearly nine years of friendship, spending hardly any time or going a long distance away from one another, now Simon will be gone for 14 weeks. Then he'll be stationed somewhere for two to six years. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him hard and burying your face into his jacket. "You be safe Simon Riley or I'll raise you from the dead."

He chuckles and pats your head, "Its bootcamp not an active war zone." You just shake your head and he wraps his arms around you. "But I'll be safe. I'll write to you every chance I get, I promise."

"Good."

The last three years had passed quickly with the letters from Simon being the only rest stop between university studies and work. Grabbing your coat from the back, you sigh as you finally shut off the lights to the cafe you work at part time. With a small click, your work day was finally, finally over. You twist the lock on the cafe front door, struggling momentarily from your thick gloves. You turn to start walking towards your rather cheap flat and scream when you see a massive figure barely a foot away. The familiar voice hissing your name made the panic subside as quickly as it appeared.

"Simon?"

"Glad to know you still have those pipes of yours." You look at Simon, he is barely illuminated by the street lights but you can still tell he's different now. He's no longer the slightly slender boy you knew three years ago. He wasn't slouching and made direct eye contact with you. You take him all in before you rush to him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his coat and drinking in his scent.

"Simon Riley," You whisper into his coat before pulling back to look up at him, "you've really grown. Come on, I'll let you crash at my place." He opens his mouth to argue but you're already pulling him along. You lead him to your flat, which isn't far away from your place of work thankfully. You kick off your shoes at the door and tell Simon to do the same. Placing a kettle on the stove to boil some water you then sit down and look at Simon. "So, what's brought you back here?" You ask.

Simon looks at you, drinking in your appearance. You look tired, worn down and ready to collapse. "I'm gonna fix my family." He finally answers after you cock your head to the side.

"You're... gonna fix your family?" You ask, leaning back as the words wash over you. Your heart hurt slightly for a reason you didn't want to understand, for a reason you didn't want to voice out loud or in your own head.

"Yes. And I'm not leaving until it is."

You purse your lips and get up to pour the boiling water into two cups. You put an earl gray tea bag with a splash of milk into the mug for Simon and a few cubes of sugar for your own cup of tea. You hand him the tea and sit back down as you continue to run through the implications of his choice. "Alright." You finally say. "You can crash at my place while you fix your family."

"You don't believe me." Simon states and you snap your head to look at him completely. "I know it sounds crazy but I'm stronger now. I can finally do what I've always wanted." He says between sips of his tea. "And I won't leave until it is fixed."

You sigh and set your cup down, "Fine." You get up and grab a piece of paper and a pen. You scribble down the addresses of Tommy's friends that he keeps couch surfing between before handing it to Simon. "This is what I know about Tommy. You'll probably get a confirmed address from your mom."

"And my dad?"

"Still an arsehole who comes and goes as he pleases." You grumble.

You walk out of your bedroom as quietly as possible. You peak over your couch and feel a weight lift off your chest. He was still here, right here in your flat. Your best friend, your rock and crush. Simon was finally back, not for the reason you might have fantasized about more than often you were willing to admit, but he was back. Love is such a funny thing, you think to yourself as you lay in bed. It had been three years since you had last seen him, hugging and barely holding back tears as he hopped on a bus to bootcamp. You hadn't cried that hard ever as you had cried on that day when he left. You turn onto your side and wipe away a few tears that leak from your eyes, at least he was here now.

You stand outside his family's home. You look down the street and recall the exact path that you could take to see your family. You had turned down Simon's offer to come inside, you didn't want to intrude on his reunion with his mother. You tap your foot as you lean against your truck, the same one you had driven to the fields outside of Manchester all those years ago. Simon steps outside of the house and hugs his mother one last time, his mouth moves but you don't hear what he has to say. His mother looks around him and looks at you. She's been crying you realize. You exchange a smile and a wave before she goes back inside of the house.

"Got the address?" You ask Simon as you both get into your truck.

"Got it." He confirms and gives you the address. You can't stop yourself from grimacing, of course it had to be that arsehole’s address. You hadn't left Simon in the dark of what was going on with his family while he was deployed and away. You didn't bother to spare details, okay, well maybe a few. Mostly about your own interactions with Tommy and his friends. But Simon didn't need to hear that, he had already sworn to come back and fix his family at least a dozen times since the third month. He didn't need to stress himself over you.

The car ride was quiet, the radio was off and the only sound was the wind blowing in through the open windows. You can feel the rage rolling off him but also the concern for his brother. The truck comes to stop outside of a dingy and unwelcoming flat building, you look at Simon and take him in. His brown eyes fill with determination and rage the longer he looks at the building. Finally, he opens the door, "I'm gonna get Tommy." He says before turning to go into the building after shutting the door. You let out a shaky sigh and let go of the steering wheel, looking at your shaking hands you try not to think too hard about what Tommy and his friends had done. What kind of people they were.

Tommy, your best friend's young brother had let his so-called friends push you around at your job until they were banned by your manager. Then they slashed your tires. Tommy hadn't changed, just become a carbon copy of dirt-bag father. Simon was made from something different, he was his mother's son, the undying love of his family and the ability to go with the flow of life. To never give up. You tense up as the people who lived in the flat walk past you, your breathing becoming more shallow as you watch them enter the flat. Oh god. Oh god. You panic and go to unbuckle yourself but struggle as your trembling hands only become worse.

You could hear the fighting coming from inside the house as you finally unbuckle yourself. There were five of them and only one of him. Oh god. Oh god. You push the truck door open and nearly tumble out, rushing to Simon's aid. You didn't expect to see him handling himself well against five other people while Tommy crouches low to avoid the fight altogether. One of the men goes to try and put Simon in a headlock, you do the only thing you can think of. You grab the man's jacket and pull him into your punch.

Simon places Tommy in the back seat, telling him he's going to bring him to the clinic and get him clean. You rub your throbbing knuckles, the pain from that one punch still echoing in your body. Simon gently takes your hand and inspects your knuckles, clicking his tongue. "You were never much of a fighter." He comments and looks up into your eyes. "But that was a good punch."

You're standing outside the clinic, the cold early spring wind making you pull your jacket closer to your body. Today was the day Tommy was going to be released, you weren't going to turn down Simon's request for you to be there. You had been spending more and more time with Simon and his mother. She is such a sweet lady, and loves her sons more than anything in the entire world. Simon looks at you and smiles, "I told you I would fix my family."

You roll your eyes, "I'll believe Tommy is clean when I see it." You grumble.

"I know he wasn't a good man back then,"

"He was a fucking mess Simon." You say, "He and his druggie friends cornered me once, demanded whatever money I had on me." You finally spill your guts, "I don't like him. You've been defending Tommy and his stupidity every day since I've known you." You look him right in the eyes, "He doesn't deserve your love or your mothers. As far as I'm concerned, he's been on my shit list since the first time I had to clean your bloody lip."

Simon looks at you for a long moment, your words hanging in the air until he pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry." He mutters and hides his face in the crook of your neck. You freeze and he hugs you tighter, "I'm so sorry. You should have told me about that. I would have never-"

"Don't be sorry." You whisper quickly, "Never be sorry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Simon you're too kind, too forgiving."

"That's not true."

"I think it is."

Someone coughs and Simon lets go of you, his face breaking into a smile as Tommy stands in front of the two of you. He looks different, better. Healthy and alive. "Can we go home now?" He asks. You watch as Simon walks up to Tommy and wraps him in his arms.

"Of course."

You watch from the driver's seat as their mum opens the door and jump into Tommy's arms as Tommy hugs her tight. You can't help the smile that grows on your face when Simon joins the hug. Their mum looks at you and motions you to join them. You shake your head but Simon walks over and pretty much drags you from the car and into the group hug.

Later that night, their mum pulls you to the side. "Thank you." She says and takes your hand into hers, "for being there for my Simon."

"It really was nothing." You assure her and she shakes her head.

"You love him very much. Don't try to deny it, you've stuck by his side all these years and I've seen the way you look at him." She winks, "I just hope the two of you get together before I'm dead."

You can't help the quiet laugh that comes from your throat, "Me too." You whisper and look over at Simon who sits next to Tommy as they watch a football match after eating dinner.

You can hardly believe that you're sitting here at Tommy's wedding next to their mum as you comfort her. Simon stands as Tommy's best man as they trade vows. Beth looks beautiful as she always has. Long black hair and charming blue eyes, she was beyond kind as well. Perfect for Tommy who hadn't lost some of his snark but Beth softened him. You look at Simon and smile when you notice he's holding back tears as they exchange vows.

The wedding's reception wasn't filled to the brim with people but it was lively, friends and distant family members mingled as you sit at a table with a glass of champagne. Simon lets out a sigh as he sits next to you at the edge of the party. "Are you having fun?" You tease and Simon rolls his eyes. Joseph, Simon's nephew who you are sure will never know a day of fear or hurt like his uncle and father, is exchanged between party members and snuck small bites of cake.

"I'd let to get away from all of this for a moment." He admits as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. You remember when he was the sad strawberry blond boy that rainy school day. The way he avoided eye contact and others. You smile and take his hand.

"Then lets go."

You can faintly hear the music from the reception but other wise, this bench away from the party was the perfect place. The night sky is some what visible, with only the brightest stars being visible from all the light pollution of the city. A small breeze blows through your hair and you close your eyes to just soak in the moment. You open your eyes and Simon looks at you, softness in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're stunning." He says and you furrow your brows, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and neck. He leans in closer and cups your cheek, "Can I kiss you?" The words don't come to you but you nod frantically, feeling worried that he might change his mind for some reason. His eyes look between your eyes and lips before he leans in. The kiss is slow and he holds you like you might break or in case you want to leave. His lips are slightly chapped but soft and you vaguely wonder if he put on flavored chapstick earlier. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer and he takes the hint. The kiss turns from soft to practically ravenous as he holds you close, your mouth parts automatically and he slips his tongue in.

When you finally pull back to breath deeper, he looks at you with amazement. "I love you Simon Riley." You whisper and rest your forehead against his, "I have since we were 15. Don't leave me again Simon. Not if you can help it."

"You're gonna hate me then." He whispers as he holds you close. "I'm returning to duty in a month."

"I could never hate you Simon. Not in a million years. Just… write to me and when you go on leave again,” You take a steadying breath, “We can talk about what we are." He nods and you press your lips to his again.

You stand in the rain. You fucking hate the rain. It soaks through your black clothes and makes it stick to your skin. It mats down your hair and hides the tears that run down your face. There is no one here, no one but you and the priest at this funeral. How could this happen, you wonder. Everything was perfect. You look at the name on the gravestone. Tommy, Beth and Joseph, there's another gravestone a few feet away that has his mothers and fathers name on it. Simon is the only one who is buried alone. A bitter and petty choice from their distant family. Everyone thinks Simon did it. There was no proof to prove otherwise and it fit the story. A soldier returns home and suffers a PTSD breakdown and kills his entire family.

It didn't make sense. Simon was getting better, he promised he was getting better and attending therapy appointments. He loved Joseph, he loved his family and he loved you. He would have never done this. Maybe he would have murdered his father but the anger there was long and bitter, if he wanted to kill his father, he would have done it years ago.

Earlier last month, you had passed by a stand with different brochures. Some of them were for churches, others for activities to do with the family. Normally, you would have passed by it, eager to leave the store as quickly as possible. But you stopped this time and glanced at a particular brochure, you picked it from its spot and glanced over it. “You belong here.” A soldier is yelling while another is taking cover, inside are different recruiting offices and general information. You pocket it.

It was an impulsive decision. But the papers were filed and your two week notice already given. You didn't want to think about the consequences of what you were about to do, you just felt lost. University didn't matter, your cafe job didn't matter and every street in this fucking city reminded you of him. You decided if you were going to join the military. You had been accepted, the letter sat in your bag now that all of your items in your flat had been packed up and stored in your old childhood bedroom. This was just the last thing to do before the bus picks you up tomorrow morning.

You throw the roses in your hand into the caskets until you reach Simons. Your hand trembles as it holds the thorny rose, shakily you bring it to your lips and kiss the petals before tossing it into his grave. "I love you Simon Riley."

You watch as the city of Manchester flows past you like a river. It's raining again and the droplets obscure your vision of the outside world. People around you talk and you realize just how out of place you are. These are 16, 17 and 18 year olds with bright eyes and dreams. You vaguely wonder if Simon had sat in silence as he liked to do or if he had been dragged into a conversation. You glance at your duffle bag by your feet before leaning your head back and shutting your eyes. The bus ride would be a long one, you figure that some rest would make it faster.

Your name is called and you step forward, you hold onto the bag of items shoved into your arms. You listen to the drill sergeant yell that these are your items. You are responsible for maintaining and keeping track of all things in this bag. You realize, in a way that makes it difficult not to smile, that Simon was right. They are hard arses here.

The scratches that litter your body sting as you crawl through the mud and muck underneath the barbed wire with a rifle held close to your chest. You breathe out puffs of condensation in the air, you’re shivering and you keep your jaw clenched so your teeth don’t chatter. You keep crawling, inching like a caterpillar towards the end of this section and fight the urge to just lay there on the ground. The cold rain soaks through your clothes and you grunt when part of the barbed wire above you catches onto your leg again. “Fuck.” You hiss but you’re nearly there.

You wonder why Simon never told you about this but he never seemed to tell you anything. You curse the dead man and curse yourself for being impulsive. Nearly done with university and you dropped out for him, for a dead man who was buried alone in his own grave. You use your anger to make it to the end, your uniform is covered in mud and the sensation makes your skin crawl but you run forward towards the rope wall, swinging your rifle over your back. “Come on Private!” The drill sergeant screams at you, “I’ve seen injured men move faster than you do!” You grit your teeth as he mocks you.

It's his job, you remind yourself, to try and break you. If Simon leaving didn’t break you, if him and his family dying didn’t break you then this fucking drill sergeant was not going to break you. You climb up the rope and grapple onto the next bit of rope, locking your legs with your ankles and you inch down the rope even as your hands burn.

That night as you sit in the corner of the mess hall, you itch at the bandages wrapped around your hand. Whatever salve the lady in the med bay had slathered onto your hand hadn’t done much to cool the burning. You know it's counterintuitive to scratch at it but who was going to stop you? You were an adult now and could suffer the consequences of your stupid actions. Like not demanding Simon give you answers on why he was pulling away after finally confessing his feelings. You clench your fist and smother those feelings with the pain you feel.

No matter how many times you try to remind yourself there's no point in focusing on the past you can’t stop. How can you stop? Everything you’ve done has been for him and now he’s gone and you’re still doing things for him. You look around the mess hall at the different groups of fellow trainee’s and know you’ll never have that kind of connection with anyone else. Simon was it. Your best friend since childhood, your first crush and first heartbreak. You wander outside and sit on a stack of crates near the mess when the talking and clanking of silverware grows too much.

The night is cool, the sky is clear from the rain that had poured so hard earlier but you can’t see the stars anyway. You go to itch at your hand again when a drill sergeant comes around the corner. You stiffen up and immediately get up to salute but he dismisses you before you even get your hand to your forehead. “Private, why aren’t you in the mess eating?”

“Lost my appetite, sir.” You reply, “Figured some fresh air would do me some good.” You go to scratch at your hand again and his eyes snap to the motion.

“Private, did the nurse not provide you with burn cream?” He asked and it was weird having the man who yelled at you all day suddenly become concerned for your well-being.

“She did, sir, it just itches.” You explain and the drill sergeant makes a face, for a second you worry that he will demand that you return to the med bay again. Instead, he nods.

“Dismissed Private. Get some rest.” You nod and scurry away to your barracks.

The helicopter’s wings slow but any flyaways in your hair whip and stick to your face anyways. After serving in the SAS for five years, you had been picked by Chief station Laswell and Captain John Price to be a part of the 141 task force. You couldn’t believe you had finally done it, all these years of serving and you start to finally believe that you might’ve done Simon some justice. All the broken bones, bruises and scars are worth it if it means he’s looking down on you fondly. You look between the four men in front of you. You recognize Captain Price immediately with his boonie hat and well groomed mutton chops. He extends his hand which you take and shake with a firm grip. “Boys, this is Gator. They’ll be joinin’ our task force startin’ today.”

The man standing next to Price smiles at you, beautiful white teeth with a stunning smile and soft brown eyes. He has a scar on his cheek and you wonder how he got it as you shake his hand, “This is Sergeant Garrick.” Price says and you beam back at him.

“A pleasure to meet you Sergeant.”

“No need for that, just call me Gaz.” He assures you and lets go of your hand. You turn to meet the third man and before you can even open your mouth or extend your hand to shake, he’s grabbing yours with a grip tight enough to shatter a few bones. He has a stupid mohawk haircut that he somehow makes work, crystal blue eyes and you can tell that he’s a little mischievous.

“I’m Sergeant MacTavish but e’eryone calls me Soap.” He laughs, warm like an early summer day, when he sees your eyebrows raise. “I’ll tell ye why later.” He promises with a wink.

“Oi! Johnny, stop hoggin’ the new meat.” You turn to the voice and have to stop yourself from taking a step back just so you could look at the man fully. He’s fucking huge. Broad shoulders, wearing all black and a skull mask to hide his face. You can barely make out his brown eyes from under all that eye black. His accent is rough, with a voice that gives away how much he smokes. He looks down at you, like you suspect he has to most people, and you want to slink away into whatever hole he thinks you crawled out of. Despite this, you stick your hand out for him to shake.

“And this is your Lieutenant, Ghost.” You have to stop yourself from snorting. Ghost, how fitting for a man literally wearing a skull mask. He grips your hand and gives it a firm shake as his eyes burn holes into your soul. You look at his hand when you feel something other than familiar flesh, it's a glove. Even funnier, its skeleton gloves. It sends you nearly into a giggle fit, yes this man is intimidating to a point where you would have been shaking in your boots a few years ago. But he’s unironically wearing skeleton gloves. How is that not funny? He gives you a firm shake but just as quickly removes his gloved hand from yours. “Alright Gator, Ghost will give you a quick tour around here and then I want you to report for training at 0500 hours.”

The tour is silent besides the simple sentences Ghost speaks and you’re that sure he wouldn’t if Price hadn’t put him on the spot for giving you the tour. “This ‘ere is the training hall, this is where yer expected to be tomorrow.” He gruffly says, stiff as a board. You nod and nearly jump out of your skin when someone wraps their arm around your shoulders.

“There ye are! I was tryin’ tae find ye.”

“Sergeant.” Ghost says gruffly and Soap rolls his eyes before removing his arm. “They are busy.”

“Away an bile yer heid.” Soap says with a laugh, “I ken that yer aboot as excited fer this tour as they are.” You didn’t need to see Ghost roll his eyes to know he did, it was just in the way the air shifts around the three of you. “Lemme take over the rest of the tour aye?” Ghost sighs but concedes which confirms that he would really rather be anywhere else than giving the FNG a tour. “Good lad.” Soap chuckles and pats Ghost’s shoulder.

Ghost leaves quickly for being a man so massive and Soap turns to you, “Dinnae mind him, he’s a big grump.” You snort and laugh while nodding in agreement. “Alright, let's continue this tour.” Soap claps a hand on your back and for the rest of the day, with breaks for food of course, he showed you around. He was certainly better at it then Ghost who acted like he had been asked to travel across the sahara desert while carrying you.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap groans while he stumbles back from you. Sweat sticks to your forehead and your usual hairdo is ruined but so is the way of sparring and training. “I see why they call ye Gator.” He grumbles as he holds his head. “Ye fuckin’ death rolled me.” Soap accuses and it was true. You have the strength to take down men bigger than you in not only height but sheer mass. It was a skill you had honed for the past several years ever since you figured it out in bootcamp.

You wrap your arms around him as he tries to pin you to the mat and roll. You twist with all your might and switch the position then without a second thought you slam your head against his. The force knocks your brain around and the headache you’ll get later is going to be absolutely terrible but the man under you groans and holds his forehead. “I yield! Holy shite.” He curses as you immediately back away from him. You glance around at the group of people who had made it this far into the training and then meet the eyes of your drill sergeant who, if you weren’t mistaken and didn’t have a concussion, looked almost proud.

That night as you hold an ice pack against your forehead and sit outside the mess hall away, he approaches again. “Never seen a private do that.” He says after immediately acknowledging your salute and telling you to be at ease. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that before.” You sheepishly shrug.

“I didn’t want to lose.”

“And so you didn’t.” A silence hangs in the air as the crickets chirp and you wonder if that's an owl’s hoot you hear. “I think you're going to have a nickname before you even leave camp.” He says, “You have the other sergeants wantin’ to call you Gator.”

“Gator?” You ask even if you understand the implications. You guess you did a kind of death roll that poor buy but Gator? Really?

“Better than some poor sod who got named Dirt because he ended up with a mouth full of dirt after tripping on the 20 mile march.” You chuckle at that.

“I guess Gator is much better than Dirt.”

“That’s the spirit. You better get some rest for tomorrow, Private.” He says before walking away and just like that time, leaving you to sit in the cool night air before you heed his warning.

You grit your teeth as Ghost ignores you again. You’re just trying to get him to sign from fucking paperwork Captain Price asked of you. “Lieutenant I need-”

“Not now sergeant.” Ghost says as he walks away from you and you want to scream. Its been like this the entire time you’ve been on this team. At first you thought it was his way of hazing you, act like a dickhead and see if the FNG breaks. Well you haven’t broken, you’ve only doubled down because every time he acts like this you keep being reminded of Simon and how he wouldn’t have given up.

At least Gaz and Soap were more open to you being on their task force now that months had passed. Although you doubt if Soap had ever disliked the idea of you being on the force. You barely duck Gaz’s punch but aren’t fast enough to catch his leg before it slams full force into your side. You grab it before he can bring it back and yank on it so he falls onto the floor, he rolls over before you can pin him down. You stare at each other for a moment before you lunge at him like a rabid dog without a leash.

He steps to the side and then grabs the back of your shirt collar to slam you down into the mat. You squirm and fight to keep him from pinning your arms back but it's no use. And in this position, death rolling him was nearly impossible. And you’ve definitely been trying. “Distracted Gator?” Gaz asks as he pants and you snarl back at him before you let out a meek ‘I yield’. He releases you immediately and you rub your wrists. “Broken?”

“Negative.” You say as you walk over to grab your bottle of water.

Watching you spar from the corner was Ghost. He observes the way you fight and the way you wiggle out of every attempt to pin you until the last. If it wasn’t for your infamous ability to death roll, he’s sure you would have ended up being called Weasel. And wasn’t that an amusing thought? Still better than Soap. “Ye stalkin’ the FNG.” Soap teases and Ghost glances down at Soap with what he knows is a deadpan expression. Or at least deadpan eyes. Mask and all that.

“You stalkin’ me?” Ghost shoots back and Soap grins this feral grin that makes Ghost groan inwardly because that grin meant only one thing. Dog with a fuckin’ bone, thats what Soap is when he thinks he’s smelt something out. “Don’t start MacTavish.”

“Oh its MacTavish it is?” Soap feigns hurt as he clutches his chest. “Ye wound me sir.”

“It is when yer about to say somethin’ god awfully stupid.”

“Yer no fun L.T.” Soap laments and Ghost rolls his eyes while shaking his head at Soap’s antics. Soap looks past Ghost and to Gator who is talking with Gaz on the bench while the two of them drink water and give the other advice. “Slippery thing they are.” Soap comments and Ghost nods. “Dinnae think I’ve ever seen someone slip out of your hold befure.”

“Is tha’ the reason yer botheirn’ me Sergeant?”

“Botherin’ ye? Nae sir, jus’ wanna see how Gaz manages to take them down.” Soap says, a half truth and they both know it.

“They gave him a hard time too.”

“Do ye think tha’ they oil up befure every sparrin’ match?” Soap says with a smile and Ghost rolls his eyes despite the small smile growing beneath his mask. You look up and notice Soap and Ghost which immediately makes him want to flee the scene. Every time you lock eyes with him, it sends him back to his time in Mexico. You’re a constant reminder and he wants you gone. Simon is dead and he’s not sure why you even joined the fucking military in the first place. Last he knew you were close to finishing off your degree, did you drop out to join this place?

Ghost grits his teeth as he shoves the memories of both Roba and you back into the box he had stuffed the two of you into years ago. He can’t open the box for one without the other escaping. You offer him a small smile and he turns on his heel. He walks as quickly as he can back to his private quarters, perks of being an officer and also being dead he guessed. He slams his door behind him and marches right into the bathroom. He yanks off the mask and stares at himself. He stares at the scars across his face, his broken one-too-many-times nose and the scar that cuts his lip. He takes stalk of his flaws within his face, the one you had seen and hadn’t recoiled from.

He wonders if you even suspect that its him and his chest hurts at the thought that you’ve forgotten him. But he knows he hasn’t earned his right back into your life, he’s dead. He can never be the man you need or want, he’s different now. Much more scarred than when he returned from Mexico, he’s brash and rude. He doesn’t like people and he doesn’t like that he still wants to be near you. It’s irrational, it’s stupid and there’s nothing he can do about it but try and get to you to quit.

“Captain Price told me to give this to you.” A Corporal says, clearly shaking in his boots, as he hands Ghost a file. “A-and he told me that he wants you in the briefing room.”

“Dismissed Corporal.” Ghost says and the man scurries off. Ghost looks at the file and opens it, the first thing he sees is that it’s a duo op. The second thing he sees is that you’re the one coming along. “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he looks at your little picture papercliped to the top of the page next to his faceless one.

“He always does that.” You groan to Gaz as you watch Ghost turn on his heel and leave once you lock eyes with him. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, “It's been months.”

Gaz shrugs, “Ghost is an enigma, when you start to think you know him you find something else about him. That man has secrets upon secrets.” You frown at that statement. Obviously he was hiding his face to protect his identity and of course that made you naturally curious but you’ve never pressed about it. He’s quiet and efficient if any of the stories told you by Gaz and Soap were anything to go by. And now he’s a secret keeper.

Who are you Ghost?

You sit at the table in the briefing room, bouncing your leg up and down under the table as Captain Price goes over what the mission objective is and what intel you and Ghost will be going in with. The mission is in Siberia, the objective is to get an old usb drive from a recently re-abandoned USSR base. You glance over at Ghost who hasn’t stopped looking at you this entire time, only dragging his eyes away from you when Captain Price addresses him specifically. His brown eyes seem to be trying to burn holes into your very soul so you try to match it. This would be your first duo op with Ghost and you would not be pushed around during it.

”The group that had been inhabiting the old soviet base are still lingering around and might return when they realize that they’ve left behind a very important piece of information.” Captain Price says and points to the projected map on the wall. “You’ll need to be fast and efficient. Is that clear?” His blue eyes scan over the two of you and both of you echo a ‘yes sir’ at the same time. “Good, get your gear and be ready, you’re wheels up in two hours.”

“Yes sir.” You say and leave the room after being properly dismissed. You look at the file in your hand, the information covered in the briefing summarized in the file with certain things blacked out. Like the fact this is in Siberia or that it’s an old soviet base that had been taken over by a terrorist group for a short while. You worry about that fact, if this base had been well and truly abandoned, why would the group set up there? Siberia wasn’t exactly a very hospitable environment and would take a certain amount of resources to deal with. Not just any kind of terrorist group would be able to afford those expenses.

“What’s got ye frownin’ so hard?” Soap asks and you jolt, not even aware that Soap had come up to you. He glances at the file and whistles, “Yer on a mission with L.T?”

”Somethin’ wrong with that? Something I should be worried about?” You ask, glancing behind Soap to make sure that specter wasn’t there.

“Nae, nothin’ ye should worry about besides the stick up his arse.” Soap jokes and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. Soap grins, “There’s that smile.” Soap pinches your cheek and you swat at his hand.

”What are you? My aunt?”

”Nae I’m worse.” Soap laughs as he goes to pinch your cheek again. You squeal and laugh as you take off towards the armory and Soap gives chase. You eventually make him leave, shoo-ing him off so you can change into your gear. The gear is heavy but familiar, a comforting kind of weight that you always mourn once an op is over. Tightening the strap of your vest until you felt like it was secure enough and doing the same thing with the gun holster on your thigh.

”You tighten it anymore and you’ll lose blood flow.” Ghost grunts and you stop yourself from startling a little. Ghost walks up to you and loosens the straps himself a little before your brain starts working again. You slap his hands away and glare up at him.

”I am perfectly capable of knowing when to stop tightening my straps.” You hiss. You had been in the SAS long enough to know your preferences and the fact that he is trying to baby you is insulting at best and downright disrespectful at worst. Ghost stares down at you, brown eyes dead but also filled with some kind of emotion you can’t place. He says nothing else, doesn’t even grunt, before he turns to get his gear on. You huff and finish preparing your items for the op.

You go over the file one last time while on the flight to Siberia, flipping through the different pages and you can’t fight off the gut feeling that something isn’t right. You bounce your leg as you look at the map of the base, for an old soviet base, it's small. Granted, you don’t know how big USSR bases in Siberia tended to be but this is just too small. You glance at Ghost and contemplate mentioning this to him but since the armory he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Let alone even look your way which would normally be a reprieve but right now you wish he would look, just so you’d feel less awkward starting a conversation. You remind yourself that he’s a Lieutenant, he knows more than a Sergeant such as yourself. You need to trust your commanding officer.

Ghost can feel the warmth from you, like you had leaked a part of yourself into his gloves and now he can’t get rid of it. He doesn’t understand why he had approached and went to fix your straps, really they are too tight for comfort, but when you had slapped his hands away it was like a shock had gone through him. Like his entire system had been rebooted from the simple touch, now he can’t even bear to look at you. He can feel the weight of your gaze on him though and that’s how he knows that he acted out of character. He clenches his fist so tight his knuckles are cramped when he opens it again, he wishes you would just say what you want to say.

He wishes you would yell at him so he would have something to tell Price about, to maybe get you booted off the team. He’s been a prick to you, moving your stuff in the rec room, eating your food and being condescending. What kind of drill sergeant you had, he didn’t know but they must’ve turned your will into steel. Or maybe you were always like that, you hadn’t given up on him when you got a glance at his life at home. You treated his bloody noses and busted lips, you convinced your parents to let him stay over as often as possible. You even went with him to get Tommy despite the shit Tommy and his shitty friends had put you through.

Ghost clenches his jaw, no matter what, this is better for you. He just needs to get you to quit or maybe transfer to some kind of safer job in the military if you’re so hell bent on staying. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you dropped out of university. He steals a glance and sees you looking at the file the same way you would look at study notes before a test.

You were right. Of course you were fucking right. Why do you have to be right? The base is much, much bigger than the intel said and worse is the fact that its not completely abandoned. “Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yells over comms and you’re so close to just tearing the wiring in half so you don’t have to listen to him. You turn another corner, refilling the ammo in your pistol as the sound of pounding footsteps echo down the long concrete hallways of this underground base. You wait for the man to turn the corner and shoot him right between the eyes, the muzzle on your pistol only does so much and the sound bounces off the walls. ”I said to get out of there soldier!”

You snarl, “I’m getting this fucking USB drive, fuck off!” You say into comms as you run down the halls. Lights flicker above you and distantly you can hear soldiers yelling. Just a few more turns, you tell yourself as you slide into a wall, using your arms you push off it and keep going. Once out of this god forsaken underground, NOT abandoned, USSR base you’d die happy never seeing another concrete hall. You slam the door open to the server room stored deep in the base and lock it behind you, hoping that might spare you some time between you and soldiers surely running down the halls towards you.

”Don’t ignore me Sergeant!” His voice comes out warbled, likely because you’re so far underground. You clench your jaw so hard your teeth hurt as you fling open different desk drawers, toss everything onto the desk in search of the USB they sent you here for in the first place. After six desks, you realize there is no way there is a USB.

”Fucking CIA intel.” You grab an unused USB from a desk and jam it into the nearest computer. “Fucking lucky I took that damn class.” You mutter to yourself as you bypass the passwords and begin to download the information.

”Sergeant! I said get out of there, use your bloody ears!”

”I have to download everything myself!” You yell into the comms, “The intel was shite!” You slam your pistol into the PC you’re not currently using. “Fucking CIA.”

”I don’t care! I’m pulling us from this mission.”

”I’m getting this USB Lieutenant, you’re welcome to chew me out once I’m back on the surface.” You snap, “Going dark.”

”Don’t you da-“ You rip the wires out of your comms and throw the damn thing onto the floor.

Ghost yells into the comms again but only gets static back, he looks down at the base from the scope of his sniper. It looks abandoned, it looks small and easy to navigate but he heard what you said. He knows that its all a facade, that the terrorist group had found tunnels to another base nearby and have been smuggling weapons and food between those tunnels, hardly ever having to go outside at this base. Which is what led the intel team to believe its been abandoned and therefore an easy op. His heart is pounding against his chest and it hurts from how hard its beating against his chest, he keeps trying the comms. “Gator! Gator turn your comms back on!” He snarls into the mic but still nothing.

It’s then that it dawns on him that you didn’t just turn comms off, you ripped the wiring out. “God damn it.” He grunts as he gets off the ground, the snow disguising him falls to the ground as he hauls his sniper up and buries it under the snow between two trees. He pulls out his shitty cracked phone, that he frankly refuses to replace. He knows why and its not because he doesn’t like the newer versions. It’s because this one has those pictures of you, the version of you that hadn’t turned your back on civilian life yet. The version of you that makes him feel kind of sick for looking at now that he knows you now.

He opens up his map to the coordinates to the nearest safe house, and grabs his pistol before he puts his phone away. He sighs and makes his way down towards the base that must be crawling with enemy terrorists but no one gets left behind. And he’s not about to let you die down there, his grip on his pistol tightens for just a second before he forces his fist to relax. He saunters his way in, everyone is far too distracted with chasing you down to pay attention to the cameras. He slides down the ladder into the base and is immediately greeted with the muffled sound of an alarm. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as he readies his pistol and knife.

You grunt, push the metal cabinet against the door, pushing through the pain in your thigh to do so. By the time it’s in place, you collapse against the wall next to it, grunting at the pain that shoots up your thigh in quick bursts. You look at the bullet wound and can’t help the disgust that crawls up your face when you realize it's pumping blood out in the rhythm of your heart beat. It’s funny, you’ve been shot before but you never had the time to look at it. It makes sense that it would do that though. You lean your head back against the concrete wall and can’t help the sob that rips it way out of your throat. Not because you’re going to die, not entirely because of that. Because you’re going to die in a concrete box alone.

You smear your bloody hand against the wall, wiping it off as you fumble with your shirt, pull just enough fabric out and rip it. No, you think, you’re not going to die here. Anywhere but in fucking Siberia surrounded by enemies and in a damn concrete room underground. You wrap the torn fabric around your thigh, just above the wound and wrap it tightly. So tightly you can actually feel the blood flow being slowed and this time on purpose. You check the bullets in your pistol and laugh when you see only two. “And I’m fucking out.” You mumble just as you hear someone’s boots echo outside of the room. You rise on shaky legs and bite your tongue to keep from crying out from the pain but walk over to the corner. You raise the gun and point towards the metal cabinet that is rocking from the force of what must be either several people pushing or one big motherfucker.

You don’t pray, no sense in praying right now. Even if you did ask for forgiveness you wouldn’t get it, the blood on your hands is more than any person can justify, not even God because it is a rule. Thou shall not murder. You huff out a laugh at that, well you’ve certainly sinned. The metal cabinet comes crashing down and in bursts three men. Fuck. You fire your last two shots and take down the first two but when the third enemy hears the gun click, he laughs. It’s an ugly and horrible laugh, one that expresses his entire arrogance of you being in this situation. Wounded and without any ammo, your knife left behind in some fuckers neck a few corners ago. “You lose.” He taunts as he walks closer and your leg finally loses feeling, you slide down the wall as you stare at the man who is going to hopefully bring you death.

You’re reminded of that quote you read once, When I die, bury me in the woods, the wolves will be kinder to me than any man. And if you weren’t about to meet your end, you’d laugh at the fact you can’t even remember the woman who said it. You hope she got her wish. The man raises his pistol and presses it to your temple. You hear a bang echo in the room and expect for it all to be over but you grunt when the man lands on you. “What the fuck?” You mutter as you struggle to push the weight of a dead man off of you. He’s pulled off of you and you look up at the bloody skull face plate, “Aren’t you just a life saver?” You quip before you throw up.

Ghost huffs when you pass out after throwing up and narrowly avoiding his boots. He hauls you up and over his shoulder, tucking your pistol into your thigh holster. Trying to get you up the ladder was hell, he was constantly afraid that his grip would loosen and you’d fall to your death. The walk to the safe house is about half way done when he feels your stirring. He grips you tighter just in case you try to flail around and attempt to land yourself in the snow.

When you come to, you realize that you’re over someone’s shoulder. Just as you’re about to flail around, the memory of Ghost standing over you. “Awake now?” Ghost asks, his voice rough as always and that reminds you of someone you used to know. You give your reply in the form of a groan which is all that seems to want to leave your mouth. “We’re about an hour away from a safe house.”

”And I wasn’t told?” You snap, anger pushing past the way you feel like you’re going to throw up if you speak again.

”Need to know.”

”Well I might’ve needed to know!” You flail your arms around harmlessly before you collapse back to being a rag doll on his back. He doesn’t respond and when you think he’s about to return to his normal grumpy silence, he breaks it.

”What the fuck were you thinkin’?” He snaps and you jolt awake from the half sleep you had unknowingly slipped into. “Ripping your comm wires out and going dark. What the fuck Sergeant?”

”I wasn’t able to focus with you screaming at me to abandon the mission.” You immediately jump to defend, “I got the damn USB drive with the intel they need, I completed the mission.” You don’t even realize that he’s reached the safe house until he nearly kicks the door in because the doorknob is frozen. He practically tosses you onto the couch before slamming the door shut. “I completed the objective.” You nearly snarl out.

”You failed to follow simple orders to retreat.” He slams his pistol and knife down on the table, “You nearly died.”

”Yeah, well it didn’t seem like you’d care all that fucking much if I did! If I hadn’t gotten the USB,” You pull the damn thing from your front vest pouch and throw it onto the table. “then the entire thing would have been a waste!”

”I don’t care about the USB, if you’re in danger like that you follow my damn orders! I can’t lose you!” Ghost grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you just a little. You look at him, feeling confusion creep up before it is swallowed down by anger.

”What?”

”Forget about it.”

”No. You’ve been treating me like a damn nuisance the minute I joined the task force and now you suddenly care? Why now huh? Why now? Because you sure didn’t act like I mattered very much.”

”I said forget about it.” He snarls but you go to stand on shaking legs

”No fuck that! Fuck you Ghost! What changed?” You keep hounding him until he slams his fist down the table and rips off his mask.

Rage boils up in you so quickly, so quickly you aren’t able to express it all just through yelling. It burns you up, sets you on fire and throws lighter fluid into that inferno any time you think it's about to burn a little less. It’s all consuming anger mixed with all those years of grief that you never properly addressed, just slapped a bandaid on called military life and carried on. Hot tears run down your face as you scream and rage at him. You even throw something at him, though he ducks out of the way easily. “You fucking bastard! You bastard! Fuck you Simon Riley!” You scream as you cry, head pounding from something. The pain in your thigh? The rage in your temple? Or how hard you’re crying? Probably a mixture of all three. “You’re dead! I buried you! I went to your funeral Riley!” You throw something else at him, probably an MRE.

He says your name gently, like he’s trying to soothe an animal but you’re frankly ready to sink your teeth into his skin if he tries to approach. “You didn’t even have the courage to write? Not even a little postcard? Something! Anything! To let me know you’re not dead? You’re lucky I’m not able to walk.” You spit.

”Would you listen-“ Simon tries to say but you immediately cut him off. Hearing his voice makes whatever walls you have built up over these five years crumble so easily. You can’t let him speak or else you’ll fall into his arms and just cry. And you need to be angry because you deserve to be angry.

”No! You listen to me Simon Riley!” You ball your hands into fists, “Why? Why did you treat me like shit? Why did you undermine me at every turn? It’s bad enough that you let me believe that you were dead! Wasn’t that enough for you? But of course it wasn’t, you had to make my life hell because you met me again!”

”Shut up!” Simon finally snaps, his brown eyes swirling with fury and guilt. “I had my reasons and if you would just-”

”Well what were they then? Huh? I’m all fucking ears.”

”You keep interrupting me. If you didn’t-“

”You had months to come clean Simon! Years if you count the time before I met you again and after all that time you couldn’t just be a man and tell me? Couldn’t even send me a hint that you were alive?” You slam your fist into the wall, you ignore the pain that shoots right up your arm into your shoulder. You glare at him through your tears and wipe at them frantically. “You didn’t even try.”

”I did it to protect you! And if you’d just let me speak I’d tell you all the reasons I had to not tell you or even let you think I was alive!” Simon finally manages to say, he goes to speak again and you hold up your hand.

”Don’t talk to me Simon Riley.” You say as you wipe away any tears from your cheeks that hadn’t rolled all the way down. Your eyes burn and your stomach hurts from just how much you’re feeling right now. Deep down, past the anger you feel relief because he’s alive. Your Simon is alive and maybe more rough around the edges with a scar bisecting his lip, a nasty scar along his cheek and nose broken and not properly set several times. You’re also sure his eye bags have increased tenfold since you last saw him but his eye black keeps that little fact hidden from you. His teeth are chipped and broken but his brown eyes still hold that same depth. You can tell he still smiles the same and he’s still that overprotective boy who had scared off your date that one time just by opening the door.

That’s still your Simon Riley. But damn him to the deepest hell and back for making your heart hurt so badly. “Fine.” He grits out before he marches to what you assume is the safe house bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

There is something wrong with me. That is Simon’s first thought when he looks at himself in the mirror that must be old because his reflection is warped. There is something wrong with me and it's not the scars or the way my joints ache when I stand or sit down. There is something wrong with me and it makes my blood run black. Simon wonders if he had been born wrong. He suspects he’s always been this way, he was his father’s son after all, doomed to be awful to all of those he knows. To use them and drain them dry until they cut him off or he tosses them away. He doesn’t want you to be part of that cycle, to be a part of the cycle that always results in those close to him dying.

He already lost his family, he couldn’t lose you too so he cut you out completely. It was better if you thought he was dead. You were better off thinking he was dead in the ground even if it hurt you, even if it hurt him. And fuck did it hurt that first year, every time something happened he wanted to call you or text you. Tell you all about it late at night in a part of base where no one would care if he was awake if they even dared to approach him at all. Simon wanted to return to you more then anything but Ghost hadn’t dug himself out of that grave and lost his entire family as consequence for not fucking dying just for you to meet that same fate. No, you’d be his only in memory. Maybe one day he’d stalk your social media and find that you’ve moved on. Hopefully out of that fucking city, working a good paying job with a man who deserved you.

And it didn’t matter how much that thought made his supposedly ice heart hurt. It didn’t matter because he was dead and there was nothing he could give you besides this rotting body and whatever love he could scrape together for you.

Simon looks at himself in the mirror, completely maskless and bare for what felt like the first time in years. It felt like his skin had been pulled away to show the maggots, rotting tendons and muscle underneath. Every tear that had left your beautiful eyes had felt like acid on his skin, every word thrown his way a well placed knife throw. He knew he deserved all that malice and if you didn't want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t talk to you. No matter how much he wants to.

The next two days go by slowly, it reminds you of the time you had to go through a bog. Slow movements and time seemed to slow to a fucking crawl as you traversed the bog to go around an enemy encampment so you could get the jump on them from behind. It didn’t matter that your clothes had been soaked through or that you could feel the cold of the water seeping into your bones. You kept going. So the same logic was applied here. Your bullet wound in your thigh eventually got treated properly, in silence of course. Simon had given you the first aid kit and you did your best with what you had. Digging out the bullet had to be one of the most painful experiences you’ve ever had.

Simon had wanted to step in and do it himself but he knew you’d sooner accept an infection then let him any closer then needed. By the end of the hour and several deep, guttural screams cut off only by the belt between your teeth, you had managed to pull the bullet out. You were quick to stitch the hole closed and to wrap it in bandages. When that was over, you only had enough strength to crawl onto the shitty couch and pass out.

The first day not talking to him was filled with tension. It was so thick you could cut it with your knife, if you had it that is. It’s still stuck in that asshole’s neck which sucks because it was a good neck. You were hesitant to put any pressure on your wound, terrified of ripping your frankly shit stitches and increasing the chances of you getting an infection. You spent the entire day cleaning and taking apart your gun with occasional glares sent to Simon if he tried to enter the same room as you and stay for more than a few minutes.

He understood your anger, he did, but he couldn’t stand it at the same time. He wants to sit right next to and soak in your presence in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before this. He hadn’t bothered to put his mask back on and when he had stepped out of the bathroom without it the first time you had jerked like someone had pinched you. You could still tell he had blonde hair from his eyebrows but seeing his blonde hair in a buzz cut had felt like an electric shock. That was still your Simon even all these years later and that made you angrier. How could he? How dare he? After all these years, he looked the same despite the scars on his face but you? Do you still look the same despite the weariness in your eyes and being grief eaten.

The only word he spoke to you was, “There’s a blizzard coming in tomorrow.” You had only given a grunt in acknowledgement which he had to admit, stung. How many times had he responded to you like that while trying to get you to quit and transfer somewhere else? Far too many times, he ran a gloved hand through his prickly hair as he shook his head. God he had been so fucking stupid and stubborn. As it turns out, the blizzard couldn’t wait until tomorrow or maybe it was the next day. The wind shook the entire safe house, the walls creaked and groaned from the force of it. The windows were covered by snow or maybe it was a white out, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t even want to lift your head to check. You were fucking freezing despite your thermals and the blanket. Your teeth chattered as you pulled the blanket even closer and closed your eyes. Your cheeks were numb and you could barely feel your nose, your fingers actually hurt from how cold they were.

You blew more warm breath into your cupped hands, your entire body shivered as another burst of wind caused the house to groan from the weight of it. You glanced around the living room/kitchen area, the fireplace was boarded up but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, you had no wood. The only thing of light was a battery powered lamp that you had been surprised still worked. You knew where Simon was, in the only other room besides the bathroom, the bedroom. Getting up those stairs would have been impossible for you the first two days here with your injury. Hell, you even doubted if you had enough strength to do it now even with the protein and nutrient packed MRE’s given to you for rations. But you suspected if you didn’t seek out another form of warmth and soon, you’d end up a popsicle. And frankly? That sounded like a bad way to go.

You shakily got to your feet, where it was from being nervous about putting weight on your injured leg or if you were cold, you couldn’t be sure. But you wobble up the stairs, gripping the rail for life the entire way and nearly falling when you finally manage to get the doorknob to turn. Simon catches you, he opens his mouth to chastise you before he realizes the state you’re in. He mutters your name, brown eyes filled with worry as you shrug, too tired and frozen to verbally shrug. He shakes his head and brings you to the mattress in the corner, he quickly runs downstairs and grabs your blanket before returning upstairs. You grumble, which honestly was just noises from the back of your throat as he settles next to you, pulling both blankets over the two of you. After a few minutes and warming up a little you mumble, “This doesn’t change that I’m upset with you.”

”I would never expect it to.” He whispers back as he wraps an arm around you. It shouldn’t be as easy as it is, like two pieces of a puzzle finally snapping together. You seep warmth from him like a leech while he holds you close and steady enough that you don’t shiver or shake. He stays awake the entire time, long after you’ve fallen asleep on your pack-made-pillow. Simon looks at you and drinks you in properly this time. Despite the blizzard outside still raging on and the cold temperatures making your skin lose a little color, you’re still as stunning as the day he confessed his love to you. He can still recall that day, sitting at a bench a little ways away from the reception party. The cool October breeze blowing through and the way you looked so relaxed. So content with the moment and with him. He kissed you that night, he kissed you like a starving animal. Like he might never get to kiss you again and that he needed to take what he could now.

“I love you Simon Riley. I have since we were 15. Don’t leave me again Simon, not if you can help it.” He was fucking idiot not to say it back, he didn’t even think to do so because his heart had been stabbed the moment you pleaded with him not to leave because he was leaving again. He was leaving you, the best thing in his entire life. Then he came back fucked but he did his best to get better. He didn’t want to touch you, he was terrified he would hurt you. Force himself on you, every night he dreamed that he was hurting you and that he enjoyed it. The therapy helped a little, you and his family helped a lot. Having something to return to helped so much. Then it all came burning down and damn it, he wasn’t going to let you die. So he killed the men then he returned to Mexico and killed Roba and his entire cartel. Then he never returned home, he never let you even think that he was alive. He glances down at you, sleeping in his arms

Sometimes, if he looks at you even now, he can recall the day the two of you met.

It was so cold and the rain didn’t make anything better. He trembles in his too-big shirt and pants which are rolled up to stop him from tripping again. He sniffles and wipes at his face, if he wipes away tears or the rain he doesn’t know. Other kids pass by him quickly with their umbrellas, rain coats and boots, protected by the things their mum’s and dad’s buy for them. His dad had sold his and Tommy’s umbrella’s and coats to afford more alcohol and drugs. Being the good big brother that Simon told himself he was, he let Tommy take their mum’s coat instead of him. He didn’t regret that, he could never regret making Tommy’s life a little better.

He isn’t expecting you to walk up to him with an umbrella with yellow ducks on it. He recognizes you almost instantly, you go to his class. You ask him, “What are you doing without an umbrella?” with your head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.

He mumbled out, eyes averted to the ground and soggy strawberry hair sticking to his forehead, “I don’t have one.” You asked if his mum didn’t buy him one. She did, she always did her best to provide for him and Tommy but his dad always ruined it. You don’t wait for him to respond, you don’t push for further answers or make fun of him for not having an umbrella or raincoat.

Instead, you smile at him and hold the umbrella with yellow ducks on it over his head after pulling the hood of your coat over your head. “Well it doesn’t matter now, I’m here and we can share.” You give him your name and he gives you his with the tiniest smile on his face. You held the umbrella over his head the entire way there then you walked him home because it was still raining. You called him a friend.

When you wake up, he lets you sit in silence. The blizzard had mostly passed through during the night, the worst of it was over but the safe house outside of the blankets was freezing cold. Simon knew he wasn’t exactly in a rush to leave the warmth and comfort of this moment. The silence hangs between the two of you and at some point, you begin to play with fingers in the way you used to when growing up. It takes a better part of an hour for him to work up the courage and it really feels like he is going to throw up when he whispers, “Do you still love me?” It’s quiet that if you didn’t know his voice that you’d think it was the wind still blowing.

He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the killing blow. For you tell him that you don’t love him anymore, especially after these five years and the shit he pulled. But it doesn’t come, instead he hears your shuffling and feels your slightly cold hands cup his stubble covered cheeks. He peaks his eyes open and nearly melts at the sight before him. You, nearly in tears as you look at him so fondly like you did that October day. “Of course I still love you Simon Riley.” He can’t stop himself from closing the gap between the two of you as tears spill from both of your eyes and kiss you.

You’re taken by surprise when he kisses you, it's gentle and some tears slip between your connected lips. You don’t even realize that either you or him has started to cry but you return his kiss, trying to keep him this close for as long as you can without breathing. His hands tug you closer, if he could tear open his ribs and stuff you in there instead of his heart and lungs, he would. When you finally pull away, tears still running down your cheeks, you look at him. Tears run down his cheeks too and wet the fabric of his shirt now that they’re not being caught between your lips and spread between your cheeks and his. “Say it again.” He croaks and you repeat it.

”I love you Simon Riley.” You kiss his cheeks, “I love you.” You kiss his forehead, “And I’ll keep loving you for eternity.” Simon melts with each kiss you give him and sighs when you kiss his lips again. His large hands find your waist and tug you closer, his thick thigh parting yours as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. You happily part your lips for him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue explores your mouth and a needy moan leaves you. Your heart aches still and tears keep slipping down your face because he’s here. Simon Riley is alive and has been for years. The relief is almost enough to make you forgive him on the spot.

Maybe you are forgiving him in a way, not fully. God knows that it will take a lot more than just this to make you forgive him but it's a start. And it’s a start you desperately need, your fingers dig into him further which pulls a groan from him. Immediately you loosen your grip on him, fearing that you’ve hurt him until he pulls away completely breathless and with pupils so wide there’s hardly any brown left, “Don’t stop doing that.” He leans in and whispers against the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up on your skin as you dig your fingers back into him right as his mouth connects with yours again.

He rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close and connected to him. You feel like a teenager again when he slips one of his thick thighs between your own and you grind down on it nearly out of pure instinct. The pressure of your pants seam pressing against your clit makes your legs weak and a liquid warmth to pool. You do it again and you moan into the kiss, his other hand which he had used to cup your cheek immediately went to your hip and grabbed it. He doesn’t try to stop you, instead he encourages you to grind against his thigh. He mutters something against your lips and it comes out muffled but it sounds like, “Take what you need love.” And you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You grind against him, a little harder this time which causes your entire body to jolt as the electric pleasure shoots up your spine. His hand on the back of your neck tangles itself into your hair and he pulls away only barely so he can catch his breath. You’re left breathless and panting as you grind against his thigh, he rests his forehead against yours and his eyes focus on you using his thigh. “Fuck.” He mutters as his hand on your hip moves up and cups your chest. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you furrow your brows, your pace faltering at his words.

”Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, I’m sorry fo’ bein’ such a twat.” He says and pushes his thigh back against you. Your head tips back as a moan leaves your throat and you resume your previous pace. He gropes and paws at your chest, trying to pinch and twist at your hardened nipples from over the fabric of your shirts. “Love, please let me- let me push your shirt up.” He begs and you immediately give your consent. He doesn’t waste another second and pushes your shirt up as far as it would go then he grumbles something to himself before he pulls it over your head and discards it nearby.

He dips his head down and immediately takes a nipple into his mouth while his hand squeezes the other breast. He sucks on it, laving his tongue over it like a dog and letting his teeth graze it slightly when he figures out it makes your hips jolt. You tighten your grip on his shoulders as your thighs tense up and you desperately keep rocking your hips against his thigh. “Si-Simon I’m cl-“ You’re cut off by your own moan when he switches nipples and when he looks up at you between blonde lashes your orgasm washes over you. Your hips stutter and your entire body jolts once or twice as you soak your underwear. Simon swears at the sight of your mouth falling open and your head tipping back to expose your entire neck.

His fingers are nimble as he unbuttons your pants, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of both the pants and your underwear then yanks them down. “Let me? Please let me make you feel good.” He begs and you nod, mind still trying to piece itself back together after the first orgasm. He shuffles under the covers and it’s kind of funny to see the bottom half of his body sticking out but the sight of it is pulled away from you as he yanks you further down the mattress.

”Simon-“ You yelp before it’s cut away into a moan. There’s no preamble or teasing, likely because he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt now, before he buries his face in it. You grab at the blankets, your mouth falling open as you moan when his tongue flicks your engorged clit. He can’t seem to decide if he wants to focus on your clit or your pulsing hole, dipping his tongue down to slurp up your juices before returning to your clit. He’s desperate, his hands are gripping your thighs like you might try and pull away despite your moans and pleads for more filling the safe house.

He eases one thick finger into you as he sucks on your clit and you see stars in your vision. “Like that- oh my god- like that please don’t stop.” You whimper as your fingers card through his hair. You moan and start to squirm a little as he begins to pump his thick digit in and out of you. He seems to be searching for something, trying different things and sticking to the one that makes you keen the loudest. He crooks his finger just right and your thighs tense up around his head as a moan tears through your throat.

Like the sniper that he is, he focuses on that spot within your increasingly soaked cunt as he tortures your clit with his mouth. The slurping sounds have your cheeks heating up and you squirm as he pushes a second finger into you with no resistance. He rubs against that soft spot inside you that causes your body to relax further and pins down your hips when you try to squirm away from his tongue.

“Simon- nngh- that feels so-“ You can barely string together a sentence as he seems intent on rendering you boneless and incapable of speech as he abuses your g-spot. You feel a tightness growing within your abdomen, like something is winding up before it lets go. It barely registers in your brain that you’re on the verge of cumming. Simon must feel it too, with the way your pussy clamps down around his fingers, because he redoubles his efforts. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your pussy pulses without a rhythm and you’re thrown over the edge. The muscles in your thighs clench involuntarily as the pleasure runs through you. He keeps rubbing at that spot through your orgasm, his fingers soaked in your slick as you twitch a little from the aftershocks.

You try to move upwards when he eases a third finger into you but he holds you down. “It’s too much.” You choke out as he crawls up your body, leaving a trail of sticky wet kisses. “Si please.” You hiccup as he begins to work you open with those three fingers.

”Got to work you open love.” He mutters reassuringly before capturing your lips in a kiss. He swallows down your moans like the greedy man he is, keeping all of these sounds for himself. He doesn’t care if the two of you are the only people around for miles upon miles, he doesn’t even want the walls to know your sounds in case they ever learn to talk. You whine at his words and a hand grabs his bicep as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. The stretch of three of his fingers is delicious, just that slight sting that ebbs away the more he finger fucks you.

It feels like he rips the next orgasm out of you, your entire body tenses as it slams into you. You feel yourself gush on his thick fingers and he keeps going, keeps fucking you through it until your pushing at his arm and pleading for a moment of reprieve. It’s only until tears gather in your eyes that he finally stops. Simon peppers your face in kisses while he whispers that he’s sorry. He promises that he’ll do right by you this time, no more running away or disappearing. He swears it as you unbuckle his pants and pulls them down. There’s a noticeable wet patch on his boxers but you don’t comment on it, just pull those down as well. Your mouth waters and your eyes widen when you see his cock.

It's thick, uncut and long. The tip is red from neglect and drips pre-cum like a leaky faucet. His cock is heavy that it hangs low and his brown eyes are filled with lust as he watches you reach down and wrap your hand around his length. “That’s not going to fit.” You finally whisper out, meeting his eyes which crinkle from the cocky smile on his face.

He leans down, body draping over yours. You can feel his body heat rolling off him in waves as he takes his cock from your hands and lines up the bulbous tip with your cunt. He strokes it a few times with his slick coated fingers as he looks you in the eyes before whispering, “I’ll make it fit.” When he pushes it, he does it slowly. You can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of his cock against your walls. Despite having stretched you with three of his fingers before hand and making you cum twice the sting remains. It’s a sweet burn, a delicious heat that licks from your hips up to the back of your skull. It grounds you to the moment as his fingers dig into you as his hips meet yours, bottoming out in you he lets out a low moan. His eyes flicker down to where the two of you meet and he licks his lips at the sight.

He pulls back just a little and the squelch that comes from your cunt when he pushes back in makes your face hot. He leans down and grabs your uninjured thigh. He hooks his arm around it and forces it up as he cages your body between his arms. You grab onto his shoulder and bicep, your eyes can’t seem to leave his as he thrusts in and out of you. The pace isn’t fast but his hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin fills the room and mixes with each noise pulled from you. Simon swallows the lump in his throat as he supports himself on one arm and cups your cheek, his thumb swiping something away. You sniffle and reach your hands up to his face, you try to drink his face. The same face you thought you would never see as tears roll down your cheeks and his cock fills you past the point of full.

“I love you.” You say between hiccups and moans. You watch as his eyes water and he buries his face within the crook of your neck. He mouths at the sweaty skin there and whispers that he loves you back. That he loves you so much it hurts and that he’s sorry. He repeats it over and over again with each roll of his hips and that feeling within your stomach grows again quickly. With each snap of his hips you feel yourself getting closer and more tears leak from your eyes. You cum again with his name on your lips and feel his hips stutter and loose pace. He grinds up against you, nudging your cervix in a way that causes a slight pinch within your lower abdomen that makes you clench down harder on him.

You feel him cum, you hear his groan right next to your ear as his hips come to a complete stop and pressed against the meat of your thighs. His sticky warm cum fills you, the feeling is odd. Foreign but not entirely unwelcome as he stays in that position after letting your thigh rest back down onto the mattress. You twist your head to the side and give him a quick kiss, “Say it again?” He whispers.

”I love you.”

Simon lets out a shaky sigh, the relief he feels is palpable, “I love you too.”

It’s not all that surprising that he can’t keep his hands off you and you’re not innocent either. After seemingly fucking all of your anger towards him out, the two of you cling to each other. He rocks his hips into your again, every movement lighting up your nerves in a way that seems never ending. Like this pleasure will swallow you whole but you don’t mind, it hides the twinges of pain from your thigh from being pressed so close to your chest. You kiss all of his face, soft moans from both of you mixing together into a melody.

”How long until someone is able to get us?” You ask later while you lay on his chest and trail your fingers up and down his abdomen. You’re exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open and the heat between the two of you is slowly lulling you further into sleep.

”The radio said they’ll be here tomorrow.” Simon replies and you mindlessly hum.

”What will happen when we leave?” You ask, “When all of this is over.”

”We’ll figure it out.” he murmurs and kisses you. “Rest up love.” You’re not surprised, actually delighted, when he wakes you up with kisses on your neck. He trails down from your jaw, nipping occasionally at the soft flesh which earns a wanton moan from you.

”Happened to resting?” You tease and he chuckles against you.

”Oops.” He says and it would be convincing if you couldn’t feel his smile. Simon’s hands trail down your naked body and he pushes two fingers back into your sopping wet cunt. You gasp and arch your back, eyes fluttering closed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “You’re so wet.” He groans, like he still can’t believe that you still want him. “Never going to let you go again.” He promises as he begins to abuse that soft part inside you.

Simon kisses your nose and you chuckle. “Excited?” You ask and he nods. It’s been two years since that mission when everything changed again. Two years since you found out Simon Riley never died, that he had refused to die once again. It had taken a little while to figure out what the both of you wanted, therapy helped a lot. It helped you realize that the military lifestyle, despite it being the thing you had only known for the past five years, wasn’t truly for you. Of course you had known that you had only joined in Simon’s memory but therapy helped you let go of it.

God bless John Price, bless him for being utterly professional despite two of his soldiers fucking which has to be the most unprofessional thing to do in the military. He looked at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle when you placed the discharge paperwork on his desk that day 8 months ago. “Finally figured out what you want then?” He asked as he immediately signed off on it, not even bothering to read through it.

”Yeah, I have, Captain.” You said with a fond smile, you’d miss this. You’d miss him, Gaz and Soap but it wasn’t like they couldn’t come and see you when on leave. You’d only be an hour away in a nearby city anyways. You glance at the two keys in your hand, one for you and one for Simon. You place the second one into his palm. “Let’s go see our home then.” You pick up the cat carrier and Mittens meows in protest. You coo your reassurances to her, promising that it’s almost over. The three of you climb the steps up the porch of the townhouse you now own and Simon unlocks the door.

You glance around the currently empty space then glance behind you to the moving truck parked out on the side of the street. “I think it might take us a day to get everything in here.” You say when you turn to look at Simon

”I’d say two.” Simon says as he takes the cat carrier from your hands and sets it down next to the stairs. You quirk an eyebrow up and part your lips in an ‘o’ shape when you realize what’s on his mind.

”Really Riley?” You ask as you loop your arms around his neck and he chuckles as your expression.

”I’ve always wanted to bend you over a countertop.” He purrs as he tugs his mask down and plants a kiss on your neck which sends shivers down your spine.

”Is that so?” You ask as he backs you up against it after closing the front door. He hoists you up on top of it with a ‘mhm’ before he captures your lips in a kiss and his hands settle on your hips.

You grasp at the edge of the counter, moans being punched out of you with each thrust of his hips. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the house and mixes with his groans. Simon’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, enjoying the sight of how your fat squishes up between his fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ stunning.” And all you can respond with is a moan as his fat cock abuses the tip of your cervix. “I’m gonna retire.” He babbles and his words hardly register in your mind as you begin to clench down on him as a sign you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. He loops a hand around and rubs mean circles around your clit which sends you falling off the edge.

He swears as your cunt clenches down on him like a vice and he spills himself in you all while he keeps rubbing at your clit. You lay there panting, trying to gather your senses as you blink away the tears of overstimulation once his hand falls away. You gasp and gulp down the air, “Simon?”

”Fuck I said that out loud didn’t I?”

You can’t help but giggle and shake your head. “You mean it?”

”Yeah, I mean it. I’m gonna look into retiring, I can’t be a soldier forever.” He rests his sweaty forehead against your back as he speaks.

”I love you so much Simon Riley.”

His hand reaches out and loops through yours, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the light. “I love you too.”

[psychoticallykind]

See You Soon

"Bag" - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 688 words

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

Sirius raised his hands in a placating motion. "Look, it's fine. We can borrow some of Remus's stuff -"

"I don't want Remus's stuff, I want mine," Regulus interrupted. "I want my notes, with my highlighters, and my pens, Sirius! I need my bag, I can't go to class -"

"You can live without it for one day." Sirius must have seen the complete panic in his expression, because he stepped back before switching tactics. "Please? I just - I really can't drive all the way to your flat right now, or we'll both be late for class, and you hate being late, Reg. You can copy notes in one of my notebooks, and then you can switch them over when you get home."

It was logical. It made sense.

The thought of doing it made Regulus want to break into tears.

"I need a minute."

"Reg, we can -"

"Sirius, I need a minute," Regulus repeated, blinking quickly and grabbing his phone. "I'll be back, it's fine, I just -" his voice caught, and he shook his head before turning and retreating into the guest room he'd crashed in last night.

He shut the door and held the phone up to his ear, praying James had a minute -

"Good morning, love."

Even through the chaos in his head, James's voice made him smile. "Good morning."

"What's wrong?"

Regulus shook his head, though James couldn't see him over the phone. "I'm freaking out over nothing again, and I just needed to talk to you. Just for a minute, I know you're busy."

"I have all the time in the world for you," James promised. "You know that. What's going on?"

"It's dumb," Regulus admitted. He blew out a breath, angrily swiping at the tears that had managed to fall. "You know how we got back late last night?"

"Yeah, and you crashed with Sirius."

"Yeah." Regulus took a deep breath as the panic rose up again. "I have classes. But I don't have my bag with all of my school stuff, and I can't do my morning routine today, and I'm in the wrong apartment, and I woke up in the wrong bed, and every single morning you wake me up and you kiss me and tell me to have a good day and that you'll see me later, but I'm not home and everything is screwed up!"

"Oh, love. I'm so sorry," James replied. "That's a lot of things out of place today, yeah?"

Regulus nodded. He needed his routines, he needed his patterns. They made the day go well, they made sure he was okay to go to class. Everything felt wrong without them. "Sirius was trying to help, and he said that I could use some of Remus's stuff or his, but that's not - it's just not -"

"It's not your stuff," James finished gently. "I get it. It's okay."

"I just - the plan is all ruined now," Regulus felt stupid. He knew that none of this should matter. Not as much as it did, at least. But he hated when things went off-balance - it made him panic, it meant he wasn't in control. It meant he wasn't safe.

"Can we make a new plan?" James asked. "Would that work?"

Regulus shrugged. "Maybe. I guess."

James didn't mind his less-than-enthusiastic response. "Okay. So I'm going to suggest one, and you tell me what we're changing, okay?"

Regulus reminded himself to breathe slower. "Okay."

"You can let Sirius drive you to school," James started. "And I'll meet you there with your bag. Then I'll still kiss you and tell you to have a good day, and I'll pick you up after class is over, and we can come home and decompress. Does that sound alright?"

Regulus felt the chaos settle as he thought about it. "Yeah."

He'd have his stuff. He'd see James. Everything important would still happen.

"Okay, then. That's our plan."

Regulus nodded one more time. "Thank you."

"Anytime, love. I'm getting in the car now, I'll see you soon, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too," Regulus breathed. He took another deep breath. "And I'll see you soon."

[naeviskz]

genre. idol!hyunjin x model!f!reader | established relationship

words. 1.5k+ tags/warnings. angst, fluff (towards the end), smut, accusations of cheating, hj is lowkey toxic (but we love it hehe), cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, some mentions of crying, not proofread

this has been in my drafts for years and i finally finished it bc i was tired of seeing it LMAO. btw the position i’m referring to is this (nsfw link), i usually hate vids but this was rlly good imo.

“i think we should take a break...” you admit, voice growing shakier as you spoke. this was never something you wish to say in a million years, you wanted this relationship to work more than anything. but you were at your wits end with everything, talking to hyunjin was like conversing with the wall, never truly grasping any of your concerns.

you noticed the cracks beginning to seep in the midst of six months of being with him. he would often be dishonest of his whereabouts, saying he was out late due to “work” but was actually out drinking at some bar with chan or something. it made no sense for him to lie about such trivial things but he does it without even thinking. this was supposed to be a lovely vacation in paris together but lately you’ve grown tired of feeling like you’re unappreciated. a break from each other might be the best solution in getting his act together once and for all.

hyunjin felt his whole body turn limp as you uttered those words. not only was he blindsided by your decision, but you never indicated before to him that you were ready to propose such a drastic idea. “but why though? don’t you think this is a bit random? i mean this came out of nowhere ___, i thought everything was good between us, why are you suddenly saying this now?” his thick, bushy brows furrowed in confusion, he wasn’t letting you off this easy and you know it.

“i just think it’s for the better right now hyune, we’re both so busy. we have a lot on our plate, especially you… and this relationship is just— it’s only putting more strain on everythi-”

“are you serious ___? do you hear yourself? i knew what i was getting myself into the day i asked you to be my girlfriend. i’m well aware that i can’t be with you 24/7, and neither can you—however, i don’t expect that anyway. all i ever wanted was to have you by my side, i want to work through the hardships with you but if you’re so willing to give up like this then… i don’t know. i don’t even know what to say to this honestly..” hyunjin couldn’t help but cut you off, once his emotions take over, all sense of logic and reasoning is thrown out the window.

he was never one to question his worth in the eyes of his partner, but you were his longest relationship, he saw you as his first and only true love. it never occurred to him that he could lose you, the possibility of this break lasting long enough to make your love fade away was a scary revelation. there had to be a way he could fix this, he couldn’t bear to be without you.

“are you seeing someone else? maybe that’s why you’ve been so distant towards me lately…” he wanted to scream for saying that out loud but at least he got it off his chest. he knows how petty it sounds but he didn’t care, he wanted you to give him answers.

“no! i’m not seeing other people, i don’t have an interest in anyone but you hyunjin. i want to do this for the sake of us, we’re clearly not where we need to be and this break could help with getting us back on track and spending time apart could be beneficial.” you try your best to articulate your words properly but he remained unconvinced, he wasn’t on board with any bit of this.

how could you even be okay with something like this? spending time away from you drove him absolutely insane, he couldn’t fathom taking a break—not from someone as important as you in his life. he just needed to remind you that the love was still there, though it may be but a dull flame, he could ignite the spark again, with the little bit of hope he had left.

the foundation of your relationship was built from shared interests, since you both are part of professions that rely heavily on looks, you refused to see each other based solely off those superficial aspects. instead you got to know each other’s minds, your core values and beliefs, what mattered to you the most. you cherished every one of those deep conversations you shared together, it was a beautiful experience, an indescribable memory that shaped your bond forever.

so why is it now that you feel this way? was he really that oblivious to everything? he should’ve done more to prevent this but now he fears it’s too late. he’s faced with the conundrum of losing you and there wasn’t much time for him to stall or ask for a chance of redemption, he couldn’t waste another second.

“fuck that,” hyunjin angrily spat, his face contorting into a look of pure disgust. “you’re not going anywhere.” he reaches out to grab your waist before you could walk away, aggressively pulling you into his chest.

no matter how much you attempt to escape his hold, he’s not letting you go in the slightest. he’s much stronger than you, could easily lift you up without breaking a sweat. there was no use in fighting, you had no choice but to give in and let this conversation go. once his lips crashed into yours, everything faded to black. as if a simple kiss was the cure-all of mending this decrepit relationship.

hyunjin’s forehead pressed against yours as he pulled away, “shhh, lye down baby,” he hushes your quiet mewls, instructing you to do as he says. “gonna make you feel so good,” his hands slid under your skirt, gently rubbing over your clothed slit “you’ll forget everything.”

* :.･ﾟﾟ･ ✿

“oh my- fuckk, hyunjin!” you cry out, almost on the verge of tears just from how skilled he is, rutting your hips upwards into his mouth as he devours you whole.

the pace of his tongue is relentless, roughly lapping up all your juices like he’s the most starved man alive. you’ve lost count at the amount of times he’s already made you come undone just from his mouth alone. your body’s buzzing with titillation, all you can do is scream and clench your pussy around nothing while he fiercely sucks on your clit.

you couldn’t stop twitching, feeling yet another orgasm approaching. your legs anchored over his shoulders, unable to think or speak coherent sentences as his face was fully buried into your dewy cunt. he relaxes his jaw a bit more, going all the way from the bottom inching further up as he comes back in contact with your puffy clit. at any given moment it feels as if your heart’s about to stop.

“hyunjin-” your heads thrown back into the pillow, digging your nails into his shoulder blades from how overly sensitive you are. “n-need to cum.. can feel it. m’so close.” it surprises you when you’re able to even express such words.

a low grunt can be heard underneath, hyunjin loves hearing you— it’s arguably the best part about going down on you. the hand that wasn’t occupied went straight to gripping a fistful of his ebony hair, continuously moaning his name so loud that you genuinely feel bad for whomever the unlucky people that got to hear this.

just when you thought it couldn’t get anymore intense, he slips 2 of his slender fingers inside, making you gasp from the overwhelming sensation. flashes of white invade your vision, violently shaking as your lips form an “o” in the throes of ecstasy. hyunjin knows your body so well that this is nothing for him, he’s got it all down to a simple science. no one knows your body like he does, and especially no one can make you cum as hard as he can.

“go ahead, make a mess for me baby,” he strongly encourages, picking up his pace as his digits fuck into you faster. “just gonna clean it up with my tongue all over again.”

your eyes roll back to the depths of oblivion, feeling an out of body experience when reaching your climax. a slew of curses leave your shaky breath, limbs trembling and faint tears stain your flushed cheeks. hyunjin slows his movements, rubbing his thumb over your clit gently to make you even more sensitive. you love the way he calls you “good girl” and how proud the look on his face becomes while you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. he doesn’t stop showering you with compliments, only ramping up his affection as he plants fleeting kisses to your thighs, hips, and tummy.

once he’s finally come back up for air you grab his face to pull him into your lips again. moaning in his mouth while getting a taste of yourself was probably the hottest thing hyunjin’s ever witnessed.

“can’t believe you’re all mine.” hyunjin whispers against you, gently massaging your aching thighs. “i love you so much baby.”

“love you too hyune.” you instantly say back, feeling more at ease now that things are somewhat back to normal.

maybe a break isn’t necessary after all, how else would you be able to have such earth shattering orgasms?

- 完 ♡︎

[dp-marvel94]

Real -Chapter 5

Summary:

While hiding from his parents in Gotham, an ill-timed encounter with his neighbor, Jason, has Danny pretending to be his own twin. Fortunately for Danny, the more he pretends the easier it gets. Until he is not pretending at all. Or: Danny names a duplicate and via ghost logic, said duplicate ends up becoming real.

First->Previous

Also on AO3

Note: This chapter really fought me but it's finally here! Notice I updated the tags. Warning for body horror, specifically of the "clone melting into ectoplasm" kind.

While Danny is making dinner, Jamie scribbles. Annoyed mutters sound. The older half ghost glances back ever so often. Each time, the younger covetously covers the paper, brow wrinkled in a scowl.

Again, Danny turns back to the stove and again, he massages his stress-tense forehead. He needs to do something about this.

The older brother has just finished the food and turned off the oven, when Jamie sits up, hand lighting with ectoenergy.

“Stupid letter.” He hisses, the paper going up in flames. “Nothing sounds right!”

The half ghost sighs, turning around fully to face his twin. “I’m inviting Jason over for dinner and we’re going to talk about everything.”

“What?!” The younger more floats than stands up. “No!”

He isn’t making this decision on impulse or out of annoyance. He’s really not. He needs to do something to move both of them forward and having someone else to confide in – like Jason or Jazz – is sure to help his twin finally shake off this fear.

But all the same, Danny fights to keep the frustration from his voice. “Jamie, I’ve tried to be patient. I really want you to feel ready but…” He motions to the ashes smeared on the carpet. “Putting it off is just making you more freaked out.”

“No, it’s not.” The clone tries to argue. “You… you can’t.”

Danny steps towards the door, turning the handle before Jamie can get in front of him. “We don’t have to tell Jason everything, but we need to at least start getting everything out in the open.”

The older brother opens the door, standing in the hallway the next second.

The younger jogs after him. “Danny, wait! Let’s just talk about this.”

Two doors down from Jason’s apartment now. “We have been talking about this, in circles.” Danny half-turns his head, throwing the words back at his brother. “I swear it’s going to be okay. Whatever horrible thing you’re imagining won’t-”

A sudden yelp, somewhere between surprised and pained, sounds, followed by the thud of a body falling.

Concern clashes with exacerbation. Did Jamie really just manage to trip over his own feet?

Danny turns, moving to help his brother up before even really looking.

“Are you okay?” He bends down, offering a hand. “I’m sorry…

He trails off, eyes widening. Jamie groans, pushing himself to sit up. Neon green wells on the big toe of his right foot. Did he step on something that made him fall? A cut or puncture on his foot could be serious. But…

“It… it burns.” His brother hisses, face screwing up in pain.

Danny’s eyes desperately search the ground. A nail? A piece of glass? Even a sharp rock? Nothing, but…

The green trickles, not towards the floor like blood from a cut. But… up and across. There is a sizzle, a faint pop. The ectoplasm spreads, a sickening whiff of rotten limes, pennies, and ozone.

“It’s… it’s melting.” Danny stutters out, mind whirling.

Jamie’s toe is melting. Dissolving into ectoplasm, like… like Danielle had before being stabilized.

The clone’s eyes widen, drawn to the digit at the words. A spike of panic dashes across their bond.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Danny shoves away the feeling, desperately scrambling for composure. “Just focus on making it solid again. We’ll get you some more ectodejecto and you’ll-“

“There isn’t anymore.” Jamie pants out the words, chest starting to heave.

“We’ll figure it out. We’ve got time. If you don’t use your powers-“

The words die in his throat, eyes widening in horror. The ectoplasm is spreading rapidly, half of one foot gone as the toes of the other begin to sizzle.

“I…I don’t understand. It shouldn’t be happening this fast.” Danny stutters out, heart suddenly pounding. “You were fine five minutes ago.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Tears well in Jamie’s eyes.

The link between them quivers, vibrating with terror, and Danny sees.

The tip of Jamie’s finger warping, ectoplasm beading as if from a cut. With a gasp, he drops his knife.

Paper underneath ink-stained hands. Between one blink and the next, neon green wells, appearing from nowhere.

Danny’s heart drops, a feeling like being squeezed. “You were… you were hiding it?”

“Sorry. Was…was scared.” His brother whimpers.

Disappointment wells, clashing with panic. But the older half ghost breathes shakily. Focus, he needs to focus. “Okay. Later.” They will talk about that later. “Make your feet solid. Picture them like… like turning your tail back into legs.”

It’s like Jamie doesn’t hear him at all. The clone’s breath heaves, gaze locked on his melting legs. His feet are now puddles, the green eating away at his calves.

“Jamie!”

Eyes snap back, meeting Danny’s. “Turn… turn solid?” At the older’s desperate nod, Jamie’s brow strains in concentration. Five long, ectoplasm sizzling seconds….

“Ca… can’t!” The clone cries. A destabilization has overtaken his knees now, halfway up his thigh, and… “No.” The word full of desperate dread, Jamie’s hands tremble. “F…fingers.”

That same dread floods Danny’s mind, his chest tight. “Okay. We’ll thermos you. That will buy some time.”

“Spectra’s in the thermos!”

“Shit.” That was the only thermos he had and… “Shit.” His heart pounds in his ears, deafening but he can’t panic. He can’t! He has to save Jamie. He has to…

“Danny. It… it hurts.” Jamie’s voice shakes, just starting to beg.

“I…I know.” Danny can feel it distantly, an echo of the agony ringing across their bond as sharply as Jamie’s panic.

Their bond… That’s it! They’re still connected. If they’re still connected, then Danny can reabsorb his duplicate-twin’s body and… The older half ghost wraps mental hands around the thread linking them and yanks with all his might.

“Ah!” Both boys scream.

Pain rips through Danny’s head, sharp and piercing. Hands raise to clutch it. “Not… not doing that again.”

“Please. No.” A whimper on the floor in front of him.

And… Jamie is still melting, ectoplasm now dripping from his nose.

Danny’s eyes widen. He… he can’t reabsorb Jamie’s physical form. The clone isn’t a duplicate. Jamie really is separate from him like he’d thought. But… but…

“Please.” His brother cries. “Make it stop!”

His legs are gone, his arms up to his elbows.

“I’m… I’m trying.” Danny pants. “I don’t know how. I can’t reabsorb…”

No energy trickles between him and his twin. The link is not that of duplicate and original. Danny can’t reabsorb Jamie. But…

“Jamie, you… you need to do it.” Danny stutters, the idea flailing and desperate.

The body isn’t a duplicate. But if he can hold Jamie’s core, keep it close to his, sustain it with his energy….

“What?” His twin blinks, confusion cutting through the panic.

“You need to overshadow me.”

Another blink, then a snap of clarity. Jamie understands. “No. Can’t.” A fervent shake of his head.

A door slams open, not that to Jason’s apartment, but… the stairway.

“Holy-“ Jason’s voice. Something heavy drops, pounding feet. A second later and the man is kneeling on Jamie’s other side. “What is happening?”

“Yes, you can.” The older half ghost has no eyes for his neighbor, only his brother.

“Can’t. Not… not strong enough.“

“Yes, you are.” Spectra’s words flash in his mind. Too weak to- Is that what the shadowy ghost had been taunting his brother with? The thought of Jamie never being strong enough to exist on his own?

Jason says something, the words watery, not reaching Danny’s ears.

“Yes, you are.” The older half ghost pleads again. “Please. I… I can’t loss you… You have to.” He grabs Jamie’s shoulder, the flesh underneath his grip quickly turning green and sticky. Ectoplasm runs over his fingers. “You have to.”

“But…but…” Tears run down the clone’s face, streaks of neon.

“You are strong enough. You’ve always been strong enough.”

Doubt in Jamie’s eyes, echoing across their bond. A bead of ectoplasm drops from his hair.

Danny strums the line, sending all his sincerity, all his love across. Please, let it be enough.

The clone’s brow wrinkles. The doubt wavers, a shaky determination rising.

“Will… will try.” Jamie’s face scrunches with effort.

The clone’s body goes transparent and fuzzy, the semi-solid shoulder under Danny’s hand turning into mist. The spilled ectoplasm evaporates with it, the cloud swirling. And… between one breath and the next, Jamie’s physical form disappears.

At the same time, cold rushes through Danny. A queasy, distant feeling like his body is far away. Then the half ghost exhales, back in control. “Jamie.” He breathes, his twin’s cold spark taking its familiar place below his ribs.

Relief floods through Danny. His… his brother is still there, safe for now.

But… Jamie is anything but relieved. His almost-core spasms and twists, the other ghost’s fear and devastation stabbing Danny’s insides.

The half ghost winces. “Jamie!” He shouts, trying to get his twin’s attention.

“Danny?” Jason’s voice is far away.

Another wave of his ghostly passenger’s feelings sends tears to Danny’s eyes. “Jamie!”

“Danny.” Large, scarred hands appear on his shoulders. “Kid, are you with me?”

“Jamie!” Danny pokes back with his own core.

Half formed words echo from his twin, the volume deafening. Danny flinches, covering his ears to quiet it. Except… the sound is in his head, not his ears.

“Danny!” His name cuts through the chaos. “We’ll figure out what just happened to your brother. But I need you to focus-“

“I know what just happened to Jamie!” Danny shouts. “He’s being very loud, very upset in my head right now!”

Jamie instantly quiets, his emotions going still and muted.

At the same time, Jason’s mouth snaps shut.

Danny blinks. “Jason?” His mind whirls, finally catching up. “Fuck.”

His neighbor’s brow winkles, the wheels turning in his own head almost visible. But… he doesn’t look shocked nor panicked.

Instead, his expression softens. “Can Jamie hear me right now?”

Another confused blink. “What?”

“Can he hear me?” Again, the neighbor asks simply.

“Um… I think so.” At the words, Danny almost feels his twin turn, gaze fixed on their neighbor through his eyes.

“Jamie, your brother and me have got you. We’re both right here.” The man’s voice is calm and soothing. “Can you… breathe with me?” A hint of uncertainty enters his voice.

Danny nods, one hand raising to rest just below his sternum where the immaterial sensation of Jamie’s almost-core swirls. “I’ll breathe for both of us. You just follow along, baby bro.”

Jason breathes slowly, in and out. Danny copies. His lungs expand and contract, his brother’s cold spark seeming to dim and brighten in time.

Finally, Danny lowers his hand.

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Better?”

 “He feels calmer.” A long exhale.  ”Jamie? Do you want to talk to Jason?”

No. The words quivers, watery.

“He said no.” The answers fall, quiet and heavy, as Danny frowns down at the floor. His heart aches. A small part of him wants to sink down to the floor and cry. But…

As understandably upset as Jamie is, as both of them are, his brother is no longer melting. Danny can protect him, keep him safe until they figure this out.

And yet….

“Jason?” Tentatively, Danny looks up. “You’re not…uhh… freaking out as much as I’d expect.”

His neighbor raises an eyebrow. “We’re still playing this game?” Despite the words, there is no harshness as Jason leans closer, voice lowering. “I know that you know about my real job.”

Danny nods. Then, biting his lip. “And you know I’m the ghost kid you saw when you protected Jamie.”

Jason gives his own nod. “We should go somewhere else to talk about this. My apartment?” Frowning, his eyes flicker back to the stairs, to the busted grocery bags he’d dropped in his rush to help.

The half ghost winces, offering a sympathetic, though dim, smile at the broken eggs and spilled milk. “We can go to ours. I just finished dinner. Actually…” A blush colors his face. “I was just coming over to invite you to talk about everything. Jamie was trying to convince me to wait and…” A sudden guilt stabs his core. “That’s when he started…” Wide, haunted eyes gravitate to the carpet again. No sign of the stomach-churning gore remains, but… “He started melting.” A shaking hand covers his mouth. “Jamie, I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Jason tries to reassure. Not that he can possibly know that.

Not your fault. Jamie repeats, the words unwavering.

“No, no. It is…” The older half ghost shakes his head.

Was hiding it from you. His twin emphasizes. Not your fault.

Danny again shakes his head, not believing the words. But… “I can’t… can’t do this right now. We’ve got to explain things to Jason.”

Their neighbor frowns. “It can wait a bit. As long as there’s no danger of more… melting?” The last word pitches up, again unsure.

“No, Jamie’s safe for now.” Danny exhales, beginning to push himself to his feet. “And you deserve an explanation.”

“And what about you?” Jason rises to stand.

“I’m fine.” The older half ghost sighs. He puts his feet under him, wobbling as blood rushes to his head.

His neighbor reaches out to steady him. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not going to melt.” Danny rolls his eyes. “Just getting used to having a ghostly passenger.”

Jason doesn’t say anything in response, eyes just widening ever so slightly. The man helps Danny to the twin’s apartment and sits the half ghost down on the couch. He takes one of the kitchen chairs.

For a long moment, the two stare at each other. Danny’s mind whirls. Where does he even begin to explain?

Finally, Jason speaks. “Earlier, you said you were a ghost. Does that mean…” A hint of grief wavers in his voice. “what it sounds like it means?”

“That I died?” Danny bites his lip. “Yeah.”

“And the accident you told me about, was that how it happened?”

“Yep.” The half ghost sighs. He leans back, quipping dryly. “At least it gave me cool powers.”

“Damn kid.” Jason chuckles just as dryly. “I wish dying gave me the ability to fly and shoot Lazarus water from my hands.”

“So you died too…” Danny raises a brow. “that explains the death aura, I guess”

“Death aura? What’s a death aura?” Jason asks.

“What it sounds like.” The half ghost shrugs. “There’s this energy coming off you. Feels kinda ghostly. That’s uh… part of the reason we figured out you’re Hood. Jamie realized you had the same aura.” The neighbor nods, eyes narrowing in understanding, and Danny continues. “Also, again, what’s Lazarus water?”

“It’s what I was resurrected with.” Jason crosses his arms. “My adopted dad’s crazy ex stole my body, threw me in a pit of the stuff, and I came back to life.” His noise wrinkles. “Nasty shit. It messed up my head for years. Which makes you literally bleeding the stuff and not making heads roll, pretty unbelievable.”

“That sounds like some hella contaminated ectoplasm.” Danny’s nose wrinkles in kind. “And a whole pool of it? Where would someone even get that much?”

“In a cave in Nepal, guarded by a cult of assassins.” The vigilante snorts, then shakes his head. “Enough about my tragic backstory. You died, became a ghost. Then what?”

“Half-ghost, actually.” Danny motions to his body. “Still got a living human body and everything. But I can change into a ghost, hence the white hair and green eyes you saw.” He sighs. “Anyway, Mom and Dad are ghost hunters. The accident was in their lab in our basement. They were trying to open a portal to the Ghost Zone, the dimensions ghosts come from.”

“I thought ghosts were dead people?”

“It’s complicated.” Danny waves his hand dismissively. “I ended up opening the portal and ghosts started flooding the town. Some were fine, just minding their own business. But others tore up the street, stole things, hurt people. So… I stepped up to stop them. I started calling my ghost form Phantom and fought the other ghosts off.”

“So the shadowy ghost, that was one you’d fought before.”

“Yeah, Spectra.” Danny narrows his eyes, gaze falling to a spot on the floor. “She was one of my rogues. I’ve still got her in the thermos, under the floor.” He shakes his head. “So, I did the vigilante thing. Fought ghosts and put them back in the portal, tried to protect everyone. All while trying to not fail math, and to uhh… keep my ghost hating parents from learning I’m a ghost….“ He trails off, heart squeezing at the reminder of their eventual discovery.

Jamie sends a gentle stream of comfort, his cold spark flickering brighter.

Across from him, Jason’s brow furrows, expression a mix of concern and anger. “Damn. And you were doing this by yourself? What about your brother?”

Danny shakes his head. “It wasn’t just me. My two best friends were there for everything. My older sister found out a couple month in. She covered for me a lot. Made sure I was eating and getting enough sleep, the noisy mother-hen.” He chuckles. “And Jamie…”

At his name, a spike of anxiety radiates from the clone. Danny’s stomach twists in turn.

Still, the half ghost continues. “Well… Jamie doesn’t come into all this until later.”

“So he wasn’t in the accident with you?” Jason raises his brow.

“No. He wasn’t around at all. Or…” Danny swallows. “He wasn’t around yet.”

Just a hint of confusion mars their neighbor’s face. Still, he doesn’t reply.

Meanwhile, the clone tentatively pokes Danny’s core. Jamie wants to tell him.

The half ghost looks down, frowning at his chest as if that will let him see his twin’s forming core. “Are you sure?”

“What?” Jason asks.

“Not you.” Danny waves vaguely. “Jamie, are you sure you want to explain? I can do it.”

Yes. Want to explain.

“Alright.” The half ghost heaves a sigh. He closes his eyes, letting himself sink deeper inside his own head.

A few seconds later, his eyes open, though not through Danny’s effort. They glow green.

“Jamie is… is Danny’s clone.” Distantly, Danny feels his shoulders hunch, body crumpling under his brother’s fear.

“Oh.” Jason blinks, surprise flickering for just a moment. In the next, he offers a comforting smile. “That’s cool. One of my best friends is a clone.”

Tentatively, Jamie glances up at the vigilante. “You’re not mad?”

“Of course not.” The man’s face softens. “I’m glad you told me.”

The clone hums in acknowledgement. Still, he averts his eyes.

“How did you end up living in Gotham with Danny?” Jason asks after a long moment.

Jamie stiffens at the question. “Danny’s parents found out.” He starts cautiously. “He ran away to Gotham… alone. And…” He swallows. “He was lonely…”

The clone trails off, eyes fixed down. His cold spark so close to Danny’s own core, the half ghost can feel it quiver. A queasy anticipation vibrates across their bond.

I can tell him about the duplication for you. Danny offers gently.

Jamie shakes their shared head. Finally, his gaze returns to Jason. “Danny needed Jamie. He…” His eyes pinch closed, straining with effort. “He needed me, so I came.”

Their neighbor’s brow raises slightly, a silent request to continue.

The clone continues. “The twin telepathy’s real. It’s always been there, always been connected. Felt that Danny was sad, that he needed help. So…” The younger boy bites his lip. “So Jamie came.”

In his chest, Danny’s heart squeezes. Despite the evasiveness of the answer, it is the truth. He had needed someone to offer comfort, to love him. No, more than that. He had needed someone to love too. And, so Jamie had come. Whether he’d imagined his twin into existence, or he was a gift from the Universe or fate or whatever other powers that be, the person he had needed had come.

“Jamie needs you too.” The other ghost whispers, a hand comfortingly rubbing over Danny’s core… just like the half ghost had done for his brother so many times before.

The soft smile that rises on the currently shared face is both of the twins’. For a long moment, the two sit in its warmth. Despite the earlier disaster, despite having to bare the truth, they are safe. They are still together.

Jason pointedly looks away, as if cognizant of the brothers’ private moment. But eventually, he interrupts with a cough. “Came from where? Where were you before, Jamie?”

The tension returns at the question, shoulders rising again. “Don’t know. Don’t remember.” Jamie looks away, just as pointedly.

The vigilante’s face says that he knows the words are a lie. Danny braces, sure that the man will press for the truth. But just as he’s debating whether he should gently take back control of his body and answer Jason’s question…

“You don’t have to tell me everything.” A look of sympathy flashes over their neighbor’s face. “I get it. Biz, my friend, doesn’t like talking about where he came from either. But…” Jason leans forward. His expression turns serious, the very picture of the Batman trained vigilante he is. “If there’s bad guys who might be coming after you, you have to tell me.”

“No.” Jamie shakes his head fervently. “No bad guys.”

“Are you sure?” The man’s pointed expression ceases to waver. “I’m going to be blunt, but someone made you, for a reason. If you’re missing, they’re probably looking for you.”

“No. Jamie’s… my… maker….” The clone hesitates over the word, a jolt of discomfort wavering across the bond. For just the smallest second, Danny feels mental eyes on him. “isn’t looking for me.”

The slightest furrowing of Jason’s brow. “If they just let you go-“

“He thinks Jamie destabilized.” The younger ghost interrupts forcefully. “Melted, like the other clones.”

What are you doing? Danny flinches at the lie. That’s not-

The older half ghost’s protests are ignored as Jamie continues. “That’s why Jamie’s a full ghost, not half.” He looks down, arms wrapped around his chest as if to self-sooth. “Is supposed to be gone, completely dead.”

Again, concern softens Jason’s face. “Who’s he?”

“Plasmius.” Jamie answers without hesitation. “One of Danny’s rogues. Wanted Danny as his creepy perfect half ghost son. Danny kept saying no so Plasmius made clones.”

“That’s messed up.” The man’s nose wrinkles at the words. Then the worry returns. “And you’ve melted before.”

“Yes. Before-“

No, you haven’t. Danny reaches for his vocal cords, silencing his twin’s words. “Why are you-“

“Wait. Just…” Jamie yanks back control. “Just let Jamie explain.”

The half ghost narrows his eyes, taking his tongue back. “What do you mean-“

“Danny.” The younger boy whines through the shared body’s throat, pushing the older away again. “Please.” This time the roughness of the grab sends a stab of pain through Danny’s head. “Sorry.” The clone winces.

The pain stills Danny in his tracks, stopping his reach for control. Why are you lying to Jason? He instead asks inside his own head.

Jamie gives no response, just a wave of fear, of desperation. His mental eyes avert from Danny’s questioning gaze.

Across from the two, Jason’s brow wrinkles. “Danny? Jamie?”

Something in the clone’s emotions tenses at the words and their shared body flinches in kind. Please. Jamie whispers across their bond. Please don’t tell him.

The clone steps back and Danny finds himself back in the driver’s seat, his voice back. He opens and closes his mouth, the truth at the tip of his tongue. But…

Danny remembers their conversation from earlier, before the melting. Was that… was that just an hour ago? It feels like a lifetime. But…. He’d pressed about why Jamie didn’t want to tell Jason the truth. His brother had bite back with anger, closed off after he asked about the ghost aspect and the clone…. Jamie had closed off when he got close to the root of the issue.

That anger… it was just fear, wasn’t it? The same fear trembling Jamie’s almost core now. And… Danny’s own core stales, a wash of cold that has nothing to do with his ice powers. Had that fear been what led to Jamie almost melting?

The half ghost swallows. He’ll table this for now, play along. Between the potential tug for control and the possibility of destabilization…. god, what would happen to them if Jamie started melting again while overshadowing him? No, he couldn’t risk it.

Finally, Danny looks up again, offering the most disarming smile he can manage. “Sorry. It’s Danny again. It’s just…” He frowns down at his own chest, putting very real worry-born exacerbation into the words. “Someone didn’t tell me about the melting before.”

Jason looks dubious but again, he doesn’t call out any lie. “Could that have something to do with what just happened?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Danny’s brow wrinkles. “My other clone, Ellie, she wasn’t stable after she was made. She almost melted into ectoplasm too, like Jamie just did. But I used this purified ectoplasm called ectodejecto to stabilize her.”

The vigilante’s eyes widen slightly, a flicker of relief. “Good. We need to get our hands on that pronto.”

“The thing is…” Danny bites his lip, not so confident. “I used ectodejecto on him before, to heal his ankle after Spectra. And it worked right off the bat, healed the sprain in like three seconds, and he’s been stronger than ever since.”

At the words, a wave of anxiety crashes over Danny from his twin.

At the same time, Jason asks. “And what do you mean by that?”

Danny narrows his mental eyes at his brother. You’re the one who decided to lie to him. I’m not gonna fib any more than I have to. Not when Jamie’s continued stability was at stake.

Out loud, the half ghost answers. “Jamie’s never been that strong. He’s had trouble with… being physically present. Like he can’t be visible or tangible for very long.” Not… technically a lie, right? “I’d been letting him hitch a ride, overshadow me.” The vigilante gives a questioning look at the unfamiliar word and Danny offers a casual shrug, explaining.  “That’s what ghosts call possession. Anyway, by hitching a ride, Jamie could rest and get used to the powers he’s too weak to use when I use them. He’d been slowly getting stronger, able to be out for longer and longer.”

“That’s a lot of trust.” The neighbor cuts in. “Letting him share your body like that.”

“I’d trust Jamie with my life.” Danny says, completely sincere. “He really is like the little brother I’d never had. Besides,” He shrugs. “having a psychic link is very helpful for building trust. Really makes two people of one mind.” Even if Jamie was putting his growing ability to shield his mind to annoyingly proficient use right now.

Jason nods. “So the ectodejecto helped with the strength problem.”

“Yep.” Danny smiles dimly, remembering the excitement that first morning after Jamie lasted the night. Then his lips twist into a frown. “Until he started melting and put us back at square one.”

Not exactly back at square one. Jamie hesitantly reminds, more than a hint of guilt shaking the words.

No, we’re not. Danny replies. His heart twists; he hadn’t been meaning to make his brother feel guilty. We’re not back at square one. And even if we were, this isn’t your fault.

Jamie says nothing, guilt continuing to swirl.

Obvious to the internal conversation, Jason asks. “You don’t happen to have more of that ectodejecto, do you?”

Danny turns his attention back. “No. Do you think it would help though?”

“It couldn’t hurt to try.” The man leans back in his chair, sighing. “Especially if it’s not actually a complete cure.”

“What do you mean?” The half ghost’s brow winkles.

“You said you used it once on your other clone and on Jamie. It got rid of the melting. But for Jamie, the problem came back.” Jason pauses, continuing at Danny’s nod of confirmation. “So maybe it needs more doses, or to be taken regularly, like someone taking pills to keep their HIV from turning into AIDS. Can’t be cured but can be managed.”

Danny blinks once. “Damn. I… I hadn’t thought of that.” His heart pounds, a dose of panic. “I need to get up with Ellie if that’s the case.”

“One thing at a time.” The vigilante’s voice is soothing, a held-up hand quieting the panic. “Do you know anyway to get more ectodejecto? Or how to make more?”

Right. Danny breathes, soothing his pounding heart. He needs to focus on the current problem. “My parents made it. But I know the recipe. I’ll need some things.” His brow furrows, already beginning to make a list. “Like fresh ectoplasm. The pure stuff, not stinky Lazarus water or whatever.”

Jason’s nose wrinkles at the reminder. Then he asks. “And how would we get ectoplasm?”

“I’ll need a portal. Going home…” He shivers at the thought. “Or making one.” He taps his chin, a idea blooming. “If I did have a portal though, I could get to the Far Frozen and ask Frostbite to take a look at Jamie.” His eyes wide, brightening at the thought. That would be even better than just making more ectodejecto.

“Who’s Frostbite?” The neighbor’s quiet cuts through the blooming hope.

“A ghost he’s helped me before. He’s like a doctor.” The corner of his lips turns up, fondly. “He really knows his stuff. Saved my life when my ice powers came in and I almost froze myself solid.”

“Damn.” Jason frowns, narrowing his eyes at the casually upsetting information. “This is a lot.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “I hate to say this but it looks like I’m gonna have to bring Bats in on this one.”

At that, anxiety strikes again, radiating from Jamie’s almost core.

Danny can’t help but feel much the same. “What? Why?”

“We need to get you two to a portal and I know absolutely nothing about how to find or make one.” He sighs. “Hopefully Bats can get up with a magic user from the JL who knows something.”

“Oh. Okay.” Danny bits his lip. He’s wanted help but to so suddenly being bringing The Batman into all this…. “If you think so.”

“I will figure out how to help you and your brother.” The words are a promise, delivered with Jason’s comforting smile. He stands, stepping towards the door. “Why don’t you eat dinner? I’ve got some calls to make.”

“And spilled food to pick up.” Danny adds, his heart squeezing at thought of the man’s lost groceries.

“That too.” Jason barely grimaces at the reminder. “And pack yourselves a bag too. Bats will probably want me to take you both to the Cave while we get things figured out.”

“Yeah.” Danny nods. “I’ll pack us some clothes.”

“And eat.” Jason points, more than a hint of disarming humor despite his sincerity. “You’re eating for the two of you, Danny, so you better make it count.”

The half ghost laughs, face turning bright red. “Don’t ever say those words in that order ever again.” If only their neighbor knew.

[fandomtherapy44]

Five Hargreeves X reader Coffee and Sarcasm One shot!

Summary: Y/n works at Griddy's Coffee House to make money for school. It's not the best but it's not the worst. But everything gets more interesting when a certain customercomes in her life changes in best way.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x reader

WC: 1.8k

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cafekitsune

AN/ Hey Ya'll so... I hated the ending of TUA if you liked I'm happy you did but to me, it was the worst way to end such an amazing beloved show. I know it works logically with how the show is set up but it's just so dessperseing to think they never existed. And there was a lot more that was wrong with this season. But one of the biggest to me is LILA AND FIVE like WTF. I hate the excuse of oh Five needs a love interest, like no he does not his love story was always getting back to his family and saving them, and for Lila oh how they destroyed two great characters in the last two episodes how she was just was willingly cheat on Digeo and not to mention their kids!? So this is my take on Five and Having a Love Interest. I hope you enjoy it.

My life wasn’t perfect but good, I didn’t have adventures every day, and I could barely afford to go out of state to see my family every year. Like I said not perfect but good. I worked in a little coffee/doughnut shop named Griddy’s my boss was so sweet that she let me do my schooling on the side and would let me take the extra tips from the pool knowing that I didn’t have all the money when going to school.

“Ugh I can’t do it that guy is a total asshole, Y/n can you take him.” My coworker Becky asked me with pleading eyes. I looked up from my textbook. “He’s really that bad?” She huffs and puffs. “Well no he’s just so arrogant and sarcastic.” I looked back down at my book knowing I had to finish this section. “I would but I have to finish this-”

“You can take my tips from tonight.” That shuts me right up. “Did he already order any doughnuts?” I tied my apron back over my pink polyester uniform quickly. Becky was just able to give that up because she only had this job because she was rich and her parents forced her to get this job to teach her responsibilities even though they still paid for everything she was lucky. She gets a smirk on her face and a hand on her hip. “That’s what I thought, and no.” Correction she was a lucky bitch.

I walked out to this apparently horrible guy and surprisingly he was around my age and wearing a suit, interesting. “Hi I’m Y/n welcome to Griddy’s coffee what can I get you.” he puts down the newspaper and he was one of the cutest assholes I have ever seen. “Coffee black, and try not to burn which I know can be really hard but I need my fix so try okay?” And there is the arrogant and sarcastic part.

The guy had become almost a regular and came in every night at two am on the dot and in the same suit. He looked about twenty-one but around fifty years old in his eyes. This time he came to the bar. “Ahh so we are venturing out to the bar instead of our corner booth today are we?” I asked him teasing him as he sat down. He gave me his usual roll of his eyes and groan. “Y/n just the usual okay?” I wrote it down even though I had it memorized. A black coffee and one glazed doughnut. “Aye aye, captain.”

I got started on his coffee while he was going through some type of file. I put it in front of him and see what he’s going through. “You are in the CIA, no offense but wouldn’t you be like a kindergartener at our age to them?” He looks up at me a little caught off guard. “I tested very high in ninth grade.” That sounds very real. “Okay, then I should be in the same place I was the highest tester in every grade in eighth grade.” He gets a puzzled look. “Really?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean,” I questioned in defense with my hands on my hips. He realizes what he insinuated by accident. “Not that you are dumb I know you are very smart.” I now think he was just trying to save his ass from hot coffee being poured on him. “How?” He glances down at my textbooks. “You’re studying to be a lawyer a public self-defense one at that so that’s how I know. And even if you weren’t you are working every day for the future which I would know is important. I’m… sorry if I made you think otherwise.” I accepted his apology but he wasn’t off the hook yet. “Tell me your name then.” He was baffled. “What?”

“Yeah if I’m going to be serving you coffee for the perceivable future and you are truly sorry I would like your name.” “I can’t do that I’m a CIA agent.” I picked up his cup and canceled the doughnut. “Ok well have a nice life, sir.” I step away and head back to the back doors. I can hear him sigh and mumble something under his breath. “I can’t believe I’m doing this it’s five.” I turn back with a smug smile. I put the coffee back and lean down to him.

“What was that I couldn’t hear you?” He rolls his eyes and answers me. “It’s five.” “Five as in the number?” Five I guess, huffs. “No Five as in the letter, yes the number.” I go back to my standing pose. “Hey Five you just apologized for being an Ahole so watch it, and I like it ‘Five’. ” I said as I put my hands up like it was a headline. “Yeah yeah whatever.” He jokily waved me off. “So what else can I get you Five.” Oh, I was so going to use his name as much as possible.

Five and I had been having fun being sarcastic Aholes to each other but we knew not to push the limits. This night I was very stressed because I had a major test the next day and just couldn’t obtain the information. Five walks in on the dot with his usual snarky attitude. “Hey, waitress I can’t wait forever.” Of course, he was kidding, and had only been thirty seconds since he walked in. “Not in the mood Five,” I said without looking away from my textbook.

“Oh come on you know I can’t function without the best coffee in the world.” I gave him a side eye wanting to blow him off but when I looked in his deep brown eyes I couldn’t say no. “Fine, just so you dont act like a cranky old man again.” I go over to pour it when he looks at my textbook. “You have a test tomorrow?” I sigh and walk over shuffling a little.

“Yes, I do, that I’m totally going bomb that it’s not even funny.” He’s confused. “Why, you are one of the best students in that class.” He stated so straightforwardly with no question. It felt… good when he did it was different than when my friends or parents said the same thing. “For some reason, I can’t get any of the practice questions right.” I pointed at the sheet of questions. “I’ll help you study.” 

I was a little shocked I mean we were friendly but I didn’t know we were friends. “Five I can’t ask you to do that I’m sure you have an important CIA thing to do tomorrow or whatever.” He chuckles at my little jab. “You didn’t ask I’m offering, so better fill up that pot and sit down because you are going to pass this test.” I sit down across from him. “Thank you Five.” 

“Yeah yeah don’t say I never did anything for you.” 

I had the coffee fresh pot made and an extra glazed doughnut laid out when Five walked in. “What’s this- Whoa!” I threw my hands around him hugging him. “Thank you thank you thank you!” He seems unsure but then hugs me back. “I’m assuming that it went well.” I lean back with my arms still around him.

“Top of the class thanks to you!” For the first time, he gives me a genuine smile. “Good.” I then notice the tension between us I awkwardly let go and try to change the tension. “Um, I have everything ready for you. I got to go to do something I’ll be back.” I quickly scurry back to the doors I think about that moment and how it shifted how I saw him. Fuck I think I like Five.

It had been a couple of months after that moment and that I think I like Five has now changed into I know I like Five. So how the hell was I managing this crush good question, I wasn’t. Every time I looked at him my stomach did flips and would not stop. 

One day I was whipping down a table when a guy walked in and sat down at the bar. “Hi there what can getcha you.” He looks around like he was seeing something nostalgic. “Wow, it looks just like the other one.” He muttered. “What was that?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing I’ll talk a vanilla latte and chocolate eclair.” He then looks at the nametag. “Wait are you Y/n?” I look down I mean I think I am. “Right silly question my brother talks about you all the time. You know five.” Five? These two are brothers? “Five is your brother? And he talks about me?” 

“Right that does sound a little silly with how young he looks- I mean is, we are all adopted and my name is Viktor.” He holds out his hand and we shake. “Well, that makes more sense now.” I laugh. “Yeah he talks about how you want to public defense lawyer and how happy you make him so I wanted to thank you it’s been a while since he’s had a good friend.” Right friend what else would we be. “Of course but he can be a…” He finishes my sentence. “An asshole.” “Yes.” We both laughed.

Before I realized it had been six months since I first met Five and it was also Christmas the dinner was being decorated with a disgusting amount of Santas and jingle bells but I liked it reminded me of home. Five walks in an hour late. “Five you are late is your old mind finally catching up to you,” I smirked. “Ha ha, no I had to do something.” I was turned and there was a present on the counter. “Aww Five are you going soft on me.” “Just open it before the sun rises.”

I pull back the paper and there is a jewelry box. I opened it and there was a handmade bracelet. “Uh, I can take it back If-” He reaches for it. “No no, I love it thank you.” I go around the counter to hug him. This time tighter than last to show him I truly loved it. We let go slowly and he puts his hand on my cheek and we lean in. The kiss was slow but still passionate his lips a little chapped but still soft somehow. We let go and put our heads against each other giggling. I looked up and there was mistletoe. “Well, Five we just turned into a Hallmark cliche.” 

“I’m fine with that I’m just sad I didn’t do it sooner.” “Oh really, how long.”

“After I helped you study and you hugged me, Y/n I like you It’s just I’ve really never had a healthy relationship before to be honest I’m a little scared.” 

“Well it’s the same for me Five but we will figure this out together.” “Can I kiss you again?” I grip him by the tie and pull him down into another kiss. And I can’t help but think all this happened because of coffee and sarcasm.

To me, that's how you do a romance. Hope you guys enjoyed it.

[toxicanonymity]

virgin patrol

2.9k / dark!Joel Miller x f!reader /master

he could be doing anything with his left hand here 🥵

CW/Notes: he's a creep!, dubious consent, virginity loss, unsafe P in v, violence (NOT joel vs. reader). I8 + mdni. same reader from Patrol. loosely edited.

You pull your arms into your jacket.  It’s colder than the first time you patrolled with Joel.

"Damn it's freezing," Joel says.  "Ya know, we really helped each other last time up in the shack."  He tugs on the flaps of his trapper hat. "Felt good too, didn’t it?”

Against all odds, you were hoping somehow this wouldn’t come up.  It sounds like the sick charade is fading, at least.  No point in pretending it was just to stay warm.  You don’t acknowledge him.  

“I know you’re cold, darlin’.  Why don't we go on up and take a break now?"  

You remain silent. 

"We can help each other. . . Got somethin' you're gonna like up there, too." You can only imagine what.

Your face is so numb you can barely get the words out.  "I think . .  I'm okay. I'm. . . not that cold."  

"Suit yourself," Joel says and starts heading toward the shack alone, cruelly taking one of the blankets with him. 

"You're gonna leave me here alone?"

"Sure. You've had training. You'll be alright.  Come get me in an hour.  We’ll switch off." He starts walking away, then calls back, "Or you’re welcome to join!" 

Last time, he got you naked under the pretense of huddling for warmth, gave you an orgasm with his hand, then convinced you to keep his most precious appendage warm with your mouth. You managed to get your assignments shifted away from his zone until now.  You don't want to be alone with him in the shack, but you really don't want to be alone on this windy hill with a rifle you can barely fire.  You're not sure you can fire it at all with your hands this cold. 

"Wait," you say.  "I'm coming."

He stops in his tracks and he turns enough that you can see half his face, enough to see his self-satisfied smile.  "You sure? You really wanna help each other."  His words make your stomach turn, but against all logic, you're also tingling between the legs and not from the cold.  Physically, he made you feel really good that one time, and your body seems to remember.  But it felt so. . .dirty. So dirty and strange the way he went about it.  He’s a creep. 

Your heart sinks. "I, um. . ."  

-

You're fighting with yourself, thinking it over when both of you hear something down the hill.  It's three men headed your way and they look like trouble. 

"Shhh," Joel says, and you're relieved that he doesn't keep walking up to the shack. He's more than capable of taking care of these guys himself. Your heart swells with appreciation for him.  Maybe you’ve been too hard on him in your mind. 

"You remember how to aim and shoot, right?" He whispers to you, no sign of getting his own rifle ready. Your heart drops.

"You're not gonna shoot them??"

"Well I'd love to, darlin',  but it can't just be me doin' everything or you'll never finish learnin’.  Be right up there if ya need help." The men are getting closer.  One of them notices the two of you and starts to load his gun.

"Joel, help, please!" 

He looks at you, intrigued by your plea.  "We've gotta help each other though, right?" 

"Please, I'll do anything.  Anything"

"Anything…" he takes his rifle off his back and sighs.  

The men are climbing up the ridge.  Joel points and shoots one of them in the forehead with an instant kill shot. But he doesn't continue shooting.  One of the men fires at the two of you and misses. 

"Anything?" He says. "Cause I wouldn't want these men to take you."

You can't even remember how to shoot. Even if you could, you're too numb and distracted to take a good shot. 

"Yes, anything."  It feels like a tiny price to pay in exchange for your life. 

Joel aims and takes out a second man in one shot without flinching.  Then he pauses again. 

"You're gonna take it like a good girl for me, aren't ya?"  The lack of pretext startles you.

"Y-y-yes." Your heart might beat out of your chest.

"You don't sound too happy 'bout it."  The last man fires and it's a near miss.  

"Yes, yes!"

Joel aims at the last man, and the man falls to his knees begging for his life.  Joel shoots him in the head without even blinking much less saying a word. And just like that, all three of them are dead.  It was a piece of cake for him.  He gathers their weapons.  Joel carries their guns over his shoulder and hands you their knives. 

"Let's go then," he says flatly. 

"Aren't you worried there are more of them?"

Joel's eyes narrow, scanning the horizon then he adjusts himself in his pants.   "We'll just have to keep an ear out." 

He can't get you into that shack soon enough.

-

Joel is already unbuckling his belt as he leads you into the shack. You try not to look at him. Your body is buzzing with its own heat from the near-death experience.  But even without the adrenaline, you have to admit the shack would be far more tolerable than the ridge.  There's no wind.  

"Hey," he turns around and stops you, standing there with his belt undone.  He cups your cheek. "You're alive, darlin'." Yeah, you have that going for you. He smiles with a twinkle in his eye.  

He puts down the guns and walks to the forlorn couch, his belt jingling ominously with each thud of his boot. 

“See what I got for us?”  

He holds up the corner of a bigger, thicker blanket.  Your eyes widen. It looks like such a luxury compared to the one you've been huddled under.

“Thought you’d like it.”  He’s pleased with himself, but he’s a jerk for keeping it up here.

He takes off his trapper hat and smoothes his hair. Then he starts undressing and you look away.

"Go on now, take off your pants. Then under the blanket.  We’re gonna get real warm...”

True to your word, you’ll do what he wants. You begin removing layers and watch his face change as he sees you in just your underwear, and his voice lowers, too. 

“Sure are pretty, aren't ya,” he says. 

You get on the couch and climb under the blanket. 

“Come on now, don't be shy. Take’em off.” 

You take off your bra and panties. 

“Good girl. How ‘bout a drink?” He hands you a bottle of whiskey and looms over you shirtless. You study his scars.  There are two longer slashes on his right side, one across the outside of his pec  down his ribs and one closer to his pants.  He drops his jeans to the ground and steps out of his long underwear.  He stands before you naked, already aroused.  His arms flex as he tenses them near his crotch then rubs his hands together in an exaggerated display of how cold he is.  He looks at you like a hot cup of coffee. 

-

You scoot over to the back edge of the couch, practically falling into the seam, and Joel slides under the blanket.  Then he coaxes you halfway on top of him.  His hard cock presses into your hip and sends a pang of desire between your legs.  When you settle onto his warm chest, your whole body gets a rush of heat.  You both have on socks. 

He mercifully allows a few minutes for the two of you to just lie there.  In that time, he’s getting harder and harder, and you're getting wet.  Then he adjusts your body, bringing you further on top of him for full contact and his hips begin to move, grinding his arousal into one side of your lower abdomen. 

He looks down and lifts your chin with his finger, then quietly announces, "I'm gonna put myself inside ya, darlin'.  And I think you're gonna like it."

"But, I - I don't think I can."

"Oh you can, you can." He slides his hand over your ass and down to your pussy and feels your wetness. "Mmmm.  You can, baby."

"It's too big," you protest.  You felt like it barely fit in your mouth.  

"Let's get you ready then," he replies. He bends the knee you're not on top of to make room for his hand between your bodies.  Then he slides his middle finger into you and his cock swells even harder. "Mmm." 

He adds a second finger as he grinds himself against you. His fingers already make you feel full,  but they're nothing compared to his thick cock. 

"I need ya, darlin," He pants, then adds a third finger. "Need your help real bad. . ."

The third finger is at a rough angle  and you feel his nail.  "Ouch!"

"You're okay. You're okay."  He curls his thick digits and reaches as far into you as he can with them, then mercifully removes the third.  

"Ah, fuck," he breathes as he ruts against you. The horny sound of his voice makes your clit throb, even as your pussy recovers from his third finger.  "I think you're ready for me, darlin'. . ." He removes his other two fingers and eases you onto the couch as he gets out from under you. The blanket goes with him, leaving you cold and exposed.  He sucks his fingers clean then wraps his hand around his cock.  "Nice n' wet for me, hmm?" 

He takes hold of your hips and coaxes you onto your back.  "There ya go.  Won't be cold for long." Then his free hand nudges your thighs apart, and the cold air hits your wet pussy.  He scoots between your legs. 

You've made peace with it. You're as ready as you'll ever be.  He puts his large, veiny hand on your mound with his thumb at your clit  "You're beautiful," he whispers to your pussy. 

Then he nestles the swollen head of his cock at your slick entrance.  Your breath hitches in fear but your lower belly flutters with desire.  It's bigger than three fingers but also smoother, rounder, and hopefully more comfortable. 

“Ready?” He takes a deep breath.  

You bite your thumb and nod.

He begins to push his imposing manhood into you, and it feels surreal, like your body is slowly being divided.  Just the tip of him is already plugging you right like a bottle of wine.

And then there's a sound outside. 

You gasp, and Joel covers your mouth.  Your eyes are wide and your breath is wet against his palm.  

-

Joel pulls out the smidgen of him that was inside you and whispers in your ear, “sit tight for me, baby.”  He pulls on his jeans in a hurry, zips them up, no time to button, but his engorged member helps keep them up despite his belt hanging there heavily, unbuckled.  He steps into his unlaced boots and throws a jacket over his bare chest, then pulls on his trapper hat and puts on his rifle. He looks. . . Hot. 

A low voice speaks outside. Your heart races.  "They're in there," the voice says.  "You go around." 

Joel walks to the door and holds up a finger to his mouth as though to say "shhh." You pull the blanket up around you.  

He opens the door and shoots his gun right away.  A man yelps and someone returns fire.  It sounds like there are at least three of them. You scramble to put on your clothes and grab your rifle. You pull on your pants and meanwhile you lose track of how many gunshots are fired.  A man bursts through the back door and yells "THERE'S A GIRL!" Then approaches you. You don't have your shirt on yet.  The man grabs you by the elbow and forces you up to your feet. He has a knife in his hand. 

After two more shots fired outside, Joel bursts back through the door and yells, "STEP AWAY, NOW!" 

The man raises his hands in surrender.  Joel disarms him, putting the knife in his pocket, then walks him out of the cabin.  You hear screaming, then the man begging for his life, then gurgling, then a gunshot.   

Your heart races.  A second later, you could have been dead.  

-

Joel returns to the shack and closes the door behind him.  You can’t seem to slow your heart rate back to normal.

It turns out you've actually never seen anything hotter than Joel Miller standing there in his unlaced boots, his unbuttoned pants still largely held up by the bulge beneath them but still sagging enough to reveal a peek of pubic hair. His strong, bare chest heaves. There's a little blood splatter on his jacket.  The rifle strap across his chest really completes the look.   He takes off the rifle and jacket.  When he removes his trapper hat, oh god, his mess of gray and silver hair - he looks so, so good.  You feel something happening inside you, your body opening up, making space for him.  Thankfully, he doesn't smooth his hair this time. 

He’s still catching his breath, amped up from the gun fight and anxious to get back in your pants. 

"C'mon now, where were we?" He palms himself as he unzips his jeans and his hard cock springs free as he lets them fall to the floor.  All his muscles are bulging from the fight. His chest is red from the cold.  

He hovers over you, and from the look on his face, you must seem terrified, perhaps even more than you are. "It's okay baby they're gone." He pulls the blanket off,  tugs your pants down, then removes them.  "They're all gone," he repeats.  You're naked again, and he looks your body over.  His thick, messy hair  makes his dark eyes look so intense. 

He wets his lips as he gets between your legs again. He's in a better mood now.  He hovers over you and dips his head down to kiss and suck a nipple with his fingers lightly pinching the other one.  "Prettiest girl I ever saw." 

He feels between your legs and you're even wetter than before. "Good girl.  Ready for me?"

"Yeah," you nod, and this time you kinda are.

You watch the veins on his neck as he notches himself at your entrance and begins to push. You wince at the massive stretch of his girth. Your eyes drift to his muscular arms.  He doesn't wait.  He pushes further, harder.  He plunges into you as far as he can and your insides scramble to get out of the way. 

"Ahh," you whimper and your eyes sting. 

"You're alright, darlin." 

You look at the ceiling and breathe.  It's exactly as big and hard as you knew it would be. It feels impossible.  

"Look at me, beautiful."   You can't. 

"Look at me," he repeats, and his hand on your jaw forces you to. 

"You're gonna take it like a good girl, aren't ya?" 

You nod and your eyes drift to his hair again. 

He pulls back a couple of inches then thrusts his stiff length into you hard with a grunt, but still  doesn't make it all the way.  You're too tight. You can't help it. 

"Relax for me, baby."

He pulls back a little, then plunges into you again, finally bottoming out with a sigh. You never imagined you could feel so full.  As your body adjusts, you marvel at the feeling.  Your walls are still fighting the intrusion, squeezing him, trying to push him out. And he lets it an inch at a time,  but his cock is easily winning. It always reclaims its territory. 

"Good girl," he says.  He pulls back and slams in, to the hilt again. "Yeah," he whispers as he slowly retreats.  "Just like that," as he fills you up again. 

He pulls back slowly then briskly slams all the way into you.  Each time he buries himself inside you, it feels a little better.  You stop pushing him out at all.  After a minute or two, your body allows him a regular rhythm.  He looks at you with a new expression, sighs, and slows down but doesn't stop. 

Catching you off guard, he leans in and presses his lips against yours. You freeze, then he pulls back and says "gimme some sugar." You accept his mouth and he kisses you hard and long.  Something flutters in your chest.  He pulls away then ramps up the intensity of his hips and begins to pound you, grunting each time his balls hit your ass.  It starts to become too much.  

After another minute, his face gets dark, angry.  It scares you. You worry that he's upset with your body starting to reject him.  He pulls out and lowers his head, looking up at you as he pumps himself. Then he shoots his warm load all over your tired seam with a long sigh. 

"Wasn't so bad, was it, beautiful?"  He starts thumbing your clit.  "Now I'll help you back." 

You don't really feel like it, though, you're just spent.  

"Um. Maybe next time," you say, not realizing what you've implied until his face lights up. 

"Any time you want."

He moves to lie down next to you and you make space.  Then he lets you fall asleep on his chest until the shift is almost over. 

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! 🖤

Please check your content settings!!

OTHER VIRGINITY LOSS by me

series: Left in Lincoln (outbreak dbf)

one shots: night talks, Just the tip, Virgin sex worker.

-

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy

@tonysterco

@dark-scape the hair is for you

[riki-riks-chick]

Jungwon gets jealous after you spend time with another guy (innocently tho). Y/n is not a cheater. Wonie is just feeling possessive. 🙃

Trading Times ┃Y.JW

jealous!jungwon x reader

jungwon gets jealous bc yn is hanging out with her childhood best friend.

fluff! jealous jw, best friend jay, no cheater behavior, yn is whipped for jw, kisses, jw doesn't know how special he is to yn.

wdct: 1.6k

tyy for this request ♡

═════════════

Third Person POV~

"Hey, Y/n... Do you maybe wanna hang out later?.." Jungwon asks, wrapping his arms around you as you finish up washing the dishes. "Sorry, baby.. Jay is back in town for the week so he asked me to hang out with him so we could catch up." You respond as he pouts. "Then tomorrow?.."

You sigh, turning off the tap and drying your hands before turning to face Jungwon. "Tomorrow I'm supposed to go visit his mom. I haven't seen her in three years... I promise we'll hang out the day after." You answer as he nods. "Okay.. I'll just ask Sunoo if he wants to hang out.."

You smile, giving him a quick kiss. "I have to go get dressed.. Sorry I couldn't go out with you today.." You mumble as he nods. "It's fine.. Have fun."

You then head upstairs, showering, doing your hair, and getting dressed before slipping into your most comfortable sneakers.

After making sure you had everything you needed, you made your way downstairs. Jungwon had just walked out of the kitchen. "You look so pretty, but you're wearing jeans?" He questions, knowing you hate wearing jeans, and you nod. "Yeah, I only wear skirts when I'm out with you.. They're usually pretty short, so I don't wanna risk anyone who isn't you trying to get an eyeful."

He nods at your explanation. "Okay.. Are these at least comfortable for you? They wont feel too tight after you eat?" He asks as you nod. "I'm fine, they're comfortable.. Now I gotta go, bye Jungwon."

You kiss his cheek before grabbing your keys and leaving the house. As soon as he hears the lock click he lets out the biggest sigh.

Within the next thirty minutes, Sunoo comes over and now he's forced to listen to all of Jungwon's complaining.

"Jungwon, it's not that serious.. She's known him since they were in diapers damn near. If they were anything more than friends, you would've never had a chance." Sunoo explains as Jungwon groans. "I'm not that stupid, Sunoo. I know she wouldn't cheat on me.. I'm just jealous because whenever he comes to visit, she gives him all her attention."

Sunoo nods. "I guess so, but you have her attention all the time, right?" He asks and Jungwon sighs. "Who's side are you on?"

Sunoo only laughs in response. "I'm on logic's side, let's just have fun for now."

Meanwhile, you had just met up with Jay at a cafe that you two used to study and hang out at all the time. He's already ordered you a drink, so you sit across from him.

"It's good to see you.." He smiles as you nod. "I know, it always feels like it's been forever. We need to see each other more than once a year."

You two spend time catching up, talking about work and just life in general. Eventually he asks about Jungwon. "So, how's your boyfriend?" He questions as you smile, beaming at the thought alone of Jungwon. "He's great.. I love him so much."

Jay smiles at your happiness. "I have something to tell you." You can tell by his dopey smile that he has good news, so you gesture for him to keep speaking. "I have a girlfriend..."

You light up at the news, reaching over the table to grab his hand excitedly. "Oh my god tell me all about her!"

He tells you everything from how he met her down to how they got together. It's all so endearing to hear since you know how badly his last relationship ended.

After talking for over an hour about life, you both went to an arcade together, playing all the games you used to, except you got to win this time.

When your hangout finally came to an end, you parted your ways, planning to see each other around the same time tomorrow.

You got home at around 5pm, ready to see your boyfriend after thinking about what he was up to all day.

"Jungwon, I'm back." You stepped out of your shoes, setting your keys and your bag down as you walked into the living room.

Sunoo was sitting on the arm chair, and Jungwon was asleep on the couch. Some random movie was playing in the background.

"Hey, Sun." You smile as he waves. "Hey, how was your hang out with Jay?" He asks as you hum. "It was fun. How was your hang out with Jungwon?" You question, moving around the couch to ruffle your sleeping boyfriend's hair.

"It was good, he was complaining for the first hour though." He replied as you nodded. "Sounds about right."

Sunoo decides that he's gonna go home, saying goodbye before leaving. You wake Jungwon up and he's immediately clinging to you. "I missed you.." He pouts, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You chuckle, kissing his temple. "I missed you too.. Let's order something to eat, hm?"

The next day, you're up earlier, because Jay called and said his mom wanted to meet for a late breakfast, early lunch. You agreed simply because you didn't wanna inconvenience his mother.

Jungwon was still sleep when you finished getting ready, so you sat beside him on the bed, shaking him gently. "Jungwon.. Wake up."

He stirs, humming as he wraps his arms around your waist. "Where are you going?.." He mumbles with a pout in his tone. You ruffle his hair. "I'm going to brunch with Jay and his mom.. I'll see you later.."

He nods, kissing your cheek before burying his head into his pillow. You get up, patting his back before leaving.

Your day is spent hanging out with Jay, and catching up with his mother. She tells you about how happy she is that her son is finally in a new relationship, and how she hopes this one ends in marriage.

You're happy to see Jay beaming whenever he talks about his girlfriend, similar to the way he watches you smile whenever you talk about Jungwon.

You end up spending much more time than usual hanging out with Jay, and when you finally get home, it's around 8pm.

You look for Jungwon, not finding him in the kitchen, or the living room.

You know he usually doesn't sleep this early, but you check the bedroom anyway, and surely there's a Jungwon shaped lump beneath your covers.

You kick off your shoes, dropping your jacket somewhere along the way as you climb onto the bed, pulling the covers off of his head. "I'm back, baby.." You leaned down to kiss his cheek, pushing his hair out of his face.

He didn't seem too thrilled to see you. "Wonnie.. What's wrong?" You question as he sighs. "You've been gone all day... I've just been here by myself.. All the while you're hanging out with Jay.." He pouts, turning over to look at you. You frown, leaning against the headboard. "Jungwon.. You know it's not like that.. It's been almost a year since I last saw him.. We just wanted to catch up.." You explained for what seemed like the thousandth time since you first introduced Jungwon to Jay.

He had always gotten jealous, but you thought things were different now. You'd been with Jungwon for almost three years now after all. It seems that he still isn't too fond of your relationship with Jay.

"I just.. I wish I knew you like he did.. He's known you since you were a kid... He has so many memories to share with you, and I hardly just found out that you used to dream of being a famous pianist when you were a kid.. I know I shouldn't, but I get jealous.." He explains, avoiding your eyes as you take his hands in yours.

"I understand.. I know Jay and I are close, but I promise you.. You know me in ways Jay couldn't even imagine.. You know how I kiss, my love language, the playlist I listen to when I shower, and even every step of my skincare routine in order.. You're my boyfriend.. Jay could never beat that.." Jungwon sits up, smiling at your words as he hugs you. "I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to make you feel bad about it.." He mumbles in your ear, pulling back to kiss your forehead.

You smile brightly at him. "It's okay to be jealous.. I can't imagine how you must feel seeing your girlfriend be close to another guy.. I'm glad that you trust me though.."

He nods, pinching your cheek. "I try not to be to controlling.. Otherwise you would leave me for someone else.."

You chuckle in response. "You know what, next time he said he'd bring his girlfriend so I could meet her.. I'll bring you too and we could have a double date.." You say excitedly as Jungwon nods, planting a sweet kiss to your lips.

"That sounds great, baby.."

═════════════

[changetyre]

Not like this (P3) II Charles Leclerc x Reader (Mafia AU)

SUMMARY: After losing everything you seek out your biggest and longest-standing enemy to finish it all.

WARNING: Violence, blood, mentions of death

A/N: This one's also short but I've been super busy and haven't had much time to write so this was the best I could do ;(

"For the record, I don't think this is a good idea" Charles spoke as he drove through the familiar streets at night, the two cars behind him containing some of his own men the only thing in sight. 

"You invited yourself so you don't get to opine." You refuted.

 "This is my car, you're carrying my guns and wearing clothes that I bought you I think I have enough reason to opine." Charles bit back. 

"No one told you to let me live...in fact, I told you to kill me so you chose that yourself-" You were going to argue. 

"Shut up we're here." Charles interrupted you before you could carry on. 

You saw him drive into a hidden road that led to your house which you believed only very few people knew about not including him. "How did you?" You turned to him as he continued driving. 

Charles smirked but kept his eyes on the road. "You're not the only sneaky one here." 

"Stop the car here, we'll have to walk the rest of the way if we want to go unnoticed." You chose to ignore his previous comment as you were coming closer to your estate.

You both got out of the car and stayed close to the tree line as you approached the house, Charles's men surrounding the other side of the estate in case they saw anything. 

"Why the fuck do you need this much land," Charles complained as he wiped some sweat off his forehead from how long you'd been walking. 

"More space more control, more people less possibility of someone entering without me knowing...more control." You once again repeated his own words adjusting them slightly earning a glare from him. 

"Well obviously that logic didn't work...did it?" Charles also used your own words against you but you had to admit it hurt more than you'd imagined. 

Charles noticed how you found no humor in his words instead clearing your throat to disguise the knot that intended to build in it. 

"Obviously not." You said in a volume that Charles wouldn't have heard if the silence around you hadn't been so significant. 

You were finally coming up on the house and your breath hitched at the bodies you could see laying by the stairs leading up to the main door. 

"Are they-" But before Charles could finish asking you'd already run up the closest body. 

"Oh my god Ava." You placed your hand on the woman's cheek who lay lifeless right in front of you. 

Charles kept a look out at your surroundings making sure nobody was watching now that you were in plain sight and luckily the place seemed to have been abandoned after the attack. 

You then quickly moved on to the next bodies by the stairs. "Elijah...Michael." You closed their eyes saying a small prayer hoping they'd found rest. 

"You knew all of their names?" Charles asked in a quiet tone not wanting to disturb the silence. 

"There might've been a lot of people working for me...but they were all family. Every single one of them." Charles didn't miss the way a tear fell before you wiped your eyes quickly. 

You continued your way into the house in the same silence as before not taking it for granted that you hadn't seen or heard anyone around so far. Inside it was worse than outside, with bodies everywhere it was impossible not to step on the blood that had filled the once-white floors. 

Charles let you take your time noticing the way you struggled to continue without at least sparing a glance at the men and women who only a few hours before were guarding you. 

"I'm-" Charles wasn't sure what to say but maybe letting you hear he was sorry for you would make it better except he didn't get the opportunity. 

"Let's go upstairs." You shut him down before he could even get a word in. 

Charles could see his men come in from the back door and signaled for them to have a look around downstairs to which they happily obliged. He followed you upstairs as you moved through the space with ease until arriving at what he would assume was your room. 

He watched as your hand dropped to your side, the gun you held almost slipping from your grasp as you took in the state of your once sacred space but even more so the woman who lay dead by the foot of your bloodied bed. 

It took him completely by surprise when you dropped to your knees in front of the woman and saw how your body shook with the tears you were finally letting escape. 

Charles didn't know what to do so simply stepped closer hoping you were able to feel his presence wondering if it had all become too much or if this had been someone truly special. 

"Her name was Liz- Elizabeth." You began. "She...she was like a mother to me and-" the knot in your throat stopped you for a second. "She helped me escape. She ran to my room as soon as she heard the attack and found me trying to get my guns to fight back but-" your tears increased as you remembered. "She told me to go. She said they could handle it and that I should go." You rested your forehead against Elizabeth in tears. "I knew what would happen and I still left." 

Charles wasn't sure what he was feeling but he had a sudden urge to hug you an urge he would've acted upon if it hadn't been for his men running into the room. 

"Gens arrivent." They whispered, guns drawn. 

"We have to go c,mon." Charles lowered himself to your level. 

You clutched Elizabeth a little harder before placing a kiss on her cold and colorless cheek and leaving her behind. 

"Someone's coming, there's cars," Charles whispered to you as he could see the headlights through the window of her room.

"Come." You took his hand dragging him with you. 

You entered your bathroom and Charles was convinced you had gone insane if it hadn't been for the fact that you pulled your whole bathroom sink and counter out to reveal a hidden passage. 

"What the-" He was impressed. 

His men ran through and ahead but Charles stared at the door in awe. 

"Hurry!" You whispered pushing him in before following yourself and closing the door behind you. 

As soon as she shut the door the dark passage illuminated revealing a long and dark corridor. "This is how I escaped." 

"You walked all the way from here to my place with a gunshot wound through your stomach," Charles asked as you began to walk through the passage. 

"Adrenaline can make you do crazy things." You responded not bothering to look back at him. 

"Why exactly did you go to my place?" Charles rushed to catch up to you. 

"I told you, I wanted you to kill me." You once again avoided his eyes. 

"If you wanted to die you would've simply let yourself bleed out" Charles grabbed your arm stopping you from walking. 

"Wouldn't have been an honorable death." You finally faced him. 

"The way I plan to kill you isn't either" You didn't respond and instead there were a few seconds of silence between you both before Charles continued. "so why?"

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 5.4k words

warnings: explicit language, a bit of violence (kinda?) (only mentioned and barely even described), some angst

summary: you don’t know why you avoid telling everyone that you and steve are “broken up,”  but you do. and you don’t realize how much of a bad idea that is until way too late

CHAPTER FIFTEEN | ❝𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒖𝒕❞

Fall Semester 2016

“Who’s the guy again?” 

“I met him at the library. He asked to borrow my laptop charger and then when he was handing it back he asked for my number, and he texted asking to hang out,” You quickly explained as you slipped on your jacket and then turned to look at Eddie, who was sitting at your desk.

You weren’t particularly excited about the date, but you were excited to do something that you hadn’t done in a long time, and the smallest part of you could admit that you were doing this to try and be completely over Eddie. Your feelings being pushed and buried away were one thing, but if you were actually able to date someone else that had to mean that there definitely wasn’t anything else there. At least, that was what your mind told you, and it sounded somewhat logical.  

“If it sucks and you wanna get out of it, just call me,” Eddie told you.

“Robin already has that job,” You said. “We have a code word and everything.” 

He laughed a little. “What’s the code word?” 

“Dolphin.”

“That’s very random.” 

“Yes, and that makes it a more believable code word.” 

“Okay, makes sense,” He nodded. “Anyway, if she somehow ends up not answering, I will.” 

You doubted that would happen— you hadn’t known Robin for that long, but you already knew that she was very reliable. Still, though, you nodded at Eddie’s words because you liked how much he cared. It didn’t necessarily surprise you, but it still warmed your heart all the same. “Okay.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

It was the book that was making you cry right then. Nothing else. 

And maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but it felt like the easiest explanation. 

You reread the last page a few more times before finally closing the book and setting it on your desk. It was the same book that you’d been reading in Mexico with Steve a few days ago. 

He was right about the ending— the son died, and it happened right after he and the dad finally got in a good place. Of course, he’d been right.

A part of you wanted to text him and tell him that, but you didn’t. Instead, you kept silently crying— trying to remember the last time a book made you this emotional, but deep down knowing that it really wasn’t just the book. 

You didn’t get the chance to force yourself to face the exact reasoning behind your tears before there was a knock on your slightly cracked open door and Robin was walking in a second later. 

“Hey, I have two things I need to tell you. One is a question from Talia, who is too lazy to get out of bed right now, and the other is very fun news,” She stopped when she noticed you crying. “Woah, shit, you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m fine. I just finished reading this book and the ending was pretty sad,” You answered, haphazardly pushing your tears away with the sleeves of the sweater you were wearing. “What’s up, though?”

“Is Steve coming to game night on Monday? Talia wants to decide on teams now because she doesn’t want to get stuck with Eddie again.”

“Oh, um, me and him broke up…” The words felt so weird coming from your lips and you suddenly wondered if it had been stupid to not tell her and everyone else sooner. Instead, over the last few days, you simply didn’t talk about him because the timing never felt right enough to say what you should’ve said.

“Wait, what?” The confused look on Robin's face was easy to read. “Is that why you’re actually crying right now?”

You quickly shook your head. “No, no, it was just about the book. The Steve thing doesn’t even matter to me.”

“So, what happened? And when? Was it the trip? Did he hurt you? Do I need to kill him?”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at how fast she was talking as she sat down at the foot of your bed. You turned to face her. “No, you don’t need to kill him, and yes, it happened right when we got back. We just realized that we want different things.” You shrugged halfheartedly. “Sorry, it took me so long to tell you; I know it’s only been a few days, but still. I just didn’t really wanna think about it, I guess.”

“It’s fine, that makes sense,” She assured you. “I know you and him weren’t dating for long but you two were really cute together.”

Hearing her say that, pulled at something in you for a second, but then you remembered that that just meant that you and Steve had been really good actors, pretenders, liars.

“Oh, what was the other thing you wanted to tell me?” You asked, shifting the subject. “You said fun news?”

Robin nodded. “Oh, yeah, I just found out about this party tonight at this girl’s lake house that’s an hour away. You wanna come?”

“I’m not really in a party mood,” You answered after the briefest moment of hesitation. It probably would’ve been good to get out of the apartment and actually do something that didn’t involve lounging on the couch in the living room, like you’d been doing since you got back from Mexico, but you couldn’t imagine leaving the confines of your room right then. “Sorry.”

“No, that’s understandable,” Robin told you. “I know you said that you’re fine about the breakup, but is there anything you want right now? We can watch a shitty movie, and Vickie will probably be okay with you having the last of her mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

You shook your head at her suggestions. “No, I’m okay, honestly. But, thanks, though.”

She smiled at you. “Of course, no problem. What are friends for if not someone to do cliche breakup stuff with? We could also burn any pictures you have of Steve, or throw eggs at his car, or key it?”

You laughed at that. “Great ideas, but hard no to all of them.”

“Okay, well, once you get to the anger stage of your grief, I’ll happily revisit any of those ideas with you.”

“There are no stages and there is no grief,” You told her as she got up from your bed. “I’m completely okay.”

“You’re voluntarily staying in on a Saturday night. I don’t know if I would call that “completely okay.””

“This is very normal behavior for me.”

She considered your words for a second. “Okay, yeah, maybe that’s true.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

It was the first time that the silence within the apartment felt okay. It actually wasn’t completely silent, you were watching a movie on the couch, but you were alone and felt entirely fine with that. 

You could feel yourself slowly falling asleep— head against one of the throw pillows and blanket pulled over you and it didn’t even really matter to you that it wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet— when there was a knock on the door. 

Weirdly enough, your immediate thought was that it was Steve, mainly because you knew that everyone else who could’ve been at the door right then was at a party an hour away.  

Instead, though, when you opened the door with your blanket still wrapped around you, it was Eddie standing there.

“Hey, I assumed you went with everyone to that lake house thing,” You said, pushing the door open further to let him in. 

“Robin mentioned it to me, but I had already planned on meeting up with a couple people from one of my classes at some bar,” He responded and you nodded as you closed the door behind him. 

You looked at him for a second. There was something weird about his demeanor right then. It seemed like something was wrong, and that quickly worried you because you couldn’t easily tell what that something was.

“Is everything okay?”

He shook his head, and for a few moments that was the only response you got, but then he was saying, “Not really.” 

“You’re being so–” You stopped mid-sentence when you finally noticed his right hand, how red and bruised it was. “Oh, shit, what the hell happened to your hand?”

“It looks worse than it feels,” He said, giving you a small smile. “Okay, actually, it feels pretty bad too.”

You dropped your blanket on the couch and then went over to the kitchen, grabbing one of the few small hand towels that sat next to the stove and then pulling some ice out of the freezer. 

“Come here,” You told him as you put the ice in the towel and made some sort of makeshift ice pack. Eddie joined you in the kitchen and you grabbed his bruised hand, softly placing the towel on top of it. You looked up at him. “What happened?”

He was quiet for way too long; things became almost unbearably quiet. You lightly nudged him with your foot. “Eddie.” 

He broke your gaze, looking down instead. “Fuck, it really sucks that I have to tell you this. I’m sorry.”

Hearing him say that only confused you further. “Tell me what?”

“I also saw Steve at the bar I was at…” Eddie started and then trailed off for a second. The look on his face made it seem as if the next thing he was about to say to you was going to be the most devastating thing ever. “And he was making out with some girl.”

“Oh,” Was all you said at first because you didn’t really understand why Eddie was telling you that right then and why he made it sound like the biggest deal in the world. And then, after the briefest of seconds, you were quickly realizing. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie told you, thinking that your “oh” was a sad one. “I wish I did a lot more than just punch him, but the security at that place is actually good so they immediately threw me out.”

Given what you two were currently doing in your kitchen, you should’ve expected Eddie to say that, but it still surprised you so much that you could feel your eyes widen. “What? You punched him?”

“Of course I did,” Eddie said, like it had been an obvious choice. “I saw him cheating on you.”

You dropped your hands from his and immediately covered your face. “Oh my god. I can’t believe you did that.”

“Please don’t try to defend him right now. I know you really like him, probably even love him, but what he did is so fucked up.”

You were shaking your head and kept your hands covering your face as you said, “He didn’t cheat on me.” 

“I’m sorry,” You heard Eddie say. “But, I promise you I know what I saw. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t a thousand percent sure. I also wouldn’t have punched him if I wasn’t sure.”

You could’ve simply told him that you and Steve were broken up just like you told Robin earlier, but you suddenly felt tired of lying, and for once, telling the truth genuinely felt easier. 

You dropped your hands from your face and looked at Eddie. “He didn’t cheat on me because we're not together. We were never really together.” 

It surprisingly felt like so much of a relief to say it out loud, to finally be honest, so you kept going. “It was all fake; the entire relationship. And I’m so sorry for lying to you and to everyone. This entire thing ended up being so stupid and the worst idea ever. But, I don’t know, at first I thought it could be kinda good. And Steve thought so too; he was the one to suggest it actually, and he also had his own reasons for wanting to do this fake dating thing. I figured this could be the best way to do something about my feelings for you without outwardly admitting how I felt and potentially fucking up our friendship in the process, and I wouldn’t have to live in the unknown anymore like I’ve been since freshman year. And just for a second it seemed like it actually was working, and maybe you did feel something back. But then we had that conversation on your fire escape and I knew then that you’d never see me as anything more than as your best friend. It kinda hurt finally realizing that, but eventually it felt okay, though.” 

You let out a breath and inwardly felt as if the biggest weight had just been lifted off of your shoulders.

“You liked me?” That wasn’t exactly what you expected to hear Eddie say in response to your word vomit, but it made sense; it was the big “why” behind everything you did for the last month.  

“Yeah, sorry, I guess I kinda glossed over that part in my super long-winded explanation,” You said, a sudden shyness hit you and you looked away from him. “I did. I was stupidly in love for a really long time. I finally got over it after we had that conversation, though. But, I still had to fulfill my side of the deal I had with Steve, so I did that in Mexico and when we came back, that was it. Life was back to normal. But I was a fucking idiot and didn’t tell you that me and him were “broken up,” so here we are now.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said, a soft look on his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t know how you felt. I’m sorry I couldn’t see it.”

“No, please don’t be sorry. This is all on me. I did all of this complicated shit instead of simply talking to you about everything,” You said, leaning back against the counter. “Because you were so right that day, we are just meant to be best friends. That's the way that we’re supposed to be in each other’s lives. I get that now.”  

He got quiet again, probably still processing everything that you had just told him, which you had to admit was a lot. 

“Are we okay?” You asked when the silence started becoming too much to bear. “Did this fuck everything up like I thought it would?” 

Eddie shook his head at your questions. “Of course not. You could never fuck things up between us, and I feel really bad that you ever thought that you could, and I also wish that I had felt the same way about you… I do love you. It’s just…”

The smallest part of you expected to feel hurt finally hearing the rejection, but surprisingly you didn’t. “Just not in that way. I know. It’s okay. Please don’t feel bad. I know that we shouldn’t be together. I’ve accepted that,” You told him. “And I really wanna say that we should just forget this entire conversation ever happened because it would make things a lot easier and I’d also feel a lot less embarrassed if we did, but I don’t think we should do that. This may sound weird, but it actually feels kind of good having the truth out in the open.”

“Okay,” He said with a nod.

You looked back down at his hand and the towel covering it. 

“How’s it feeling?” You asked, slightly shifting the subject. 

“Better, kinda. The ice feels good,” He answered and then let out something that sounded like a breath of a laugh and a scoff in disbelief as he shook his head. “Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I punched him.”

“Me neither. But thank you for defending my honor, I guess?”

He smiled at you; a genuine smile that let you know that things were actually okay between you two. “Anytime.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“So, everything with Steve was fake,” Eddie said when you two were settled on the couch, the movie you had put on earlier still playing. His words sounded slightly like a question, but also like he was still just trying to make sense of everything that you had previously told him.

“Yes, and let’s wait at least a month before we start joking about this. I need to let my poor bruised ego heal first,” You responded, dramatically pressing your hands to your heart, a small smile on your face. 

Eddie laughed a bit. “Deal.” 

And you expected that to be that. Everything was out in the open and everything was fine. You still had to tell everyone else the truth, but you knew that would end up being okay too. And once you did tell everyone, everything could all be put in the past and you could finally move on from it. There wouldn’t be anything lingering or festering; no “what ifs” or whatever else. 

“Can I ask something?” Eddie asked, voice getting soft again, and you nodded in response, unsure where he was going to go with his question. “Was it hard keeping how you felt a secret? I’m trying to think about if the roles were reversed, and I don’t think I would’ve been able to keep it from you.” 

“Honestly, sometimes it was hard, but also not really. And I know that’s kind of a contradictory answer, but it’s true,” You answered, somehow finding it so easy to be honest now. “For the most part, my feelings were shoved to the side and I pretended that they weren’t there. Like, when you were dating Chrissy, because I obviously didn’t wanna get between what you two had, and when you two broke up, because I knew that you weren’t ready for anything new. They still lingered deep down, though. And it was always random moments when I would get reminded that they were still there. But, keeping our friendship intact always felt more important than admitting anything because I love our friendship.”

He nodded understandingly. “I love it too.”

“Okay, this is kind of random, but do you remember that frat party we went to freshman year right before winter break?” You asked, and before he could say anything in response, you continued, forcing yourself to say what you had never said out loud before. “We were both stupidly drunk, and at one point— I think it was right before we were about to leave— you got, like, pushed into me by some random person, and we were standing really close, and then we, uh, kissed.”

The surprised look on his face was entirely expected. “I vaguely remember the party. But, I don’t remember the kiss, though. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. When we talked about the party the day after, you basically said that it was all kind of a blur to you, so that’s what I figured. I wasn't entirely sure if you didn’t remember it, so a part of me had wanted to ask back then, but in that moment I thought it was just easier to let it go.” 

It was almost startling how honest you were being with him right then— saying things that you didn’t think you’d ever admit out loud— and how perfectly okay it all felt. And weirdly enough, this also felt like the most honest you’d ever been with yourself too. 

“Thinking about it now,” You continued. “That probably should’ve been the moment that I let myself get over you. Because I could’ve told you about the kiss right then and there, but I didn’t want whatever your response would be— whether it be a rejection or whatever else— to change anything between us. And it was the same thing when we came back from break, and I was so close to admitting everything to you, but you told me that you and Chrissy were together first. I probably should’ve still told you then. And maybe I never did because deep down I always knew that nothing should change between us. I don’t know… A part of me is still trying to make it all make sense. But then, at the same time, I've been trying to avoid it all and not think about it.” You sighed. “The last couple of weeks have been pretty weird and confusing.”

“Maybe it’s not supposed to easily make sense, or make sense at all. And I know that’s probably a shit response, but…” Eddie trailed off and then shrugged after a moment. 

“No, I get what you mean,” You said, nodding at his words, and then you thought about something. “Honestly, the only thing that has ever really made sense with us is this. Watching movies together, listening to music, talking about unserious things, and also talking about the most serious things ever; stuff I never thought to tell anyone else.” You smiled at him. “Oh, and getting stuck in elevators together too.” 

He smiled back at you before saying, “The elevator thing sadly only happened once.” 

“We can try to recreate it one day.”

“Great idea,” Eddie responded with a nod. “The elevator in that building is still probably shitty.” 

“So true. And if not, we can just start jumping in it and that’ll probably do the job.”

“Or it will kill us.”   

You couldn’t help but laugh at that and Eddie laughed too and then winced as he readjusted the towel on his hand. 

That was what made you finally think about Steve. Was he even okay? 

And then you immediately felt like shit for not considering that question sooner. 

You abruptly got up from the couch and headed into your room before Eddie could question you. You grabbed the Advil bottle from your bathroom and then tossed it over to him when you walked back out into the living room. 

“For the pain. Take two of these and try to go to sleep. You can even take my bed if you wanna,” You told him and then headed to the fridge to grab a bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer. “I'm gonna go check on Steve. And yes, I’m stealing your van.”

Eddie pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket and handed them over to you. There was an amused look on his face. “When’s the last time you drove?”

“Don’t question my driving skills right now, Munson,” You said as you slipped the keys into the pocket of the sweatpants you were wearing and then grabbed the first zip-up hoodie you saw hanging on one of the hooks by the door. “Goodnight.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

It wasn’t until you were standing outside the door of Steve’s apartment that you realized that maybe he wasn’t even here. He’d been on a date, or at least, with someone when Eddie saw him, so there was a chance that he was still with her. 

Still, though, you knocked. And, surprisingly enough, he answered.

His face— more specifically, his left eye— looked bad; very bruised, and already settled into the dark red and purplish color that it would probably be for the next few days. 

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” You said, immediately handing over the frozen peas you had in your hand; they obviously weren’t as cold as they were before the twenty-minute drive to get here, but they still felt good enough. “All of this is my fault. It completely slipped my mind to tell Eddie that we “broke up.” I didn’t tell anyone, actually, except for Robin, but that was just today. I’m really sorry. The last few days have been weird.”

Steve gave you a small smile that felt entirely undeserved and he pushed the door open further so that you could walk into his apartment. “It’s okay.” 

You shook your head. “It’s really not. You have a black eye because of me being an idiot.”

“This would be the part where I’d say that you should see the other guy to prove that this isn’t as bad as it looks, but you’ve already seen him, so that doesn’t really work in this situation,” Steve told you jokingly and you shook your head, giving him a small smile back. You still felt like shit, but at least he didn’t seem to hate you for causing all of this. “How did you get here?” 

“I drove Eddie’s van. He came to my place after it happened,” You said and Steve nodded understandingly. “You’re right, though. His hand looks worse than your eye.” You weren’t entirely sure if that was even true— in all honesty, their injuries probably looked about the same on the bad scale— but it felt like the right thing to say at this moment. “I told him everything, by the way. About our whole relationship being fake and me doing it because I had feelings for him.”

Steve looked as if he didn’t expect to hear you say that. “How did that go?”

“Surprisingly good,” You answered honestly. He gave you an almost congratulatory-looking smile in response and you quickly shook your head. “No, not good in that way. He doesn’t feel that way about me. And I knew that. There was this conversation that I had with him before all of this that kind of solidified that for me. It wasn’t some huge moment where he outwardly said that he didn’t like me, but it gave me the push I needed to finally accept that me and him are only meant to be friends. I don’t even feel any other way about him now.” You let out a sigh before letting out a different part of the truth. “I kinda lied to you in Mexico and the days leading up to it. I knew the truth about everything then, but I felt too embarrassed to tell you and I also just really didn’t want to think about it.”

“Shit, I’m sorry this didn’t work for you,” He sounded so genuine about it and gave you a sad look that reminded you of exactly what you didn’t want to happen. 

You shook your head. “Don’t do that. Please don’t feel sorry for me.” 

“I was the one that kept telling you from the beginning that this was gonna work so now I feel kinda bad that it didn’t.” 

“Okay, yeah, that’s true but it doesn’t matter now,” You told him. “And just because this didn’t work for me doesn’t mean that I regret it— I honestly don’t regret it. It was dumb and a waste of time for me, but still, I don’t really regret it. Also, you got what you wanted out of this, right?”

Steve nodded after a second. “Yeah, I actually talked to my mom yesterday and she asked about you and I told her that we broke up.”

“Did you make me a cheater?” 

“Yeah, and I think she actually feels bad. But, we’ll see in a week or two if she brings up the Hamptons,” He answered. “I kind of doubt that she will, though. I tried to seem really upset about everything.” 

“I wish I could’ve been there for that phone call. I would’ve loved to see your acting skills.”

He smiled at your joking words. “They were fantastic.”

“Good,” You responded. “So, no finding your future wife this summer?” 

“Hopefully not.”  

“Congratulations,” You told him. “And you’re welcome for me being the greatest girlfriend during the Mexico trip.”

“I don’t know if I should thank you since I do have a black eye now because of you.”

You could tell he was joking, but you still decided to play into it. “Wow, so, you are mad at me for that!”

He playfully rolled his eyes at you. “I was kidding.”

“It’s okay to be mad at me. It would be deserved, honestly. And I’d completely understand if you hate me now. You should hate me.”

He gave you a serious look, but there was still the smallest smile on his face. “Stop.” 

You held up your hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I did just give you a bag of sort of frozen peas to help with your eye, so I feel like you can’t be that mad at me, anyway.” 

“And I will cherish this bag of peas for the rest of my life,” He told you as he placed them over his bruised eye and you could only laugh at that. 

A comfortable silence lingered for a second, and it was what let you know that this should probably be it. It had barely been ten minutes, but you’d done everything that you felt as if you needed to do— you checked on him, made sure he was okay, and told him the truth— there was nothing else to do. 

But, instead of saying something equivalent to the simple “Goodbye” that should’ve left your lips right then, you said, “Can I stay for a bit?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Steve answered with a nod.

“You got throw pillows,” You pointed out as you sat on his couch. You grabbed one of the two gray pillows and placed it in your lap. 

“Yeah, somebody once told me that my couch looked sad and lonely,” He said and that made you smile.

“Still no curtains, though,” You responded, gesturing to the windows.

“One day I’ll get around to it.”

You gave him a quick nod. “Got it.” 

Steve put on a show that you both had seen before and things were quiet for a bit as you rewatched the familiar episode. 

“Oh, you were sadly right, by the way,” You abruptly said, turning to look at him. “I finished the book and the son did die.”

“Oh, yeah, I know. When we got back I wanted to find out what happened, so I finished reading it.”

Hearing that surprised you, and it also made you inwardly smile. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Steve nodded and then gave you a certain look. “You cried at the end, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. I really didn’t think that he would die,” You answered. “And shut up, don’t judge me about it.” 

“I promise I wasn’t gonna.”

“I don’t know if I believe you.” 

“Scouts honor.”

“And now I’m supposed to believe you were a boy scout?” You joked. “You don’t seem outdoorsy enough for that.”

“Ouch, I feel offended.”

You laughed as you turned your attention back to the TV. You noticed that the show playing was the same one that you and him had been watching before the power outage; a night that felt like forever ago. 

This moment felt like the exact opposite of that one. You remembered how weird things initially felt then between you two, or maybe that awkwardness had been entirely in your head. Either way, the main thing that was different here was that in that previous moment, you’d been stuck with him because of the storm and power outage, and in this moment, you weren’t stuck.  

It was then that you were hit with the thought of, What the hell were you doing here right now?

You two weren’t even really friends, you remembered. You reminded yourself of what Steve said that night a few days ago and what you two both agreed on from the beginning— going your separate ways once all of this was done and over. 

Everything that had happened this past month was fake. And even though you’d been able to recognize that, you had still let a part of you miss it; let yourself miss something that you knew you’d never be able to get back. For the past few days, you thought it was okay to let the smallest part of you feel that way— miss the faking and the pretending and the brief friendship that developed because of all of that. But maybe it wasn’t okay. Maybe it was only making things worse and more complicated. 

“Actually, I should go,” You abruptly stood up from the couch, placing the pillow back in the spot you picked it up from. You turned to look at Steve and forced a small smile that you hoped didn’t look that way. “This isn’t following the ‘going our separate ways’  rule.” 

He gave you a confused look for a second, and then he was nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

“I know I was kinda joking about it before, but I really am sorry about all of this,” You said as you walked over to his door, turning to look at him before pulling it open. 

He shook his head. “Don’t be.” 

You decided against saying anything else right then and instead smiled at him one final time before forcing yourself to leave.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore , @damon-loves-pie , @lodeddiperrodrick , @bisexual-and-intellectual , @munsonburn3r , @negomi123 , @khena , @facexthexsunshine , @seatbacksandtraytables , @suckerfordylansstuff

(if your user is crossed out it means i can’t tag you</3)

[vroomvroomcircuit]

A never-ending Worry

(A/N): Ikea gave me a big anxiety attack the other day. Here we are now.

Summary: Reader discovers her own anxiety together with Max through several instances.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

Wordcount: 2k

🏎Masterlist🏎 _____________________ Anxiety is a peculiar thing, especially when you suffer from it. It is for (Y/N) at least.

Ever since her first anxiety attack at the ripe age of 16 years, (Y/n) started to worry. About everything. All the damn time. Her head is running the whole time, thinking about different scenarios that could happen. Like her best friend once said:

“The possibility of a baby killing you is slim, but never zero.”

Maybe the possibilities for any of the “what ifs” really happening is low, but she will be prepared if it does happen. It’s an odd sense of safety she can find refuge in, especially in a world of unpredictability.

This is where the peculiarity comes into play. She does not have the knowledge or vocabulary to describe it all.

But (Y/N) never really talked about her constant worries coupled with a never ending feeling of nervousness. Never spoke of this feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Everyone feels like that, right?

“Hey Schatje? How many pairs of underwear have you packed for us?” Max called out for (Y/N) as he unpacked their suitcases, that his girlfriend herself packed for the two a couple of days before the trip even started.

A bit befuddled by his question, (Y/N) walks from the kitchen of the rental apartment, where she just finished putting away the groceries they got from their first run to the supermarket, to the bedroom.

“10 pairs for each of us. Do you think it won’t be enough? We can still go out and get some more tomorrow.” Max halts his movements for a second to check if her serious tone matches her face.

It does.

His girlfriend really means what she said.

“No, they will definitely suffice. You do know that we are here for only four days, right?” Max smiles at her. Maybe she just got something mixed up.

“Yes, of course. I planned our activities. It would be bad if I didn’t know about the length of our vacation.” She laughs to herself while moving to help Max unpacking. “Why are you asking?”

“Oh, nothing particular. Just checking.” Ok so. It is a thing for many women to overpack, especially regarding their underwear. “Can you explain your thoughts on the number to me? Why did you decide to pack 20 pairs of underpants in total?”

(Y/N) throws him a look. “Well, we need at least four, one for each day. Then I doubled that number, because something could have gone wrong on our car ride here or will on our way back, making us stay on vacation longer. Then eight felt like it’s not enough. Adding to the extra days, an accident could happen that makes you need an extra pair a day, right? And nine is an odd number that is not even a prime number, so I rounded up to ten. Completely logical.”

Well, it’s logical to her at least. Max was partially amazed by her train of thoughts and worries. He just let it be like that. After all, it’s just over packing and he loves how prepared she is in any given situation.

Prepared (Y/N) is. Always.

“Man, it is so hot, my fingers are sticky with sweat.” Daniel complaints. It’s a race weekend in Singapore and the Aussie is right. It is hot.

(Y/N), who walks with Daniel around the paddock while she waits for Max to get out of a meeting, starts to rummage in her backpack. The back she carries with her all the time. It’s close to iconic.

“Here is some hand disinfectant. It makes you feel a bit less sticky.”

Daniel smiles thankfully while taking the little bottle from the female’s hands. “Thank you. I just need to remember to put on some lotion, I don’t want my hands to dry out.”

As soon as he finishes his sentence, she replaces the disinfectant with another small bottle. “Don’t worry, I got you girl.” She winks at the Aussie.

“Oh wow, do you have everything important with you? Can you flee the country with that backpack spontaneously?” Daniel jokes, but it goes over her head.

“Yes, pretty much. I got a small first aid kit, my laptop and all needed chargers for my electronics. Oh, and my passport and IDs of course. Ah, and some small knick-knacks and snacks. Gotta be prepared for the worst case scenario, right?” Her seriousness unsettles something in the driver. But he kind of lets it go, just nodding to her statement. She is right, at least a bit, after all.

“Do you get more nervous when you get into the car? Or is your level of nervousness on the same level?

(Y/N) and Max cuddle in bed back in the safety of their home in Monaco. While asking the question in the wariness of the night, she traces the same shapes over and over again in her partner’s skin. It gives her an odd feeling of safety, the repetition.

Max has a confused look on his face. “What do you mean?” “Well, does your level of feeling nervous rise from the usual one before or during a race?” It sounds plausible to her. But it doesn’t for him.

Max sits up, leaning his upper body against the headboard to have a better look at his girlfriend. “Yes, it does rise, because my usual level of nervousness is zero like for everyone else. Of course I feel different from that, when I get into the car that can bring me over the finish line as a winner. I don’t get the question.”

(Y/N) blinks at him with a frown. “Not- no, not everyone’s level is zero. It’s really just for you that low.” Of course Max is always cool as a cucumber. He only gets this feeling in extreme situations.

“Oh Schtaje. It’s really not. Most people don’t feel nervous often. Do you?” He pulled her close to him, enveloping her completely.

“Not always. Right now, I’m not. But that is, because I’m with you. I know that together we can solve anything.” Max senses that (Y/N) doesn’t want to continue the conversation. He lets it be another time, partially to not make her feel completely uncomfortable in a peaceful moment, partially because he wants to do some research.

Her conversation with her boyfriend sparked something inside (Y/N). Hearing that not everyone is feeling the same way she does, it’s a lot to take in. So she started to do some reading of her own.

Many people on the internet describe the same moments she has: Constant nervousness, the need of being prepared at all times or she’ll break out in a sweat, plus the endless worrying.

And the sudden bursts of intense panic. These moments, where an all consuming fear grips her whole body into a chokehold. That makes her breaths become heavier and her thoughts even faster.

Reading about similar experiences to hers, it makes (Y/N) feel less alone. But one word stood out to her.

Anxiety.

She heard of it and has seen the portrayals on TV. But those are not what she feels. Or is it?

Everything and nothing make sense at the same time.

“Do you want to drive?” Max offers as they get ready to go out for dinner at a restaurant that is a tad too far away to be considered walkable distance. He regularly lets her drive, it’s a bit of emancipation. Why shouldn’t she drive when she has a license for that?

(Y/N) shakes her head no. “I don’t like today’s thoughts. I also feel extra nervous right now, I couldn’t find the menu of the restaurant online.” Max nods, understanding what kind of thoughts she is talking about - intrusive thoughts.

He also appreciates her openness with him about those feelings. “It’s ok, Schatje. I love driving for you, it’s my favorite kind of ride. We will also find something for you, we can order some dishes and share them until you decide which one you want.” He gives her a reassuring kiss on the cheek, hoping to ease up her worries.

During the drive, she holds his hand on the control stick. “It’s good to have you back. Last night I woke up in a panic and thought something must have happened to you on your flight and that this was the reason I had this huge anxiety attack. I couldn’t sleep until you texted me this morning when you landed at the airport.”

His heart grows heavy at that confession. He hasn’t known the extent of her anxious feelings. Max didn’t know how much they overshadowed her in her daily life.

(Y/N) herself never realized how much she has been hindered in her routines by her own thoughts and worries.

“It wasn’t the first time this happened. But it was the worst it has been so far. I thought you died. I waited for my phone to ring or the police to stand at the door, getting notified that you died in a plane crash. I already planned the next steps I had to take from there in my head.” (Y/N) doesn’t dare to look at her boyfriend after this admission.

It is weird to say something out loud, that she used to bury deep inside of her. This kind of vulnerability, it makes her want to crawl back into that hole again.

Over the last couple of weeks she realized that those spiraling thoughts are not here to make her feel safe. That the need of over preparedness is not necessary. That her anxious feelings are not some signs of something bad.

These thoughts are false friends, waiting for your demise, your downfall, to be able to say “I told you so”.

But where to go from here, from the realization of something going gravely wrong, to getting a grip of the situation. To make it all go away?

Max squeezes her hand before putting a kiss on it without taking his eyes off the road. “I’m here for you. I want to hear all those thoughts. As silly as they may sound out loud. I can help you in differentiating if they are necessary, needed, thoughts or if they are the product of overthinking. I want to help you. I want you to not feel anxious all the time. I want to help you through the anxiety attacks. We can get counseling - for only you or together. Just, let me be here for you during every step you take.”

His pleading brings tears to (Y/N)’s eyes. She didn’t know how noticeable her anxiety issues were to outsiders. She doesn’t know what it feels like for Max, seeing her in her most anxious states.

“Yes”, she answers him, “I want you to be here with me. I don’t know if I can do it on my own.” “You don’t need to find out. I’ll be there, for better or for worse.”

Turns out, Max’ deadpan and brutal honesty is exactly what (Y/N) needs.

The evening, where he was away for a race and she had to stay behind, because of her own work schedule. (Y/N) called him in the middle of a not very pretty anxiety attack. “I have this doctor’s appointment. It’s a check-up for my physical health. And what if I-I’m deathly sick and we are catching onto that only now?”

“This is a dumb thought.”

The female halts in her movements. Is it a dumb thought?

“I mean, yes. I regularly go out to donate blood. But maybe they haven’t caught something important accidentally.”

“That is stupid and unlikely.”

She stops again. “You are right. I actually have nothing to worry about.”

The road to having less anxiety is a twisted one, paved by setbacks and a small gap between succeeding and failing. But with Max as a passenger princess on that path (Y/N) knows she got it.

She will be ok, eventually.

[wardenparker]

In the Still of the Night, ch 8

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Family death, grief, unexpected complications, lawyers. Summary: A visit to your grandmother's lawyer and the matter of your inheritance make things slightly more complicated. Notes: We're sort of barreling toward the third act of a relatively short soulmate story here, folks! Thank you so much to all of the readers who have stuck with Zach's journey 🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7

The funeral isn’t long, because your grandmother would have hated people moaning and crying over her being gone, but the time spent with friends and visitors and extended family in the house seems interminable. Zach plays a steady role in keeping things organized and the food flowing, and you make sure that the buffet tables are stocked as people arrive throughout the day with contributions. It seems as though grief finally catches up with your mother after the services have all finished, and she excuses herself early to go up to bed. With your assurance that you can take care of everything, your father joins her, and that leaves you and Zach to host as well as clean up. Thankfully, it does mean that you can make sure your mother is taken care of. Out of habit, she tries to be as little of an inconvenience to the people around her as possible, so it’s good that she’s taking care of herself in a time of need.

The house is spotless when you and Zach go to bed on Thursday night. When you wake up on Friday morning there are plenty of leftovers to eat for breakfast, but your parents aren’t up yet so you leave a note that you’re going out. It’s time to see the lawyer, and handle the final wave of logistics before the weekend comes and you fly back to meet the ship.

“Listen. We can stop by and grab some coffee before we get to the office.” Zach offers, reaching for your hand as he drives. He’s been the one hauling you around and he likes it. Learning your hometown easier this way and he’s figured out he prefers to be the one in control behind the wheel. “What do you say? We can pick her up a chai tea.” She had mentioned she had chai with your grandmother when you scheduled the appointment time on the phone.

“Sure.” His fingers slide through yours in a comforting movement of silent support. “Do you want to go back to the place by the park?”

“They had pretty good coffee.” He agrees, flashing you a grin. He loves a good cup of coffee and he’s been a little homesick for the café on the ship. “I think you would probably love a latte right now.”

“I definitely would. And a croissant breakfast sandwich.” Not that you expect this meeting to be very long, but it’s good to have a fully belly and a clear head for anything involving business.

“You read my mind.” He laughs. “I didn’t want anything in the fridge this morning, as bad as that is to say.”

“Me either.” You hold his hand in your lap while he drives. “Maybe because I know we’ll be eating it for dinner, too. We can skip it for breakfast.”

“Perfectly logical to me.” Things have been quiet, mournful, but that’s to be expected. Darrel had yet to come by to check on your parents today, but maybe that would happen when you are at the lawyer’s office.

The drive doesn’t take long. It doesn’t take long to get to much of anything in this town, but the lawyer’s office is on the edge of things near the city so it’s about as far as you can get without actually going into Tulsa. This is the good side of town. The built up, cared for, manicured side of town. The side of town people actually go to for things other than going home.

“We’re here to see Miss Flores.” You tell the receptionist when you walk in with your small treat of coffees and purse high on your shoulder. The sandwiches had been demolished in the car while they were hot. “We have an appointment for ten o’clock, I know we’re a few minutes early.”

She checks your name against the appointment schedule and smiles as she stands up. "Of course. My condolences." She offers before coming around the desk to usher you through double glass doors. "Miss Flores instructed me to show you into the conference room." She explains. "I will let her know you are here, right away."

“Thank you.” Manners are the best you can do right about now. You’ve never had to go see a lawyer about a loved one’s last wishes before. It’s overwhelming at best and horrifying at worst. Once the receptionist leaves you alone in the conference room, you set down the tray of drinks and plop into a comfortable looking chair. “Maybe we can ask if she has the keys to Gram’s house? I’m still hoping I can show you more than just the outside.”

"Maybe so." He was impressed when told that the locks had been changed. It kept people from being dishonest. Not that he thought you or your parents would be, but other family members might feel entitled to mementos that weren't theirs.

"I hope so." The latte that you ordered very particularly is still hot in the cup holder, but you take that and Zach's coffee out to sit with and maybe start to sip.

“Is there anything you hope she’s left you?” He asks curiously, knowing that you’ve spoken extensively about the memories. Maybe there is something that would symbolize it for you.

"It's a long shot," you admit, sitting back with your latte. "But..." Glancing at Zach feels loaded, so you look down at your hands. "We had talked a few times when I was growing up about her wedding dress. She always said she would do the alterations for me herself, but...I never really knew if I'd ever get married so it hadn't been mentioned for a long time."

“Then I hope she has left it to you.” He hums softly, a smile curving his lips at the thought of you in a wedding dress.

"What's that look for?" Alright, you peeked at his face when he started talking. Just to make sure he wasn't too twisted up about the idea of you thinking about weddings.

“Trying to imagine you in a wedding dress I’ve never seen.” He admits, grinning as he reaches out and takes your hand.

"Yeah?" It might be the happiest thought you've had in a week, and for a moment you let the joy of it wash over you until you remember once more that your grandmother won't be able to see you marry the man beside you — if you ever decide to tie the knot, that is.

He sees the way your eyes cloud over with sorrow, fresh grief as if another notion has hit you. He leans over and presses his lips to yours. “I know, baby, I know.” He murmurs softly. “But she’d still be there.”

"I'm sorry." You have to sniffle back fresh tears, and even though he always says you don't need to be sorry for grieving, you don't want your first reaction to talking about marriage with him to be tears of sadness. "I'm okay. I promise."

“Baby, I know.” He soothes you, rubbing your shoulder. “When we get married, we will make sure that she will be with us.” You have talked about her a lot, she’s an important part of your life, so it’s important to him that you feel her presence on that special day.

"I like the sound of 'when'," you sigh into his chest when he hugs you close, welcoming the warmth and strength of him before you hear a polite knock at the conference room door and the gentle click of a doorknob turning.

Zach doesn’t jump away from you. He does pull back, kissing your hairline again. The lawyer who handled the case seems to understand how special your gram was to you, so he doesn’t feel like it would be a surprise that you need comfort. He turns towards Miss Flores with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind me being here.” He offers. “Emotional support.”

"Of course not." She understands already that the two of you come as a unit. Thankfully this meeting should be full of good news despite the emotional weight. Tanya Flores sets her paperwork down on the desk, gratefully accepts the hot chai when it is offered to her, and pulls her reading glasses out of her pocket. "There is quite a bit of paperwork to get through, as you can see," she pats the stack in front of her. "But hopefully it shouldn't be difficult."

Zach is a little confused by the amount of paperwork, knowing that it shouldn’t be that much just to have a dress and maybe a few baubles, but he doesn’t say anything. “Did she want everyone brought in separately?” He asks.

"Incidentally?" Miss Flores opens the folder on top of the stack and offers a smile. "This is everyone."

Your brow furrows instantly, confusion making you shift closer to Zach in your chair and wondering if it would be terribly immature to sneak a peek at the paperwork in that folder. "I don't understand."

"You are your grandmother's sole heir," the lawyer tells you gently, and she folds her hands over the top of the open folder. "She was very specific about making sure her estate was in good order for whenever it would be passed to you."

Zach freezes before looking over at you in surprise. He has no clue what that might entail, but he shifts slightly in his chair, aware that it is probably substantial. Hell, she owned a house, a gorgeous one. “Wow.” He murmurs.

"But..." Feeling more than a little shocked by that news, you shift in your chair and look quickly between Zach and Miss Flores as if their faces might hold the answer you're looking for. "She had other family. My mother, my aunt. She had two other grandkids. None of them?"

Flores shakes her head, quietly amused that this question had been anticipated. "She felt that the other potential inheritors — her daughters, and your two cousins, specifically — she felt that they were well provided for already and that you would benefit most from what her estate had to offer." When she smiles this time, there is something nostalgic in it. "She confided in me several times that you were her favorite, Bunny. That you reminded her the most of herself."

“If-“ he knows you are struggling with the idea of getting everything, you aren’t a selfish person in the least. “If she wanted to let the cousins, her aunt, mom, have some sentimental items - that’s alright, right?” He asks, sure that if it was, it might make you feel better.

"Yes." She nods in agreement, flipping one more page of the file open. "Once the paperwork is signed, the estate is yours to do with as you see fit, with one notable exception."

"Which is?" You ask, swallowing down the idea of your grandmother having put her entire life in your hands. It's a wonderful, loving gesture. But also a bit overwhelming.

"Her real estate holdings." Miss Flores produces a pen from nowhere and sits back in her seat. "Her will is quite strict about those going to you and you alone."

Zach frowns slightly, knowing that your grandmother knew that you didn’t want to live in Oklahoma. So why would the house go to you. “To sell?” He asks, knowing you might have some conflicting feelings about letting go of a piece of her legacy. “You don’t have to, babe.” He promises you.

"I really don't...I didn't expect this." He knows that. He knows you didn't think that very much would go to you. Some records. A keepsake or two. Her wedding dress is you were very lucky. But the house? That's enormous. "So..." You turn back to Miss Flores and try to gather your thoughts. "The house has to go to me. Does that mean I can never sell it?"

"Not at all. It simply means that she wanted you to be the one to make the decisions and to have the final say. She specifies in the document that she would prefer for you to wait until you are comfortably settled to consider selling anything, but a sale is your prerogative."

"So what does all of this really mean?" It's a lot of information to take in all at once, and you're not sure where to start. "Can I see her will?"

“Your grandmother wished that you would read her letter first.” She pulls out a creamy vellum envelope that has your gram’s familiar loopy script, your name on the outside of it.

A letter. Now that is familiar. That is something you hoped for. That is something you can deal with, as Miss Flores hands over the envelope and you take in the fact that it is very thin indeed.

Bunny, My sweet girl. If you're reading this, I'm very sorry. I can only hope you're happy in your life and that the choices you have made have helped you grow as the wonderful woman I'm very proud to call my granddaughter. Throughout the course of my life, there have been so many ups and downs. I know that has already been the same for you. That you have worked so hard for the life that you love and are proud of. You are a shining light, sweet girl. I know you will make all of us so proud and your family so happy. I wish you had been able to meet your grandfather, Bun. He was a wonderful man, and a clever one. My soulmate always knew exactly what to say and how to support me. From what you've told me of your Zach, they sound very much alike. Well, your grandfather was also smart. He taught me about investments and real estate. He wanted to make sure I would be able to take care of myself after he was gone. That income has been what kept me going these last few decades, and I hope that it will for you, too. Tanya will explain the logistics, sweet girl, but the heart of it is that I love you. That I have always been more proud of you heart and your spunk and your dreams than anyone else I've known. You're going to go as far in this life as you dream, my girl, and I hope that with a little help from your Gram it's not just hard work getting you there, but a little fun too.

I love you. I'm so proud of you. And don't let anyone else's dreams muddy up the beautiful ones that are yours alone.

Love, Gram.

Zach doesn’t look over your shoulder. He’s sure that you will share it with him. Instead, he watches you. Giving you his presence, and you when you choke out a sob and reach for his hand, he’s right there.

He knows how important this goodbye letter is, he’s read them before, been the distributor of a fallen brother’s final words. The peace and simultaneous heartbreak it brings is almost necessary for you. A memento of your gram’s last thought to you that you can reread again and again.

Tanya's instructions were very straightforward. After giving you the letter, she is supposed to present to you the three pieces of real estate holding that now belong to you. From the folder in front of her, she produces two maps and sets them in the middle of the table. "Your grandmother owned three buildings. One is this," she indicates the map on the left. "Her house here in Tulsa. Three bedrooms, two bath, fenced in yard and landscaped patio. I know you know this house very well." She clears her throat softly. "The other two are here," she indicates the map on the right. "A performance venue and nearby townhouse in Brooklyn Heights, New York."

“New York?” Zach doesn’t mean to say that out loud, but it startles him. Had she been planning something?

“When I helped her purchase the properties some years ago, she had very specific intentions,” Tanya explains. “Apparently, this theater and the townhouse used to belong to her late husband’s family. It was a vaudeville theater, then a movie house, and then they had to sell. So they sold the house too, and left the city. The opportunity arose about ten years ago for her to buy both properties, and she wanted them to come back to the family. She has been living off the income as an absentee landlady for a decade, which suited her just fine as she had very few expenses. But…” Next from the folder are floor plans, which she sets out in front of you and Zach. “When she learned that you had found your soulmate and he is a chef, she started researching plans to update the club’s kitchen.” Tanya smiles as the tears of recognition start to form in your eyes. “She was planning on giving you the nightclub to run and the home to raise your family in as a wedding present. But she wrote out her will with specifics just in case she didn’t get to see you married.”

“Holy shit.” Zach is stunned, letting go of your hand to slump back onto his chair in shock. A gift of that magnitude is nearly impossible to imagine. “A dinner club.” He murmurs softly, rubbing a hand over his face as he takes it all in.

“That’s…basically what we’re doing on the ship…” Which your grandmother knew. She was a clever and thoughtful woman. She understood what she was doing when she put all of these pieces together. The puzzle was a complete picture to her. “Oh my god. I don’t…” you gape, stunned into staggering silence. “She—she really left us all of it?”

“Yes she did.” Tanya Flores smiles. “It was her hope that you would establish a club that would fulfill your dreams and spark your creativity.” It was touching how far the grandmother had gone to help you accomplish your dreams. “Right now, there are tenants in the townhouse, but whenever you are ready, we can give them notice since they are month to month.”

“I don’t…” you glance at Zach and frown. “I don’t feel very good about asking people to give up their home.”

Zach can understand that, but he reaches out and covers your hand with his. “Whatever you want to do.” He promises, knowing that it has to be your choice.

"There are a lot of things to consider." A lot of things that will change your entire lives. There are no two ways about that. Your grandmother has rocked that boat with one fell swoop.

"Of course." Tanya agrees. "I understand you're both working on a cruise ship right now. If you like, for the duration of your contracts, my office can work with a real estate agent in Brooklyn to help the couple in the town house relocate. We will make sure they have all the time and help necessary to find a comparable home."

"That would be...it would be much better." The thought of kicking people out of their home would have horrified you just from your own experiences trying to find places to live in the city, but knowing what Zach went through? You would never.

Zach smiles at the palpable relief that is on your face. Thrilled that you don’t have to worry about kicking someone out of the home they are in. “And if they move quickly? You can always have Diana stay in the townhouse.” He suggests.

“She would love that.” But you would never ask the family living there now to leave earlier for that purpose.

Sitting beside Zach, you push out a a long breath and carefully slide the map and floor plan of the townhouse toward the two of you. It’s got four bedrooms, almost as many baths, a little backyard behind the place, and some unexpected underground parking spaces. “Look at this,” you almost laugh in disbelief when you point that detail out to him. “Maybe we could even get a car.” As city dwellers, neither of you had or had needed a car for the last few years. Maybe it would be something to think about for the future.

“Wow.” He snorts. “We would be the taxi service for everyone we know.” He jokes. “And I seem to be pretty good about driving that big ass SUV around.” It wasn’t as big as some of the trucks he had driven in the Marines, but it also rides a hell of a lot better.

"One day." He sounds so excited about it that's actually pretty sweet. "But nothing as big as that SUV." Suddenly, though, you go soft all over. "Unless it's for kids."

“Hmmmm.” Zach doesn’t panic, he has the same soft look in his eyes that you do. “Yeah, kids need room.”

"First thing's first." You reach for his hand again and thread your fingers together, holding it in your lap as you turn back to face Miss Flores. "I'm sure this is more complicated than handing us the keys and sending us on our way?"

“And we need to protect her inheritance.” Zach adds. “Is there - I mean - like a prenup before a prenup?” He asks. “Something to protect her?”

"There are measures that can be taken." Tanya confirms, touched to see your soulmate working tirelessly on your side. "The financial assets of the estate have been placed in a trust to be paid out to you in a monthly stipend. Special withdrawals can be made under certain circumstances, like medical debt or education. We have all the parameters." After a moment, she looks between them with curiosity. "If you're planning on being married soon, I can certainly draw up a prenuptial agreement between you, if you like. I would be happy to help."

You look like a startle doe, eyes wide as you stare at her, but Zach quickly nods. “Yes.” He tells her firmly. “Everything she inherits from her grandmother along with anything bought from money her grandmother left her, remains hers.” He insists, squeezing your hand gently so you don’t protest.

"I don't..." You swallow hard and look over at Zach in surprise. "I don't foresee any circumstance where we would ever get divorced, babe. Isn't a prenup just for...super wealthy people who get married on a whim?"

“It can also be used to shelter one from lawsuits that could affect marital assets.” Miss Flores murmurs and Zach shakes his head. “I know that you don’t see that happening, and I know I don’t want to ever leave your side.” He sighs softly. “I just don’t want there to ever be any question of if I am with you for the right reasons.”

It's a hell of a lot to take in, but when you sort through all the details and the deciding factors, and everything in between, the thing that sticks out is just you and Zach. Forever. And that is a thing you know that you want beyond a shadow of a doubt. "And..if we're never going to get divorced or anything..." You look between the two other people at the table again. "It shouldn't really matter that we ever did one, right? It's just paperwork that we signed and filed away. It shouldn't matter unless something awful happens?"

“I just—” Zach takes both of your hands in his. “I want to make sure that you and everything that you have worked so hard for, everything that your grandmother has worked so hard for, it preserved. For you, for our kids down the line, from everything we could possibly foresee. And everything we can’t.” He sighs. “And I don’t want your parents to ever, for a second, have anything to use against me.”

Your fingers thread together, holding onto him tightly and exhaling longer and deeper than you usually would. “I’m upset about the fact that you’re right,” you admit quietly. “They might try. And I hate that. So…” You nod and lean in to press your forehead to his. “Yeah. We’ll do a prenup. There’s nothing wrong with being safe and protected.”

He knows that you don’t want to, but eventually, they will find out about the fact that he had been homeless. That he had pulled himself up with the generous help of friends doesn’t matter, he would be a gold digger. This would stop that conversation quickly. “Thank you.” He murmurs softly, leaning down and kissing your knuckles.

“But…” A gentle nudge in the right direction seems okay, all things considered. “Now that means you’re gonna have to propose.”

“I know.” He chuckles softly. “I’ve been dragging my feet by soulmate standards.”

“I’ll give you two a few minutes.” Miss Flores had considered it pertinent to be present for the decision of whether or not the paperwork would be necessary. Now that the answer is yes, she excuses herself to her office to begin the drawing-up process. “I’ll return soon.”

“Do you want me to do it now?” Zach asks seriously, frowning at the unromantic nature of proposing in a lawyer’s office. But he would if that’s what you want.

“I want you to ask when you want to.” With a bit of privacy, you shift closer to him in your chair and practically sigh when he puts his arms around you. “I would also be okay if you had never asked and we just stayed together as partners. What do they call that? Common law?” That makes you shrug. “If I’m getting all of Gram’s things…she had some really beautiful rings. And I wanted to wear her dress anyway. We could just…skip the fuss and ask the captain to do it when we get back to the ship?”

“I want you to have a ring.” Zach frowns, shaking his head. “I can afford that at least.”

“Compromise?” You know Zach can be stubborn about his earnings and purchases, and that it comes from a very complicated place, so you hold both of his hands and offer him a smile. “We’ll look through Gram’s jewelry and we’ll go to some of the jewelry shops in town. You decide from those options, if you want to use an heirloom or buy something new. Is that okay? Because I only care that it comes from you.”

“That sounds good.” He agrees, but if it comes down to it, he will buy a ring from you to give as an engagement ring.

“So…we’re getting married, then?” The note of happiness in your voice is muddied with the grief you’ve been feeling and comes out sounding like disbelief.

“Baby…from the second I found out you wore my marks, I’ve thought about marrying you.” He promises softly. “I have saving been every dime I could to buy you a ring.”

“I love you so much.” A quiet promise in a quiet room, with your arms around each other and your heads bowed together. It’s a promise for the future, one that you will happily tie up with his to see what beautiful things will grow.

“I love you too.” He promises. “You know that’s why I want this prenup, right? Not because I’m afraid things won’t work out. I know they are. You’re it for me.”

“I do understand,” you promise him. “I just always think of those things as being for rich people who get married on a whim. You’re being practical, though, and I appreciate that.”

“I love you.” He hums. “Not your money or your property, what you can do for me – you.” He kisses your lips. “And honestly? It sounds like you are now a rich woman.”

“Let’s not jump ahead of ourselves.” Nothing about your Gram or the way she lived said rich, but at least it does enough to break the simmering seriousness in the room when you laugh a little.

“Richer than we are.” He smirks at you. “And she’s given you a wonderful gift.”

“That club is for both of us.” You squeeze him gently, but the look in your eyes is proud. “That’s our very own business. Your own kitchen to run just as you please and cook what you love.”

“I want to contribute to it. To build it with you.” He promises. “Of course I want that. I want to build a life with you. One I couldn’t even imagine a few years ago.”

“We will.” For you, that is a resounding promise. That you’ll do things together. Be a team. And build your future from the ground up.

******

Settling the estate and having things turned over to you isn’t like snapping your fingers. It still has to be signed off by the judge in probate court, but Miss Flores had assured you that it would go quickly. The judge was already aware of your grandmother’s wishes. However, you leave the office with the new keys to her home after signing enough papers to make your hand numb while Zach supported you.

“We’ll have a fair amount of cleaning to do.” With the key in the lock, you open the front door of your grandmother’s house and wish yet again that you were just coming over for lunch instead. “We’ll have to come back and do a full clean out and packing…I guess after the cruise is over?”

“Whenever you want to do it.” Zach promises. “We can go at any pace you want with this.”

“I’d like to not do it at all.” You can recognize that. That you wish hand the house straight back to your grandmother , but it too late now.

“I know babe.” He reaches out and holds your shoulder. “We don’t have to do this right now. We can wait.”

"No, it's okay." If you're honest with yourself, it's a way to feel like she's still here. To spend time in her house and with her things. Even if they legally belong to you now, they're all still hers. "I want to be able to share these memories with you. It helps to miss her less."

“Then I want to hear everything.” He promises as he steps inside with you. “Every little story you want to tell me. Funny, sad, embarrassing, all of it.”

The two of you end up upstairs first, wading through the easier-to-take-account-of items in your grandmother's guest room. There are only a few things there besides furniture, but you discover very quickly that she had used the spare closet as a place to hang her old dresses and boxes of jewelry and shoes — even handbags — that she had not used in some time.

“Wow.” Even though he knows less than zero about fashion, he can tell that you are fascinated by the closets. “Did you used to wear these dresses playing when you were little?”

"I was never allowed to touch these." Each properly stored and preserved in its own dress bag with protective tissue, you're as careful with these dresses as you would be if someone had just handed you a gun. "My grandparents used to go on date nights every single week for their entire marriage, and Granddad loved to dance. She told me stories about him bringing her to all kinds of dances and supper clubs and parties. These were her date clothes."

Zach is in awe, wondering what kind of life – fun that had been. It must have been amazing. Their connection strong and true. It makes him wonder how your mother could be so indifferent to soulmates after witnessing the love that must have been present between your grandparents. “You should wear them.” He decides suddenly.

"Where?" Your eyebrows raise in question when you tilt your head to look at him. "The ship? I don't know if the salt air would be good for them...I tried not to bring anything precious on board just in case."

“No.” He shakes his head quickly, knowing you would be devastated if something were to happen to the dresses. “When – if – we make the idea of a club on land a reality.” He explains. With your grandmother’s planning and generous gift, it was closer to a reality than the daydreaming you had done together when lying in bed on the ship.

"When." You feel as certain of that as you do of him. Of how much you love him and how much of a future you know is in front of you. "It will be when, baby, and we're going to make it exactly what we dreamed of."

“It would be fitting.” He reaches out and picks a dress off the bar to show you the sleek, knee-length cocktail dress in a beautifully vibrant red. “A tribute to her.”

A soft smile pulls at your lips, and you lean into his side as easily as the sun rises. "That's a deal," you decide with a smile. It's nice to smile again and not feel guilty about it. You still ache, but at least it doesn't pull you in two different directions now. "Gram's dresses are a gorgeous tribute to her. It's...well, I always did say I wanted to be just like her when I grew up. This seems like a sweet way to do it."

Zach respectfully puts the dress back very carefully. Grinning because he thinks you will appreciate wearing your grandmother’s dresses.

"I have to remind myself this isn't invading her privacy." You've taken a few boxes down from the shelf toward the top of the closet, and found two of them to be jewelry boxes. One is full of lose photos and mementos. The rest are shoes, handbags, and gloves.

“Do you want me to go make you some tea?” He asks softly, wondering if a few moments alone might be needed. He could also start going through the kitchen supplies to see what could be donated or given away. Something to be helpful.

As always, Zach seems to know exactly what you need even before you do, and you nod gratefully. “You’re a life saver. I’m so damn grateful you’re here, baby.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He promises, giving you a soft smile before he turns and walks carefully out of the bedroom to give you some time with your memories.

It’s not easy. You knew it wouldn’t be. Which is why you sit down at the vanity in the guest room with the box of photos to have a good cry once Zach goes back downstairs. This entire ordeal is overwhelming but at least you have him to support you.

Him, and whoever is behind the ding of your cell phone.

Downstairs, Zach finds the kitchen easily enough. The space is clean and neat, something that he has to appreciate. Not like some of the older generation who hoarded useless things, the counters are clear and he quickly finds the electric tea kettle and dumps out the old water to wash and refill it.

Teacups are lined neatly beside drinking glasses in the cupboards — your grandmother apparently liked sets of things because every dish and glass matches its fellows. Just a simple white with a bold blue stripe, faded with age and a bit cracked in the glaze to show how well used they were. Even the tea is easy to find: a cylinder marked Tea sits beside Coffee on the countertop and smells distinctly of chamomile when he opens the lid. That will be a good choice, completely by accident. Soothing, he thinks, plucking out one papery bag.

Honey is quickly found, and some lemon juice that would take the place of not having any creamer. He opens the fridge and notices that there is a box of leftovers, a stark reminder that this was sudden. A life changed and interrupted before she had planned.

When he comes upstairs again you’re sitting at the vanity with photos spread out around you and your phone in your hands, taking pictures of the pictures and sending them off again.

“Here you go.” Zach had found a small tray and there were some cookies in the panty that were in an open container, apparently one of your gram’s favorites.

“You’re amazing.” When you look up to offer him a smile, your eyes are red and damp again but at least there is a smile with him. “Shane texted to check on me so I’m sending him photos.” When he comes closer you can see the cookies on the tray and even though your chin wobbles a little, the smile stays. “Her favorites,” you murmur, motioning to the cookies. The little jam-filled ones with powdered sugar on top. “I can never, ever remember what they’re called. They’re just Gram’s cookies to me.”

“I thought you would like some.” He sets the tray down on the little dresser next to the bed and sits down beside you, his hand automatically moving to your back. “Shane texted? That’s good. I know he was worried about you.”

“He’s a worry wart. It’s nice to hear from him, though.” You turn your phone to show Zach the texts and pick up the tea — fragrant chamomile, honey, and lemon. It smells like heaven. “He promises they haven’t b destroyed the club while we’ve been away. The guys are enjoying their shore leave.”

“I’m sure they are.” Zach snorts. The rest of the guys are probably out partying, but he knows Shane will be spending every second he can with his soulmate. “How’s Diana?”

“She desperately needed the vacation.” In all the commotion over going home for the funeral, you had missed seeing Diana when she flew out to spend some time in Italy with Shane while the boat was being worked on, and the crew had some leave. “I’m sorry to miss her, and I’m sorry you have to wait to meet her.”

“That’s okay.” Being with you was more important. “We have plenty of time for that.”

His meaning is clear, making your heart clench with gratitude all over again. “I love you, too.”

He loves how you know what he means, even when he’s not specifically saying it. “You should digitize the photos.” He peers over your shoulder at the memories that have been printed out.

“I was thinking about it,” you admit. “Share copies with my parents, and my aunt and cousin. I don’t want to be greedy about this stuff, ya know? Just because she left it to me doesn’t mean I’m going to hoard it.”

“And if, god forbid, something happens, you have other copies so everything isn’t lost.” He frowns slightly, remembering all the memories that are just fading away over time due to his own circumstances.

"That's why I've made backups of all of our photos." Leaning over, you press a kiss to his cheek and then sit back to sip your tea again. "Our phones, my external hard drive, and the cloud. Nothing is going to happen to our memories, babe."

“We have a lot of them.” He smiles. “Even though it hasn’t been a long time, really.” It feels like it has, but it’s not. He just feels safe for the first time in forever.

"One day my Zach box will be just as full as this one is." You promise him. The box full of your grandmother's miscellaneous memories seems to be tied together by two recurring friends in the photos. Just like you have a box full of keepsakes and memories involving Zach, your Gram had a memory box for her best friends.

“You’ll have more than just me.” He promises. “The guys, hey!” He lights up. “You think they would want to move back to land? Come with you when you decide to launch the club?” He asks. “They work so well with you.”

"I honestly can't picture doing it with any other band." The thought had never even occurred to you. In your mind, it was always you and your boys on the stage with Zach's food being served. Shane, Keo, Rick, and Cliff are a package deal that you would hate to be without.

“I thought you might feel that way.” He leans in to press his lips to your forehead. “Want me to give you a bit of space again?” He asks softly, “I’ve gotten rid of anything spoiled, but I was thinking about boxing up the foods to donate? What do you think?”

"I think that sounds like a smart idea, but not because I want to be apart from you." For your part, you kiss his cheek like he does your forehead. Soothing measures of comfort for both of you. "I was just thinking that this place doesn't deserve to be all boxed up, but at the same time? It'll be such a great home for another family one day."

“Perhaps you keep it, have a place to visit when you come to see your parents?” He offers, shrugging slightly.

"Maybe we just don't decide right now?" It's the deciding that seems so daunting. Trying to being responsible and adult and make all of the right choices all at the same time.

That’s the smartest thing right now, making Zach nod. “Miss Flores could look out for things.” He hums softly, remembering the offer.

"That would probably be good. It's not like we could get every little thing squared away in two days anyway." The flight on Sunday can't be put off, you've got to get back to your jobs on the ship. "We've got another month on board and then our contracts are up. Maybe by then we'll have a better idea of how things are going to shake out?"

“Yeah baby…” he reaches out and caresses your back. “And if you need to not renew and I need to, just— let me know.” He tells you. “I can keep working and save up if you need to take care of things here.”

The possibility of having to be long distance for months at a time while he works on the ship and you figure things out here sounds terrible, but you can't deny that it is a possibility. It's just not one you're willing to give too much thought to right now when it makes your chest ache. "We'll figure it out," you promise him. "We'll make it work."

“I know.” He smiles softly at you and sighs. “Well, I’ll be downstairs if you need me. Just yell, okay?” He wants to give you the space you need while being nearby for support.

"I'm not going to yell, babe." You give his hand a squeeze and leave a kiss on his lips before he goes back downstairs, thanking him again for the tray. It is a little easier to go through things and pick through the memories. While you sip your tea you wade through another set of photos and eventually make your way around to the jewelry boxes. Your grandmother had great taste, and to see these pieces again is a rare way to unlock those memories from your childhood when you would be over at her house at the same time she was getting ready for dinners or events or even just going to out to do the shopping.

Downstairs, Zach quickly finds a box to start loading up the non-perishable goods in. Knowing that you wouldn’t have a single objection to him finding a local shelter or food bank to donate them to. Going out into the garage to find a cooler for the items in the freezer and fridge is next, but before he can start that, you are coming down the stairs.

“There’s…um, this is for you.” In your hand is a small-ish package that you found tucked inside your grandmother’s second —larger — jewelry box. It’s tied up in brown paper and string and addressed to Zach via the ship company at the next port city. She had meant to mail it to him, very obviously, but things hadn’t turned out that way.

“For me?” He’s incredibly confused, frowning as he sets the cooker down and takes it from you. “How would she- I mean, why?” He asks you, hoping maybe you had a conversation with your grandmother that could shed some light on this.

"I told her all about you." Is all you can think to say, just as bewildered as he is. "I mean...not all but...about us. About how we met and our date in Crete and..." A softness overtakes your face and you come stand with him at the counter. "She was the first person that I told how much I love you. About...maybe four or five days before I even told you."

“Oh.” Zach seems to melt softly at that confession, a smile curving his lips as he imagines you on the phone with your grandmother gushing about him. “Okay. Why don’t we open it together?” He offers.

“If you want to.” You nod and lean into his side as he carefully unties the twine holding the package together.

There’s a small box inside the paper, making him tilt his head in confusion. Also a square folded up piece of paper underneath it. “Interesting.”

"Note or box first?" You have no idea what your Gram might have been sending to Zach, but considering it was in her jewelry box your best guess is that maybe she felt it right to send him something of your grandfather's. A tie pin, perhaps, or cuff links?

“You choose.” Zach decides, pushing the towards you. “She was your grandmother. And I would do this same thing if she had mailed it to me.”

"Letter first," you decide after a few seconds of staring at both options. "Context seems important."

“Okay.” He pulls the paper up and slowly unfolds it. Your grandmother had amazingly artistic handwriting, the cursive looking like something he would have imagined being written with a quill.

My Darling Zach,

“Darling?” He raises a brow in surprise. And clears his throat to read it aloud. “My darling Zach, I feel like I can call you this since one day soon you will be a member of my family. I know this from the way my granddaughter talks about you. Like you’ve hung the moon and stars in the sky.” Zach pauses and smiles at you softly.

"I may have gushed," you admit shamelessly.

“Really?” He winks at you and looks back down at the letter.

“That being said, I have a favor to ask of you, if you would be so kind. In this box, I have several rings that my granddaughter loved to look at when she was a little girl. Always begging me to let her wear them when she played dress up. Consider one of them for her as an engagement ring? It would make an old woman very happy to see the jewelry on her hand that she has so admired as a little girl. Especially when they were also my favorite pieces my own beloved soulmate gifted me with. They are yours to keep, Zach. My gift to you. Give them to her as Christmas or birthday gifts later on if you decide not to use them to propose. I don’t want to hear any argument, young man.”

Zach swallows and looks up at you. “And she signed it, ‘Love, Gram’.” He whispers.

There are tears in both of your eyes, a few drops on your cheeks. It's such a sweet, loving gesture and so exactly like your grandmother to be thinking ahead like this. "Well," you laugh weepily, wiping his cheeks and then your own. "You heard the lady. They're yours now."

“I can’t keep these.” Zach protests, although he’s reaching for the box to open it up. There’s enough room for four ring sets in the little box, but there are only three in use. “Holy…”

"Oh, my..." Trailing off to a sigh, you tear up all over again seeing the jewels shimmering in their little box. They look shiny enough that she must have gone and had them cleaned before boxing them up to send to Zach. "How did she remember...?"

“What do you mean?” There’s a story or stories here behind these rings and he wants to know them. To learn about them, learn more about you.

"I really did used to beg to dress up with these." They are three very different rings, but all equally beautiful in their own right. A yellow gold band is flattened for one, with tiny diamond chips arranged like a sunrise. One is white gold with an array of blue and white sapphires like an Art Deco explosion. And the third is a beautiful opal set in yellow gold with small diamonds all around for embellishment. The opal has a matching band, though you don't remember ever seeing that before. "She actually let me wear the little golden sunrise with my prom dress when I was a senior. The sapphire one...she said that was an birthday gift from my grandpa when she turned forty. And the opal was an anniversary gift."

“She—” Zach is at a complete loss for words, unable to believe that your grandmother would be so generous to a man she has never met. “I don’t know what to say.” He admits quietly, moisture gathering in his eyes. She had accepted him without hesitation, just based on what you had told her.

"She...knew." You tell him quietly, deciding that it's important Zach understand just how thoroughly your grandmother had accepted him. "About what happened to you and your unit. And afterward." When Zach's eyes widen in disbelief, you nod. "She thought it showed your strength of character to come out on the other end of all of it as a good man. I fully agree."

He’s not mad that you shared that with her. Not when she was your confidant growing up. More of a parent than a grandparent when it came to emotional support. “Do you-“ he clears his throat when his voice cracks. “Do you like the idea?” He asks seriously, nodding to the rings.

"Me? I love the idea." Something that ties your past, present, and future together sounds perfect to you and you absolutely won't deny that. "But I don't want to hear a word about paying for them. She gave them to you. They're yours now."

“But—” It goes against everything in him to stop talking, to not protest it, but you literally put your hand over his mouth. Looking into his eyes and silently asking him to please just accept this. Until he gives in, slumping slightly as he relaxes and nods.

"I love you." you remind him gently, moving your hand so that you can kiss him instead. "And she is reaching out to you with her arms wide open, too."

“I love you too.” That will never be a question in his mind. He loves you completely. “Okay. So…” he takes a deep breath. “First impression?” He asks and points to the opal set.

"I want you to pick." That is also important to you, you realize immediately. Although he has zeroed in on the most practical choice. The beautiful opal ring already has a matching band.

“What do you think?” He asks, hoping it would have been your choice. “I like that it has a matching band, but I could also see another ring on the other side.”

"I like that it's pretty but not the most flashy thing in the world," you admit, looking down at the three choices with him. "The sapphires are gorgeous but I think that's more like a cocktail ring. It's big and blingy and I know we would both be more comfortable not being that flashy every single day."

“I wonder if she knew that we would gravitate towards this one?” He muses as he picks up the rings out of the box and examines them more closely.

"Maybe." She was astute, after all. And was always thinking ahead. "I...also like that it's your birthstone." It's just a silly little extra, but it's sweet. Zach's October birthday might never result in gems for gifts for him, but apparently it might for you.

“It is, isn’t it?” He’s surprised to realize that, it’s not something that he’s really thought about in a long time. Normally his birthday has been a lonely day, or recently, working his ass off.

"Yes, it is." He brightens a little and you know instantly that it's the right choice to make. "Does that mean we've picked out my engagement ring?"

“I think so.” Zach hums before he frowns at you. “Although we are missing one key element to all of this.”

"And what would that be?"

He reaches for your hand. “Shouldn’t we find out if it fits?” He asks softly, smiling at you as he shifts out of his seat to kneel down on the tile floor of your grandmother’s kitchen.

Somehow, you didn't expect him to make the thing so official. So formal. So...traditional. The gesture has your breath sticking in your throat and your chest aching, realizing with one unsteady beat of your heart how so many of your happiest memories have happened in this house. It feels only right that this moment should join them.

“I don’t know why, but I feel like she would want this to happen here.” Zach tells you with a grin before he says your full name. “I have been overwhelmed by you from the moment I saw you. I fell in love with you before I ever knew that you were my soulmate. And after finding that out?” He chuckles. “It has only made me wonder how I got so lucky.”

"I'm the lucky one." You're sure of that. Beyond a shadow of a doubt. But the way you both cling to each other's hand makes it clear that you could go back and forth on that question all night. Maybe that makes you even luckier.

He squeezes your hand and licks his lips. “Then I have a simple question for you.” He teases. “Will you marry me? I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you and showing you that love every day.”

"I would marry you right this second." It isn't a surprise. It doesn't need to be. All it needs to be is a beautiful promise, and that is exactly what he is offering you. "I have half a mind to hop in the rental car and make for the Soulmate Chapel in Windrixville."

“If you wanted to, I would.” Zach promises you, moving to slip the larger opal ring on your finger.

The ring fits perfectly, making it feel like the choice was meant to be, and you tug Zach up on his feet to share in a breathless kiss. "Why not?" You can't believe you're saying it, but just like every other important decision you've ever made with or about Zach — it feels undeniably right. "We already signed the prenup. I just won't change my name until after all the inheritance paperwork is finished being approved by the judge."

“Where’s your grandmother’s wedding dress?” Zach asks boldly, grinning at the idea of being impulsive and a little crazy. It’s not like other people don’t get married the day they find out they are soulmates. It’s why chapels like that exist.

"It's in the guest room closet." In amongst the other dresses and baubles and memories was the box with your grandmother's preserved wedding dress that had been diligently cared for over the decades. The fact that Zach is even contemplating agreeing to such a whirlwind, romantic idea is just a testament to the bond you share. "I bet..." Holding onto him, a watery smile spreads across your face like wildfire. "I bet some of grandpa's suits are up there, too. I know she kept a few."

“Do you think I would fit it?” It seems far fetched, but fitting. You both wearing the clothes of your grandparents as you jump into your future. One that she had a hand in pushing forward. She had encouraged you to take the cruise contract in the first place.

"I don't know." You have no sense of proportion for a man you never met, but you like the odds of trying. "Do you want to go find out?"

He looks at the ring that fits perfectly before looking up into your eyes. “Why don’t we?” He asks softly.

"Come on." Instantly, your hand is fully in his and you're sniffling back the happy tears with a grin. "There's only one way to know."

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

ItSotN: @greenwitchfromthewoods @copperhalfcent @ariavitiellos @spishsstuff @76bookworm76

[licorice-tea]

Young And Dumb.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: Strawhat reader, gender neutral reader, reader is flirty and bold, cursing, allusions to sex and a threesome, no actual sexual content!!!, pining, kissing 🤭, misunderstandings/ miscommunication, a little bit of arguing, hurt/comfort <3

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: kind of been in a writing slump these past few days, so i just wanted to write and post something, you know? it’s weird bc i have a ton of wips in my drafts, but none of them really felt finished, so i did this whole thing in maybe 2 hours? hopefully it’s enough to pull me out of my little funk so i can get back to posting more regularly! anyway, enjoy!

Law respects you. He respects your choices, your independence from him, even your crew that he doesn’t always like personally. But one thing he absolutely cannot stand is when you do things like this.

The first thing he hears upon walking up to the deck is giggling. Bothersome, but not too loud or unusual that it throws off his routine. Besides; he’s sure his crew must be glad to be above the waves for once, and happy to have the company of the Straw Hats as well. The two crews had wound up with their ships anchored next to each other in the middle of the sea, and agreed to stay there before their courses diverged once again.

He sees you talking to Penguin and Shachi- the source of said laughter. But, Law does a double take when you let out a shriek of laughter. Then he realizes just how closely the two of them are standing to you. You’re not even on the same crew as them, but you look real cozy with Penguin’s hand around your waist and Shachi’s on your shoulder. Of course, he knows your friendliness can border on flirtation (and desperately wants to be on the receiving end of that flirting right now instead of his crew members) but that logic does nothing to calm him.

Law’s perpetual frown turns into a full on scowl as he marches over to the trio you’ve formed. “Penguin! Shachi! Have you…” he loses his train of thought when you give him a quizzical expression, and realizes there is nothing that they haven’t already done. “Your chores. Below deck.”

“Sure have, captain!”

“Yes, captain!”

All three of you look at him expectantly, unsure of why he’s still standing before you. “Are you ok, Law?”

“Ok?” No he wasn’t fucking ok. How could he be when two of his closest friends were throwing themselves at you, and you were letting them? They didn’t even know how he felt for you- no one does- but still. This was just too much for him.

“I need to speak to you, y/n-ya.”

With regard for his serious tone and expression, you wriggle out from between your two friends and follow Law all the way to his office. When you get there and he finally shuts the door, you don’t sit.

Instead you approach him, “Is something wrong? You seemed really upset.”

He looks down at you with a frown. You can tell he’s contemplating his next words before answering, “…Everything is fine.”

“Oh? Ok, so… why are we here then?”

Law breathes deeply, and exhales in a huff. “I need to tell you something.”

“Is it… serious? You’re being kind of weird, Law.”

“I am not.”

“Hm, well, no; you are. But what’s up?”

“I-“ he stops himself and sighs again before continuing. “So dramatic,” you think to yourself. “You shouldn’t get so close to Penguin and Shachi.”

You blink a few times, shocked. He could either be confessing his overwhelming love for you (which you highly doubted, Law had never seemed to reciprocate your affections for him) or giving you some spiel about inappropriate relationships. “Excuse me?”

“They do this kind of thing all the time, y/n-ya; messing around with random women and men, and-“

“And what, Law? I’m an adult, for fucks sake, I don’t need anyone telling me what to do.”

“You don’t understand, they- they want something from you.”

“I know damn well you’re not lecturing me on my sex life right now, Trafalgar Law.”

His face gets hot just from the thought of it. “I am not! But you can’t-“

“Yes, Law, I can. I’m not going to, wasn’t even planning on it; all I did was flirt with them. But believe me when I say I can.”

He’s silent, with an expression akin to that of a bewildered fish. Then it morphs into more of a frown. “I-“

“Don’t even continue with that thought, because you’ve already managed to piss me off beyond belief. Just- just get out of my way.” You step around him and fling open the door to his office before storming off.

That evening, the two crews gather on the deck of the Thousand Sunny for a feast. You find an empty seat, and soon enough Penguin and Shachi place themselves on either side of you.

“Heyyyy y/n.” The first greets you with a sort of awkward, nervous cadence.

“Hey guys, sorry I left without saying bye earlier.”

“Oh it’s fine, you’re good…”

“We’re sorry too.”

This makes you quirk an eyebrow in confusion and look side to side at either of them. “Why would you be sorry?”

They shoot a quick glance at each other, but it’s very obvious because they have to look across you to do so.

“Did you know that, well… Law sort of…”

“He has feeling for you. Big time.”

You almost spit out your drink. “What? Oh, ok, real funny guys-“

“No, no we’re serious!”

“Yeah! You should hear the way he talks about you-“

“All good things, of course, it’d be hard not to- But anyway he was never going to tell you because he doesn’t think you’re interested, blah blah blah-“

“Which is why we decided to try and make him jealous!”

“…I’m so confused right now. No, not even confused just… surprised?”

“Don’t blame yourself, Captain’s hard to read sometimes.”

“Good thing we figured it out for you, right?” Shachi elbows your side, clearly pleased with himself.

“Uh huh...”

Penguin continues “Anyway, we thought it worked when he said he needed to talk to you earlier, but when you came back you seemed sort of upset.”

“Yeah, well he was kind of acting like a dick.”

He sighs, “Law means well, I swear. He’s just… he’s not the best with matters of the heart.”

“That’s ironic.”

Shachi leans over you to address his friend. “Not the best? C’mon man, he has zero experience.”

“Shh! We want y/n to feel for him, not pity him.”

You laugh, “Right, so… what should I do?”

“Do you like him back?” Such a childish way of saying it.. but you do. And you had, for a while, but you’d never acted on your feelings because he’d never seem to like you as anything other than a friend. Until earlier today, when his jealously led him to say some kind of rude things to you. It was no excuse, but it explained why he’d acted the way he did.

You smile softly and look down. “I do.”

“Then go talk to him!”

“Yeah, go talk to him y/n!”

The two men excitedly get you up out of your seat and (gently) push you toward where Law is leaning on the railing of the deck. You laugh and go along with it- if what they were saying is true, what could be the harm in being honest about your own feelings with him?

You walk briskly toward Law, but with purpose, And when you stop in front of him, he looks up from his cup like a deer in headlights.

He quietly greets you with a nod. “…Y/n-ya.”

“Law. Can we talk?”

He nods and follows you to the starboard side of the deck, far enough from where the dinner and light music is. You come to a stop and turn to face him.

“You know, I’ve been talking to Penguin and Shachi…”

Law deadpans, still annoyed about how they were all over you earlier. “Mhm.”

“And they told me something about you. I didn’t really believe it, at first, because you never… Well you never acted like you do, but-“

“Like I what?”

“Like you… have feelings for me?”

“Shit.” He was going to kill them after this. Or at the very least, make sure they had the worst of the chores on the Polar Tang for the foreseeable future. “They… They told you that?”

“Yes, but-“ Law turns and tries to walk off with his fists clenched, before you stop and grab one of his wrists. “I feel the same way, Law. If it’s true, of course.“

“It is.”

You smile. “If you were jealous earlier, you could’ve just said so. Then I wouldn’t have gotten angry with you.”

“You’re not interested in them?”

“No, we’re just friends… But I didn’t think you were interested in me, either, so I didn’t see the harm in flirting.”

Law shrugs, looking down at his shoes. You’ve never seen him so shy. “Well, I didn’t think you felt the same way, so I never, uh, confessed.”

“Well,” you take a step closer, and risk your chances by gently lifting his chin with one hand. “I do.”

Law’s eyes roam over your face, mouth gaping as he searches for his next words. He wants to say something suave and impressive, to take back control of the situation when you so clearly have him wrapped around your finger. However, he comes up with nothing, and decides to try something new instead. Maybe your boldness has simply inspired him to suddenly come up with this master plan, or maybe he just can’t think of anything else with you standing so close; but he kisses you.

It’s slow and hesitant for the first few seconds- you think he’s probably new to this by the way he lips press into yours forcefully and without much intention. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, guiding him to sink his lips into yours rather than have them press flat against each other. He follows suit, then pulls away for a quick breath before going right back for you. He sighs into the kiss this time, and your lips part ever so slightly. He takes this as opportunity try and go a little further- his tongue passes in the slit between your lips and you open them further to let him. What had started off as a small kiss quickly becomes a less than innocent make out session. Law is bold with it, too; nipping at your lips and causing you to gasp so that he can take you by surprise and kiss you that much more deeply (on more than one occasion.) You can both practically feel the tension built up over months of pining after each other dissipating.

At long last you pull away, for fear your mouth will go numb if you let him bite your lips one more time.

And Law asks, slightly panting; “How was that?”

You laugh, genuinely surprised that he’s concerned about his performance in what might’ve been was the best kiss of your life. “Perfect, Law. Just perfect.”