#GOD AND I NEED TO SPLIT CHAPTER FOUR | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

violentdelightsandviolentends · 10 months

Text

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight.

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

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dotster001 · 11 months

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Bad End

Previous Chapters: One Two Three Choose Another Ending

Grim straightened Riddle's tie, before giving a nod.

"Well that's as good as it's gonna get," he said with a sigh. "You could have at least tried to look presentable."

Riddle inhaled sharply, biting back the "off with your head" that was on the tip of his tongue.

"Oh well," Grim sighed, before turning back to the Ramshackle door. He stepped inside and immediately shrieked.

You shoved Trey off of you as fast as possible, shouting, "Grim, I thought you were having a sleepover with Ace!"

"What in Seven's Name are you doing with my henchhuman!" He shrieked.

"It's not what it looks like!" You cried.

"It looks like Baker boy is shoving his tongue down your throat like there's no tomorrow!"

"Oh, then it's exactly what it looks like," Trey said with a smirk, followed by a laugh when you elbowed him.

"I'm so confused! What in Seven's name is happening here?" Riddle all but screamed, his face a bright red.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Trey was faster.

"What's happening is Y/N and I have been dating for about a week."

"A week!" Both Grim and Riddle shouted.

You groaned, and grabbed one of the couch pillows to bury your face in.

"Yeah, it's true."

"Grim, why didn't you tell me?" Riddle hissed in his ear.

"Henchhuman! Why didn't you tell me?" Grim shouted.

"Because I knew you'd be upset. Every time I mention potentially dating someone, you freak out. And I get that it's cause you're not ready to share my attention, but I have needs too. Like the need to kiss the handsome vice housewarden of Heartslaybul right on the mouth," you said, before realizing the words that had come out of your mouth, and burying your face back in the pillow.

"I've actually asked Y/N out a couple of times," Trey grinned triumphantly at Riddle, who looked like he was about to blow a blood vessel.

"How did you not know about this, Grim?" Riddle said, meaning clear to three of the four people in the room.

"Oh that's easy," Trey said, pulling you into his lap, and caressing your hair posessively. "See we just waited for Grim to be in detention, or off with Ace and Deuce, and then we'd meet up."

"This is so much to process," Riddle muttered.

"Gah! Of all the wealthy bachelors in this school, you had to pick the poor baker? Have some class!" Grim shouted, leaping onto the couch, and attempting to extricate you from Trey's grip.

"Grim! It's not like we have money either, and that's not the point of-"

"It is the point, actually, because Grim has been holding auditions for the rich students to see who would be the best fiance to sell you off to," Riddle said, a grin beginning to split his face.

"What the fuck! We talked about this! I'm not fucking for sale, Grim!"

"But you could be if you put in a little more effort!"

"Oh my God!"

As the two of you began shouting back and forth at eachother, Trey and Riddle made subtle eye contact, before Trey said,

"I should go. I'll see you tomorrow."

He kissed your cheek as he passed you, but you made no notice as you and Grim continued fighting.

When the two boys stepped outside and safely shut the door behind them, they both took a collective sigh of relief.

"That was awkward-" Trey began, until he saw Riddle's grin, and felt a chill run down his spine.

"Off with your head, Traitor!"

The End

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #trey x reader #trey clover x reader #trey clover #twst trey

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recuira · 7 months

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after hours

after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction

for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four chapter five

chapter six | drunk. drool. darkness.

her pov;

I felt like an idiot. Like a fool.

When I came downstairs the following morning, with a pounding headache nearly blinding my vision, I spotted my mother collapsed on the couch rather than in her own bed. The kitchen was surprisingly clean, as well as the dining room table. She definitely didn't tidy up after that disaster of a night, so who did?

I walked past the stairs and into the kitchen, attempting to search for any kind of medicine to hopefully soothe the aching headache I had. I sorted through a kitchen cabinet before finding a small bottle of painkillers my mother was prescribed when her illness was first diagnosed. I placed two tablets in my mouth and dipped my head underneath the sink faucet, pouring a bit of water into my mouth to swallow the pills. Stepping back, I grabbed a pot from the stove, glaring at my sleeping mother.

I dropped it on the tiled floor.

In a split second, she shot up awake, groaning. "What the hell was that?!" She spat, grabbing her head while also covering her eyes.

"Good morning," I said as I forced a smile. I placed the pot back atop of the stove. "What happened last night?"

"Why the fuck should I know?" She cursed, laying back down.

"Where'd Buggy go?"

"Home?"

I frowned. I wasn't going to get any answers from her.

I ventured back upstairs into my bedroom where I could let my eyes settle in the cold and darkness. I closed the door behind me and approached my bed but before I climbed on it, I noticed a small green blur in the corner of my vision. Turning my head, I found the small turtle stuffed animal laying on the floor.

I treated my stuffed animals like they were living. To let them touch the floor rather than my own bed would be a sin.

Why was it on the floor?

Then it hit me.

Buggy threw it there.

I sat on my bed, holding the plushie close to my person. Last night, after dinner, I stormed up to my bedroom to be alone and to calm down due to the big fight my mother and I had. Then he came into my room to console me. Then-

"Oh my god."

I couldn't believe it. I practically threw myself onto him. Then he turned me down and after that, my mind drew a blank. I recalled vague bits here and there but the most clear occurrence was that of him leaving. Did I kick him out? Or did he leave willingly?

I touched my mouth with the stuffed animal. The feeling of his lips on mine was something I couldn't forget. For such a rough and rugged man, his lips and touch were so soft. I smiled to myself before falling onto the bed, my eyes drifting to a close.

Before I thought more about all of this, I needed to get rid of this headache.

-=-

I felt so stupid. Like a clown.

As I remembered more about the event, the more my self-esteem dropped. I never, in a thousand years, would have ever imagined myself getting drunk on red wine and then throwing myself onto a man with a red, clown nose. I frowned. His nose wasn't the issue. I liked him. I really did. He was kind and thoughtful for someone who used to be a bloodthirsty pirate. He went out of his way to please me which no one has ever done before.

And how do I thank him?

By making out with him and then kicking him out after he didn't reciprocate. I invite him over for dinner then throw him out.

This is why I hated alcohol.

It made stupid people do stupid things.

I was completely embarrassed with myself- so embarrassed, in fact, that I didn't reach out to Buggy for an entire month. How could I possibly be able to face himself after such an incident? Would I not mention it? Do I shake his hand and apologize and ask him to never bring it up again? Or do I kiss him again and see if my effort will mean something to him this time?

No, I'm an idiot. I ruined such a great friendship due to a few too many glasses of cheap red wine.

I blamed my mother for this entirely- and myself, of course. But if it weren't for her selfish and conniving personality, Buggy wouldn't have been invited for dinner. He and I would still be talking. I would see him everyday like I had been.

I vowed to my mother that as soon as I made enough money, I was moving out and cutting all ties with her. She simply laughed at me.

And so, for the past month, I kept my promise and sought out to look for jobs. Nothing dirty, of course.

I landed a waitress gig at a small run-down pub that hardly housed any customers other than drunken pirates and businessmen. I've only been here a few times before and it was the same pub I met Buggy at. Ever since that night, I haven't returned until today. The owner told me that the blue-haired piratehardly inhabited this bar which I was thankful for. I still needed to properly digest everything and when I was ready to confront him, I would. I just hoped it would be soon.

I was surprised to see that he didn't reach out either.

Maybe I scared him off.

As I cleaned off one of the tables, I tried to ignore the loud yells from behind me. Surprisingly, there was a huge flood of new patrons. My boss told me there was a soccer game and that's why everyone decided to eat and drink at the same place.

I didn't mind it too much. It meant more tips.

The rest of the night went by fast and just as we neared closing, I sat by myself in a corner booth, counting the change and money I made in just a few hours. One hundred and twenty berries. I smiled to myself, recounting to see if my math was correct.

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen-

The bell above the door jangled as someone walked inside. I kept my head low and proceeded to count before I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"We're not closed yet, Y/N. Go assist that customer, please." The man pointed at a booth. "Now."

I huffed and stood up, slipping the loose change into a pocket in my apron. I grabbed the notepad and a pen and started towards the booth.

With a closed-eye smile, I greeted the patron. "Hello, what can I get for you tonight?

"Y/N?"

I opened my eyes and there he sat. "Buggy," I whispered.

I nearly cringed.

His long blue hair was tied in a loose ponytail with the same striped bandanna wrapped around his scalp. His makeup was streaking down his sweaty face. The buttons of his striped vest were misaligned with the wrong slots. His blue-painted fingernails were chipped. And the worst of it, he wrank of liquor.

He was swaying in his seat, his arms resting across the table.

"H-Haven't-" hiccup! "-seen you in a while," He smirked. "You miss me?" His words slurred and his green eyes were nearly swollen shut. I frowned at this and took a seat beside him, nudging him to the other side of the booth. He giggled and his arm lifted before slinging over my shoulder.

"What's going on?" I whispered, hoping my boss wouldn't see me.

"What? Nothing!" He murmured.

"You're shitfaced. Why?"

"I dunno'. Got bored..." Buggy hummed and smiled up at me. His fingers began to mess with my hair. "Yer' working now?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Well, I wouldn't know! I haven't seen you in years..." He pouted.

"It's been a month."

"Whatever. Get me a beer, will ya?"

I laughed. "No! You're already too far gone. I'll get you a water." I pulled myself away from him and stood up, making my way behind the counter. Pouring him a glass of water, I watched as he proceeded to hiccup, playing into the drunkard stereotype all too well. Why was he like this? I've never seen this before. Why did he drink so much? As I approached him, he reached for me. I whacked his hand away and slid the cup toward him. This time, I sat across from him.

He glared at the drink before chugging it all, some water dripping down his stubbled chin. I crossed my arms and examined him. He was a complete and utter mess. It almost disgusted me to see him in this light. Someone I respected so much was now stooping to the same level as my mother.

"Buggs, what's happening here?"

"What?" He tilted his head. "Yer' supposed to be my waitress. You haven't taken my order yet," The pirate grumbled, reaching to grab at the paper menu. He squinted his eyes as he read it. "Get me a sandwich. With... uhm, oh! Meat, cheese, and lettuce." He met my gaze and smiled widely, exposing every single tooth.

"Not until you tell me what's going on," I demanded, pointing down at the table. "Is this some ploy to get back at me?"

"W-What? Back at you?" He snickered. "Yer' cute, kiddo."

"Don't call me that."

"Cute or kiddo?"

"Both."

"What would you rather me say?" He smirked and leaned forward, gesturing his hand for me to get closer. I did, also leaning in. "Your- hehe, your tits look amazing in that top?"

I gasped and pushed him back. "Fuck you!"

"What?! Which would you rather me call you?" He pursed his red-stained lips together.

"By my fucking name, you idiot."

"Okay! Y/N," He started, letting out a soft burp. "Where's my sandwich?"

"You'll get it once you start talking."

"I've been talking! I can't win with you." His eyes rolled. "Women."

I hit him atop of the head this time and he yelped, immediately shrinking down as his arms hovered over his head.

"You're the one who kicked me out! Why are you still acting so mad... I'd think you'd be happy to see me again, but- but, I was wrong..."

"I am happy to see you but-"

"You are? Really?" The look on the clown's face broke my heart. He was so surprised, so shocked to find out that I missed his company. “I-I’m glad.” His head dropped for a moment and he looked down at his lap. “I’ve been, uh, g-going through a lot.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it.” He let out a loud hiccup then clutched his throat. “That one hurt.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

His broad shoulders shrugged back. “Maybe I will. I just need something- uh, something to eat.”

Getting something in his stomach might help him sober up fast but my mom always told me that the only way to sober up was through time. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Now?”

“Yes, right now.”

I got up from the table and began to walk toward the kitchen but a floating hand grabbed at my wrist. It gave my arm a tight tug before I looked back at Buggy. I raised an eyebrow but he just gave me a toothy grin then let go. Venturing into the kitchen, I let the chef know that it was the last meal of the night. He was reluctant because it meant he needed to put out his cigarette but he gave me a firm nod and told me to wait a couple of minutes. I agreed with him then went to peek on the blue-haired clown. He rested his head on his hands, his eyes closed. His long eyelashes casted a dim shadow over his eyelids. His lips parted, a small drop of drool running down his chin. Was he asleep?

Before I could admire him any further, the chef tapped on my shoulder and handed me the tray of food. A sandwich sat upon the plate with potato salad to the right of it. I thanked him and brought the meal to Buggy. I set it in front of him then took a seat.

“Buggy?” I nudged his shoulder. “Your food is here.”

“I’m not hungry.”

What? “What? You just said you were.”

“I lied. I want to go home.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“Because the other bar kicked me out ‘cause I had too much to drink,” He mumbled into his arm. “I wanted to drink more but then I- I saw you. So I wanted to stop.”

“You stopped drinking because of me?”

“I was drinking because of you.”

I furrowed my eyebrows together. What was he babbling about now? Before I could protest, he reached forward, grabbing half of the sandwich with a severed hand. He raised his head and took a bite. He chewed for a few seconds then swallowed. He ate the half then slid me the plate. So much for not being hungry.

I smiled to myself and started to eat, taking the last sip of the glass of water I had brought to him. I finished eating then wiped my mouth with a napkin.

Taking a few bills out of my pocket, I placed it on the table to cover the meal.

But then it hit me.

I could pay him back.

“Buggy, I have great news,” I exclaimed with a wide grin and pulled the loose change out of the apron pocket, the various coins rocking against the table before falling flat. The pirate sat up, a yawn escaping his mouth.

“What?”

“I can pay you back now! I have more than enough!”

“I don’t want you to,” He whispered, sliding it toward me. “I have more than enough. You’re the one who needs it, not me.”

“But you said I could pay you back. That was our deal.”

“Y/N-“

“Take the money, Buggy. Please.”

His green eyes met mine for a split second before he reluctantly gave in. He swiped the money toward him and folded the bills before hiding them away in his pocket. I smiled at him, taking the change he didn’t want to keep.

I looked at him, staying quiet. Was he already sobering up? He was talking normally now; he was hardly slurring his speech. “Can I walk you home?”

He cocked a grin. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Please?”

“Yeah, sure. Alright.”

I clocked out of work and helped Buggy out of his seat. On the walk back to his abode, Buggy leaned against me. My arm wrapped around his shoulders as I guided him down the street. He stumbled with each step and if it weren't for me, I was sure he would've fallen. The man relied on me heavily.

The front door opened with a loud bang. A wave of cold air brushed over me and I shivered. The pirate buried his face into my neck. A red blush washed over my face before I helped him onto his bed. He giggled to himself and extended his foot. I raised an eyebrow.

"Take my shoes off, please." He whispered, his body falling back to lay flat on the bed with his leg still straight out.

I knelt down and slipped each of his boots off. I set them to the left of the nightstand. Standing up, I closed the front door and dropped my backpack beside it. I approached the man and took a seat upon the edge of the bed, turning to look down at him. His eyes were closed. "Buggy, I'm gonna get going now. We can talk tomorrow, okay? When you're sober," I spoke, my voice barely above a whisper. “Do you need anything before I go?” I was met with silence. I let out a small huff, my hand resting on his leg. I caressed it. I then pulled my hand away but before I could stand up, his hand took my wrist and he gripped it, tightly. I looked back at him. He was now sitting upward.

"Please, no. Please stay the night," He begged, lunging forward. His head fell into my lap and his arms wrapped around my waist. "Don't leave again. Please."

I froze. My eyes grew wide, my arms levitating above the man.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I nodded my head even though he couldn't see me. "Okay, okay." I dropped my hands to rest on his back, tenderly stroking the fabric of his vest. He let out a satisfied hum and remained completely silent. While it wasn't the most comfortable position, I stayed still because it was cozy for him.

I've never seen him in this mood before. I thought alcohol would make him an angry man, maybe rather devious or feisty, but no. It made him sad. It made him vulnerable. Alcohol took his rough exterior and melted it away, revealing a soft side I've never seen before.

His face nuzzled into my thigh.

I listened to his light breathing and brought my hands up to run through his thick blue hair. I was surprised his hair was so long. It was nice, though. It was silky smooth as well.

"Y/N," Buggy whispered into my leg.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for disappointing you."

A frown stayed on my face. I felt my eyes and nose sting. "What?"

"I've done nothing but trouble you. I'm sorry. I didn't realize I would be this much of a burden in your life. I thought I could help but-"

"What are you going on about?"

His head raised and revealed a soaking wet face. A stream of tears ran down his face, his makeup smearing even more than before. I gasped. He sniffled and grimaced. "I look so stupid, don't I?"

"You don't, Buggers. I'm just trying to figure out why you're crying," I whispered, raising my head to cup his cheek. He leaned into my palm and gave me a small, sincere smile. This was hurting my heart.

"We haven't spoken in a month."

"I know, I know. It's my fault, I-"

"Did you just not want to see me anymore?"

I instantly shook my head. "No, no, no. That's not it at all." I wiped a few tears away with my thumb.

"I thought I fucked up so badly," He started, taking a deep breath. "When you came onto me like that, I felt time stop. Literally nothing else mattered to me in that moment other than you. I didn't even fucking care if my heart stopped beating. If being with you was my last moment alive, I'd die a happy man." I sucked in my lower lip, my eyes burning more. "But it felt wrong. You were drunk, p-probably for the first time in your life. I didn't want to take advantage of that. You weren't thinking straight at all. I-I didn't want you to-to regret it the next morning."

"Buggy-"

"You have no idea- no fucking idea how badly I've wanted that. Since the very moment I've laid my eyes on you, I realized there was nothing more I could ever want. You're perfect. A literal angel." I wanted to tell him he was wrong but he continued to speak, making my heart both ache and jump. "My life was so dark before you. I was blinded by greed and-and hatred. I was a cruel man. But seeing you smile, I forget what for, but your smile erupted something in me. I didn't care anymore. I didn't care about anything else in life other than you. I did some fucked up shit and I feel like you have a right to know." He swallowed then turned his head, facing away from me.

"What do you mean?" Those words scared me.

"Look in the nightstand. There's a book, I think it's the second one. Open it and see for yourself." He sat up and pulled away from me, wiping his nose and eyes. "No more lies or secrets. I want to be completely open and honest with you about everything. If our friendship continues, then I want honesty. You deserve that."

"You're scaring me, Buggy," I murmured and leaned forward, reaching for the drawer. I yanked it open and sorted through the stack of novels. I grabbed the second one and set it in my lap. "Can I just say-"

"No, please look. I need your opinion on me after you see this."

I was horrified.

What was so revolting in this book that he felt the need to hide?

I looked at him, frowning, before dropping my head. I admired the cover of the novel before peeling it open. My eyes widened.

"Read it out loud," The man instructed as he toyed with his bottom lip. He stared at me, not even seeming to blink.

My thumb dragged over the paper to smooth out the crumpled words. “She has the kindest smile. Her generosity is beyond that of anyone I know. She makes me believe in the good of humanity again." I repeated as I read the sentences scattered on the small note of paper. I smiled to myself. "Did you write-"

"Read the next one."

"I've never wanted something so badly in my life. To say I yearned for her would be a complete understatement. I longed for her, I yearned, I desired- In simple terms, I wanted her. I mean, how could I not? She was an angel. She was a siren. I would purposely listen to her enchanting song, allowing my boat to crash, just if it meant I could be graced by her presence, by her beauty. I was obsessed with her. If she found out my thoughts, my desires, she would never let herself be seen with me. I wouldn't blame her, though. I was obsessive. It was unhealthy, I knew that. But I didn't care. I wouldn't say I loved her because I didn't know what that felt like. I've never experienced it. But perhaps I did love her. I didn't know, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that she was the only treasure I wanted. Not the One Piece, no. Not even that could match up to her alluring person. If I had to travel every sea in order to find her, battle every sea snake in order to touch her, I would. I would in a heartbeat." I felt my lower lip quiver as salty tears began to cloud my vision. I used my free hand to rub my eyes before I continued. "A-And she caused me to see the world in color. Everything was so bland and dry but the second I saw her, I could see the blue in the sky and the pink petals of cherry blossoms. I could see the light at the end of a tunnel. If I was drowning, I know she would be able to rescue me just from her words of encouragement."

"Do you get it now?" He asked, placing his hand on my knee.

"You like me?" I asked, hesitant.

"What? Really?" He said with a weak laugh. "Of course I do. But I've known you for so long, Y/N. Much longer than you knowing me. I've followed you before, s-stalked you."

I gasped. Oh. I didn't get that from the writings. "You did?"

"Yeah, I did. I've been scheming for months. Trying to figure out how to talk to you o-or get you to say hello to me. Then at the bar-"

"I said hello to you. Were you there because of me?"

"Yeah, it wasn't mere coincidence."

"Woah," I said in awe, my facial expression or tone of voice hiding how I was truly feeling. "That's- wow."

"If you want to leave, I understand. It's a lot, I know. But I promise I've never properly stalk- well, I-I don't know. I just saw you and I knew I needed to know you. I needed you in my life."

"When did you first see me?"

"A fish market. You were giving a kitten some of the scraps."

"I don't even remember that," I admitted with a light chuckle.

"I'm not a creeper pervert or anything, I swear. I've-"

"Buggy, stop panicking. I'm flattered, if anything. I don't hate you. I don't think differently of you either."

He leaned into me, his red nose touching the tip of my own. He wore a wide smile on his face. "Really?" I nodded my head and rested my hand atop of his.

"It's a lot to take in but I'm not creeped out. I just- I had no idea."

"There's a reason I still have a bounty,” He remarked.

I laughed softly. "Very true."

"Do you understand why I was so worried? I thought all of that progress was wasted. I did want to, I really did. God, I wanted to, but-" The man continued to ramble on before I pressed my palm to his red-painted mouth. He wiggled his eyebrows.

"I'm glad you didn't stay. Genuinely, I would have regretted it. Not because of you, but because I would want to remember a moment like that. I never want to drink again so I can be fully aware of everything we do together," I said as I removed my hand. "I didn't contact you because I was embarrassed with myself. I felt like an idiot. I thought I completely ruined everything. I also wanted to properly deal with my emotions. I wanted to figure out what I felt."

"And what do you feel?"

"The same as you do, though maybe not as extreme."

The pirate cracked a cheeky grin and nudged me.

"But I don't want to rush anything, please. If we do decide to do anything," I cleared my throat. "I want to take things slow. I moved too fast that night and look what happened."

"No, no, yeah. I feel the same way. No rush."

"Do we have a deal?" I extended my hand.

"A deal for what?"

"To do this but take things slow."

"To do what?"

"Buggy, you know what I mean."

"I want to hear you say it."

I huffed and pulled my hand back before he quickly grabbed it and gave it a firm shake. "We can go further with our relationship. How is that?" I smiled.

"Hmm, what do you mean? I'm a little slow, you'll need to spell it-" I kissed him for a split second then pulled back. The expression on his face was priceless. "That's pretty self-explanatory,” He hummed, grinning.

"Good."

"Can I do it again, though?" His hand reached to cup my chin.

"Once," I whispered.

Buggy closed the gap, tilting his head to be able to kiss me properly. It was short but sweet. When he pulled away, he fell against me, his forehead resting on my shoulder. My arms enwrapped his figure and I pulled him close. "Are you tired?" I asked, playing with his ponytail.

"Mhm," He responded, a soft yawn parting from his lips. "You're still staying the night, right?"

"Yeah, I am."

The blue-haired man pulled away from me and swept his legs over the side of the bed "I'll sleep on the floor, I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

I grabbed his arm. "Nonsense, it's okay. I get the left side, though."

Buggy grinned, nodding his head. "Yes, ma'am."

I peeled my shoes off, setting them next to his as he began to unfold the sheets. He pulled the blankets back and climbed underneath them. I crawled beside, pushing my legs under the thin blankets. Turning to face Buggy, I tucked my arm under the pillow.

"I'm sorry for being like this, by the way. For being drunk."

"It's okay, just try to stop. If it's okay."

"It is," He whispered while stretching his arm out, slyly letting it sling over my waist. I smirked.

"You were kind of funny, though."

"How so?"

"Slurring your words, repeating yourself, tripping everywhere."

"What can I say? They don't call me a clown for nothing."

"I think the nose and makeup gave you that reputation."

"Nose?" He cocked an eyebrow upward.

"D-Did I say nose? I meant, uh, your hair!"

"Mhm, sure." Buggy tugged me toward him, my face coming into contact with his chest. He let out a groan as he made himself comfortable. "I hope this isn't moving too fast. I'm cold."

"No, this is perfect," I replied with a sheepish smile.

My eyes closed and I shrugged my shoulders back while exhaling a sigh. I was cold but the warmth of his body soothed my goosebumps. I rested my forehead against his abdomen and felt myself beginning to drift off. His chin plopped upon my head and his hand combed through my hair.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" He whispered, his voice raspy as exhaustion took over.

"We'll figure that out when tomorrow arrives. For now, I need sleep."

"Do you work tomorrow?"

I shook my head, whispering a simple 'no'.

"Sorry, I'll let you sleep."

I smirked to myself and tucked myself closer into him.

"Sweet dreams, Y/N," He mumbled as he kissed atop my head.

With those words and the sound of his heartbeat and breathing, I found myself falling asleep. I ignored the stench of alcohol coming from his person and focused on everything else I enjoyed about him.

In one last resort to get comfortable, I turned over, pressing my back against his front. My legs entangled with his and his arm slipped underneath my own. He held my hand.

The last thing I remember was him placing a kiss on the back of my head and then I fell unconscious.

#buggy x reader #buggy smut #buggy #x reader #op buggy #one piece live action #captain buggy #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy the genius jester #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy opla

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 5 months

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Northern attitude

Previous chapter

a/n I welcome you to the second part for more Sugar and Ghost. Did I have a right to form attachment to these two in two chapters? No. But here I am. Enjoy.

summary: mission gone bad, feels a little like enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort sort of goodness.

warnings: blood, wounds, needles, death, hospitals, IV's, vomiting, trauma... I think that's all...

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"Keep the chest compressions going", the female voice filled the space that now seemed as buzzing as the actual hospital room. Not that any of them truly had been in the midst of it all. But army hospitals, especially while on the move, could and did get chaotic at times. "You'll need another shot of adrenaline", a calm and collected tone instructed. Gaz looked into Soap's eyes, who has been ramming at your heart for some time now. The two males nodded at one another. "Coming in 3 2 1", Gaz called out as they switched for only a heartbeat or two. Soap's hand left your chest, while Gaz aimed the needle right toward your left shoulder.

Simon felt as if he was in a daze. In one of his nightmares, maybe. Yeah, maybe that's what it was. One of his nightmares where he was aware that he was in his mind traps. Yet he didn't recall what had happened after he started shaking your body. Who pulled you out of his arms? Who pushed him to the side?

"Go back to stimulating the heart, Johnny. Hum, while you're at it", Ghost knew that voice now that his brain had granted him a moment of clarity. Eleanor Price's wife was a medic and a woman not ready to give up on her adoptive daughter. Desperate and ready to do anything. Make the four basic medical knowledge-baring males do everything they can so her baby girl will come back home. Come home, but not in a casket. Simon had no clue who even dialed her number. The phone was used for emergencies only. They were strictly advised not to use it until it was a life-or-death situation. The call had to be directed straight to the base. Eleanor wasn't at the base. But somehow, that made Simon calmer. He was happier that it was her and not some careless idiot in charge.

"You need to start the drip", another desperate order filled the space. "I can't, El,", Price said, running a hand through his face in frustration. "John, for fuck sake, you've done it before. Put it in her hand, the palm; don't go full vein, but do it damit", that was the first time Simon caught onto her voice, quivering. For a split second, her cool doctor mask had slipped, making Price clench his jaw so tight that his voice was barely a groan. "Eleanor", he breathed. "Keep humming, Soap," she barked at the man now responsible for pumping your heart, ignoring her husband. And Soap did. His humming grew louder. I got a pocket—a pocket full of sunshine echoing from the walls, accompanied by his thick Scottish accent—now that he too was under lots of stress.

Gaz ran back into the main room with the pouch full of liquid. "Got it", he said breathlessly. "Good, you see that there are two different colored liquids?", Gaz nodded too overstimulated to realize that Eleanor could not see him. "There is", Price said for him. "Good, bend it. It needs to mix, then start the drip, or so help me, God, I will never forgive you, John".

Maybe not a nightmare. Maybe a bad movie. One Ghost hoped he would forget eventually. He just sat there. While everything buzzed around him. For the very first time, he felt helpless. That was a lie. He had only felt helpless that night. The night when all of the people he loved got slaughtered. The night he was forced to lock the last bits of his humanity away. To promise himself that no one would ever get close to him. He would not make friends. He would never fall in love. But here he was. Your blood was still all over him. Simon's hands were tinted. Permanently tinted. It felt almost like an out-of-body experience. He knew this was happening, but a part of him kept on screaming that this was not real and couldn't be. That fate wouldn't be so cruel. Yes, Ghost wasn't a good man, but selfishly, he was sure that after all that he had been through, his debts had to be paid off by now.

Ghost didn't know why, but his brain took him back to the base. The room you two shared. Did he hate it at first? Yes. But you brought peace. You brought life. His room was bland and colorless. Now, with your posters and books, plants, and fucking throw blankets, it felt like living there was intensional. Like you, and only you had to return there. And that was important to Simon. He cared about it. Cared about you even if his snarling demeanor wouldn't let it show.

There were nights when he would find you passed out with your book in your hands. The hardcover digging into your neck. It was not enough to hurt, but it sure had to be uncomfortable. Simon had stood there for a solid ten minutes, the first time it had happened, just watching your slumbering frame. He turned around and went about his nightly routine. He had gone and laid down in his bed. But only a handful of moments later, he was out, crossing the white line. He had gently pulled the book from your skin, using your pen to mark the page you were on. Pulling the blanket over your shoulders because the base got rather cold at night. He told himself that he couldn't allow a soldier on his team to get sick because manpower was crucial, but deep down, he knew that any other lad could be freezing his balls off for all he cared. It was you. You were the main factor in this equation. There was something even back then that didn't sit well with him when it came to you not being well.

"It's bleeding, Eleanor", John's desperate voice filled Ghost's mind, and it was like his systems had been restarted. His eyes darted toward the table. Onto John's slumped shoulders as he fidgeted with the needle. Simon jumped up. He rounded the table to push John's hand off as he reached for the tape, repositioning the very tip of the needle before securing it in place. "You need to keep it stable", Eleanor's voice rang out. "Simon just did it", John breathed out. The room stilled for a moment. They were running out of things they could do to keep you alive. To keep you with them. Ghost held onto your hand. He hoped that everyone would take it as just him making sure that your skin wasn't puffing up, indicating that the incision was done incorrectly. And none of the men, sweaty and mentally exhausted, would have said anything. But Eleanor did.

"Simon, you're okay, sweetheart?", It was so soft. Too soft. She should be yelling. Simon was responsible for what had happened here. Maybe even more, because he should have ripped all the doors that separated him from you. Should not have followed everyone into the safe house. "She will fight; you know it; you stay strong for her. She needs you", Ghost bit onto his cheeks, feeling the taste of iron filling his mouth. He had met Eleanor a couple of times. The woman was an angel. How John had landed her was beyond him, but she was exactly what you had been for the team. A breath of fresh air. Some days when everyone was off duty, she would ring up everyone, inviting them for a barbecue at her and Price's shared home. "Positive", Ghost breathed out, yanking the wall of steel back up. He couldn't let himself feel it. Not here. Not now.

"Her chest", Soap's two words were enough to shift the focus back to the table. His big eyes looked between the rest of his team and the women on the living room table. "Soap", Eleanor's voice carried both worry and hope. "It's moving, she's...", Johnny's voice died down, only to be overshadowed by Eleanor's once more, "Count her pulse for me; tell me if it's steady enough". No one breathed for a moment, as if afraid to chase it away. As if they inhaled too much oxygen themselves, there would not be enough for you. A minute passed. Two. Three.

"Yeah", Johnny breathed, "It's steady. Weak but... but...", a sob slipped past his lips, followed by a cry from Eleanor. Gaz sank to his knees, his chest heavy, as he tried to catch his breath. John moved past them all, rushing towards the side door. But the distance between him and the room wasn't big enough for the rest of them to not hear him heaving. "Fucking hell, Bonnie, you just took ten years of my life", Soap carefully ran his hand over your leg, his head falling back as the quiet tears continued to flow. "Keep a watch on her for me, boys", Eleanor sniffled from the other side. Simon leaned over. His face pressed into your side as he tried to keep his tears at bay. Not even for a moment letting go of your hand.

That was three weeks ago. They had managed to keep you alive for two days in that house. Two days. Finally, transportation from the base was provided to get all of them out of there. The doctors had told them straight to the face that what they had been doing was God's work. They were the reason you were still breathing. But even under the unfaltering gaze of the base doctors, Ghost still couldn't shake the feeling of you slipping away.

Simon was down in the medical wing every day. Some days, he stood for hours in the corner of the room. Some days, he pulled himself a chair and sat by your side. It was the nights that were the hardest, though. Because now all Ghost saw was you. All he felt was a lack of your presence. If he did manage to slip into a restless sleep, he would be up in no time. Sweaty and panting. He would reach for his hoodie as he moved through the quiet hallways to get to you.

"Debrief starts at five", Soap's head popped into the hospital room. Making Ghost stutter on the last words that he was reading as he slowly lowered one of your books to his lap. Most of his mornings looked the same. Quick shower. Breakfast if he was up for it. Your hospital room. Training. Back to your hospital room. Days when he had to be in meetings or debriefs were the ones he hated the most. That meant he had to be away from you for longer than he was willing. "Copy", he said sternly, eager to at least finish the page he was on. And even more so, hoping that Soap would go away. Simon had nothing against the guy. Out of everyone, he liked Johnny the most. The two had a similar sense of humor, and working together never felt like a never-ending nightmare. Just the Scot talked a lot. At times, it was fun, and Simon's ever-running brain benefited from it. But there were times, like now, when he wished that the man would get the message and go his own way. "Ain't my place to say this, but...", the door cracked open a bit more, "I'm sure that she loves that you're here", Simon was so glad that his back was turned to Soap because he was sure that he would be able to see his face falter. Fingers grinning at the book just a bit tighter. "Copy, Soap, you can go", Ghost's tone was more than unamused. He didn't want to break in front of any of them. The safe house had already been a dead giveaway of how Simon felt when it came to you. And he didn't want anyone to know anything else. "And she...", Soap started once more, but Ghost just lifted his hand up, making all sounds die down. "Copy", Simon said thickly through his teeth. He knew that it was selfish to push everyone away like that. You two were also friends. Close ones at that. Simon knew that Soap loved you. He had a front-row ticket to watch that after the mission went south. But he just couldn't. Couldn't do it now. When the door quietly kicked shut, Simon let out a sigh, his eyes darting towards the clock on the wall. He had to go, even if he didn't want to.

"I'll be back", he muttered softly, placing the book on the little table by your bed. "Will finish reading that book for you later", Ghost reached his hand out, softly running his fingers over your forehead, lingering touches stretching out for longer than they should. "You sleep well, Sugar", he breathed out, leaning in to place a kiss on the side of your head and stilling right beside you as he let himself listen to the sound of your breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. And he was pulling away, running a hand through his face before he walked out of the room.

Ghost barely said a word in the debrief. When Kate asked for his input, the man shrugged his shoulders and said, "You read my report; you know my thoughts". Was the upper management getting fed up with him at this point? Most definitely. Yet no one managed to put the lack of everyone's involvement against them. Most of the base had been rather quiet when they wheeled you through the corridors, almost lifeless. And yes, the key thing was not to get emotionally attached. Teammates came and went, but everyone knew just as well how tight everyone in this group was. Or came to realize that with the four men following the doctors in one quick stride.

"Ghost", Price's voice yanked Simon back to the meeting room. An almost empty meeting room at that. "A word alone in my office", the captain said, only waiting for a head nod before walking away. Simon followed suit. He knew there was no other option. "Eleanor said you didn't call her back", John mused, reaching for the lighter as he puffed out smoke. Ghost's face stayed blank as he muttered, "I didn't see the call". That was a lie. He did. And there was more than one. Simon just couldn't pick up. The same way he couldn't watch the way Price's wife had sobbed in her husband's chest when they had just returned. The guilt was too much. The sight of her sobbing only made Simon think that it was over. An hour. Maybe two. And your body will be in the bag. Stored away in the cold room.

"Simon", John snapped his hand in front of Ghost's eyes, making the male blink a couple of times. "Is that all, sir?", his voice was grim. Even Simon was struggling to recognize himself. John frowned, "Don't you sir me, boy", a warning finger was jabbed into Simon's chest. A moment of silence. A deep exhale. "Her vitals are getting better. She will pull through", Price said softly, clapping Ghost's shoulders, but the man simply shook his head and said, "You don't know that". And it's like that's all Price needed to realize where the stem of all of this denial was rooted. "I called the shots there. It's on me, not you", the captain said firmly, that same warning finger now pointing directly at his chest. Neither of them said anything else afterward. They just stood there. Eyes burning into each other.

Price's eyes narrowed for a moment before he muttered, "Do you like her? My, Sug, do you like her?", the question threw Simon off the hilt. He didn't expect it here. Now. It wasn't supposed to be discussed here. Like that. And my Sug... Fucking hell. It was his captain's daughter Simon was falling for. Biological or not, she was still a daughter. And for the first time, did he realize how much shit this could bring you both? Maybe it was one-sided even. But the way you held onto him. Your touch. Simon had never been touched so tenderly in his life. And what's more, for the very first time, he didn't want to pull away. "Because if you play...", Price's tone shifted completely as he spoke his words, and Ghost cut him off quickly, "Positive. I do... I like her". John simply nodded at his words, making Simom mimic his movements. The older male scratched his chin before waving Simon away, and he didn't waste a minute before turning away. He'll deal with the potential consequences later on.

Simon was almost out the door when a voice stopped him. "Simon", Price called out once more, making the soldier turn back, "I expect you to mow my lawn in the summer". A strange, warm sensation filled Simon's chest as he looked at the man in front of him, smiling as he puffed out another cloud of smoke. Ghost lets himself linger for a heartbeat more before he closes the door, heading towards the medical wing once more.

"I also overwatered your succulent", Simon said quietly as he looked out of the window in your room. The rest of the team had slowly turned the little, awfully sterol-looking room into a somewhat comfortable place. Or at least a place that screamed less about the inevitable outcome they all feared the most. A plush blanket. Some of your books. A night lamp in the shape of a duck. That was a gift from Soap. Was it slightly questionable? Yes. But everyone dealt with this in their own way, so if bringing you a light-up duck made Soap happy in some way, so will it be.

"I bought you a new one, but... still felt like you should know", Simon continued. He was doing this a lot. Way too much. Maybe? Ghost wasn't sure what was normal or not at this stage. Yet he couldn't help but feel that you would be sitting there with an eyebrow lifted at the number of words he was sharing. One thing everyone knew was that Ghost didn't speak unless it was necessary. Some called it arrogance. Others said that that was just his cold demeanor. The truth was, no one truly stopped to listen or cared for Simon for most of his life. So he got used to it. But talking to you, at least now, made him feel lighter. Besides the reading he did here, Simon also went over meetings with you. A part of him didn't want you to feel left out. Not that your unconscious body cared, but... if you could hear him. He wanted you to feel involved. Then there were an endless amount of stories about how and who had pissed him off that day.

"I...", Ghost's voice dies down as he turns back to face you. You looked like a doll laid neatly on the sheets. They have moved the IV out today. Nothing more but a heart monitor left running. Eleanor had no doubt been here while he was in the debrief because your hair had been brushed. Simon let out a sigh as he pulled a chair for himself, quickly shrugging off his gloves.

"You know, you caught my attention the moment I saw you", his hand hovered above yours for a moment. He didn't trust himself to touch you. What if he harmed you in some way? What if he triggered a negative reaction? "Fucking hell, did you keep us on your toes", Ghost shook his head, "I took it for granted. I'd do anything to see you striding past the main entrance once again". Simon let his head fall over your stomach. Oddly enough, that was the only time that his head seemed to work these days. Taking a deep breath, Simon let the feeling of your body slowly ground him. You're here. With him. He can hear your heart beating. Your body is no longer cold. You even have some of your color back. He can...

A sudden rustling of the sheets makes every single muscle in Simon's body seize. For a moment, he can't even hear his own heart as he stays as still as he can. One heartbeat. Another. Nothing. Devastation rushes through him. He had gotten so sensitive to the sounds in this room. A gentle hand caresses his scalp, and Simon jerks away.

Blinking rapidly, only to find your half-hooded eyes open. Looking right back at him. "No", Simon muttered, fully convinced that his lack of sleep had finally gotten the best of him. He doesn't move away, but he digs the back of his palm into his eyes. "Simon...", and it's barely a whisper. So weak still, but it's there, and... Simon's shoulders quiver. There's no sound. Not a single hick-up, but you know.

Every single part of your body feels as if it's on fire. The room is dim, but gods, it's still too bright for your sensitive eyes. Yet you can't take your eyes away from the man drowning in his own emotions right next to you. You carefully reach out for him, muscles soar from the lack of movement. Brushing your fingers through his hair. Scratching his scalp. You have no idea how long you've been out, but you've heard him talking. Soothing the anxiety of being trapped in nothing but darkness.

"Si", You breathe out once more, trying to tug at his wrist softly. Wanting nothing more than to see his eyes once again. Simon gives in instantly, the tears soaking his mask. You try to wipe some of them away, but his fingers wrap around your frail wrist. For a second, you are convinced that he will push you away, but he does quite the opposite. With both of his palms, Simon presses your hand into his cheek. Leaning into your touch.

"You died... I held you," he says through heavy breaths, pulling at your heart, "You... the blood". You shake your head slowly. "Look at me", you say softly, coughing slightly. At the feeling of your dry throat, Simon is out of the chair, lifting the water jug to pour you a glass before carefully cradling your head as he helps you take a couple of sips. That's enough to chase some of the big emotions away. Enough to give time for Ghost to pull the iron mask back on, but his eyes still glisten.

"I'm here, aren't I?", you whispered, "That pink rug was too appealing to give up", you joke slightly, and it's enough to make Ghost let out somewhat of a chuckle. "You don't have to die to buy a rug for our room", Simon says, head turning to look at the monitor as if waiting to see something that would still prove to him that this wasn't happening. "You look like shit, LT. Losing sleep over a girl doesn't look good on you", you mutter, and Simon lets out a dry huff. "Because I'm a decent bloke, I won't comment on how you look", you let out a gasp in return, and that nearly sent him flying off his chair because the man is on such high alert that anything rings danger bells in his head now. "I'm okay, just trying to be dramatic with you", you say, squeezing his hand softly, trying to get him to calm down once more. Silence falls. Not an uncomfortable one. One that fully captures the shared amount of words running through both of your minds.

"I heard you, you know? Kind of pissed that you think that Jack deserved to get his heart broken," Simon snorts, running his fingers through his hair. His shoulders droop. All of the adrenaline that's been keeping him upright is finally wearing off. Leaving him feeling heavy and weak. "Should I get the others? Price would...", Ghost breathed, turning to get up, but you grabbed onto his hand quickly. "I just want you right now", you muttered straight away, realizing how dumb and desperate that sounded, "If you don't mind".

Simon scoffed, "Sugar, I sat here for three weeks begging for all the holy things that you would pull through", You bit your lip at his words. You knew that he did. You felt him. Heard him. Smelled him. He had been your lifeline all this time. "If I could, I would pull rank to get myself off duty so I could sit here till you fully recover", Ghost says, rolling his eyes, now doubtful at everyone who has been up his ass for not attending every single meeting. You smile at him weakly, feeling the little bits of your energy slowly giving out. Yet you still muster what's left of it to move your head up so you could run your fingers beneath Simon's eyes, where the darkest tired bags screamed about the lack of sleep he was getting.

"Get in bed," You tap the side next to you softly. You have no idea how you both will fit here, but you can't watch him practically fall asleep by your side. He had already spent way too many nights in that tiny plastic chair. "Shouldn't we at least go on a date first?", Simon jokes, making your cheeks grow crimson, and you're convinced that they are a dead giveaway of how you are feeling. "Oh, fuck you...", you huff, trying to frown, but the smile that tugged at your lips was too strong. "Lay with me, so you could sleep. So we both could sleep", you say once more, not letting go of his hand. With the size of this man, the bed will get crampy. But you didn't care. You needed to feel him close. To just know that he was with you. Fully. As if reading your mind, Simon got up, climbing into the bed from your good side. Making sure your uninjured shoulder was pressed against him.

"Is this okay?", he said after a moment of you two moving around to find a comfortable position for the two of you. "You can wrap your hands around me; you don't have to lay there like a log", you chuckled, tugging at his sleeve and urging him to cling onto you the way you were clinging to him. Ghost chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss your head. Your hand instantly moves up to cradle the side of his masked face. The feeling of the soft material soothing to your senses. "I fucking missed you", Ghost breathed after a moment of silence. Fingers running up and down your back. You slowly peeled your eyes open, fighting the tiredness just for a heartbeat longer. Meeting his soft eyes as looked down at you. "I missed you too, Simon. Been missing you since the moment I saw you", you smiled softly, turning to press a loving kiss on his chest, right over his heart, before you lay your head back, listening to the steady drumming.

#simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #cod imagine

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sunkiss3dlily · 3 months

Text

to you, i'm just a man (to me, you're all i am) part four | joel miller x reader

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5916

Summary: Time is running out for you in the fight against David. Joel comes to your rescue.

Note(s): Okay, so now it's become five parts. I should just never set a goal for how many chapters I'm writing because I always exceed it hahahaha but at least Joel and reader are reunited!! I'm not gonna lie this took so long to write because I hated writing for David. He is so creepy and I felt so gross. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed, and I promise this time, the next chapter will be the last haha! Thank you for all the love I'm so grateful! And as always feedback is appreciated, but please be respectful! Please give me any (detailed, please!) requests in my inbox or comments if you have any, I would love to hear them! Thank you so much for reading! ♡

Taglist: @wonwoosthetic @paleidiot @orcasoul @slut4mascss @paqerings @missladym1981 @oscarisaac2099 @stilllivindue2spite @aspecialgreenie @amyispxnk @caitlynsixxx

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

The bitter cold stole your every sense of direction in the relentless blizzard, pushing you to stumble aimlessly through the thick snow, much like you had the day before, only this time you were no longer the hunter but the prey.

All around, the storm howled, and your every step was one of desperation in the search for any sign of David and James' group.

"Stay alert, everybody; if this man's not already dead, he's dangerous." David's voice calling out from the other end of the street had you bolting to hide behind a fence, your rifle clutched steadily in your hand. "And the woman too; she can’t be fully trusted, either."

Clutching your rifle, you took a shaky breath, straining your hearing to catch the next set of orders.

“What about the little girl?” James' voice cut through the harsh wind, and a surge of protectiveness swelled within you at the mention of Ellie. You silently vowed not to let any of them get near her—not one step.

“We bring her back with us." David responds. "Her, and the woman.”

"Try it, motherfucker," you muttered, biding your time as they started advancing down your end of the street, where you remained safely hidden, at least for the moment. There was no need to risk wasting bullets and missing a shot; you had to be smart about this.

A loud scoff cuts through the air, and a voice that you haven't heard before rings out: "That woman will kill us all in our goddamn sleep if we let her stay with us."

"Yeah, I agree," James cuts in soon after. "I don't mean to question your sense of mercy, David, but we can kill the man and the woman and just let the little girl go. If we bring that little girl back with us, she's just another mouth to feed."

You peek out, taking your aim and squeezing one eye shut.

"If we leave either of them out here, they'll die," David chastises, still seemingly set on having you and Ellie come back with him.

As if you'd let that happen.

James scoffed, and as the group approached, you could now count their numbers.

Five.

You watched as James bitterly shook his head, and almost instinctively, you raised your rifle, focusing on the moving target. "Maybe that's God's will."

David's head snapped to look at his taller friend, but before he could speak, your first shot rang out.

James practically folded in on himself, the bullet finding its mark right between his eyes. Genuine shock registered on David's face before a darker expression replaced it just as swiftly. The other four members of the group looked around in utter bewilderment, raising their weapons and expressing a mix of fear, anger, and shock.

"Holy shit!"

"What the fuck do we do, David?!"

"They killed James!"

Too preoccupied reloading your rifle, you didn't notice David's eyes settling on the neck of your gun, which was slightly peeking out from behind the fence.

"Split up. Find the house they're staying in and get that little girl back to me alive. I'll take care of the woman."

As the three scatter in different directions, you finally look up, and that's when you notice David approaching the fence, his own gun at the ready, aimed and dangerous.

You feel it before you hear it—the burning sensation as the bullet rips through your coat and shirt, sinking into the skin of your shoulder. The sickening whoosh of the bullet through the air is only heard after. Had your senses been more in tune, perhaps you would have dodged it. Instead, a muffled cry of pain escapes your lips as you slam them together, forcing yourself into a standing yet crouched position. Running along the back of the fence, you do your best to ignore both the pain and the sensation of your blood coating your fingers, compressing the wound as you move, the rifle held limply in the hand of your injured arm.

"Get back here!"

Your legs turn to jelly as you sprint through the snow, heading straight for one of the houses. Despite the intensifying pain in your shoulder, you strive to keep your cool. Bullets whiz dangerously close to your tattered boots, narrowly missing as you move just a fraction too quickly for David's shooting ability.

“It doesn’t have to be this hard!”

Gasping for breath, you reach cover at the side of a nearby house, pressing your back against the cold exterior. The bitter wind bites at your exposed skin as you take a moment to assess the wound on your shoulder, your fingers coming away stained with blood. You reach back, whimpering to yourself as you feel the unmistakable hole in your shirt and coat, realising that, for one small mercy, the bullet has gone straight through.

"I didn't want to hurt you." David's voice echoes chillingly close, urging you to retreat to the back of the house. As you hastily assess for an entry point, he adds with a sinister tone, "You forced my hand."

Despite the searing pain in your shoulder and the fear gnawing at your senses, a twisted sense of relief settles in as you reach the back of the house. The knowledge that it's you who David is pursuing, and not Joel or Ellie, somehow grants you a twisted comfort.

“There’s no need to keep fighting me like this. It’s pointless.”

With trembling hands, you fumble to open the door, your mind racing faster than your jittery heartbeat.

The wooden door creaks open, revealing the dim interior of the house. Staggering under the weight of pain and panic, you stumble inside, the world spinning as you navigate the all-too-familiar surroundings from when you were desperately searching for any first aid for Joel the day prior, so you already know there is nothing here that is going to help you. The urgency of your situation intensifies, and you quickly slam the door behind you closed.

The house offers a brief respite from the relentless blizzard and the immediate threat of David's pursuit. As you move deeper into the residence, your unsteady footsteps echo against the worn floorboards. The muted sounds of the storm outside contrast with the thunderous beating of your heart.

A narrow staircase comes into view, and with each step, your legs feel heavier, like lead. The ascent is a gruelling task, with your battered body protesting with every movement. As you reach the top, you catch your breath, realising the vulnerability of your situation. You're wounded and isolated, and you're at the mercy of your surroundings and David.

Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you push forward, weaving through the upper floor. The pain in your shoulder becomes an unbearable companion, gnawing at your resolve, and your vision blurs. A distant bedroom beckons, and you stumble towards it, guided more by instinct than conscious thought.

With each step, the world becomes more of a blurry haze. You push the bedroom door open with a light swing, revealing your final refuge from the chaos. Collapsing against the far wall, behind a double bed, you sink to the floor, your breaths ragged and laboured. The room spins around you as you succumb to the exhaustion, your body finally finding a momentary sanctuary amid the turmoil.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

The unmistakable echo of a gunshot reached Joel's ears, shattering the relative silence of the basement and snapping him out of the uneasy rest he had slipped into.

It felt like just moments ago that he had watched you leave, resolute in facing danger to protect him and Ellie. The mental image of you willingly sacrificing yourself for their safety wound around his heart like barbed wire, each beat accentuating his feelings of pain and helplessness. Staring at the closed door, he had been consumed by profound desperation, silently yearning for you to turn around and come back to them, to him. But, as the seconds ticked away, it became clear you weren't coming back.

Ellie's eyes had met his, her dark pools of pleading tears watching him as the weight of sleep threatened to pull him under.

"Joel! Wake the fuck up! We have to go!"

Suddenly, Ellie was gripping his shirt, the surge of adrenaline from the shock of it all combatting the heaviness of his slumber. The gunshot's resonance wasn't just a haunting echo of his nightmares about Sarah; it was the stark reality now centred around you. Whether you were the shooter or the one being shot at, Joel couldn't allow himself to stand, or rather lay, by while you faced danger, even in his weakened state.

"Joel!" Ellie repeated, shaking him just as furiously as before. "Fuck, wait a second."

She disappeared from his sight for a moment, peripherals included, and for some twisted reason inside of him, the thought of her leaving too made him even more scared. He couldn't lose both of you.

"Ellie," he called hoarsely.

She was back within a few moments, seemingly fueled by the sound of his voice as she kneeled beside him, syringe and medicine bottle in hand. "Yeah, I'm here. Just give me a minute. I've never done this before."

He held still, barely breathing as the needle pricked his wound once more, not wanting to freak the kid out any more than she already was.

"Ellie," he repeated. Her eyes fell to his as she continued to plunge the syringe slowly, just as she had watched you do so many times. Her dark eyes were still watery and held so much fear that she attempted to hide with her otherwise stoic expression, barring the slight trembling of her lips. "It's...it's gonna be okay."

"Yeah," she nodded, though her gaze fell away from him as if she didn't believe him. "I know."

Silence settled between them, a void that you typically filled. As Ellie withdrew the syringe, returning it along with the medicine to her bag, the echo of a second gunshot pierced the air, prompting them to exchange uneasy glances.

The heavy footsteps from above spurred Joel into action, breaking the inertia that had held him for days. He staggered to his feet, his unsteady legs protesting disuse, and gently guided Ellie into the corner beneath the stairs. Pressing his rifle into her hands, he saw the horror in her eyes. A shake of his head preceded his retrieval of her knife from the bag.

"If anything goes wrong, you shoot and run, alright?" Her mouth opened, but he silenced any objections, his tone unwavering. "No. No questions, no smart remarks. You run."

Joel's voice carried a resolute authority, his eyes revealing a blend of concern and determination. Ellie nodded, her grip tightening on the rifle as she comprehended the gravity of the situation.

The clamour above intensified, muffled voices now accompanied by the crash of furniture in front of the basement door.

Time seemed to stretch as they waited, breaths suspended in anticipation. As the footsteps finally seemed to reach the top of the stairs and the door opened, Joel whispered one final directive, his voice barely audible.

"Face the wall."

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

A tender touch, brushing hair away from your forehead, coaxes you back to awareness. Initially feeling numb, the haze lifts as you blink away blurriness, and the searing pain in your wound snaps into focus. A cry escapes your lips, and instinctively, you reach to cover the injury, as if the pressure could quell the pain. Surprisingly, a make-shift bandage is wrapped around the bare skin of your shoulder, and as you withdraw your hand, you find no fresh blood, only the remnants of dried staining from before.

A fleeting sense of relief washes over you when you suddenly realise someone is taking care of you; you've been saved.

"You were lucky; I'll give you that."

Anticipating Joel's deep, somewhat soothing tone, the sudden and chilling sound of David's higher voice jolted you. Startled, you looked up and blinked rapidly, only to find the devil himself kneeling in front of you, his hand resting on your cheek.

"Getting the jump on us like that. It was smart." He chuckled slightly, unsettling you further, prompting an instinctive flex of your fingers to search for your rifle. It must have been moved, and you think you can see the handle just behind him on the bed. The sheet on top of the mattress appears to be torn, evidently being what was used to conceal your wound. "I won't say it'll earn you many brownie points with the folks back home, but I understand. I understand why you did it."

You draw in a shaky breath, attempting to breathe through the pain and panic, while desperately searching your mind for any semblance of a plan.

David withdraws his hand from your cheek, replacing it with two fingers on your neck's pulse point, holding them there for a moment. "You know, I was worried you weren't going to wake up at all."

You make your best attempt to shrug him off, disliking the sensation of his cold fingertips on your skin. Despite your weakness, you glare up at him and retort, "You should be more worried than I was."

He smiles with a glint of amusement in his eyes, and you despise the gut-wrenching feeling of vulnerability blooming in your chest at the notion of being stuck in this man's presence. A chuckle escapes him, and he sucks his teeth before raising his hand, causing your head to snap to the side as the back of his hand connects with your cheek, a ring on his finger slashing your cheek upon impact.

Stunned to silence, you manage only a few heavy breaths as blood dribbles down your cheek. Eventually, you compose yourself enough to meet his gaze once more.

David releases a heavy sigh, observing you with a gaze that combines pity and satisfaction as he sits back on his knees.

“I like you. I do."

You glare back at him, biting back a snide comment.

He smiles, releasing a soft chuckle. “You’re so much different from the women back in my village. They’re so docile, complacent, and scared of their own shadows. You, on the other hand, are feral. Violent. A murderer.”

You swallow uncomfortably, unsettled by the excited glint in his eyes as he gazes at you.

“I like that. It’s realistic. A woman who does what she has to do to get what she wants. It’s the only way to survive, right?” David smiles, reaching out to clasp your limp hand that sits on your lap. “We’re very similar in that way. We do what we have to do to provide for the people who rely on us. No matter what, right?”

You fight the urge to snap his fingers in your palm, feeling his thumb stroking roughly over your skin, a poor imitation of Joel's comforting touch from only hours ago.

“You see, I’m not your enemy here.” He whispers in an attempt at a soothing tone. “I never have been. In fact, I am your equal, and in being that, I believe you would make the perfect addition to stand by my side in leading our people through the darkness that this winter has brought.”

You shake your head, but he raises a hand and emits a shushing noise.

“I know. It’s a hard concept to grasp when you’re in this fight-or-flight headspace. I’m sure you feel you won’t be accepted by them for all your sins and for all the heartache you’ve brought to our community, but they, as well as you, will come to understand, in good time, that reformation is indeed possible.” He squeezes your hand tight—so tight that it becomes uncomfortable very quickly. You breathe your way through the pain. “And if you can’t, then you can provide for our community in another way.” He lifts his other hand to lift your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “My people are hungry, you see. I wouldn’t be a good leader if I didn't do what I needed to provide for them, despite sacrificing what would be the closest thing I have to my equal. You understand the necessity of that, right?”

A sickening feeling churns in your stomach. Whatever he has in mind for you is likely nothing you want to endure. You bite your tongue, resolved to maintain composure and conceal your fear.

“And then, I suppose, your daughter will be the one to take your place beside me.”

Your entire body tenses, and he seems to notice the fire blazing in your eyes at the mention of Ellie, a light smirk settling on his lips.

Quick to wipe it off, you wrap your palm around his middle finger and tug it back with all the strength you can muster, causing a sickening crack as it breaks, ricocheting around you. He lets out an anguished cry of pain, filling you with relentless satisfaction. As he releases your hand entirely, you shove him backward and use the wall to guide you to your feet.

Rushing for your rifle, your movements are short-lived as you feel his hand wrap around your ankle, grabbing hold of you. Swinging your arm around to hit him, he tugs you forcefully via your arm, causing you to flop face down on the floor beside him.

Releasing angry pants, he flips you over onto your back and uses his free hand to press down on your wound, keeping you down and eliciting a cry of unbearable pain from your lips.

“There it is. There’s that fight in you I like so much.”

You spit at him, aiming directly for his face, and raise your knee to strike him in the crotch. He releases your wound, and you take a sharp intake of breath, readying your hand to deliver a strike to his face. But he's too quick, grabbing your wrist and yanking it hard, exerting so much force that you feel your arm being ripped out of its socket.

A blinding wave of pain overwhelms you, bringing all your struggles to an instant halt. Your pain threshold has been entirely depleted. You're done fighting. It's all too much.

He clears his throat as he shifts to hold himself above you, his gaze a mix of satisfaction and disappointment as he looks down at you.

“Is that all you’ve got in you?” He laughed breathlessly. “I’m disappointed. Underneath all that strong facade, you’re just the same as every other woman. Weak. I should’ve known you’d end up just the same: under my mercy."

Your strength waned, unable to conceal the overwhelming fear as his weight bore down on you, and instead, you opened your mouth, releasing a gut-wrenching scream.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

It was guttural—the scream that tore through the streets—and it sent a shiver down Joel's spine. Ellie was huddled at his side, his arm protectively encircling her, marking the first substantial contact between them. The moment he tensed, he felt her reaction mirror his own.

Joel held tight to Callus' reins in his other hand. Although logic dictated that he and Ellie should be riding towards your safety, the events in the basement lingered in Joel's mind. Forcing two out of three men to reveal your whereabouts, even with Ellie upstairs and out of direct earshot, it had been a traumatic ordeal for the both of them. Joel couldn't deny Ellie the comfort of being close to him after such a harrowing experience. Contrary to his initial fears, it became evident that Ellie wasn't terrified of him; in fact, the very opposite seemed true.

'"That's her," Ellie said through chattering teeth as the biting winds whipped around them. "We have to help her."

Joel nodded, his gaze firm and determined, tugging Callus along once more. "We will. We'll get to her."

Once again, your scream, fraught with fear and desperation, reverberated through the desolate streets. The chilling sound momentarily froze time, leaving Joel feeling utterly helpless about where to go or how to reach you. The haunting silence that followed became almost unbearable, casting an oppressive weight on Joel's chest, which he tried to ignore with every stride he took, Ellie in tow.

Abruptly, just as it had ceased, your screaming resumed, and Joel couldn't summon the strength to look down, yet he could feel Ellie's tears soaking his shirt. Each agonising note sliced through the air, and this time, it seemed to pierce Joel even more deeply than before. The raw, visceral sound of your distress clawed at his heart, dismantling any remaining walls that held back his emotions towards you. He despised that sound—the sound of you in pain, the sound of you scared, the sound of you broken—and silently vowed to do whatever it took to never hear it again.

However, amidst the torment, there existed a perverse sense of gratitude. Your screams served as a guiding force, leading Joel, Ellie, and Callus through the relentless blizzard in pursuit of you. A steely resolve tightened Joel's jaw, determination etched across his weathered face as you fell silent once more, only to start screaming again seconds later. The idea of you enduring suffering was unbearable, and an urgency to reach you surged through Joel's veins, propelling their movements forward through the biting cold.

Reaching the front of the house from which your screams echoed, Joel gently pulled away from Ellie's trembling frame. He tried to ignore the way she instinctively sought to move closer, holding her by the shoulders. "I need you to listen to me, Ellie."

Her face was pale, tear-stricken, and concerned, lacking the strength to argue. She nodded in response.

"I need you to ride Callus to the furthest house away, to the very last one in this neighbourhood, okay? Not one sooner. The very last one."

Her lips parted, wobbling, but your scream from above tore every word from the tip of her tongue. She made her way to Callus, placing one foot in the stirrup before Joel helped launch her onto the horse completely. He held back a wince as his wound ached with every movement, and raised his rifle for her to take.

"I'll come and find you as soon as we're out. You don't leave for anything. You stay right there, hidden, until we come back. Got it?"

Ellie took the rifle, slugging it onto shoulder, before gripping Callus' reins and nodding. "Got it."

"Good." He hummed, stroking Callus' side before meeting Ellie's eyes. "Go on."

She simply sniffled, murmuring, "Let's go," to the horse before she and Callus thundered off down the street.

Joel watched as Ellie rode away, his rifle slung over her shoulder, and as he turned back towards the house, it took him about a second to realise you were no longer making any noise, and it only took half of that time to send him into utter panic.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

The carpet beneath your fingernails was the only sensation you registered as David's hand coiled around your throat, tightening its grip and stifling any more attempts at screaming.

You weren't fighting back anymore. You couldn't. You'd lost it all the moment David had you pinned down and injured. The likelihood of Joel succumbing to the brutality of David's men gnawed at your conscience. Imagining Ellie, now alone and convinced you were lost too, fighting desperately to escape their clutches added another layer of anguish to your already shattered resolve. You didn't want to risk that becoming a truth, and so you just lay there.

Time seemed to stretch with each agonising blink, your eyes lingering shut for longer intervals. As David's suffocating grip on your throat gradually released, you struggled to focus through the haze. His lips moved, likely weaving a twisted soliloquy, but the only sound that reached you was the persistent thud of blood coursing through your veins. Each breath you managed to draw felt like a desperate attempt to refill your lungs, your chest heaving with the effort.

His vice-like grip on your neck finally released, and as you dared to steal a glance downward, all you saw was his hand moving towards his zipper.

You clutched at the carpet, fingers digging in, and drew in a wheezy breath, steeling yourself for whatever might come next.

David's face and body loomed over you, paralysing you with fear. Just as you thought it was all over, the sudden impact of your rifle against the side of his head sent his looming figure crashing to the floor beside you. Through the haze of your vision, you could vaguely make out a blurry figure in a brown coat gripping your rifle and ruthlessly slamming it down repeatedly onto what appeared to be David's body.

Unable to discern many words, you could only catch snippets of angry and pained sounds. Fear gripped you, but in a moment of reprieve, you managed to turn on your side. For perhaps the first time since you woke up, you felt a semblance of relief, as if you could finally afford to breathe again.

Your body ached, and your lungs burned with each precious breath of fresh air, reminiscent of a dog lapping up water on a scorching day. Curled into a foetal position, the only sounds that reached your ears were the haunting echoes of sniffles and whimpering. It didn't take long for you to grasp the painful realisation that those anguished sounds were escaping your own lips.

A hand gripping your ankle jolts you into immediate action, fearing the worst. A distressed wail escapes your lips as you kick out, refusing to glance at the person who has a hold of you. Slowly crawling away, you use your uninjured arm to support yourself, doing your best to fight the searing pain flowing through you.

The hand lets up, and then it moves to land delicately on your back. Gentle and light, it hovers, assuring you of his presence.

Everything seems to move once more in slow motion as you continue to kick out, eventually flipping onto your side and meeting your would-be assailant's eyes once more.

Except it's not David.

It's Joel.

His lips are parted, and he is speaking to you softly. His face is taut with concern, distress, and fear.

"..'s me; it's just me. It's me."

The sound of relief escaping you doesn't come close to the immense relief flooding your insides.

As Joel senses the realisation dawning in your eyes, his expression eases slightly, a fraction of his concern dissipating.

You can't help but avert your gaze, your eyes falling upon David's battered body lying a short distance away. The butt of your rifle, stained with his blood, rests by his side. It's evident that Joel has discarded it and hurried to your aid.

His touch on your cheek is gentle, coaxing you to meet his gaze once more.

"Look at me," he urges, his voice a comforting murmur. "You're okay. You're with me. Just keep your eyes on me. Keep focusing on me."

Your lip trembles. "J-Joel...he…he…”

"I know," he murmurs softly, his face etched with pain as he gently covers your hand with his own on the floor. The gesture makes you flinch involuntarily, and memories of David flood your mind. "I know, honey. I know."

Honey.

The term is uttered with such tenderness, so delicately, that it catches you off guard. His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he regards you with the utmost care, as if he can hardly believe he's reached you in time.

Tears stream down your cheeks, unnoticed, until you feel his arms enveloping you. It's surprising the sheer gentleness emanating from a man hardened by years of violence, his fists having shed blood from countless adversaries. Yet here he is, cradling you as though you're the most precious gift, as if it's the most natural thing for him to do, as though he was born to love and protect you, no matter the time it took for him to realise it.

His hand finds solace in your matted hair, anchoring you to him as you weep against his chest. For a long while, he remains silent, allowing your sorrow to seep into him as if, by some miracle, it might alleviate your pain. You feel a shift in his posture, and then his chapped lips brush gently against your forehead.

Drawing back slightly from the comfort of his embrace, you meet his gaze.

"You're... you're alive," you breathe out softly.

The corners of his lips twitch up a little, and he nods gently down at you. "Your stubborn ass saved me, remember?"

"I... I had to. I couldn't... couldn't lose you," you respond, still teary-eyed. Your gaze darts around frantically for a moment. "E—Ellie? Where's Ellie? Did they get Ellie?"

Joel shakes his head quickly. "We... I got 'em, I swear. They didn't touch her. She's safe."

"They... they were really bad people, Joel," you whisper, a slight desperation in your voice, as if you need him to believe you, though you have no idea why you feel the need to justify it. "Really bad. They... they... the things he wanted to do."

Your gaze starts to drift back to David's body, but Joel gently redirects your focus to him with a tender touch on your cheek, his thumb wiping away the blood from where David's ring had cut your skin. "No, no. Don't look at him, alright? Just keep looking at me and listening, okay? Focus right here on me and me only."

You nod, your attention fixed on him.

“You did good, sweetheart. You did so good. You saved me and Ellie, and…and you’re still here with us. It was always going to be your life over any of theirs. You did what you had to do.”

Weakly, you nod and rest your trembling hand on his arm.

He glances down at your hand, resting his own atop it, and takes a breath. Using the next few moments to assess your condition, he notices the blood-soaked sheet wrapped around your shoulder, his face paling considerably. Then, his gaze falls on the swollen part of your arm where David has torn it from its socket.

He releases your hand and rises to his feet, prompting a soft cry of his name from you, as if he might leave you in that state.

"I'm right here. You're okay," he assures you, reaching down to cup your cheek. "I just need to... I need to help you. You're hurt, sweetheart. Just keep your eyes on me. I'm not going anywhere; I just need to..."

Glancing over to the bed, where the ripped sheet lies, he reluctantly lets go of you and strides over to retrieve it. Returning to your side, he offers reassurance. "See? I'm still here."

You watch him carefully as he tears the fabric apart with his bare hands, studying his every move.

"Joel," you say softly at first, catching his attention only when you repeat his name with a bit more urgency.

"Yeah, what's up?" He responds, turning to you.

"I'm... I'm glad you're here."

His worried expression softens, though concern still lingers in his gentle brown eyes. After a moment's pause, he replies, "Me too, honey." Taking a breath, he continues, "Now, I'm gonna ask you to do something for me, okay?"

You weakly nod your agreement.

"Just stay still while I see what I can do about your arm, alright?" he instructs.

He shakily reaches over to lightly press your swollen, deformed-looking arm, retracting his hand almost immediately when you cry out in pain. The anguish in his eyes mirrors your own hurt, and once the wave of pain has passed, you grasp his coat with your uninjured hand, murmuring your apologies.

"It's okay, it's okay," he reassures you softly, cupping your cheek and meeting your gaze with his intense one. "I need you to trust me for a second, okay? This is going to hurt, but you are going to be just fine, I promise. Everything's going to be okay."

Tears brim in your eyes, but you nod. "I trust you, Joel."

He smiles softly at you, leaning forward to press a kiss on your head before he reaches out and takes your injured arm's hand in his own. With a shaky breath, he asks, "Can you feel that?"

You nod with a sniffle.

"Good. That's good." He squeezes your hand gently. "And you feel that?"

Again, you nod.

He squeezes once more, meeting your eyes. "Still with me?"

Another nod.

Taking a breath, he squeezes for the third time, a nervous expression clouding his face.

It takes you a moment to process his confession as pain overwhelms you. But when you realise what he has said, everything stops hurting for a moment, and a relieved tear slips down your cheek.

He smiles weakly back at you.

And then he tugs.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

"Almost there, sweetheart," Joel murmurs, his hand light on your back as he guides you through the blizzard, mindful of your delicate state. "I've got you."

Your injured arm is cradled in a makeshift sling, and a fresh bandage, fashioned from the same sheet, is carefully tied over your bullet wound. Despite the lingering pain, being with Joel feels like a balm to your soul, as if you're walking on air. The thought of being reunited with Ellie soon fills you with hope, giving you the strength to keep moving forward, despite the weariness weighing down your legs.

Every little noise puts you on edge, whether it's the howl of the wind or the thud of snow against a roof. But Joel is there, a reassuring presence, whispering words of comfort each time you tense up, trying to reach for a weapon and inadvertently causing yourself more pain.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay," Joel assures as you come to reach the last few houses on the road, the sight of horse prints visible in the snow-covered ground. "Look behind us; look around. There is no one here but us. No one is going to hurt you, I promise."

You look around nervously, seeing that he is right. You are simply overwhelmed by paranoia right now.

“No one is going to hurt you,” Joel repeats gently, a change from his usual tone but a welcome one. You've never felt safer.

You nod, scooting closer to him all the same.

The horse tracks lead up to the final house on the road, and Joel is grateful that Ellie followed his instructions this time.

He shuffles as slowly as you need up the short distance of the porch steps, and when you both reach the top and you begin to lose your ability to keep moving forward, he wraps your uninjured arm around his neck and keeps you moving. “I’ve got you. You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re just tired, that’s all. You’re going to rest as soon as we get inside, alright? Talk to me; let me know you’re still in there.”

“Still here..." you assure quietly, though your vision is beginning to blur and darkness is beginning to form in your peripherals.

“Atta girl, stay with me.” He presses a gentle hand over your ear and pushes the other to rest against his chest. He raises his voice, though muffled to you, as he kicks the front door as he has no hands free. “Ellie! Open up! It’s us!”

By the time the door opens, you are halfway through succumbing to the darkness.

©️sunkiss3dlily, 2024.

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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shakespeareanwannabe · 4 months

Text

As You Wish, Chapter 2

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister, reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, verbal arguing, swearing, medical misinformation (I did my best y'all), pregnancy

Sharp Memorial Hospital, 12 Years Ago

“Buttercup!”

She gasped as the curtain to her room was drawn back quickly, revealing a stressed-out looking lieutenant and a sheepish looking older brother.

“Jake! I’m okay, I swear…”

“You passed out!” Jake exclaimed, rounding the hospital bed to stand by her side. “And they called Bob?”

She sighed, her fingers tapping anxiously at the tape securing the IV to her arm. “I’ve been here for, like, four months, babe. And it all happened kinda quickly, so I haven’t exactly had a chance to change my emergency contact yet.”

Jake reached out to grip her hand and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Do me a favour and at least add me to that list? I almost had a fucking heart attack when I landed, and Bob told me that you were in the damn hospital.”

Bob pushed his glasses up his nose as she turned her attention to him. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he muttered. “Are you okay, Buttercup?”

She grinned at the begrudging use of the nickname. Ever since Jake had bestowed it upon her that night, it was like her real name ceased to exist. Everyone called her Buttercup, despite Bob’s best efforts.

“I’m fine, you two worrywarts,” she rolled her eyes fondly as Bob scoffed and Jake squeezed her hand more firmly. “I got a little lightheaded at the bar and turned a little too quickly on my barstool. I was only out for like a second, but Penny wouldn’t let it go. Something about Mav being overprotective of his squad or something. She’s somewhere out there—” she motioned vaguely out the curtained doorway. “—filling out paperwork.”

“What were you doing at the bar?” Jake seated himself on the edge of her bed, green eyes turning stern. “You promised me that you were going to take it easy today, remember? I didn’t drag your ass to the doctor yesterday because you said you were “almost over this stupid flu”, and I only agreed because you promised you’d do jack shit today.”

Buttercup pouted at him, crossing her arms as best she could with one arm hosting the IV and Jake not releasing her hand. “I got bored,” she mumbled. “Plus, I thought the quick walk in the sun and fresh air would do me good!”

Jake groaned. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear to god. Next time, at least call someone to go with you.”

“Sure, Jake. I’m sure the Navy will understand you needing to take your girlfriend on a walk,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“Clearly,” Jake shot back, gesturing around the curtained-off room.

“Alright, easy, you two,” Bob sighed, stepping further into the room. “Seresin, you can’t expect her to wait around for us to do stuff. What do you expect her to do when we get deployed?” Jake’s face fell for a split second before smoothing out into that unflappable mask he had mastered long ago. “And kiddo? Bagman might not show it ever, but he is a human being, which means he can be scared, and I’m pretty sure the news that you landed yourself here scared a decade off him. So, go easy on him, will you?”

She looked at her brother for a moment before sighing, nodding slightly, and turning back to Jake. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be more careful.”

He squeezed it back, lifting their linked hands to press a kiss to the back of her hand. “I’m sorry too. I’m not tryin’ to be controlling, I just…I don’t wanna see you hurt.”

Bob huffed and took a step back. “I’m going to go find Penny and see if she needs help with that paperwork.”

“Thanks Bobby,” she smiled softly at him. He winked playfully at her before turning his back and strolling out of the room, tugging the curtain closed behind him.

“What has the doctor said?” Jake brushed his hand over her cheek, tugging her attention back to him. “Any more dizzy spells? Do you need anything?”

“Easy, tiger, one question at a time. The doctor said I was pretty dehydrated from all the vomiting I’ve done over the past couple of days, and that was what probably caused the blackout. But he had a nurse draw some blood and they’re testing to see if it could be anything else.” She rubbed his arm reassuringly. “I’m a little dizzy still, but the fluids are helping. And I’m still pretty nauseated but they don’t want to give me anything until they get the test results back.” Jake nodded, his jaw ticking just once as his eyes raked over her face. “I’m okay, Jake. I promise.”

Buttercup kept up the soft pressure of her hand running up and down his arm until the mask he wore slipped and he sighed deeply. “I’m sorry I was a dick. I just want you to feel better.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry I got snippy.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to apologize. You’re the one in the hospital bed.” His thumb gently rubbed back and forth along the back of her hand. “God, I hate fighting with you though.”

A slow grin tugged at the edges of her lips. “Me too. Especially when I’m stuck in this bed and we can’t make up properly.”

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he leaned in closer. “Don’t tempt me.”

Peals of laughter tumbled from her lips as she angled her head to brush her nose against his. “I don’t suppose a kiss would tide you over, Lieutenant Insatiable?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, darlin’. We’d have to try it out.”

Jake’s lips chased hers as he leaned over her, pushing her back against the flimsy mattress with the force of his kiss. Her tongue traced the seam of his mouth, and she felt a bolt of electricity spark through her body when his mouth stretched into a smile against hers. He linked their fingers together as she deepened the kiss, his free hand coming around to cradle the back of her neck.

“Alright, Miss Floyd, why don’t we go over those test results?”

Jake pulled away as a doctor clad in purple scrubs hustled into the room, her hands rubbing together as the scent of sanitizer wafted over them.

“Hey, doctor. Sorry, we didn’t meet earlier. Lieutenant Jake Seresin,” Jake greeted, his mask sliding back into place as he stretched one arm out to shake her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant. And it’s nice to meet you as well, Miss Floyd. I’m Dr. Friedman and I’ll be taking over your case,” the woman greeted, shaking his hand before turning to fiddle with some equipment. “I hope you don’t mind; we just have a few more tests to run.”

“N-no, that’s fine…” Buttercup shrugged uneasily. “Did something happen to Dr. Scott? I thought he was the one handling my case today?”

“Dr. Scott is just fine. He got called into an all hands on deck situation and, since I was already working with a regular patient of mine down here in the ED, he passed your case off to me since it falls under my specialty. Do you mind lifting your gown for me, dear?”

As the doctor turned, Jake’s keen green eyes darted between three different things. One, the ultrasound wand in the doctor’s hand. Two, the medieval looking metal device she had placed next to his girlfriend on her bed. And three, the neat white stitching on the breast of her scrubs that read Dr. Laurie Friedman, Doctor of Obstetrics and Gynecology.

“Dr. Friedman?” Jake felt his heart sputter, then race in his chest as he squeezed Buttercup’s hand. “You’re a…I mean, your specialty…” He looked down at Buttercup, but she was staring at the white stitching as well.

“Yes, Lieutenant. As I’m sure Dr. Scott told you, Miss Floyd’s blood and urine tests came back positive for hcG, so he called for an OB consult. Since I was already here, I figured I would pop in and run the tests for him while he’s dealing with the overflow of patients we just received. This will be a little cold, dear,” the doctor soothed, draping a paper towel over Buttercup’s underwear before squeezing the gel onto her stomach. “Now, if the blood and urine tests aren’t lying to us, we should…” She moved the wand around, either obtuse to or completely ignoring the look on her patient’s (and the lieutenant’s) face. “There!”

She turned the screen to face the young couple. “Your blood test confirmed the pregnancy, but the high levels of hcG in your blood gave Dr. Scott pause. There’s baby number one…” she pointed to a tiny speck on the screen. “And there…is baby number two.”

The first week of living in the isolation cabin (affectionately known as ‘The Brig’) was absolute misery. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the water in the lake was cool and clear, and Abby and Charlie could appreciate none of it, stuck as they were doing clean up chores in the kitchen. Amelia had been assigned to supervision duty, which was mostly making sure the girls did less arguing and more cleaning.

The nights were even worse, with the girls either ignoring each other or screaming the cabin down with insults and taunts. Amelia had also spent that first week sleeping on the small stoop of the cabin in a hammock, or, at least, trying to sleep between arguments.

The only reprieve the girls got was when they headed down to the dining hall and got to sit with their friends. Breakfast, lunch and dinner found Charlie loudly complaining to her friend, Ryann, about how unfair the whole situation was, while Abby sat with Max, and Isabelle clear across the dining hall, her friends doing their best to remind her to stay strong, that she was only barred from group activities for another week, that they would try to sneak her back into their cabin in a few weeks when Penny and Amelia had cooled off a bit. Amelia spent mealtimes hiding in her mother’s office, downing headache medication, and trying to talk her mother out of whatever plan she had concocted.

The second week found the girls at an uneasy truce. Chores duty was quiet, but all the work got done. Evenings were dead silent, the girls opting to ignore each other instead of arguing.

Both girls were excited to go back to group activities on Monday, only to open the cabin door that morning to find dark clouds covering the sun, booming thunder in the distance, and rain falling in ice cold sheets.

“I suppose group activities will be cancelled today,” Abby muttered as she turned to grab her raincoat.

“You think Penny and Amelia will let us join our cabins for rainy day activities?” Charlie grumbled as she surveyed the mucky landscape. “Hell, I’d be okay doing outdoor activities in this! I thought this was supposed to show us what our family members go through in the military? I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t cancel a war because of a little rain.”

Abby giggled in spite of herself. “If they did that, there would never have been any wars in England. It’s always raining there.”

“Eww. That must suck.”

“It really does.”

The two girls locked eyes for a moment before quickly looking away.

“She’s still stuck up! You don’t want to be friends with her!” Charlie thought to herself, pulling on her own raincoat.

“She’s rude and uncouth. Anyone worth being friends with would never say such horrible things. Or try to get into a physical fight with you!” Abby breathed as she held the door open for a drenched Amelia.

“Sorry girls, but you’re not going down to the dining hall today. It’s all flooded, so all campers will be eating in their cabins,” Amelia explained quickly, handing them bottles of juice and a tray of fruit and sandwiches. “I’ve gotta get back to keep an eye on everyone. Please, please promise me you’ll get along today? I’ll be back later with lunch and dinner, and I really don’t want to have to clean up any bloodshed.”

“We promise…”

“Thank you!”

The door swung shut behind her as Amelia took off up the path back to the main camp.

“I’m, uh…I’m gonna have my breakfast over here while I read,” Charlie murmured, awkwardly making eye contact before shuffling away to her bed on one side of the room.

Abby nodded, taking her own breakfast over to her bed and staring out the window before pulling out her scrap book.

Amelia popped back in a few hours later, carrying more sandwiches for lunch, surprise colouring her features at the lack of arguing and tension between the campers.

“You two are handling this better than some of the other kids,” she commented, placing the tray down. “I’ll be back around six with dinner, okay?”

Without stopping to hear their response, she turned and dashed back out the door, just as a gust of wind blew the door wide open, sending everything that wasn’t pinned down in the room flying.

“Crap!” Charlie slammed her book shut quickly as the pages started to rustle. Abby squealed as the pictures in the collage she was working on were strewn about wildly, dancing in the wind.

“Help me with the door!” Charlie cried, bolting over to the creaking wooden door and trying to heave it shut. Her fingernails scrabbled against the wood as she tried to get a good grip on the handle as the door strained against her grip, pulling her this way and that.

“Hold on, I’ve got you!” Abby seized the door handle and they leaned all their weight against the door, sighing in relief as they finally heard the faint click as it shut.

“Th-thanks…” Charlie panted, her arms trembling slightly.

“No…no problem,” Abby sagged against the wall. “You looked like you almost had it though. You’re pretty strong.”

Charlie shrugged. “I work on my dad’s ranch. Obviously, I can’t do a lot of the dangerous jobs, but even the easy stuff takes a lot of strength.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Abby offered, sinking to the floor against the wall. “Does your mum help on the ranch too?”

Charlie looked away as she sank to the floor across from her, feeling the anger rise and then fall inside of her, her body too tired to let it take hold. “No…she doesn’t. I…I don’t know who my mom is. It’s just me, my dad, and my uncles,” she admitted quietly.

“Oh…I…I’m sorry,” Abby felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “I didn’t know. But…it’s okay! My mum always says that every family looks different, and it doesn’t affect how much they love each other.”

“Easy for her to say,” Charlie muttered, looping her arms around her legs, and resting her head against her knees.

Abby bit back an angry retort. She was so tired of fighting, mentally exhausted from the constant sparring with her new roommate. Maybe her mum had been right and fighting back wasn’t the way to go.

“She started saying that to me when I was five years old or so. At least, that’s when I think I started asking about my dad. I…I don’t know who he is either.”

Charlie lifted her head, looking at the girl in front of her. “You don’t?”

Abby shook her head. “For as long as I can remember, it’s been me, my mom, my aunt, and my uncle. But not, like, married aunt and uncle. He’s my mom’s brother, and my aunt is his best friend.”

“Oh…” Charlie looked down, biting her lip. “I guess that means my comment about mommy and daddy buying you riding lessons really sucked, huh?”

“It did. But I shouldn’t have called you a cornfed hick, either.” Abby flushed. “I don’t know why I said that. My mom and uncle are from Kansas, so it’s not like they’re from anywhere fancy.”

“Kansas? Then why do you sound so…Downton Abbey?”

Abby giggled. “My mum moved to London when I was just a baby. She says it was just for a job, but I think she wanted to get away from my dad too. Every time I ask about him, she gets really anxious and sad, my Uncle Bob gets really angry, and my Aunt Natasha has to distract everyone. Eventually, I just stopped asking. But she did promise to talk about him when I get home, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed for answers.”

“My dad does the same thing!” Charlie gasped, moving closer. “I ask about my mom and he gets this really sad look in his eyes, then goes into his office for a few hours! Uncle Roo will eventually go drag him out but then we just pretend I never asked. Uncle Javy acts like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t want to hurt my dad, so he just tells me that all my questions will be answered when I get older.”

“I hate that!” Abby shot onto her knees. “I’m almost 12! How much older do they expect me to get?”

“Right?” Charlie copied her kneeling stance. “I swear, if I don’t get answers on October 11th, I’m going to scream!”

Abby fell back on her heels, almost as though the door had been wrenched open again and she’d been blown back by a gust of wind. “Y-your birthday is October 11th?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“So is mine!”

Charlie blinked at her. Then she blinked again. Then, a third time. “I…am going to go back to reading my book.”

Abby’s shoulders rose with the force of her sigh. “Charlie, why do you keep avoiding this? We look completely alike, we have the same birthday, you have a dad, and I have a mom! Do you know what that all adds up to?”

“One hell of a coincidence,” Charlie replied huffily, picking up her book and leafing through the pages to find where she left off.

“Charlie, come on! You can’t actually believe that!”

Abby waited for a response, but all she got was Charlie raising her book to eye level in order to block her from view.

“Charlie? Please, you know there’s more to it than that!”

Charlie rolled over to face the other direction and Abby felt the anger bolt through her at ten thousand volts.

“Stop. Ignoring. Me!” she stomped around to the other side of Charlie’s bed and wrenched the book away from her.

“Hey! Give me that!” Charlie jumped out of bed as Abby ran over to her side of the cabin.

“No! Not until we figure this out!”

“Figure what out?” Charlie groaned. “We don’t look that much alike, single parent households aren’t that rare, and there are like a billion people on this planet, so obviously some are going to share a birthday!”

“Oh, come on! It’s way more than that!”

Charlie stomped over towards her and shook her head, her blond braid whipping around her face. “No. It’s not. Now give me back my book or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” Abby hopped onto her bed and held the book high in the air.

“I’ll…” Charlie lunged and grabbed Abby’s scrapbook from where it had fallen on the floor. “I’ll hold this hostage until you give it back!”

“No!” Abby gasped. “Please, no! That’s important to me!”

Charlie shrugged. “And my book is important to me. I need something to read, so I guess I’ll just have to make do with this.”

Charlie retreated back onto her side of the cabin and flipped the book open to the first page.

“Fine! Here, take it!” Abby yelled, jumping off the bed and racing over to hand her the book. “Just please, give it back!”

Charlie’s hand shook as she pushed her novel off the scrapbook and onto the bed, her fingers tracing the outline of the figures that were smiling from the picture that decorated the first page.

“Charlie?” Abby asked, half desperate to get her scrapbook back and half confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you have a picture of my uncles in your scrapbook?” she whispered.

“What? That’s a picture of my mum, Auntie Nat, and Uncle Bob,” Abby explained, pointing to each person in turn.

“Not them…” Charlie spoke softly, as though even one decibel too loud would shatter her. “Them.” Charlie pointed at two of the figures on the fringe of the photo. One, a moustachioed man in a pair of aviators, and the other a tall black man with a bright smile and an “I Love Las Vegas” baseball cap covering his cropped black hair. “That’s my Uncle Rooster and my Uncle Javy.”

“What?”

Charlie handed the book back before scrambling to her backpack, digging inside to pull out a folder. “This is my favourite picture of my dad and my uncles. My dad doesn’t know I have it though. I found it when I was fooling around with Uncle Javy, and he gave it to me. He made me promise never to tell my dad that I even knew it existed. I…I think it’s from my dad’s wedding to my mom. Uncle Javy made it seem that way, anyway.”

Charlie opened the folder and pulled out her photo. “That’s my dad, and see? There’s Uncle Roo and Uncle Javy.”

Abby’s shaky finger traced over two other figures who had their arms around each other on the other side of ‘Uncle Roo’. “That’s my Uncle Bob and my Aunt Natasha. Auntie Nat gave me my photo a few years ago when I asked about her about Dagger Squad. But she told me not to tell my mom or my uncle about it. She said that they would be upset.”

“There were taken on the same day,” Charlie murmured, her eyes raking over the photo. “See? The lights in the background, the clothes, the people? They’re all the same.”

“You know what this means, right?” Abby whispered, her finger now tracing over Charlie’s photo, her focus solely on the man in the middle, the man that Charlie had called Dad.

“Abby, it can’t…I don’t…” Charlie swallowed painfully.

“Charlie…I think your dad…was married to my mum.”

A door slamming behind them sent a jolt down both their spines and they spun on the bed to face the intruder.

Amelia set the tray of food down and wiped the water off her face with a sigh. “It’s about time you two figured it out.”

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#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #parent trap au #jake seresin x you #glen powell #as you wish fic #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #hangman x reader

166 notes · View notes

niningtori · 1 month

Text

to know him is to love him, and i do | chapter four: the end

pairing(s): kang taehyun x you, choi beomgyu x you

summary: the end.

genre(s): angst, fluff (who else cheered?), romance, angst with a happy ending

word count: 3.3k

notes (please read): y'all... did you seriously think that i, nini niningtori, the pushoveriest of pushovers, was actually gonna leave either taehyun or beomgyu shippers in the dust? BE REALISTIC! yes, there will be a taehyun AND a beomgyu ending. sorry beomgyu truthers, but you'll have to read through the taehyun ending to get to the beomgyu ending. i will mark where taehyun's part ends, so if you wanna end up with him, you'll have to stop reading there. anyway, happy reading! see ending for more notes!

“tyuuunn,” you whine into your phone’s speaker. you can’t tell how it's been since your final conversation with beomgyu, but now you’re drunk and all you can think about is taehyun. about his kindness, how happy he makes you feel, and how much you want to give him all of that in return.

“what is it, honey?” he coos. even in your inebriated state, you can hear the smile in his voice and it makes you wanna smile, too.

“miss youuu,” you groan. he laughs at your childishness and you can feel just how much he’s doting on you. it’s a relatively new feeling, being cared for like this, but it’s one you welcome with fervor.

“let me pick you up from that stupid bar and you can stay the night. how’s that sound?”

“mmm, hurry up,” you pout, and he just laughs again. god, you’re gonna feel so embarrassed by your neediness come tomorrow morning and he can’t wait to tease you.

taehyun is so eager to see you, he almost gets pulled over twice while making his way to the bar. he just can’t wait to see how cute you’ll look in his arms, all whiny and grumpy and begging for affection. and he’ll baby you, like he always does, because you deserve it. when he had heard about your appalling history with beomgyu, he couldn’t believe how someone could treat a person as sweet as you so cruelly. truth be told, you do have a bit of a softer personality, but that only evoked the need to protect and cherish you in taehyun. he can’t fathom the idea that somebody would see someone so pure and decide to take advantage instead of nurturing that innocence. his friends keep saying he’s a sucker, and they’re probably right, but he’ll happily be one for you.

he’s lost in his thoughts when he pulls into the parking lot of the bar you’re in, but his dopey grin drops the second he sees your dreaded ex stumbling away from the building. his face is red and he’s feverishly wiping away tears and snot. taehyun is a smart man, so he can easily piece together what must have happened. the thought that you were still thinking of taehyun in this moment comforts him. you had run into your ex and instead of running back to him, you’re thinking of your new boyfriend. what a relief. taehyun has always known you were still a little broken up about your split with beomgyu. he came into this relationship fully knowing that, but he liked you so much, he really didn’t care. maybe it was rash of him, but he thought it was worth taking a chance. he thought you were worth taking a chance and, so far, he had been correct.

he parks and stays in his car. if he were a petty person, he might ignore beomgyu and just walk right by him with his arm wrapped around your waist. taehyun, however, is a good person. so good, in fact, he waits for beomgyu’s friend to pick him up before leaving his car to find you.

when he enters the bar, he scans the crowd before he finds you sitting with your friends. your phone is to your ear and it only takes a few seconds for his own to ring. he smiles when he sees your contact photo (the one you both took on a date to your favorite frozen yogurt shop) appear on his screen. he rejects the call and watches you pout before striding over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder. you turn around with a scowl, but your features immediately melt and you grace him with a toothy grin. you excitedly squeal and wrap your arms around him. he matches your enthusiasm as he peppers your face with kisses.

beomgyu, who has very unfortunately come back to get his phone, watches it all and it’s enough to make him nauseous. he’s in such a daze as he watches you two that he barely registers his own friend honking at him to hurry up. he sees the afterimage of you leaning into taehyun’s touch and accepts the fact that you’ve truly moved on and won’t be coming back. he replays the last conversation you had and he decides he’ll hold onto your words forever. they’re all he has left, after all.

you’re so used to taehyun’s apartment that even though you’re so drunk you’re seeing stars, you’re still able to navigate it with ease. taehyun sits you down on his couch and kneels while removing your shoes for you.

“so chivalrous,” you giggle.

“anything for my princess,” he replies cheekily with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

“why are you so nice?”

“because i like you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“i like you, too.” you whisper with a blush. your gaze becomes heated and he cups your cheeks while gently guiding your face towards his. his touch is soft, and his lips? even softer.

he doesn’t push for more. you’re drunk and vulnerable at the moment, so he graciously grabs some of his clothes for you to change into and waits for you to come to bed. when you do, you plop down and he pulls you into his arms. you smile at his earnestness. he locks his arms around you and, for the first time in your life, a man is making you feel so happy and secure you can’t help but melt into the feeling. you feel safe. you feel loved.

“i really like you, you know?” he whispers into your hair, and it’s all you can do to keep your heart inside of your chest.

“i know. i really like you, too.” and you do. things with taehyun are still new, but as his breathing slows, you realize this is how love should be, and you think you want to be with him for a long, long time.

beomgyu's ending

when you wake up, taehyun’s arms aren’t wrapped around your waist like they usually are. you assume he’s just gotten up to start breakfast, which is a new tradition you two have started. when one of you wakes up before the other, they tend to baby the hungover one, which is, honestly, usually you. taehyun never complains, though. you were surprised to find that it’s actually in his nature to nurture, even when he vehemently claims otherwise.

you walk out of his room, clad in his hoodie and sweatpants, half expecting to see him slaving away in front of the stove, but you’re unprepared to see him sitting listlessly on his couch. he doesn't even seem to notice you when you walk in. strange, you think.

“good morning, babe,” you greet with a serene smile. when he is broken from his reverie, he does not match your smile at all, though.

“good morning,” he says awkwardly, devoid of any of the affection you’re so used to seeing.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, genuinely confused. something must have happened. you wonder if something went wrong with the big project he’s been talking about for work. you hope that’s not it — he’s been far too stressed about it, so you would give anything for that not to be the case.

“i… i don’t think i want to talk about it,” he replies.

“are you sure? maybe it’d make you feel better,” you try to reassure. you’re pretty much convinced it is about work now.

“i don’t think it would, actually.”

“oh, baby, it’s gonna be alright. whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together, okay? i’ll help you with whatever i can.”

“i don’t think you can help me with this,” he laughs bitterly. this confuses you. why is he acting so weird? you’re trying to find the right words, but he beats you to the punch.

“we need to talk.”

“...about what?”

“about beomgyu. you said his name in your sleep,” he says flatly. your heart sinks. oh no.

“... what?” you ask, but you kind of already know.

“i said, you said beomgyu’s name in your sleep. you were crying, too, actually.” you’re silent at this. the tension is so palpable, you completely freeze.

“i… i’m so sorry,” you try. “i didn't mean —”

“i know you didn’t mean to. that's the problem. you never mean to, but i’m not concerned about your intentions,” he sighs. “i knew from the beginning that you missed him. i thought i was okay with it, too, but i know now that i’m not. and i can’t be.”

“what are you saying?” you ask, lips trembling and eyes watery.

“i’m saying that i don’t think you’re over him. i know you know that, but i don’t think you realize just how hung up on him you still are.” you’re speechless at this. “listen, i like you, i really do, but do you like me?”

“of course i do! i really, really like you!” you insist, tears brimming in your eyes. nobody could ever say you don’t like taehyun. it’d be impossible not to like him, actually. there’s so much to like about him, in fact, if someone asked you to name every good thing about him, you wouldn’t even know where to start.

“you might like me, but you love him. even when you’re with me, you can’t help but think about him, right? and if he were different, if he did everything i do for you, you'd take him back, right?” he looks a bit hopeful, but he already knows your answer. that’s enough to make your tears fall.

“but he didn’t treat me the way you treat me. he has never made me as safe as you make me feel,” you answer weakly.

“but he can,” he shoots back. “and i think you know that he would if you let him. even if he doesn't, you’ll always wonder what could’ve happened if you had just taken a chance, won’t you? and you can’t do that if you’re with me.” he’s right, and you know he’s right. so far, you’ve been trying to push thoughts of beomgyu out of your head, but his words have continued to haunt you. all the happiness taehyun has given you is incomparable to anything beomgyu ever has, so why do you miss him so much?

“do i just take him back then? after everything he’s done? that’s unfair to me.”

“and being in love with another man while you’re with me is unfair to me,” he explains patiently. you still at this. you've done to taehyun exactly what beomgyu had done to you. the worst part? you didn’t even realize it until now.

“i’m… i am so sorry. i didn’t mean to be unfair to you. i tried, i swear i did. and if you’ll let me, i’ll keep trying.”

“i don’t want you to keep trying. i want someone to love me the way you love beomgyu. i want to be with someone who loves me without ever having to try. i just want them to love me, just because.” you have never thought about it like that. yes, your feelings for beomgyu had the privilege of taking years to grow, but you never had to force yourself to love him. you just… did. and now, as you look at taehyun, you realize you always will. but taehyun is so, so good. you can’t bear to not have him in your life.

“b-but i don’t want to lose you,” you plead between your tears.

“and you don’t have to,” he says softly. “we can still be friends, right? i like you too much to not have you in my life, even if it’s not the same as it is now.” you furiously nod in agreement. even now, he’s so incredibly kind and patient that you can't believe it. he’s giving you an out and he seems to understand you without you having to explain.

“always,” you say with a sob. he pulls you into a hug and you can’t help but kiss his cheek for the last time. “thank you.”

“of course, i just want you to be happy,” he says with a smile.

“why are you so nice?” and you must’ve asked him this question about a million times in the duration of your relationship, but you can’t help but ask one last time.

“‘cause you deserve it.” he replies simply as he pets your hair. “now go. he needs you.”

and needs you, he does. beomgyu is currently lying in bed, thinking about the scene of you and taehyun all in each other’s arms. that scene will haunt him forever, along with every unsavory word and action he’s ever said or done towards you. he doesn’t mean for the tears to fall, but they do, anyway. he’s stuck in this endless purgatory before he hears sharp knocking on his door. heeseung must be back for god knows what. hopefully, it’s not to tease him again, but he knows once he sees his teary eyes, he won’t let it go.

“oh, fuck off,” he yells, pulling the covers over his head, but the knocking doesn’t stop. eventually, he stalks over to his door and swings it open. “i said, fuck—” his words die on his lips when he sees you standing there looking as beautiful as ever. your eyes snap up to meet his and he can’t help but feel his breath catch in his throat.

you look very small in this moment, with your arms folded and your foot tapping, almost like you don’t even know what you’re doing here.

he beckons you in before you can leave.

“what… what are you doing here?” he asks tentatively as he offers you a seat on his couch. you don’t take it. your eyes, however, study him mercilessly. he is suddenly all too aware of his current sloppy appearance. he tries to discreetly fix himself up by smoothing out his hair and clearing his throat. he hopes you don’t notice how insecure he feels right now, but you do. of course you do, how could you not? you know him far too well.

“what you said last night… do you mean it?” you ask quietly.

“i did! i mean, i do. i really do,” he answers panickedly. you have to know how sincere he is. what is this? closure for you?

“i’ve thought about it,” you begin slowly and he gulps. you’ve thought about him? “and i think… i think i’d like to try.”

“what do you mean?” he’s trying not to get his hopes up, but he’d be lying if he said his heart isn’t racing faster and faster with each passing moment.

“i mean, i think i want to let you try. but i won’t let you walk all over me. not anymore. if you think i’m the same person i was before, you’re wrong. i’ll give you one chance, but you’d better—” you don’t get to finish your sentence before he’s taking you in his arms and holding you so tightly you almost can’t breathe.

“thank you,” he says shakily, kissing the top of your head. “i love you. and i promise, i swear on my life i will be better. i’ll do whatever it takes. just don’t leave me again, okay?” he can’t control his tears now, and neither can you.

“okay,” you say so softly, he almost doesn’t hear it, but thank god above that he does.

after what feels like forever, beomgyu, finally releases his hold on you. his misty eyes scan your face and his treacherous gaze keeps finding its way to your reddened lips. he’s silent for a few seconds before he says:

“can i kiss you?” he asks so meekly you almost can’t comprehend that it’s the beomgyu you know and love.

“mhm,” you answer, and before you can say anything more, his lips are on yours. you didn’t know a kiss could be teeming with so much emotion. you didn’t know a kiss could be filled with such an ache. he’s gentle, like you’d break with even a modicum of more force, but the kiss is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced in that you’ve never felt more worshiped in your life. he’s holding you reverently, like you’re the most precious thing in the world. and, to him, you really are.

“i just realized something,” you remark after breaking away. he looks like a man starved wirh the way his eyes are alight with a hunger you’ve never seen before.

“what is it?” he asks, still a little nervous that you’ll come to your senses and leave him for good.

“i didn’t tell you about taehyun. you didn’t even ask.”

“should i have asked?” oh god, were you cheating on taehyun right now?

“i guess not, but you need to know he’s my friend now. if we’re gonna be together, you’ll have to be okay with that.”

beomgyu doesn’t know how to feel about it. truthfully, it’s making him incredibly insecure, but he feels he has no right to make demands. not when you’re being so merciful. however, he wants to try to communicate with you. that’s what being a healthy relationship should be like, and he’ll try his damnedest to make sure you two get off on the right foot, too. this time, at least.

“to be honest with you, it makes me a little… a little scared. i don’t want you to leave me for him.” you gently cup his cheek and he leans into the touch, grabbing your hand as if he’s afraid you’ll drop it if he doesn’t hold it there.

“i won’t do that. i would never hurt you like that. and taehyun is a great guy, you might actually like him a lot under different circumstances. i’m not saying you have to be friends with him, but i would like it if you gave me a chance to prove to you that he and i can be friendly without you having to be insecure.”

“okay,” he says with a smile. because how could he say no to you?

loving beomgyu was never the problem. you’ll always love him, that much you know, but you were honestly just nervous that he’d fall back into his old, shitty habits. he hasn’t, and thank god for that, but new problems have arisen that you sincerely did not anticipate. for example, the fact that he constantly wants to be with you. that could very well be because you told him his friends were shitty and they made you feel bad, so he’s in the market for some friends who won’t actively make his life worse. it’s not a bad thing, per se, but it’s funny how much a man who previously seemed to only barely tolerate your presence can’t seem to get enough of you. it’s flattering, really.

“baby, can’t you just stay over again?” he whines.

“no, beoms, i have to work early tomorrow morning and you’ll just keep me up all night,” you reason.

“i won’t! i promise, i won’t!” he exclaims.

“that’s what you always say,” you snort. “yet i’m somehow always late to work the next day.”

“i’ll be good, i swear!” he sounds so desperate you almost wanna believe him.

“yeah, right,” you say with a shake of your head. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“what if you moved in? or i can move in? that way, we’ll see each other more and i won’t have to keep you up all night because i’ll know i can just see you the day after!” he seems extremely proud of himself for cooking that one up, but you’re still stuck on the moving in together part. this is a serious, serious step in your relationship. one you had not even hinted at taking, even during your first go together and that had been almost a full year.

“are you serious?” you hesitantly ask.

“so serious,” he answers.

“... fine.”

“and you’ll stay over tonight, right? to celebrate.”

“... fine,” you relent. he actually audibly cheers at this. god, you almost regret agreeing.

notes pt. 2: hi... i hope both endings were satisfying! if not, i did my best. anyway, feedback is always craved to a disgusting degree. love u guys!

[taglist]

@my313 @woncheecks @superbbananananana @zzhyuu @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @defnotleee @everythingvirgoes

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thoughtless-muse · 2 days

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a/n: the title (and some other parts of the story) are inspired by the song ‘bad blood’ by taylor swift and no, i am not ashamed of it lmao. this is my first time ever diving into this type of story, so I’m equal parts excited and terrified. if you have any critiques/tips, please let me know below! also, “scout’s honor” is by no means abandoned. I’m going to be writing/posting chapters of each story at their own pace :)

chapter summary: you had been alone for over a month now, combating against stumbling dead people who slobbered for your flesh. when a random stranger finds you in the aftermath of a blackout, the last thing you expected was for him to ask you to join his group. but he did, and in a desperate move to escape those four walls, you accepted – not knowing at all what was in store for you.

word count: 2.4k

c/w: canon-typical violence/gore, sassy!reader, fem!reader, language, past-established relationship, very subtle allusions to a troubled past

prologue

“hey, lady, are you, uh… are you okay?”

the words were garbled and a tad distorted, and for a moment, you thought you’d merely conjured the voice from the depths of your frayed conscious — but the boyish face that stared down at you when you fluttered your eyes open threw that theory straight out of the window.

for a moment, you simply stared in silence. you stared at the boy’s face, taking note of the pink flush of life to his flesh — not gray, not rotted, not bloody; pink. his face was clammy, sweaty, with the skin pulled in different directions to paint an expression of worry; an honest to god expression.

a person. this was a living, breathing, real person standing above you. at least, he seemed real enough, but —

“are you real?”

the question bubbled, croaky and hoarse, past your lips before you could reign it in. the boy scrunched his bushy brows together and his squinted eyes narrowed until they were near closed. a clear expression of confusion. huh, another expression.

“um, yeah, I am.” the boy responded, though, in his bewilderment, the statement sounded more like a question than a fact. a laugh wrenched itself from your chest.

“you don’t sound too confident about that, mystery man.”

“I-I’ve just never been asked that question before.” the boy sputtered, a tad defensively, lips pulling into a frown. expression after expression from this one, it seemed.

“I haven’t had to ask that question before,” you grumbled out. pain pinched your ribs when you propped yourself up on your elbows, no longer feeling the need to lay flat on the warm pavement. “don’t exactly see new faces in the city much, let alone breathing ones.”

“you mean you’ve been in the city this whole time?” the boy exclaimed quietly; his eyes were wide now, revealing orbs the shade of dark chocolate. they weren’t fogged over, dead, or unseeing, but glassy and expressive. human.

a ragged, raspy croak broke off your sentence before you could even start it. your muscles jolted in response, but before you could react, the boy let out a shocked yelp that was followed quickly by a wet squelch right next to you. you trailed your eyes down to find a small hand-ax splitting the rotted flesh of the groaner to your right. the one you swore you’d killed not long ago.

“huh. thought I got that one,” you noted mellowly, swinging your eyes back up to the boy to give him a small nod. “thanks.”

“yeah, uh, no problem.” the boy panted, returning your nod. his eyes darted from side to side before he thrust out a hand to you. all you could do was stare at it.

“it’s not safe out here in the open. we should really get inside a building or something,” the man suggested, words edged with subtle nervousness. you scanned your surroundings slowly; there was a cluster of groaners shuffling towards you, but they were at least twenty yards away — not much of a threat given the granny crawl they were traveling at.

mystery man, however, became more nervous at the sight of them.

“c’mon, I know a place that’s clear. it’s not far from here.” he urged, extended hand trembling faintly. you let out a huff and grasped it with your own. your ribs bloomed with pain once again when the man hauled you up, but you bit back the groan that it prompted; you’d had worse than this, and you’d long since learned to suck it up and just keep truckin’.

when you were stable on your feet the man released your hand and reached down to free the hand-ax from the fallen groaner’s head, his face scrunching in disgust at the wet sucking sound the action elicited. it actually amused you to an extent.

“okay, mystery man, lead the way to safety.” you stated flippantly, manipulating your arm in a ‘the stage is yours’ sort of gesture. the man gave you a bit of a stinky side-eye before jerking his head to the left.

“it’s just this way,” he whispered. he padded to the sidewalk quietly, head whipping in each direction, body tense as if he expected a groaner to simply jump out unannounced at any moment.

what a scaredy cat, you thought jocularly.

“also, my name is glenn, not ‘mystery man.’” he added in a mutter.

you merely hummed in acknowledgment, more so for the man than yourself; you knew that by sundown he’d be gone with the wind, you’d forget all about this glenn fellow, and his name would be lost to your memory forever. no point in trying to stick it there in the first place.

silently, glenn led you through skinny, trashed back alleys and skirted past dilapidated structures, until at last he reached a large brick building. the door, which looked to be some sort of emergency exit, was a cool, gray metal, the hinges lined with rust and the surface slightly bleached from the harsh rays of the sun.

“it’s in here,” glenn murmured, grasping the handle and yanking it open. the hinges gave a deep, audible screech as he did so. “we cleared this out a few days ago.”

“we?” you parroted, trepidation flaring in your gut. it was fine when it was just glenn, but the thought of a group of people, one composed of unknown numbers, set off all kinds of alarms in your head.

groaners you could handle any day of the week; they were predictable, simple — just ambling corpses with no real thought process. humans… humans were different. complex, unpredictable, dangerous.

glenn noticed immediately when you hadn’t followed him through the threshold of the door; he glanced back at you, brows scrunched once more in confusion — it only took him a few moments to register the look upon your face before his eyes were widening and he was sputtering, “o-oh, it’s fine, my group isn’t – uh, they’re not dangerous. they won’t hurt you. and in any case, they aren’t w-with me today – I always make runs alone.”

“I’m s’posed to take your word for it?” you shot back, eyes narrowed dangerously. glenn gulped audibly and flicked his eyes between you and the interior of the building, lips working without producing any sound. he looked so helpless, like a lost puppy, that you couldn’t stop yourself from deflating.

“I believe you,” you uttered. “at least, I will for now. I mean, you don’t look all that dangerous. I reckon I could knock you on your ass in two seconds flat.”

a threat wrapped up within a petulant jab; not exactly your proudest moment, but part of you felt cornered, and it seemed to get the job done. glenn’s eyes flashed with surprise, and maybe a bit of fear, and his voice was less than stable when he murmured, “there’s no one else in there, I swear.”

the tense set of his shoulders, his wide eyes, and the shakiness in his voice seemed so genuine, that you couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.

“are you actually scared of me, mystery man?” you jested, genuinely bemused by how sincerely glenn considered your concealed threat. was he actually taking you seriously? glenn’s throat flexed as he swallowed and nodded.

“well, I just watched you take down about a dozen geeks with just a pocket knife; so, yeah, kind of.”

you chuckled to yourself and gave glenn a once over. maybe he wasn’t so bad, after all. he appeared genuine and harmless. kinda cute, too; in an innocent, boyish way, of course – boyish had never exactly been your style, but you could enjoy the aesthetic of it.

“well, glenn, why don’t you go ahead and show me around?” you purred, rolling his name across your tongue and not bothering to wait for a verbal confirmation. you pushed past glenn and into the dank, dusty building, eyes immediately sweeping across the bare shelves and stained walls. not a groaner, nor human, in sight.

glenn ambled further in and shut the door behind him with a soft whoosh and click. the room became near saturated in darkness, the only light being that of the sunlight filtering weakly through the gaps between the boards nailed to the windows. glenn wasn’t lying when he said it had been cleared out, but he didn’t mention anything about it being groaner-proof.

“is this, like, where your group stays or somethin’?” you inquired, your eyes narrowed and scrutinizing of every detail. there were no mats or makeshift beds that you could see, no visible provisions, and the space lacked the tell-tale signs of human inhabitance.

“oh, no, uh, this is just a rendezvous point – or, it will be. like I said before, I mostly do runs on my own.” glenn passed by you as he explained, coming to a kneel in the middle of the floor where the sunlight was most luminous. he slipped a large, beige bag from his shoulder and planted it on the ground, flipping the top and burying his hand inside.

“runs?” you wondered aloud, watching the man closely as he began to pull items from the bag one by one. medical gauzes, bottles of hydrogen peroxide, boxes of bandaids, a couple cans of vegetables occupied the space beside him bit by bit.

“yeah, runs. we made a camp a while back, at an old quarry just outside the city. food and water aren’t much of issue there, but other things” – glenn glanced up at you a bit sheepishly – “well, they run short sometimes.”

“so they send you out alone to get them?” you surmised, prompting an airy chuckle from the kneeling man.

“ah, no, I actually offered. I know the city like the back of my hand. getting in and out is no problem for me.”

you nodded your understanding, chewing the tender skin on the inside of your cheek – you were inclined to believe glenn, considering he had yet to prove himself untrustworthy, but there was something that was gnawing at you; something that you needed some clarification on.

“so, uh, if you came out here to get supplies, why’d’ya come over to me? and why did you bring me here?”

glenn paused his task for a brief moment before sighing softly. his lips thinned as he seemed to ponder how to answer.

“because I made a promise to myself. I told myself that if I ever ran across someone here in the city, I’d ask if they want to come back with me,” glenn answered quietly, though by the clench of his jaw, you could tell he wasn’t quite done with his explanation, so you bit back the other questions swirling on your tongue. “I guess I just hoped to myself that if the roles were ever reversed, someone would do the same for me.”

the residual tension that had been locking up your shoulders ever since entering the building drained away like a river to the ocean. you smiled softly and plopped down on the floor a few feet away from glenn. with a teasing warmth in your chest, you queried, “so you saw me and decided you wanted me to come home with you?”

glenn rolled his eyes, but the flush in his cheeks betrayed the effect your suggestive comment had on him.

“not like that, it’s just – it’s just that things aren’t as easy as they used to be. your best chance at survival is with a group.”

“I’ve done fine on my own,” you responded back flippantly, planting your palms behind you and leaning your weight back atop them. “I mean, I’ve been here since it started.”

glenn swiped his tongue over his bottom lip nervously, scanning through the contents on the floor before rapidly scooping them back into his bag.

“yeah, I, uh, I noticed that you’re capable. it’s just that – things won’t always be so easy, you know?”

irritation shot through your chest like a hot lance, your somewhat good mood ruined instantly.

“did I say it was easy?” you seethed, anger punctuating your every movement as you swung your hands back in front of you and leaned forward.

just as it had at the door, glenn’s mouth began to open and close rapidly as he tried desperately to recover. his wide eyes flicked down to your waistline, the area he knew held your pocket knife, and he scooted back a small bit while simultaneously dragging his bag in front of his body; an attempt to keep distance between the two of you.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that – that without a group, surviving will get harder and harder.”

you weren’t entirely sure if it was from lack of sleep, stress, or the cursed, buried memories that had been incessantly dragging themselves back up despite your multiple efforts to keep them down, but you had been highly irritable the last few days. every time you closed your eyes, you saw his face, you heard his voice, taunting you with the sweet nothings he whispered long ago. you still felt his phantom touches that had long since grown cold.

you just wanted it to stop.

you wanted to find the strength to throw that little box out of the fucking window, and to burn that one shirt he left, the only things left to remind you that he wasn’t just some conjured fever dream. that’s why you’d been out in the street in the first place, drawing as many groaners as you could to yourself just so you could picture his face as you plunged your knife through their soft, rotten skulls.

and maybe, just maybe, find the strength to drop the knife and let it end.

but you just couldn’t. you couldn’t throw the box out, you couldn’t burn the shirt, and you most definitely couldn’t let yourself die; it went against everything he taught you.

with a sigh, you opened your eyes, which you had never even remembered closing, and regarded glenn once more. his eyes were still wide, clouded with something that was a mixture of nervous and worried, his hand trembled atop his bag, and his bottom lip wavered.

“you said you promised yourself that you’d invite whoever you found in the city to your camp, yeah?” you quizzed, the question one that glenn had not expected you to ask, if the brief confusion on his face was any indicator. after a moment’s hesitance, glenn nodded.

“yeah… our camp is pretty well established, and I know we’ve got room for others. does that, uh – does that mean you want to come back with me?”

you’d never second guessed your choices, nor the consequences of those choices, and you weren’t about to start now — so, with a cheeky smile and a wink, you purred,

“sure thing, glenn. I’ll come home with you.”

a/n: so I recently checked my analytics and uh… 114 followers?? what??? like I’m — I’m speechless y’all. thank you so so much I can’t even begin to express how much it means to me <3 I promise I’ll be doing my best to dutifully deliver content to y’all as fast as possible <33333

TAGLIST: @daryldixmedown @alanalanalanalanalanna @just-always-tired @chylerluvschim @girlydollydarling @marvelcasey05

#daryl x reader #twd daryl #twd x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #the walking dead daryl #twd

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shygirl4991 · 2 months

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Chapter 2 Artistic Ringmaster

Art done by @alianarepasa do not repost Summary: After the event of Splits into Three everything felt like things were back to normal, that is until Three’s boyfriend kicks down his front door announcing he has fallen under the same spell he did. Together they will learn the secret of the cherry potion and with SMG4 splits put an end to the evil gang's plan. Sequel to Split into Threes Last Chapter Next Chapter

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Comedy, Romance, action and adventure

SMG4 sits there wide eyed at the story, Producer nods taking notes trying his best to take all the information in. Four gets up looking at his boyfriends face, now that he was told the story he started to see the difference in Three’s appearance. He gently touches Three’s face “You do look softer with a bit of sharpness…so the reason you really were pink was because I was talking to your heart. Heh explains why you seemed so open, I was literally talking to your emotions haha!”

Four starts to do a panic laugh, Producer gets up and holds on to Fours arm “It’s okay original, i know…it's scary since if we mess up we lose everything but T-three did it so maybe we can to?” Four turns looking at his personality studying his appearance. This is what he acts like when those thoughts take over, the sleepless night and panic that his next video won't be perfect. The thought causes an image to flash in his mind.

“IT’S GOTTA BE PERFECT!”

He stands up straight holding his breath while Producer holds his head “Ah OH GOD!” Three panics running over to the personality to make sure he was okay. He talks gently to the personality helping him relax before turning to his main boyfriend “Hey uh..everything okay you both just freaked the hell out.” Four opens his mouth to answer only to be interrupted by a cheering crowd, they all turn confused as the crowd gets louder. Then they hear a voice “WELCOME EVERYONE TO THE MAIN EVENT I RINGMASTER 4 SHALL BRING YOU A SHOW YOU WONT FORGET!”

Three and Four exchange a look before running out of the castle, where they saw a huge stage was set up in the middle of the showgrounds. On the stage was a red SMG4 dress like a showman, he smirks at the crowd as he tips his top hat and twirls his cane “Remember folks like what you see then like, comment and subscribe to my amazing channel!” He hits a button making the cannons on the stage shoot out youtube pillows with the channel link on them. Three catches one and stares at the pillow, his face going blank “I see..you have a showman personality, why am i not surprised.” Four blushes as he watches the personality doing tricks. It was impressive how resourceful this personality was, any mistake he made he just twirled his cane and went with the flow of it making it into a joke. SMG4 walks closer to the stage, red eyes looking right at him “Ah a shame i must end the show folks, it seems the main character of the story is here and needs me!” the crowd boos and starts leaving the showground, he jumps off the stage with a flourish “Ah Chang Noi! Happy to see you will be with us on this journey. I see producer is here,” Producer does a small wave as he anxiously messes with a page of his notepad.

Ringmaster smiles at them as Three stands there confused as to what the personality called him, Four lets out an awkward smile offering his hand “um nice to meet you?” the showman chuckles as he shakes SMG4 hand “Pleasure i'm Ringmaster your Imaginative side!” Producer scoffs “More like a walking Ego.” The comment surprises Three as he turns to see the personality pouting as Ringmaster glares at him, Four notices looking at the two worried “um is everything alright with you two?” Ringmaster walks up to Producer and lightly smacks his back “We are fine! Producer isn't wrong…I may be labeled as egocentric but that isn't all I am!” SMG3 nods hearing the annoyed tone dripping from Ringmaster. Seems something Four hates more than anything is someone pointing out his ego, shame they weren’t rivals this would have been a gold mine of information. SMG4 lets out an awkward chuckle “I mean I may have had one when I was younger but there is no way I have a huge ego now right?” he turns to his boyfriend who was standing next to Producer. They both blink at him before they exchange a look, Three gives a small smile “You uh have gotten better…you know till you decide to be an asshole about things,” Four’s eyes go wide. Then he and Ringmaster both put their hands on their hips and in sync yell “When the hell were we assholes?!” Four blushes as Three points to his cafe “My opening?”

Four bites his lip as Ringmaster chuckles “Please we explained to you, it’s what we do, we tease and fight only now is it wrong to do since you became our corazón!” Three facepalms feeling a headache grow as he talks to the red personality. He just wished something would happen to get everyone on track to the mission of finding all the splits, they were so close just one more and they could try to figure out what's wrong with Four. SMG4 stared at the cafe frowning as he remembered how he took things too far, could it be he has been blind to the way he treats others. He could feel eyes on him, turning, Producer was looking at him, eyes glowing. He could feel a flutter of anxiety grow in him ‘what if i'm not good enough for SMG3’ with that thought he turned away fast only to catch the sight of purple running around the cafe.

Producer noticed SMG4 looking at something and followed his line of sight to catch a glimpse of someone , slowly he started to walk over to the spot. Seeing this Four walks after him leaving Ringmaster and Three to fight, they get closer and get hit with a strong smell of paint. That's when he saw himself in purple, he had his tongue out and was covered in paint. Looking closer he had a sweater tied around his waist and like ringmaster the hat was different it was beret. He was humming as he moved the brush on the wall of Three’s cafe, he wasn't sure what to say given how lost in his world the personality seemed. Three noticing the pair left he walked over “WHAT THE HELL WHO IS PAI-,” he freezes as the artistic personality turns looking into Three’s eyes.

His eyes flicked violet as he stared at the man in front of him, looking around and noticing what was going on he laughed “OH! You found me haha sorry about that. I was feeling a bit sketchy today haha get it?!” he winked at the crew making Three’s face go red. The purple personality fixes his hat “Well hello everyone im Artist! Without me SMG4 wouldn't be so creative and funny, ah speaking off your cafe needed a little something Mcdreamy so i painted dead memes on your walls to celebrate you!”

Three looked at the mural and gasp “Terrance…you painted Terrance and the others on the wall..” his eyes watered. Four smiles softly wrapping his arm around his boyfriend for comfort “Thanks Artist.” He nods, pleased to see that he managed to make their partner smile, Ringmaster looks at the art and scoffs “You really think this can bring attention?” Artist glares at him “Remember your place red, you think you can do half of what you do without my humor?” Producer was panicking and grabbed onto SMG3 for comfort. SMG4 lets out a chuckle “So this is what you went through with your three huh?”

SMG3 frowns watching the fight, his splits never acted like this. They all acted like siblings since they all seemed to get along, that's when he remembered something Book told him, making him wrap his arms around Four and Producer. He sighs “Hey scrub…are you doing okay?” his boyfriend gave him a confused look, Three looked at Ringmaster and Artist fighting about making content stressing out Producer “Four, these guys are you. Looking at the three of them they can't stand each other, it's okay if you need to talk to someone about what's going on in your head but you can't brush aside that none of your personalities like each other!”

Four shakes his head “I’m fine three, now we have to all get along and this will be done shouldn't be hard!”

Ringmaster smacks Artist with his cane making the purple personality growl “All right you egomaniac, you may think the world is all about you but SMG4 needs us!” Ringmaster chuckles “Cute you call our Original by his name, must be nice to be liked.” Three was hearing the conversation and it clicked, he accepted Spade and Book easy that is until heart came into the picture. He almost killed his emotions, Four seems to be having a hard time accepting these parts of him. Letting out a sigh he lets go of four and turns to producer “Hey PD i need to know something, is something holding you three back?”

Producer looks down “I…he..” seeing the personality was going to break down he takes a step back and comforts him “Whoa okay its fine PD was just making sure.” Four eye twitches hearing the fighting, taking a deep breath he walks towards Ringmaster “Look I do understand you're a part of me, it's just hard to process everything. Let's just relax and figure this all out.” He gives them a sheepish smile then shows a meme on his phone hoping to stop the pair from fighting. The pair exchange looks and sigh after watching the video, Four wasn't sure what the reaction meant but was pleased to see the fighting had stopped.

Three gentle touches the pins on his overalls thinking, this wasn't going to be a one day thing. There was something his boyfriend isn't telling him, whatever it is seems to be making it hard for his personality to connect. He stands there thinking about what the missing link could be until he hears a shout from the Personality holding him “M-my notes! Oh no, without them we cant do the video and no video is going to disappoint all our viewers!” Looking up he sees the page has been blown away and landed on the roof of his cafe.

He gives a pat on Producer's head “It’s fine i can go get it, just sit here and don't…uh pass out okay?” while Four attempted to get Ringmaster and Artist to get along Three started to climb the ladder to get the page. Producer looks up nervously catching the Artistic personality attention he turns and looks wide eyed at Three “Uh hey Three the ladder isn't really stable i broke it when i was messing with paint!” Four looked up in panic “THREE!” Not hearing the group due to the winds Three grabs the page and smiles at them waving it, the wind picks up knocking SMG3 hat off and making him lose his grip as the ladder bar snaps. He closes his eyes as he feels himself fall “I SHALL SAVE YOU MY FAIR MAIDEN!” with that yell he felt warm arms catching him. He opens his eyes only to scream “THERE'S MORE THEN THREE!?”

#smg4 #smg3 #smg34 #shygirl4991 #smg4 smg3 #smg43 #alianarepasa #split into three #six splits for fours #smg34 fanfiction #fluff

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elliesflower · 1 year

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i saw you in a dream [5]

summary; you attend ellie's open mic performance. and meet her...roommate.

chapter; 5/? 3.1k words

cw (per chapter); recreational marijuana usage, language

an; hi lol. i love u guys, thank you endlessly for dealing with my slow updating of this story. anyways, i think this may be my favorite chapter yet, please let me know what you think! i love a good cliffhanger ;) (as always, find it on ao3 here)

chapter 4 here

Friday came entirely too quickly—you breezed through your last final exam on Thursday, which left you way too much time to anxiously anticipate your upcoming…event.

“Date!” Dina exclaimed. “Ellie asked you to go because she likes you, it’s practically a date,” she singsonged, twirling a piece of hair around her finger childishly.

“Yes, because I’m sure we’ll have so much time to talk one-on-one and gaze longingly into each other’s eyes in between performances,” you replied sarcastically, continuing to rummage through your closet. “And, you don’t know that she likes me, maybe she just asked me because I was right there.”

“Okay, for someone so smart, sometimes you’re a little stupid,” Dina said, and you shot her the most evil side eye you could manage. “Ellie may or may not like you like that, but she likes you enough to invite you to something that sounds personal and important to her. This is your in! Now, you just have to get flirty.”

“‘Get flirty?’ Do you even know me at all?” You scoffed, turning to face her. “I am, like, the most awkward human being on the planet.”

“Okay, I take it back,” Dina laughed, standing up. “Let’s just focus on finding you an outfit.”

“What the hell do you even wear to an open-mic?” You complained, turning back to continue looking through your closet.

“You could wear something of mine, if you want,” she suggested.

“Uh, no thank you,” you smiled, pulling out a plain black mock-neck from the depths of your closet, turning around and holding it up to your chest.

“Hey!” Dina gasped. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“No offense, but I don’t really think…whatever look you have going on is the one for me.” It’s not that you didn’t like the way Dina dressed, rather, you really did like it—but expressing yourself through clothing had always been hard for you, sticking to more muted tones, blacks and greys. Dina’s wardrobe was loud and colorful, she always looked so put together, and she never seemed to wear the same thing twice. You admired it, really, but still found yourself gravitating towards more basic clothing.

“Whoever said saying ‘no offense’ actually makes a statement any less offensive needs their ass beat, to be honest,” she replied casually, and you could hear her sorting through hangers in her own closet. “Just try this, at least. It would look nice with that shirt, I promise!” She was shoving a colorful chunky-knit cardigan into your hands before you could protest, and you grimaced.

“I don’t know Dee,” you held up the sweater, contemplating. “I never wear stuff like this.”

“Just put the damn sweater on and let’s go!” She smiled at you. “Don’t you want good seats?”

You rolled your eyes, but went to look in the mirror nonetheless. “As if there’ll be a fight for front row seats at a college open-mic.”

“Oh perfect,” she sighed exaggeratedly before rummaging in her desk drawer. “Then you agree, you have time to split this with me before we leave?” She held up a small, white tube, and you pursed your lips.

“Okay, fine,” you gave in, quickly pulling your shirt off over your head before pulling on the black long-sleeve.

“Just one hit.”

—

You did not, in fact, take just one hit. It was more like four. Or five…or six, or who could keep track, really?

It seemed like a good idea, a little something to take the edge off, maybe soothe the bundle of nerves that had formed in your stomach and in your brain and in your chest at the thought alone of seeing Ellie—god forbid, having to make conversation with her.

And while it did help a little, you hadn’t smoked as much as Dina, so it still felt as though your heartbeat grew louder with each step toward the theater. All that stood between you and Ellie—and, well, a handful of other attendees and performers—was a short corridor.

“It’ll be okay, just chill out,” Dina tried to subdue you, and her voice was thickened by her intoxication, slower and almost more serious. Her eyes were low as she smiled over at you, bumping into your shoulder softly.

“Thank you, Dina, because telling someone to chill out always works so well,” you quipped, shaking your head as she led you through the doors. Though, you did try to chill out, as it were, taking a deep breath and sliding the sleeves of the oversized cardigan up your forearms, nervously tugging at the neck of your long sleeve, fidgeting with anything you could think of to distract you from—

“Oh!” You exclaimed as you ran directly into a body around the corner, staggering backwards slightly before someone was gripping your arms, keeping you steady. Your eyes trailed up the body before you were met with—oh god, “Ellie!”

“We have to stop meeting like this,” she laughed melodically, smoothing her hands down your biceps before flashing her teeth at you. The chatter of the other attendees faded into the background as you felt your body heat up under her stare, painfully aware of her hands that were still on your arms.

You could do nothing but let out an awkward laugh in response, nodding your head as she took her hands away. Dina cleared her throat obnoxiously from behind you and you turned your head to give her a look that you hoped conveyed: please for the love of god save me.

“Hi, I’m Dina by the way, or you probably know me as ‘the roommate,’” she said, sticking out her hand past you for Ellie to shake, and you had to admire her confidence for a second, the way she could unapologetically be herself in any situation. You’d think that from spending so much time with her, some of that confidence would have rubbed off on you, but no, you were still just…you.

“Nice to meet you, Dina,” Ellie smiled, and her voice was laced with honey, rich and slow spilling from her lips. She reached her hand past you to shake Dina’s, and you moved out of the way slightly.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Dina dropped her hand and stood next to you now. You looked over at her in shock, and you hoped the shaking of your head and wide eyes weren’t noticeable.

“Uh, not so much,” you laughed nervously, trying to subtly kick Dina’s ankle.

“Wow, you really do have that guitar player look to you,” she ignored you, gesturing to Ellie. “I love the tattoo!”

Your eyes were daggers glaring into the side of Dina’s head, but neither her or Ellie seemed to notice—though it was debatable whether that was good or bad. Ellie chuckled, instinctively looking down at her arm and holding it out as if to show it off. You felt like sinking into the floor, watching her arm flex as she rotated it, skimming her fingers down the length of her forearm, tracing the pattern.

“Thank you,” she was slightly bashful, despite her eagerness to show off. She caught your eye for a moment and—were her cheeks turning red? It is pretty warm in here with all these bodies…yeah, that’s it.

“Well, anyways, nice to finally meet you Ellie, I’m gonna go grab a snack,” Dina smiled politely between both you and Ellie, before patting your shoulder and slipping away. Oh god, why would she leave you to talk to her alone?

“I’m so glad you could make it,” she said, and suddenly everything was fading away again. You took a moment to look down at her outfit, trying to be as discreet as possible. She adorned a light blue flannel, cuffed just above her elbows and a pair of dark Levi’s—her hair was pulled back, save for a few pieces that fell loosely around her face, which you noticed she tucked hastily behind her ear when a strand tickled her nose before she said, “I love that sweater, by the way.”

Dina was going to have a field day with that one.

“Oh, thank you!” You exclaimed, instinctively wrapping your arms around yourself. She smiled at you before continuing.

“Anyways, I’m up last, so don’t feel like you have to stay for the whole thing, if you get bored or anything,” she explained, pointing at the stage behind her. “I’m just glad you could make it.”

On the inside, you were swooning, your eyes were in the shape of hearts and you wanted to reach out and embrace her—you wanted to smell that warm vanilla musk and the earthy savor of weed, you wanted to tell her you wanted nothing more than to spend all your time with her, know her inside and out, you wanted it all.

“No, no, I came here for you,” you said instead, making fists around the material of your sweater and smiling at her. “Of course I’ll stay.”

Ellie’s face flushed again, and you continued to insist it was due to the heat of the room. She glanced behind her, and you followed her gaze to see Dina filling up a plate with what looked like one of everything from the table.

“I should go get ready,” Ellie mumbled before turning back to you. “Why don’t you go grab some snacks with Dina and I’ll catch you after the show?” She sounded hopeful. You nearly choked.

“Yes, I’ll be here!” Of course you’ll be here, where the hell else would you be? You mentally face-palmed yourself before she was giving you a smile and disappearing into the crowd. You took a deep breath and made your way to the snack table, where Dina was still loading up.

“Oh, hey!” She said when she finally saw you.

“Hey, thanks so much for embarrassing the hell out of me,” you complained, stealing a cheese square off of her plate.

“Embarrassing you? Please, I was helping you,” she laughed before stuffing a grape into her mouth. “And it kinda worked, didn’t it? I set you up for a nice little chat with your girlfriend.”

“Oh, shut up,” you bumped her shoulder, but you couldn’t fight the warmth that climbed up the back of your neck. “Let’s go grab a seat.”

The acts that preceded Ellie were actually entertaining—a few songs, a poem or two, and a stand-up act that wasn’t…terrible. Not to say it was good but…you know.

And then the host, who you assumed was Ellie’s roommate, was waltzing back on to the stage as the audience applauded, her short black hair reflecting almost blue in the spotlight. She was eclectic, all mismatched patterns and silver jewelry that hung from her neck and her wrists and her ears. She was funny and vibrant, commanding the attention of everyone in the room every time she stepped onto the stage to introduce the next act.

“Alright folks, please give a warm welcome to my best friend, the one and only, Ellie Williams!” She tucked her microphone under her arm before clapping, moving out of the way of the small stool that was behind her. Best friend? Ellie had only said she was her roommate.

But it didn’t matter, because Ellie was walking on to the stage with her guitar in hand, smiling nervously at the crowd. You clapped as loud as you could, trying to reposition your body so that you could see her slightly better over the heads in front of you, though you doubted she could see you from your seat somewhere in the middle row.

“Uh, good evening, everyone,” Ellie started, positioning herself on the stool and pulling the microphone down to her level. “I’m gonna sing a little song for you guys, if that’s cool.” There was a bit of scattered applause and Dina whooped loudly from beside you. You smacked her with the back of your hand.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, partly from the excitement at getting to see Ellie perform, and partly from your second-hand stage fright. Even though you weren’t the one performing, you always seemed to absorb the nerves of the performer, just waiting for them to make a mistake, even if you didn’t want them to. You especially wanted this to go well for Ellie, and you bounced your leg nervously as she positioned her guitar in her lap.

She strummed the first few chords and you nearly had a heart attack.

C, A-minor, F-major. You could probably play those in your sleep, now.

“Holy shit,” Dina whispered from beside you, and of course, she knew too, from the hours and hours you spent listening to the song, practicing the song, getting taught the song.

“Did I drive you away?

I know what you'll say

You say, ‘Oh, sing one we know,’

“Dina,” you whispered back, leaning into her, but not being able to peel your eyes away from Ellie. “Is that…?” But you already knew the answer.

“Dude. She’s so. Into you.”

“But I promise you this

I'll always look out for you

Yeah, that's what I'll do,

You couldn’t help the smile that slowly spread across your face as you leaned back up, watching Ellie lose herself in the song. Suddenly, you were back in her room, the air thick and heavy, watching her sing softly and strum along when she thought you weren’t watching—that little crease between her eyebrows and the dreamy look in her eyes as she sang with the voice of a thousand angels.

Maybe you had a hard time believing Ellie was into you, but she picked this song knowing you would be here. There was no denying that.

“La, la, la, la, o-oh

La, la, la, la, o-oh,

The song ended entirely too soon, and she was smiling, standing up and adjusting the microphone back into a higher position. Applause was erupting from every side of you and you clapped as though you were the only person in the room, as if she could see the intensity in which you showed your recognition and your appreciation and your utter giddiness.

The host was waltzing on stage again before you knew it, and gave Ellie a hug. You ignored the jealous twinge in your heart, for god’s sake you had literally hung out one time, and the applause continued as she thanked everyone for coming, wrapping her arm around Ellie’s waist and requesting one last round of applause for all the performers. You continued clapping, watching Ellie raise her guitar in the air like a glass of champagne for a toast, before the host whispered something in her ear that made her smile. You again ignored the skip of your heart, instead focusing on Dina’s hand gripping your arm.

“Oh my god, you have to go say something to her, ask her out, something! The suspense is literally killing me,” she whined, pulling you along as the lights slowly turned back on and people shimmied out of the aisles.

“I can’t just ask her out, it’s not that easy for me,” you replied.. You wished it was easy for you, you wished you could be more like Dina, just walk right up to her and say: I think I really like you, and we should go out sometime. But your anxiety paralyzed you, rendered you completely helpless when it came to love and lust.

“I swear dude, if I have to sit through any more of your pining and love songs I might request a roommate swap,” Dina said, leading you back to the snack table. “She likes you. And if you can’t see that at this point I don’t know what else to say.” You pouted a bit, like a petulant child, crossing your arms over your chest and surveying the room. Before you could even formulate a response, Ellie was emerging from a group of people who had gathered opposite the table. You quickly uncrossed your arms as she caught your eye and made her way toward you.

“Oh look, who would have guessed,” Dina muttered, popping a grape into her mouth. She smiled exaggeratedly at Ellie before grabbing a handful of crackers. “I’ll leave the two of you to talk,” and you wished so badly you could flip her off without it being obvious.

“Hey,” Ellie said quietly, and her voice was almost timid--a laughable comparison to barely five minutes ago when she had the entire audience wrapped around her finger.

“Ellie,” you breathed, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “Your song choice was…inspired,” you said, wrapping an arm across your body. She looked down at her feet, and you wondered if her cheeks would be rosy when she looked back up.

“Oh, yeah,” she looked up at you now, and you were right. Except, it wasn’t actually that warm in here. “Well, it’s a good song, you know.” Her hand went to the back of her neck, just like it had before, and you wanted to pull it away, to intertwine your fingers and just tell her, just tell her you want to go out, somewhere where she doesn’t have to teach you to play guitar and you can just talk, and mentally map the freckles that littered her face and learn about how she got that scar in her eyebrow and find out if she’d rather go to a tea house or a coffee shop and fuck, you had to ask her, now, before you lost the courage and your mouth was moving before your brain could catch up,

“Ellie, I was wondering if--”

“There you are, superstar!” A voice suddenly came from behind her, and you recognized it immediately. The host--or I guess, Ellie’s roommate--oops, wrong again, Ellie’s best friend, was appearing behind her, grabbing onto her shoulder and looking at her with admiration. Ellie seemed surprised to see her, somehow, as she turned to face her, plastering on a smile that looked…forced.

“Oh, hey,” she replied, before the raven-haired girl was pulling her into a hug. You stood awkwardly as they embraced, looking down at the ground in an attempt to seem casual. Oh god, you couldn’t believe you were actually about to ask Ellie out on a date.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” the girl said abruptly, pulling back as if she’d just noticed your presence. She left an arm around Ellie’s waist, and you noticed the way Ellie suddenly appeared tense. Like, in a bad way.

You offered the girl a small smile and stuck your hand out politely, giving her your name. She took it and shook firmly, her small hand deceivingly strong. Her eyes were painted with thick, black eyeliner, and they raked up and down your body. You felt like shrinking away under her intimidating stare, averting your eyes after a moment.

“Uh, this is Cat, my roommate,” Ellie said after an awkward pause, giving you a sheepish look.

“And best friend,” she chimed, pulling her hand away. She leaned into Ellie’s side, resting her head on Ellie’s shoulder and using her free hand to pat her chest.

“Ellie and I go way back.”

chapter 6 here

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie williams imagine #the last of us #dina tlou #tlou

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cxsmicbaby · 10 months

Text

consequences - 3

CHAPTER THREE OF A SERIES

chapter 01 ; chapter 02

pairing : miguel o’hara x fem!reader

warnings : smut! it’s right in the beginning so be prepared.

word count : 3k

a/n : shorter chapter cuz i originally wrote more but it got too long, so i split it into two chapters. that means chapter four out very soon! also, thank u for all the support on the other two parts. enjoy :)

miguel punishes you for your antics. you’re not sure you can forgive him this time.

𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

When he touches you, he makes sure he’s as gentle as humanely possible.

It’s difficult, because underneath that soft touch is a growing, almost primal desire to absolutely wreck you, to leave you keening for him and to mold you to his shape. But Miguel wants to take it slow, because he wants this to last.

“Miguel,” you whimper, and his ears heat at your voice. You sound almost choked. “Miguel, please.”

He could sit here and tease you for hours, watching as you became increasingly desperate, pathetic, writhing as his fingers ghost over that wet spot in your panties. But he won’t. Because the only thing even better than edging you for hours would be to make you cum, all over his tongue and his fingers, even though he knows you’d rather have his cock. He can’t give it to you, just yet. He has to work you open, make sure you’re ready.

“Patience, princesa. I’ll give you what you need, I promise.” He kisses your thigh gently and you shiver, hands reaching down to rake through his hair. He suppresses a groan when you tug softly, trying to coax him toward your needy cunt. God, he can fucking smell you. His already rock hard cock twitches in his pants, aching for some sort of pressure.

He wants to make you wait, he really does. But the way you’re looking down at him, your eyes pleading, your mouth parted, Miguel knows he’s got no chance.

Miguel’s fingers glide up your legs, to your hips, and then they hook around your panties and slowly pull them down. He can see your chest rising in quick, shallow breaths as he exposes you; your legs try to close instinctively but he holds them open, his eyes glued to your glistening folds. His throat rumbles with a deep groan, and it comes out as more of a subdued growl. You whine softly and he’s done for.

“God, what a pretty pussy,” he whispers, more for himself than for you. Your hips grind against nothing, and you tug on his hair a bit harder.

“Please,” you beg, your voice breaking ever so slightly. And Miguel is sure you have more to say, but he’s already moving, his nose bumping your clit as he licks a long strip up your slit. The way you immediately arch your back for him makes his head fuzzy.

“Fuck, taste so good, hermosa,” he mutters, muffled by your wet cunt. He doesn’t even really register what he’s said, too caught up in the noises you’re making. Each whimper and whine goes straight to his throbbing cock, traveling up his spine, coaxing moans of his own out to join yours. You’re dripping, his face shining with your wetness as he eats you relentlessly, holding you down by the hips to keep you from squirming.

“Miguel,” you cry, and when your thighs squeeze around his head, he doesn’t force them open again. Instead, he wraps his hands around them and tugs you closer, allowing his eager mouth to explore even deeper. The feeling of being encased by you makes his eyes flutter shut.

“Miguel,” again, you say his name, and he feels you reaching the edge, your walls tightening around his tongue, your stomach muscles contracting—

“Miguel!”

His eyes shoot open and he sits up on his bed, startled and disoriented. The room is still pitch black, and it’s hot. He’s sweating so much he feels the sheets sticking to his skin as he moves to stand, tossing the covers off of him. He rubs his eyes, trying to compose himself, and again he hears his name. Memories of his dream flood back to him and he becomes acutely aware of the uncomfortable ache in his boxers.

Miguel scans the darkness of his room for the source of the voice, and notices a dull light coming from his bedside table. He reaches for it, feeling fabric, and tosses what must be a shirt onto the floor. His watch sits there, vibrating slightly, screen glowing with an incoming call alert.

“Jeez, you finally woke up. Having a good dream, were we?” Lyla’s voice crackles through, her mini hologram appearing in front of him with a smug sort of smile that Miguel doesn’t appreciate.

He swats her away. “Just shut up and answer the call.” The darkness is a gift to him right now, because he’s sure if Lyla could see his face properly she would notice his cheeks tinged with a slight pink.

She scoffs, but does what he asks anyway. Immediately light floods the room as a life-sized hologram of Jess replaced that of Lyla.

Miguel scowls. “What time is it? And where are you?”

Jess stands in a place he feels familiar with, but through his sleepiness he can’t quite tell what it is. And then it hits him. She’s standing in the lobby of the Spider Society, and behind her is a wall; that same wall you and Hobie desecrated just a week ago. He knows you cleaned up your mess—he remembers walking in just to see how you were doing, and he found you and Hobie sitting as he played you a somber chord on his guitar. He told you to get up and start doing your job. He didn’t like how close the two of you were.

But now, it looks like all that cleaning did was make room for more shit, because the wall is entirely painted in vibrant swirls, lines, dots—it looks pretty nice, if he’s being honest.

Jess looks pissed. Like, someone must’ve just dumped a bucket of ice cold water on her pissed. That brings him back to the moment and he groans in frustration.

“You have to do something about these stupid fucking pranks, Miguel.” She hisses, trying to keep her voice down so she doesn’t wake anyone up. Jess has never needed volume to show her emotions, though; she’s pretty good at scaring people with just her tone. Even Miguel has found himself a little wary of her. Once or twice.

Miguel feels his fangs digging into his tongue as he bites down, trying to keep his growing anger from overflowing. Of course, that’s what’s woken him from his not-so-peaceful slumber; another prank. Your prank. He inhales deeply and raises his hand to massage his temples before he speaks.

“Just go to sleep. I’ll deal with her tomorrow,” Miguel says, wanting very much to return to his bed so he can get a full night of rest. He hasn’t been able to sleep soundly since that odd encounter with you, where he sat just a few feet away from where he is right now. Every time he walks into his room he pictures you kneeling in front of him and it’s driving him up the fucking wall.

Jess frowns, and crosses her arms over her chest, resting them on her pregnant stomach. “You keep saying that, but you never really do. People are starting to talk.”

That catches his attention, and he looks up at her with red eyes that he’s sure glimmer with confusion. “Talk? About what?”

“About you, and your... you act weird around her, Miguel. If you can’t make yourself stop obsessing over her, at least be more discreet about it.”

Miguel’s blood runs cold. “What?”

To anyone else, the sudden hardness of his tone would cause panic, but Jess only rolls her eyes. “Don’t play stupid. You need to put your foot down, or else she’ll keep acting like this. She’s not a child, she’s grown. And so is Hobie, but there’s not really much we can do about him at this point.”

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just sighs shakily. “Okay. I’ll fix it.”

And then Miguel hangs up and the room is swallowed in darkness once more.

He’s aware that he’s started to go a bit easier on you, but he hadn’t realized it was so obvious. He’s still mean to you, he still doesn’t talk to you as much as it seems you’d like him to, and he still treats you like something of a personal assistant on the days you linger around his workspace. But instead of berating you for making dumb jokes or teasing him, he just lets you. He chooses you first to go on missions, even over more senior Spiders. Only the ones he knows will be safe for you, though. He wouldn’t dare send you somewhere that put you in danger.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe, he can balance both of his self-assigned responsibilities—settling the discourse in his organization, and keeping you close—by keeping you from missions for a while. He could say it was like a punishment for your latest prank, which would make Jess happy. But he knows it would hurt, for you. He still remembers the look on your face when he said you would just get in the way. He doesn’t want to see it again.

Miguel lies back down, but is unable to sleep.

𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

“Are you fuckin’ serious?”

I take into account the way Miguel’s eyebrows raise at my outburst, but I don’t really care. I bunch my hands into fists, and take two steps forward, so that I can attempt to stare him down. Of course, it’s difficult to stare down at someone who looms above you, but I do my best.

“Yes, I’m serious. I told you, stop acting like an idiot, but you didn’t, and now you have to pay the price.” Miguel is talking to me like I’m below him, and though I think that the thought should excite me it only makes me more angry.

I refuse to budge from my position, despite feeling my cheeks grow warm the longer he holds my gaze. I narrow my eyes at him.

“And I told you, I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about!”

When I woke up this morning, I was greeted by about 15 messages from Hobie, Gwen, and Jess, which was what really got me worried. Hobie isn’t big on texting, so that got me too, but when I checked his all he was talking about was how awesome what we did last night was. And then I realized I couldn’t remember anything about last night, and that my headache was probably connected to that.

Stupid Hobie. Always getting me to do things I don’t want to. This time, it was drinking copious amounts of alcohol he brought from his universe, getting piss drunk, and doing... something. I don’t actually know what yet, because I didn’t get the chance to respond to Hobie before I saw an incoming text from Miguel, telling me to come see him as soon as I saw it. Of course, I rushed out of bed. He’s never actually texted me before. I hoped it was something good, but I knew it probably wouldn’t be.

And that’s where we are, right after Miguel has broken the news to me that I’m banned from any missions for the next two weeks.

Miguel bites the inside of his cheek, obviously trying to keep himself from saying something rude. I usually appreciate that, but in this moment I just wish he would say something hurtful so I can be really mad at him.

“You really don’t remember?” he finally says, and the darkness of his tone startles me. I lose a bit of my resolve and I can tell he sees it in my eyes, because he actually takes a step back.

“No, Miguel, I don’t. And even if I did, two weeks? That’s definitely overkill,” and my voice has lost some anger. I sound more exasperated, which reflects the panic that’s starting to build up in my chest as I think about not being able to do what I love for the next week. Sure, I could hang around the Spider Society, just swinging around, bothering Hobie and Gwen and everyone else. But that would get boring, and then I’d be right back where I started, sitting on the tops of roofs back home, taking orders from Stephen, running around trying to stop crime, never being enough. The idea unfolds in my mind with each silent second and I feel all my fury being replaced by fear.

Miguel hangs his head and sighs. “You and Hobie vandalized the lobby again. Jess is very mad. There have to be consequences.”

I can’t stop myself from asking; “And you?”

He inhales sharply, and doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“I... I’m just tired. I’m tired of having to watch over you because you keep acting like a damn child.”

Somehow, Miguel’s violent, cruel insults hurt less than this; this quiet sort of disappointment, this resignation. Like I’ve worn him out with just a few fucking pranks. I find my anger growing again, and it burns stronger than before, fueled by the way my chest sort of aches at his words.

“Oh, fuck you, Miguel.”

His head snaps up to me, and the bright red of his eyes makes my heart jump. His nostrils flare and his upper lip twitches. I’ve never spoken like this to him before; never heard anyone speak to him like this before. The air grows thick and heavy, but not like before, when I was fixing his wounds. This feels dangerous. Almost scary.

“You know what? You are a fucking child.” He steps closer to me and I can almost feel the heat of his body radiating onto me. Spit flies as he hisses at me through clenched teeth. “You push and you push and you push, thinking nothing will happen. You are nothing special. You are just like every other Spider here and there will be a hundred more just like you.”

Miguel’s finger raises and he points it at me, sinking it into the flesh of my chest as he glowers. His voice lowers to just above a whisper. “I don’t need you, so what makes you think you can talk to me like that? What makes you think I won’t just fucking send you home?”

I’m breathless. If I speak I’m sure it’ll come out weak, like an animal, cornered by its vicious predator. So I stand there, gawking up at him, my mouth slightly open as I try to figure out what I should do. Miguel’s breath is hot on my face, deep and heavy as he tries to steady his pounding heart. His face has gone slightly red, the veins in his neck popping out. I’ve never seen him so mad, so close. It makes me want to melt into nothingness.

I swallow the ache in my throat. “Then why don’t you do it then?”

He pauses. His finger is still digging into my suit, his body is still looming over me. But his eyes soften just the slightest bit, and he sighs. No response.

I take the opportunity to swat his hand away, and step back, out of his circle. “If I’m so disposable to you, then I’ll take myself out. You can just find someone else to replace me, right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re cutting off your nose to spite your face.” His words are tough, but something in his voice is telling me that he is scared. Scared that I’ll actually go? Scared that my absence will cause Hobie to leave as well? I’m not sure I care to know.

So, I just furrow my brows and stare right back at him, swallowing the sadness I feel burrowing into my stomach. “Fuck off, Miguel.”

And then I’m gone, swinging off somewhere, nowhere, just trying to get away. I feel like I’m choking.

I don’t want to go home, but it’s the only thing I can do. He’s right, I’m hurting myself more than I’d be hurting him, as I’m sure he doesn’t give a shit whether I’m there or not. But if I stick around, I look pathetic. Like I said, I’m okay with looking silly, but pathetic? That’s too much.

When I walk into my apartment, it doesn’t feel at all like home. Everything’s in order, as no one’s been here for a while, with a light layer of dust coating the tops of some kitchen appliances, and the countertops. It smells like a room after the air conditioner’s been on too long, probably because the windows have been closed for weeks, and it happens to be very humid out today. Outside the sky is grey, but in that blinding way where you’re not sure if it’s gonna rain or not. A letter waits for me on my dining room table and I groan, already knowing who it’s from.

I sit in one of the wooden chairs. They aren’t very comfortable, but I got them on sale. I rip the envelope open and out comes the tell-tale parchment paper that Strange loves. He thinks it makes him seem more distinguished. Maybe it does, to people he doesn’t know, but it just makes me irrationally angry.

“Oh lord,” I murmur, scanning the written letter quickly for keywords. I see Stark knows and come see me in the same sentence and I toss the paper to the side, lying my head in my arms. I can’t get a moment of peace. I escape one stressful situation for another, and with barely ten minutes between the two. I bite my tongue to stop tears from welling up, and I squeeze my eyes shut, determined not to cry. God, I fucking hate crying.

I don’t move until I hear rain starting to pelt at the windows.

°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°

CHAPTER FOUR

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justporo · 2 months

Text

Revelations

A Night of Fake Smiles and Hidden Lies: Chapter 10

As the joy and their love still echo through each other, Astarion sweeps up Tav for another dance - that makes them reminisce about all the things that might have been and be thankful for all the things that are.

Author's Note: Three months... It took me three months to get back to this - I am deeply sorry but life - you know. I have however this and four more chapters already drafted ready for you - and there's still more to come so I hope you're ready to jump back into this adventurous night with Astarion and Tav, start the night anew or maybe get lost in it for the first time? Anyways, I hope really hope you enjoy a chapter of a lot of emotions and banter - there's quite some more stuff to come!

Songs: Serenade for Strings in E Major - Antonín Dvořák (and also that's their second waltz)

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You)

Warnings: none

CHAPTER LIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER |NEXT CHAPTER

~~~

You could have just stayed like this for the rest of your days: Astarion’s arms firmly holding you while the world blurred around you completely with your head thrown back and you dancing together until the world would fall down.

Your vampire being your single focal point, the one thing to always return to, the only thing you really ever needed – while the rush of the dance and the prickling sensation of having drunk just a tad too much gave you a feeling of pleasant light-headedness. Life could be so easy, so beautiful.

The waltz went on forever with you and Astarion beaming broadly, drunk on love, champagne and each other. And yet the dance ended all too quickly.

When an enormous crescendo began announcing the end of the waltz you lifted your head up again and grinned broadly at Astarion who was still rushing with you over the dancefloor as if he’d never done anything else in his life.

His red eyes were so open, the smile on his face as genuine as you had ever seen. A look that could almost make you believe that it had truly always been like that: no two hundred years of torture, just this perfect, gilded vision of a happy life.

You both knew it wasn’t true – but for this moment it was more than enough.

Horns in the orchestra rose up for a grand finale. Astarion turned you even more eagerly for these last couple of rounds, an almost feral grin splitting his face. Just the pure joy of the speed with which you were almost tossed around, made you throw your head back once more. A joyous, wild, almost feral laughter escaped from your lips – caused by the simple but deep delight of feeling so, so alive. You saw it on your vampire’s face too: a power so strong his undead self might’ve been more alive in this moment than others were in their whole existence.

Astarion’s hand let go of yours and joined his other at your waist and you leaned back even more to enjoy the dizzying rush, your hands quickly moving to cover your lover’s while you were sure you had never felt this free in your life. Flying couldn’t have felt any better than this.

And the vampire couldn’t rip his eyes from his beloved, the corners of his mouth curled up so far it made his face ache as he beheld his soulmate experiencing some of the rawest, purest joy, he’d ever seen in anyone. It seemed one of the divine entities he’d prayed to had eventually answered his pleas by putting you in his way after all. Finally blessing him with a piece of paradise.

But not a single god could have even competed with you in this very moment as Astarion could barely believe the beauty of the love of his life. His feeling of wonder and glee not second to yours in this moment that felt almost detached from anything – your surroundings, your past, your future.

Truly a night and a moment to never forget.

With a beat of the drum the orchestra ended on a high note. Couples all around you broke into cheering and clapping while the other guests joined in. The volume quickly rising levels over what the musicians had just ended with.

But Astarion and you didn’t join in. His hands were still on your hips and his eyes on your flushed face full of happiness. Your chest was heaving heavily. Who could have predicted that dancing could be just as exhausting as going into battle (or indulging in other physical activities). Your earlier assessment had been quite right you felt like. Although of course the aftermath felt much more delightful and much less dreadful.

It did nothing to bother you though because wild, unbound happiness was still flooding through you. And you saw it mirrored on Astarion’s face as well in the way his eyes sparkled like garnets and you felt his hands restlessly squeeze and tap on your hips, his vigour barely contained.

He opened his mouth wanting to say something while around you people were still in a frenzy. But before he could get a word out you stepped forward, dragged him down by his face and crushed his lips to yours in a way you had never kissed him before. The urge to show him how your heart was flowing over with love for him in this very moment was just too strong to resist. You needed an outlet for the overflowing in your chest – your whole body!

The vampire let it happen, arms raising almost helplessly before he wrapped them around you and pulled you in closer, kissing you back with just as much force and emotion. And when you released him, detangling from his arms, his crimson eyes were wide with surprise. He almost stumbled back being released from your passionate embrace.

Astarion was flustered and obviously speechless.

It must’ve been an illusion of the low lights, but it almost looked like a slither of pink blush crossed over his face up to the tips of his pointy ears. He blinked several times while his mouth was slightly agape, and his eyes were still on you: as if he had perceived a miracle right in front of his own eyes. And maybe that was exactly what you were to him.

Well, that surely was a first.

Your giggle felt almost a little hysterical as you rode off the last waves of this incredible emotional high and wrapped your arms around Astarion as your vampire was still staring off into space in surprised but delighted bliss. Meanwhile around you the dancefloor emptied slightly while the thundering applause had drizzled out already.

“We need to do this again some time, love, if that’s your reaction”, Astarion murmured as he regained his wits slowly and reciprocated the hug slowly. You buried your face at his chest, still grinning almost maniacally, not ready to let the moment pass.

Some of the guests passing around you, leaving the dancefloor threw the two of you glances. Everyone had seen your display of heartfelt affection and that seemingly had warmed up the crowd to you. One or two people went as far as touching your or Astarion’s shoulder as you kept standing there: the very illustration of a happy, young fairytale couple.

As that thought crossed your mind you almost started to giggle again – your little ironic roleplay had maybe become just a little tad too convincing.

You lifted your face off Astarion’s chest who had let his thumbs wander softly over your arms. “Now, my prince, are you ready to get your white stallion and steal me away for our first night of passion before we get married, and I have no other task in life than bear your children and raise them while you go off to some war from which you’ll never return?” you asked him, rambling on and on with the newly found energy and placed the back of your hand on your forehead in a dramatic gesture.

The vampire’s eyebrow in the meantime had arched higher and higher the more you added to the cliché imagery of your fairytale. He grinned at you, eyebrow still raised, giving him the expression of seriously questioning your sanity in this moment. “Darling, I honestly think you’re getting just a tad too much into this,” he whispered while the party, the drinking, the chatter rose up around you again.

“Also you do know my stance on horses, sweetheart.”

You laughed and pinched one of his cheeks. You were definitely still feeling high of everything and were in a silly mood. Thankfully Astarion didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he could barely contain his own laughter as he answered you.

“But at least you put the night of passion before the marriage, at least it’s not a prude tale,” he continued, his voice taking on a sultry note while he inclined his head to you.

“But scrap the terrible, stereotypical ending, my love, I’ll happily stay right here with you for as long as we both want to,” Astarion closed, his tone now a lot more genuine again. You could only answer with a big happy smile, placing your head against his chest again.

The orchestra in the meantime had taken a short break, some of the musicians allowing themselves to indulge in a singular glass of offered champagne before they continued playing for what would surely be a very long night still.

You pulled back from Astarion a little with a sigh: “You’re right, I guess this is all going straight to my head more even than the alcohol. I guess once we’re back home I will have to spend a week in the Lower City and get shit-faced every night at Maeve’s until they let me sleep under the big bench on the floor. You know to ground myself again.”

“Ah see, there’s my little feral street cat that I love so much again”, the Astarion replied in a haughty tone – with a tinge of disapproval and teasing disgust.

You kicked him – but only slightly as you stood too close to him to get him properly. “Be nice, you prick!”

The vampire only laughed and while holding onto your slim shoulders pressed a quick kiss to your lips. The orchestra was now getting ready to start playing again. The conductor tapping his baton against his stand again to gain everyone’s attention. Another waltz was announced while you tried to kick Astarion again for being a meanie.

“You could give me just one deeply romantic moment once in a while, you know that, Astarion? Without ruining it with your sass!”

“I didn’t bring up getting drunk at this piss poor establishment someone even dared to call a tavern,” Astarion replied. You simply tried to swat his arm but the rogue took a half step back, dodging just out of your reach

“Did you really get so drunk at this forlorn tavern that they let you sleep it off on the floor?” he asked with mock worry on his face

“I won’t answer this question right now, Astarion,” you replied and let go of him to take a step back yourself while pursing your lips.

“Well then, darling,” he said and grabbed hold of your wrist before you could step away from him further. “Allow me another question then: will you join me for another dance?” The low, golden light of the chandeliers sparkled in Astarion’s eyes as he said that with his head slightly bowed to you. He was all of a sudden on his best behaviour again as you heard the musicians in the orchestra readying themselves for another piece.

In this in between moment you took a second to take your partner in again. You had been with him all night. You had seen him get dressed even but with how he looked at you right now you were just wholly smitten by him again. He looked like sin in a suit – and you were so ready to indulge again. Forgotten was the short insolent quarrel. But how could you stay mad at him for long when the look on his face and wide red puppy eyes spoke of nothing but adoration and deep affection for you.

So, when his smile and his offered hand promised you another round of exhilarating joy should you accept his offer, you didn’t even think before agreeing and grabbing his hand.

His fingers wrapped around yours as Astarion smiled happily at you and swung you around once more while the strings softly began playing a new piece.

Your vampire made you take one – or two – extra turns before he pulled you back in, arm wrapping firmly around you once more and then starting to twirl around the room again. It was a slower waltz now that fit well with how the mood seemed to have shifted from electrifying frenzy to something a bit calmer now. The dancefloor had emptied quite a bit. Many of the guests, as you noticed while turning your head around while Astarion made you glide over the polished wooden floors, were back to drinking, chatting, showing off and gossiping. And another thing you noticed: if everything had been highly polished at first, just like the gold buttons on most everyone’s doublets or the silver of amulets around necks, there was a slight general disarray noticeable. Some cravats and scarfs had been loosened, buttons opened up, lipstick smeared, and headpieces started to slide dangerously off people’s heads. All which was going hand in hand with a general air of tipsiness and derailment. At this point in the night, it might’ve been impossible to find just about one person not slightly stumbling from maybe having had one or two glasses of champagne too many.

And you were pretty sure you even spotted at least one hysterically laughing tiefling lady sipping directly from a huge, heavy-looking bottle – having to use her other hand to even get it lifted. When another turn took you around again, you spotted her once more – and realised that it was the woman who’d been involved in the group from earlier. Apparently, she had dodged her cheating husband for a good bottle in hopes of something less treacherous – good for her.

Your gaze snapped back to Astarion, trying to find out if he had spotted her as well. And you knew he had when you saw his wicked, almost vicious smirk as he pulled you in a little closer with his hand on the small of your back. He sighed abruptly and dramatically while his face formed to a mocking expression mimicking disappointment and compassion: “Seems not everyone can be as lucky, loving and harmonious as the two of us, my love.”

Apparently just for the timing of the punchline did your feet choose this moment to make you stumble and almost fall onto Astarion. He hissed at you.

Only his roguish quick reflexes grabbing you by the shoulders and counterbalancing you stopped you both from toppling over. He lost not a moment before picking up the pace of the waltz again while you were still recovering from the shock.

Astarion clicked his tongue in disapproval, lips pursed: “I stand corrected.”

You snarled at him and were just about to show him how ‘harmonious’ you could be when you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. Someone else that was familiar.

You craned your neck in hopes of catching another glimpse while Astarion kept scolding you for not paying attention and how you would cause the two of you to lose the image of the imposing, perfect couple if you tumbled over each other while dancing. But you were indeed barely paying attention and therefore ignored what your partner was blabbering about.

Another turn and then you saw them again: another couple enjoying the dance together. Maybe a tad slower than the two of you and a bit less fluently. And in one half of the couple, you recognised your lovely elderly lady neighbour. She was dancing with a man much taller than her small frame, elegantly clothed with long black hair, tied together at his back in a low ponytail. While they slowly and a bit sluggishly turned, you saw how young and devilishly handsome her partner was. She was beaming up at him. And just the huge, genuine smile took years off her aged face.

You couldn’t help yourself, your mouth fell open. Your gaze snapped back to Astarion once more, hoping again that he had observed what you had just seen. And surely, he had, because there was at least slight surprise and even a bit of admiration on his face – his downturned corners of his mouth and lifted eyebrows giving him away.

“Old lady still got it within her, it seems”, Astarion commented and hummed approvingly. You had to agree.

“I hope it’s not for her money or estate,” you replied. You felt how the vampire just shrugged under your hand on his shoulder. You craned your neck again to look at them. But when you saw how he as well looked at her as if she was the most precious thing, he’d ever come across you knew it wasn’t.

“I do wonder though. When they go to bed how well she’s taking it with the age differ-“, Astarion began with a wicked glint and a grin that made him look almost fiendish.

This time you stumbled fully on purpose. Causing Astarion to hiss at you angrily again.

“You’re one to talk about age difference, grandpa!” you hissed back and stuck out your tongue when he began twirling you around with more force as if he was trying to work the insolent attitude right out of you by force.

Had he called the two of you harmonious just moments ago? Apparently only if the harmony was accounted for by the way you both violently bickered with each other like an old married couple.

“Why am I even taking this from someone barely older than a child,” Astarion snapped angrily while his grip on you got a little firmer, trying to show you there would be no more slip-ups, not under his watch.

“Be happy, I’ve decided to take care of an elderly citizen, love,” you spat back but barely hiding a grin.

Astarion huffed. “You’re not simply after my money, are you?”

You snorted. “There’s barely any notable amount to speak of, is there?”

The pale elf sighed in mocking disappointment: “So you’re only in it for the love – how sentimental and very unbusinesslike of you, my dear.”

“Guess, we’ll have to do with the feelings we have for each other,” you sighed back. Astarion too gave you another dramatic sigh as well while you shared a deep look into each other’s eyes. Then you both started to laugh softly before the strings of the waltz became slower still and more melancholic, the bittersweet music making a feeling of yearning rise up in your chest.

You were focused wholly on each other again with only the music lulling you. The room, the party, the other guests swirled by in colourful but easily ignorable billows. With steady moves again now you let yourself be taken away by the feelings rising up within your chest and your vampire’s tender expression while you moved over the dancefloor once more with the elegance of water in motion.

“Have you,” Astarion began in a much more sombre and genuine tone now after a while of just gazing at each other, “have you ever wondered how it would have been? If we’d met under different circumstances? Happier ones, I mean.”

“You mean, if you hadn’t become-“ you awkwardly gesticulated around with your hand wrapped with his. He simply nodded. And you immediately understood what he was trying to say: would there have been a version of events where you had found each other without all the pain and the turmoil in between?

The way he looked at you in such a vulnerable manner now made your heart ache. You saw the cracks within him he usually did his best to cover up and hide – and that he only trusted you with to only ever see. If only there was a way to relieve him of this weight he felt.

A pained smile swept over your face: “I have.” You sighed. You had to look away for a single second.

“Although in every version I’ve come up with so far we would have crossed ways and probably would have only spared each other a spiteful glance – with me having grown up homeless on the streets and you being a magistrate with noble upbringing and everything”, you continued. And then you remembered something you had spoken about earlier that evening, your gaze snapped back to his. “And I would have probably left with your purse and laughed about how stupid you were.” A weak smile played on your lips with the weak attempt of lightening the mood again.

You saw some of the pain you felt mirrored on the vampire’s face. His gaze shortly slipped from yours as well as he seemed taken by his own imagination of an alternate meeting, another ending to your story. Then he offered you a small, slightly sad smile when he looked into your eyes again: “If only you were an actual princess, things might have turned out differently, my heart.”

“That’s a lot of ifs, isn’t it?”

Astarion shrugged and was prepared to move on from the topic, but now that he said it, there was something about it.

“Although,” you began, catching the vampire’s fleeting attention once more. He cocked his head slightly. “This might have not even the biggest ‘if’.”

Astarion’s interest was caught, his full lips forming a questioning “oh” while his eyebrows jumped up. Frankly, he seemed thankful for an opportunity to leave the territory of hurtful memories and regrets behind.

You cleared your throat, getting yourself ready to reveal something about your past you didn’t like to dwell on – at all.

“Well, I might have told you that my father was a pretty high-up elven noble, right?” Astarion bowed his head to you, waiting for the new piece of information in this, narrowing his eyes.

“Turns out, he’s actually the king of a small, mostly secluded living elven enclave in some Faerun forest – all this being part of the reason why my mother dropped me on the steps of some cloister after birth. A bastard child is one thing, but the bastard child of a king – unimaginable, not tolerable”, you burst out all at once like ripping the knife out of a wound. And just like a blade viciously pulled from flesh made blood gush from the cut, making it hurt more, you felt how a whole lot of emotions of long hidden away memories were about to wash over you.

You couldn’t hold the vampire’s gaze for a few long moments while you fought to not get swept away by hurtful, long stowed away memories. Astarion’s gaze at you softened, his thumb wandering over your entwined fingers. He didn’t fully understand what all this meant for you. But he surely knew and realised when someone was not willing to share further details about pain of the past.

If you wanted there would come a time and a place to talk more about this and what I meant for you. But the middle of a dancefloor during a big ball was neither for that.

You remained in silence for long heartbeats while you asked yourself why you had so randomly offered up this piece of information about yourself – something that you had neither thought about in a long time nor wanted to pay any mind to in the future. Where you came from meant nothing to you, only the present and the man that held you was important for you now.

After a while you had caught yourself again and you lifted your head to meet his gaze again.

“I guess that’s just what we are right now, Astarion, a vampire only having broken free from his master after two centuries and a former street kid that also barely made it as a thief”, you said with a small bitter laugh.

Astarion let his thumb wander over your entwined hands again while he pulled you in closer once more, both his hands on your back now as he still made you both turn around lazily, another waltz nearing his end.

“For what it’s worth, darling,” he murmured and offered you a genuine smile with wide, open eyes, “I’m sure you agree we would have both been happy if we hadn’t gone through everything we did to get here. But I am still very happy that I’m here now and that I get to share it with you, my heart. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His crimson eyes conveyed his love for you as he cupped your cheek and the strings drew out a single last mournful note. Slowly your lips curled into a smile and saw it spread over Astarion’s face too – two partners in crime.

What was it even worth to mourn something that could have never been?

And you had to agree with him. You were incredibly happy for the time since you had met him, if not for the circumstances. But luckily, from there on out, things had been looking up tremendously.

Your future, you thought, looked quite golden, and with a fair share of garnets strewn across.

Taglist (DM if you want to be added please):

@spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @aurasyn @margoteve @usuallyunlikelyfox @hollowmasque @worryknotdear @wraithmaine @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06 @marina-and-the-memes @somewhatclear @davenswitcher

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #a night of fake smiles and hidden lies #tav #bg3

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

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Exactly as you are

Previous chapter / Next chapter

summary: when two broken souls meet something is bound to happen.

warning: mentions of past trauma, sexual assault, forceful behavior, groping without consent, touch aversion, murder, blood, fighting.

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"No offense, but this looks like a suicide mission", Jesper said right as Kaz finished going over the details of their newest job. Pekka Rollins has been doing everything in his power lately to bring down Kaz, and his ego was bruised way too much already to let it slide. Not to mention the power the Dime Lions were starting to gain. One misstep and Kaz was going to lose everything that he had worked so hard to get.

"You are in looks for a new owner?", Kaz barked out, and Jesper just shook his head in irritation, "Here I was thinking that we had moved into the brother territory". Those words got followed by Kaz harshly clicking his cane onto the stone floors. A line. A line had been crossed with that. Kaz only had one brother. The one that was dead. Thrown onto a wooden raft. Dead. Clamy and cold. All over. Kaz closed his eyes, lowering his head as the tightness in his chest grew. Threatening. Laughing at him as it choked a breath out of him.

"Look, all I am saying", Jesper had continued after a moment, knowing that the last thing Kaz needed now was someone jumping in to soothe him and God above even acknowledge the anxiety rising inside him, "That there has to be a way to go into this with at least fourth percent chance of coming out alive". Kaz pulled at the top button of his black shirt. The tightness was now uncomfortable. Suffocating. The crows glanced around each other. Nina quickly shook her head. A silent way of saying not to push it. She could feel the painful speed of his heart beating. Yet she knew better than to help slow her boss's heart. Tried it once. Got yelled at, and Kaz hadn't looked her way for over a week. Wylan grasped Jesper's hand as he let out a deep sigh. "Kaz…", Jesper started once more, but the door to the office opened and in you strolled, halting in your steps the moment your eyes landed on the scene in front of you.

You knew what they did. Kaz had told you most things, or at least the things you had to know, the first night. But you weren't a crow. That you knew, and Kaz himself had repetitively reminded you of it. You never went on the jobs. You weren't a part of the meetings or debriefs. The only deeper insight you got was if you were up at night alongside Kaz. When his mind was fuzzy enough that he would start muttering his thoughts out loud. Routes. Names. Object. Numbers.

The four of them looked at you with big eyes but said nothing. Yet you only glance their way for a split second, your eyes instantly moved to Kaz, who was leaning hunched on the table. The glance lingered, but you dropped it. Turning to walk out of the room, knowing that this wasn't something for your eyes. "You, out", Kaz's voice boomed through the room as he gestured to the crows all standing nervously in front of the table. You debated on leaving as well, yet you paused. Something in between the lines, unspoken pleas that made you halt in your track.

Jesper stopped in front of you right before walking out. He wore the emotions on his sleeve. Reading him was so easy. You knew he cared, knew how much he loved Kaz, and how much he was truly ready to sacrifice for him. So you blinked slowly. Letting him know that if only Kaz allowed you, you were going to look after him. Jesper nodded his head. He had no idea what was going on between the two of you behind closed doors, but he was sure of two things - you had altered something in Kaz and he found somewhat of a safe haven in you.

You moved across the room as quietly as a mouse. "You are here to complain about something that I've done as well?", Kaz snarled, lifting his head, you shook your head before reaching for a jug of water. Kaz cocked his head to the side as the family silk scarf caught his eye. You had braided it into your hair which was now neatly wrapped around your head like a crown. He had no idea how you had created that masterpiece but he sure was mesmerized by it. Only brought out of his trance once he heard a glass of water being placed on the table in front of him. Blinking he turned away from you, "Then why are you here?". The tightness in his chest was close to gone and Kaz found himself hating the fact that it passed so easily, so quickly. He enjoyed the pain at times. A cold reminder that he was still alive. The only time Kaz was one hundred percent sure that he was indeed not dead.

You said nothing as you sat down on the other side of the table. Kaz let out a huff and followed suit only now realizing how much his legs ached from putting all his body weight on them without the help of the cane. He ran a hand through his messy hair, now savoring the feeling of air flowing into his lungs. You tapped your finger onto the table to get his attention back on you. Pulling a bundle wrapped into a piece of newspaper. "Finally found the poison to kill me off?", he said making you let out an annoyed huff, as you crinkled your brows at him in annoyance. Kaz didn't acknowledge it, just like most times. No dissatisfaction that you expressed ever seemed to alter his emotions. Well, not that you could see it from the outside.

Kaz tore the paper off, holding up a glass jar of ink, then glancing to the side of the table where his jar sat. Empty. How had he missed that? "Useful", he said, setting the bottle aside before pulling out a handful of papers, "If there's nothing else you are here for, walk yourself out". You pushed the glass of water closer to him, mindful of the paperwork now all over the table. The desire to tell you off was bubbling inside him, but he still reached for the glass, lifting it closer to his lips. You nodded your head in satisfaction before refilling it, knowing that there was no way Kaz was going to do it himself, before stepping out of the study.

The club was way busier than usual for the middle of the week. People were lingering by every corner of the place. All chairs, even the extra ones from the back of the house occupied. "Cute guy alert at six o'clock", Wylan said as he placed the empty glasses onto the bar. Nina and Inej looked up straight away, you followed suit. "Cover Jesper's ears. He might die knowing you find someone besides him cute", Nina chirped, eyes still on the guy. "Not for me, just… for any of you", he quickly defended himself right as the pink shades colored his cheeks. A smile painted your face at how easy it was to fluster him and how much Nina enjoyed doing just that.

You scanned the crowd, trying to find Kaz among them but with no luck. Usually, he was here by now. Rarely did he stay behind fully. If not somewhere tucked away in the corner, observing the commotion, then in his backroom - but not tonight, it seemed. "I'm sure Kaz just lost himself between all of his paperwork", Nina reached for your hand, squeezing it gently but letting go straight away, equally as much as with Kaz knowing not to linger. You nodded your head before moving to dry the washed-up glasses. She could feel the way your heart practically cried to see Kaz. You hated crowds as much as Kaz did. Nina knew that if Kaz had seen the buzz here tonight, you would have already been in the backroom with him, away from all of this noise and bodies. She caught you glancing around the club again as you placed the glasses onto the tray, making sure you had a good grip on it, "You want me to take over?", she asked, and you knew the intentions were good and caring, but you still shook your head. This was your job, and until it was Kaz telling you to back away, you weren't going to stop.

But maybe you should have. Should have listened. Should have taken the offer. Cause the more the night went on and the smell of cigarettes and alcohol grew thicker, the more touchy the males became. You weren't able to carry full trays of beer anymore. Hands too shaky, legs too wobbly to hold them up without spilling. And God forbid you spilled any of it on any of the customers. It was only Wylan, who was still here, and Jesper, but he was somewhere deep within the club most definitely gambling. You ushered Nina through the door about an hour ago. She had been practically sleeping with her face on the bar. And there was no room for a passed-out female in the club full of hacking males. Inej had disappeared as well. She didn't enjoy being in the club as it was, and for that, you couldn't blame her.

You were a handful of steps away from the bar when two sets of hands gripped your forearms, jerking you backward. You were thankful that your hands had been empty because the glasses would have been tumbling down. You only heard laughter and whistles as they dragged you through the floor. Your eyes darted towards the bar, but Wylan wasn't there. A cold shiver ran down your back. You tried to wiggle out of their grip but in all honesty, you knew very well that you had no chance of escaping.

Your back hit the back wall as they stepped in front of you, pinning you beneath them. You haven't seen their faces before. Nor did you want to look. It had been a while since you had found yourself in a situation like this. Helpless. Too weak to defend yourself. Numb it out, you kept telling yourself, numb it all, it'll pass by shortly and then you'll pick yourself back up. "What a pretty piece of art we have here", one of them muttered, the sharp smell of alcohol hitting your nose. "Pekka is looking for a new property", the other male sniffed the side of your neck like a hungry hound, before licking his lips, "You seem just the right fit for his description". You swallowed hard. The name itself made your blood run cold. You didn't know much of the other gang leader, but enough to know that if you were to fall into his arms, the nightmare that would follow would be the worst you ever had.

"But he didn't say anything about in what state you were to be delivered", a tough hand gripped your left breast through the shirt, causing you to shut your eyes tightly. You will not scream. You will obey. If not for yourself. Then for Kaz. Because you couldn't allow yourself a thought of him getting hurt because of you or a scene that you caused. "One against two. Will you fight, baby girl?", the nickname made you cringe so hard that goosebumps ran down your arms, but you shook your head. The taler of the two let out a laugh before roughly yanking the top of your dress open.

"You're playing with my toy, boys", the two of them quickly jerked their heads toward the sound. Kaz had his deadly glare on, and if looks cool kill - they would have been six feet under a long time ago. "I don't see your signature stamp on her, Brekker, or did you mark her somewhere else", the taller one said with a laugh before his hand moved to cup your core with his hand. Even with your dress as a layer between his fingers and your body, the feeling of the touch itself made you bite the inside of your cheek so hard that the metallic taste filled your mouth.

"Want to play? Pay up", Kaz barked harshly, stepping closer. He was on fire, or at least he felt like it. The moment he ran into a breathless Wylan about to go look for him, Kaz knew that something had happened. Something bad must have happened, but he didn't allow himself a chance to let that thought settle as he marched into the club. Considering that most males had their heads turned to the back of the club said enough to him. Showed enough to him as he strides towards the commotion.

"Name the price, little boy", the male dared. Kaz's face twitched. The room fell dead silent, you didn't dare to look, pressing yourself closer to the wall. "Your eyes", Kaz said casually, and not even a second later, the peak of the crow, that was on his cane, ripped through the tall male's eyeball. The scream echoed. Other shouts erupted as people started to flee from the club. Jesper, who must have felt the commotion was quick to rip the other male away from you, hitting his head with the back of his gun. You had slid down the wall. Breathing as hectic as the mess that was unfolding in front of you.

Kaz had no recollection of how many times he had driven the sharp end of his cane through the fuckers face, but he sure as hell was long dead when he was done with him. No one was in the club besides them now. Yet the rage didn't subside. Oh no, it only grew, and Kaz was about to turn to Jesper, who had strict orders to keep an eye on you if he wasn't around to do so himself. But the shaky breath that remained Kaz more of a cry that slipped past your lips, making him turn to you.

Your knees were pressed to your chest. Nails dug into your palms so deep that they drew blood. You were shaking so hard, your whole body spasming as you took shallow breaths that only hit the surface before a sharp cry was pushed away from your lungs. Kaz threw Jesper a death glare as a promise. Promise to skin him after he was done before he fully turned towards you. Limping your way before he fell to his knees not far away from you. Yet leaving a comfortable distance between you both.

"Y/N", he called out, but you didn't seem to hear him, "Y/N", he called out way louder this time. Whatever you were muttering under your breath now Kaz couldn't make out. Now more than even he wished he could just hold you. Not sit a couple of feet away like some weak piece of shit who had brought this upon you. "They are gone, we took care of it", your lower lip quivered at his words. Kaz desperately searched your body for any signs of you coming back, but the cage you had yourself locked into now seemed impossible to break. "Jesper will get you to your room. Nina will sleep with you tonight", the softness in his voice scarred him, but he couldn't be harsh now. Not now. Not with you.

Just the moment Jesper moved to put a hand around you, the most heart-reaching scream slipped past your lips as you backed away. Jesper bit his lip, trying to keep his tears at bay. If anything he deserved whatever was to come after you calmed down and if you calmed down. Kaz backed away slightly as you pushed yourself away from everyone. He was helpless. So helpless that he realized that all the moments of weakness he had gone through till now could never compare to this.

Then your eyes shot open. The fear was in them so big as your hand clasped around your throat. Trying to scratch a path for even a slither of oxygen. Choking. Dying. It looked like you were dying, and Kaz moved towards you as if that had been his second instinct. Bloody gloves clasping your hair as he turned your face towards him. "Breathe, Y/N. Breath, for fuck sake", he cried out angrily. Kaz had already lost Jordie, and he sure wasn't going to lose you now, as well.

His face was inches away from yours. The familiar scent of him crept all around you. The scent that you fell asleep within his bed. The scent that had even mixed into your clothes that were put neatly next to Kaz's in the drawers in his room. With both hands on your face, Kaz hoped to catch your frantic eyes, and when you finally took a big gulp of air, he almost felt reborn. Your shaky palms rested on his chest, where his heart was beating rapidly. Beating. You blinked a couple of times, grounding yourself. Clinging to the feeling of Kaz being so close.

The water inside Kaz was bubbling almost to the top. Too much, for too long, but he couldn't pull away. Not now. Not when he needed to get you out. Even if it meant that he was going to drown himself. That would be worth it. Worth it if only you stayed above the water. "Kaz…", his heart stopped beating when his name rolled off your tongue. Of that he was sure. He met your scared eyes. Eyes in search of him. For him because even after this, you felt safe with him. Even if Kaz didn't deserve it.

"I'm right here, right with you", he whispered to you. Wanting to press his forehead to yours, but he knew that any more skin contacts would have him pulling away. "Kaz", you rasped out again, and he only managed to nod his head as he watched the movements of your chest evening out. Your hands slipped away from his chest when you realized that you had been touching him. A line. You crossed his line. But his eyes didn't look angry. Not with you. Your body slumped, Kaz was quick to catch your shoulders before turning to Jasper, who stepped closer, replacing him.

The taste of sick flooded Kaz's mouth. As he watched you looking at Jesper. He was so gentle with you. Talking you through all of his movements before gathering you into his arms. It should have been Kaz doing that. Pulling you closer. Getting you away from this place. You looked so out of it. So warn out. So small in Jesper's arms. With the adrenaline wearing down, your body was going to crash. Kaz wanted to order Jesper to bring you up to his room, but instead, he leaped towards the nearest bowl that still covered the tables before emptying his stomach. His anxiety needed a way out of his body. When he finally lifted his head neither of you was here. That was what he wanted. Kaz needed to be alone. To dwell in self-pity for a bit before he would make his way back to you. Before he burnt the whole word. Set buildings flying. Ripped bodies with his hands. Just to keep you safe. To not fail you. He couldn't allow himself to fail you.

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine

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notroosterbradshaw · 9 months

Text

slow dancing in a burning room - five.one

word count: 4.5k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, angst. starting to get a bit rougher here, kids.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I know this series is a bit different to what you’re used to from me, so I hope you keep reading. I truly appreciate all the effort you make to show your support x

four.

You’d taken some time off to get Bradley settled into the apartment after the incident. He was quick to try and convince you he didn’t need a babysitter, unless you had ulterior motives to spend days at home alone together, and he wriggled his eyebrows in that way that would make you giggle and roll your eyes, it was all very over-the-top and romcom.

But he could admit, he needed you to help him with little things that hurt more than they should and you freely admitted, much to his chagrin, that you wouldn’t be able to concentrate with him at the apartment by himself if something happened.

Not surprisingly, he was stir-crazy after a few days which didn’t surprise either of you. Bradley Bradshaw did not know how to relax. He wasn’t big on vacations (he didn’t have a big friend group and could find a million reasons to prefer time to himself than be wrangled into stuff with his work friends). He freely confessed he was easily comfortable in his own company, but it was pretty evident quickly it was different when he was banged up and more or less under house arrest.

He'd powered through the book you’d hoped he’d enjoy in about three hours (he had to assure you he really enjoyed it so it was easy to scream through) so you relied on Amazon to deliver almost daily, channel surfed relentlessly, he was no good at binging TV and napped off and on through the day. But it simply came down to idle hands. Fine in his company on his own terms, but with strict orders to rest his head and give his body and mind time to heal – no gym, no running (nothing that he could exert himself with... including sex), no booze, no fun, he had reasoned – Bradley Bradshaw was figuratively climbing the walls.

Physically, aside from a few bumps and bruises, he appeared absolutely fine, but he couldn’t lie and pretend his head wasn’t still splitting and much to your annoyance, he was resisting the painkillers as frequently as he could. What he was trying to prove, you weren’t sure, but it seemed unnecessary to continue the discomfort for the sake of it and you let him know gently each time he refused the pills you held to him.

“My body, I’ll choose what goes into it,” he told you with a tight-lipped smile, ignoring his lunchtime pills and bopping you on the nose instead.

“Okay,” was all you could shrug kindly. What else could you say and do? Anyone who had met Bradley knew he was no kind of pushover. He could have a certain gruffness, an agitation to him. Quiet and reflective if you didn’t know him, but he’d talk you under the table once he was comfortable with you.

But push him; he will resist. He’d said years ago if he had to put his life into a song it would be Corduroy by Pearl Jam, you understood it implicitly these days.

I'll take the varmint's path Oh, and I must refuse your test A-push me and I will resist This behaviour's not unique

You wandered in to find him cooking a few nights later, the waft from the front door absolutely delicious. You loved it, Bradley was a wonderful cook just like he proved he would be and you loved coming home to find him whipping something up in the kitchen.

He was one of those freaks who could watch a 90-second YouTube clip and figure out a recipe easily, inspired.

It infuriated you that he might have been a better cook than you were too but you would never tell him.

But God, you could get used to this, you realised. He hadn’t heard you come in (you snuck in quietly without fanfare after you’d walked into him dozing a few times that you didn’t want to interrupt just in case he was getting some well-deserved zzz’s). You carefully wrapped your arms around him, feeling him jolt in surprise before chuckling quietly. You kissed between his shoulder blades over his tank, he gave a quiet moan in response and he reached back for you. “I’m home, sweetheart.”

“Welcome home, love,” he said, turning to face you. The cuts on his face were well on their way to healing, but the purple rims around his honey-drenched eyes from lack of sleep overnight were evident. You didn’t know why he wasn’t sleeping and weren’t comfortable asking him yet. He certainly wasn’t complaining of being tired but he didn’t mention each morning that he was staying up all hours.

His palms held your cheeks and kissed you gently, a series of loving pecks. “Missed you today,” you admitted. You quite enjoyed coming home to him and you hoped he agreed. This moving in with a boy wasn’t too bad in all honesty. Not one that cooked, was incredibly tidy and about the sexiest man you’d ever met... that happened to be as infatuated with you as you were with him.

“Me too,” he smiled, his lips kissing the arch of your brow.

“What are you making me for dinner tonight, Chef Bradshaw?” you peered under his arm as you saw your large pot with a rolling boil of water.

“Vodka pasta,” he said. “With a glass of wine?” he asked hopefully.

“Sorry baby, but you gotta be patient a few more days until the doc gives you the green light, okay?”

He groaned. “There are too many OK’s I’m waiting for…” he muttered, a little restless. Maybe a bit petulant.

“I know,” you snuggled into him, your fingers tracing the elastic waist around his basketball shorts.

“I only really want one OK though. Just a tender green light,” he whispered, urging his hips forward to rest against yours. “Miss you, just wanna fuck so bad,” he whined.

You offered him a careful smile but didn’t answer. What could you say? You knew he was downplaying the pain in his ribs still, and his headaches weren’t vanishing as quickly as he’d like regardless of the multitude of ways you’d been fantasising about how he could please you while you couldn’t be intimate for now.

You’d offered a blow job here and there, and he appreciated the offer, but he admitted it wouldn’t satisfy him the way being tangled up with you could. “Whatcha get up to today?”

He raised a wary eyebrow at your abrupt change of topic, kind of hating being left hanging when you’d normally have fallen into some sexy banter with him that would always lead to something even more risqué. He sighed silently and turned back to the stovetop while you gave him space and propped yourself on the bench while he tasted the simmering sauce. “Netflix. Went for a run – ”

“Bradley – ” you tried as you saw his brawny, tanned shoulders tense.

“Love, please don’t. I needed the run – clear my head a bit,” he explained, not looking at you.

Okay. “Did you have the Telehealth with the shrink?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said quietly, a gentle nonchalant shrug creasing his features.

“Go okay?”

He turned back and sighed, resting his big hands on his slender hips, exasperated. “I just don’t wanna do the shrink, okay?” he confessed. “Please don’t give me a hard time about this.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, but he stared back, daring you. He knew you had something to say but he had years of trauma to work through and you weren’t surprised that he really didn’t want to go back to the start and overanalyse every horrible thing that had happened in his life again. Who could blame him? “I don’t blame you,” you conceded. “I know it sucks to feel so on display like that. Raw. But you and I both know it’s for the best.”

He hummed, but there was nothing pleasant about it, it was almost a growl. “You’ve had years of therapy… tell me honestly,” he straightened and guided you to the corner of the bench, where he pressed between your thighs, his hands massaging your quads, keeping you in place, well and truly trapped by his presence.

“What?” you asked softly, his imposing frame hovering over you.

“Tell me if the shrink is going to bring my parents back, or if it’s going to make my job any easier,” he watched your face so sternly and a dark sneer rose as your jaw gaped gently. He hummed, already pleased at your reaction.

Well, that was blunt.

“Bradley – ” you tried.

“No, really. I need to know. You come home once a week quiet and disillusioned after your session. I am watching you work through your issues, but really… what has it truly fixed? How has it healed you, love?” he asked, probing deeper. “You still refuse to talk to your dad, the mere mention of him upsets you – ”

“Bradley, please…” It wasn’t about you this time.

“My dad died when I was four, I barely remember it or any trauma from that time. All I recognise is the sympathy I get every time someone mentions me being Goose Bradshaw's kid. I’m nearly fuckin’ 40.”

“Yes, Bradley – ”

“I haven’t finished,” he muttered. “I watched my mother die when I was 17 and moved on with my life. I do things in my job that make me proud and shatter me all at the same time, but I still function every day. I know the weapons I use cause more damage than good, no matter what the leaders of this country say. No matter what my superiors tell me about the honourable peacekeeping I’m supposedly doing. Why can’t I just process these things on my own?” his voice was so even, you were finding it hard to meet his eyes. “I think I have done a fuckin’ great job to now.”

“Because you love what you do – ” You tried to remind him of the stipulations made to get him back in the air. Ribs healed, mental health functioning well. In the greater scheme of things, it made total sense he’d have those hoops to jump through.

“Why does someone else get to decide if I’m mentally fit to get back in my jet? That person knows nothing about me. Nothing about my childhood, school, college… Mav. Not how in love with you I am, how someone else now gets to dictate if we’re intimate – which is also killing me,” he added for good measure. In himself, he knew he was perfectly capable to please you, but each advance was delicately refused and while he knew you were only doing what the doctor ordered – he hoped – it was starting to eat at him too that you were keeping your distance. He volunteered to repeatedly go down on you, but you told him you were okay and looking forward to moments you could share together, just like him. He accepted that, but just because he couldn’t be pleasured didn’t mean he wanted you to go without too. It was a woeful cycle.

“I know, sweetheart. I miss you too.”

“I could just have you right here… I feel fine, and you feel so fine to me,” he whispered against your jaw, nose nuzzling your pulse. “But you’re just like them at the moment. You see that I’m still me. I’m healthy. My body is healing… but you’re resisting too,” he said, retracting his body steadily and moving back to the stove, checking the sauce as you recoiled, immediately missing his touch.

He had far too much time to think about things, with or without the shrink’s help.

“Bradley, just give your body the time it needs,” you tried although the way his body rescinding like that made you feel bitterly cold. You missed his warmth quickly.

“It’s in right working order,” he snapped your name. “I’m fucking fine and I don’t need a bunch of lab-coated douchebags, or you, to tell me different.”

You held your hands up, slipping off the counter. “Okay, okay,” you stood down… on many fronts. You walked to him and bunched his tank at the chest in your palms and brought his lips to yours. “I’m sorry. I see that you’re doing really well. You’re the best judge here.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I need you to hear me, love,” he pleaded, bobbing to rest his forehead against yours. “No one else seems to.”

Hearing a knock at the door, you gave Rooster a quizzical look and he gave a small smile. “I invited someone to dinner.”

“Better not be my dad...” you muttered as he shook his head, a weak, apologetic call on his lips.

“Of course not,” he pulled himself from you and stood to height, heading for the door as you poured yourself a cool glass of water, even if a half dozen tequilas seemed more appropriate. You’d been home ten minutes and your nerves were fucking fried. You clutched the sink, trying to centre yourself and upon hearing your name, you looked up at Bradley as he stood side-by-side, mountaining over the man that made his life miserable all those years ago.

“Maverick, hi,” you managed to say, biting back the choking feeling in your throat as he gave a slight wave and presented you with a half dozen burnt orange roses. They were beautiful and Bradley grinned at the gesture.

“Been a while,” he said softly and if age wearied him, he was certainly showing it. “What’s it been? Fifteen years or so?”

You shrugged, a little shellshocked, gazing at Bradley who was very interested in his tanned bare feet suddenly. “Could be…”

“How’s your grandpa?”

“He’s good. Usual Viper,” you supposed as Mav nodded.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Maverick said as Bradley joined you, resting his palms on your waist as he held you from behind. “So, you weren’t kidding, kid. You two are very much together.”

“This is the love of my life, Mav,” he pressed a kiss into your hair as you pushed through with your smile, hoping it didn’t appear as confused as it was feeling and Maverick smiled, fondly. “Love, Mav is here for dinner if that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah, of course,” you said, forcing the affirmative into your voice.

Where the fuck had this come from?

“I appreciate the invite,” Maverick said.

“It’s no problem,” Bradley spoke up

“I guess I’ll set the table…” you loosened Bradley’s grip and thought maybe, just maybe… you were going to need that wine to get through the night. “Mav, can I get you a drink?” you asked politely.

“I’ll just stick to water,” he replied.

Fuck.

“No problem,” you said, pulling away from Bradley to collect some glasses and busy yourself elsewhere.

“Bet you’re glad to have Bradley home?” Maverick asked as you collected the crockery. He held his hands out, hoping to help you. You let him, the room was far too small for a snarky comment not to be heard by all. Not to let Bradley feel your discomfort.

You gave a kind smile and contemplated your answer. “Of course. But I suppose not in these circumstances.”

He nodded faintly. “I understand. I want you to know I did everything I could up there to keep him safe – ”

“Mav,” Bradley cut in. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything.”

“I guess it could have been a lot worse,” you agreed, and that tone of seeped through. Fuck it, you said. They might not have been drinking, but you were going to make this discomfort a little easier on yourself at least and went to the fridge for the bottle of rose you’d been resisting, not wanting to drink around Bradley while he was recommended not to.

“Good drop,” Mav said, calmly. He could feel the air around you – the confusion, the hurt. He knew Bradley probably hadn’t told you everything – regardless of what was classified or not. Bradley had said there were no secrets between you, he had told Mav how in love with you he was on the way home, evacuated to safety. Maverick wouldn’t leave Bradley’s side, regardless of his orders. He was going to make sure Bradley made it back to dry land, safe and sound.

Feeling a hand on your hip, Bradley tenderly kissed your temple. “Grub’s up, love. Take a seat, I’ll stand.”

The apartment was just not conducive for three. No room for a dining table, you generally ate together on the couch or at the counter on the stools when an effort was made. “No,” you reassured him, softening as he smiled at you, his palms cupping your jaw before he lightly kissed you. “I’ll stand.”

Bradley came to bed lightly later that night. You’d left him and Mav to chat for a while, before excusing yourself at a reasonable time to shower and take your leave. In your PJs, you had moved on to your book, what you were reading you weren’t quite processing, your head dizzy with your distraction. Each time you heard a laugh you felt more confused than before.

Pete Mitchell was in your apartment. And he’d been willingly invited by Bradley Bradshaw. When had this narrative changed?

“Lovvve,” he drawled, crawling into bed with you. He crept his body over yours, not daring to sneak between the sheets. “Thank you for tonight,” he pressed sweet kisses into your forehead, temple and finally the tip of your nose. He wriggled his thighs between yours and took your book, tossing it towards the bedside table – its crash suggesting it well and truly missed it, bookmark be damned.

“Hmm,” you replied, but he knew it was a more put-off sound as he chuckled quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sure seems it,” you replied.

“No, really. I’m sorry,” he said with a little more sincerity, but the fond grin and dancing eyes told the story. “Kiss me,” he whispered, nudging his nose with yours.

“Why didn’t you tell me Mav was coming over tonight?” you blurted out before his lips touched yours and he paused, jerking back slightly. “I didn’t think you could stand him.”

You searched his face. You could see his brain working and trying to find an excuse that would appease you. And when he said to you, “We’re trying to work on our relationship,” you almost pushed him off you. He had you pinned for a reason but sadly for you, he was under the microscope.

“What happened for anything to change? A month ago, you were dreading him as your CO… now your buds again? My brain can’t even compute the venom you’ve spat at him and then he’s in my kitchenette for dinner and I have to pretend he hasn’t hurt you - ”

“Our kitchenette,” Bradley correctly you gently. “I live here too, remember?”

Sighing, you ran your thumb against the faint gash healing on his neck and his eyes fluttered closed, sweetly. “Yes…” you corrected yourself. “Our kitchenette. But I still need some warning about stuff like this, roomie.”

He nodded. “Okay, you’re right. I fucked up there.”

“What happened for everything to change between you and Mav?”

He sighed and rolled to your side, his thigh still curled over yours. “It isn’t that simple.”

“Then spell it out to me. Because tonight over dinner, you two were as thick as thieves. You hardly missed a beat.”

He gave a gentle smile but his eyes begged for mercy. “Do we have to do this right now?”

“Well, I could have asked when he appeared three hours ago, but I figured that may have embarrassed you both,” the sarcasm dripped from your tongue and you were trying so hard to remain calm.

“That’s fair,” he had to admit. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t give you any warning. That was wrong of me.”

“It’s just a fuckin’ text, Bradley,” you sniped quietly.

He nodded. “You’re right, I should have at least given you that much.”

“I felt like a complete idiot. You gave me no time to prepare.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you handled it beautifully,” Bradley laughed quietly at the grimace that shrouded your face and his face softened as he kissed your temple. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. I’ll be more considerate of inviting guests.”

“It’s got nothing to do with guests,” you pursed your lips together, the fever burning under the surface of your skin simmering as you closed your eyes a moment and you felt Bradley move to his pillow. “It’s Mav. Singular. One guest.”

You looked at him as he crossed his legs; for a moment, you wondered if you’d gone too hard. He wasn’t angry, he was passive, and that might have made you more furious. “He helped raise me when Dad died. He tried to after mom died.”

“And he pulled your papers from the Academy. I know all this.”

“He told me he pulled my papers because I wasn’t ready to trust my instincts. I was too reliant on the rules and unprepared to break them if need be.”

Remaining quiet, you willed him to go on.

“Before I left, I know I was the worst to you. My moods were deplorable, I was a fucking asshole to you. And I wasn’t lying when I say Mav got to me every single day. The night Phoenix and Bob were caught in the bird strike…” he sighed. “I fuckin’ laid into him. I didn’t tell you. It just came out, I guess compounded with everything else that had happened that day. I wanted to take his goddamn head off, I hadn’t seen red like that in years. And I remember coming home and taking it out on you, my sweet girl,” he frowned sadly. “I should have been able to handle my business better and not take it out on the one person that I love most in this world. I don’t know why you stay by my side, because I know I’m hard to contend with…”

Sighing, you rolled over to face him, twirling a loose tendril that curled above his brow. “Think you’re the first grumpy flyboy I’ve ever dealt with?” you asked fondly as he flushed a little. “I just want you to be okay. And you’re only a few weeks away from returning to desk duty. But you know you need to go through the motions. Don’t take it out on me, they aren’t my rules.”

“I know,” he dropped his eyes. “I shouldn’t be lashing out, I’m just so frustrated.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“The shrink thing is really bothering me,” he confided quietly.

“I know, sweetheart,” you pressed your thumb into his temple before scootching closer and wrapping your arms around his shoulder, cradling him tenderly in your arms. He breathed in your body wash, grounding himself. “You’ll get through this. I’ll be right there beside you.”

“Thank you,” he murmured quietly against your chest. His lips pressed against your tee until you could feel the sweet kisses against your jaw… then pulse. His large hands circled your waist, dragging you to him. You so badly wanted to resist, but he was so warm, smelled so good and felt so strong against you. “I love you.”

He nuzzled to your lips, those first slow steps of how to make you come undone. “Bradley…” you warned. He hummed in reply, but it was a dare. He was willing you to ask him to stop but resistance was futile as his long fingers walked under your nightshirt, grasping the meat of your hip and pushing his thigh between yours, opening you to him, his kiss relentless.

“Feel good?” he asked softly. He was desperate for you. He hadn’t felt so pent up since he was a stupid horny kid. He didn’t know how frustrated he could feel until the option for intimacy was snatched away from him. Your diligence to stay true to the doctor's orders was obscene to him. He didn’t realise how by the book you could be… from him, an irony.

And it had been so hard for you to resist him – your beautiful boy deserved to be loved but every time he touched you, you were positive you’d hurt him. And while he was healing, he still needed time, something he was unwilling to apprehend when he felt fine in himself.

Fine.

“You’re resisting,” he muttered, his tongue tracing your lips. There was a tension in his voice, it was subtle, but you could feel it to your bones. “Why are you holding back?”

You sighed and pulled back a little. His frown clouded his handsome face and he huffed, rolling back to his pillow and staring hard at the roof above him. “Come on, it’s only another few weeks, sweetheart.”

He rubbed his face. “Jesus Christ, don’t you think I’m the best judge of my body?”

“Of course – ”

“Since I’ve gotten home, you’ve looked at me like I’m I should be wrapped in cotton wool. You won’t touch me, you won’t kiss me, am I that hideous to you?”

You sat up, a little insulted. “Bradley, no of course not – ”

“Christ, when did you decide I was so repulsive to you? I’ve always had these scars, you know,” he hissed, his tone sharp. “I knew you hated them.”

“Bradley, my God, you’re spiralling. What are you talking about?” you reached for him, but he moved wide from your touch. This man beside you, Bradley... he was reaching. You were only trying to be considerate of his injuries -

“Can’t we just fuck? Jesus Christ. If you don’t want to be with me, just fuckin’ say it already.”

“Hey, hey,” you said softly, cowering on yourself. “I just don’t want to hurt you. I'm sorry, Bradley,” you said meekly. “There is no other reason – ”

“I said I feel fine. It’s a few bruises. Why won’t you fuckin’ touch me? I come near you, and you find every excuse under the sun to get away from like me.”

“That’s not true – ”

“Like hell it isn’t.”

“I don’t mean to, I’m just so scared to…” you replied.

He pulled his shirt off, a large, long bruise still over his right pectoral. You’d guessed it was from the seatbelt shunting him back into his seat when the jet -

When the jet crashed. When he could have died.

“Please baby, I need to feel you. Please don’t be scared of me,” he begged.

“I’m not scared of you, Bradley,” you told him, moving closer and kissing his bruised though soft skin. He moaned immediately and laced his fingers into your hair. It was a reaction he couldn’t stop, even as he seethed at the same time.

“Then don’t be scared for me, either,” he urged, though the softness in his voice returned from your familiar kiss. “I’m really fuckin’ good at what I do.” The double meaning in his tone told you. “I’ll always come home to you.”

And while you believed it because he was with you right now, that was all that mattered regardless of his to tell you the whole story of what happened that day to get him (and you) stuck in this predicament.

hiatus.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

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