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slutforsilverfoxes · 11 months

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Damned Spot

TW: Canon typical descriptions of violence (guns, hand-to-hand combat, McGarrett being McGarrett)

You feel a gentle nudge at your side and you groan softly in protest, nestling deeper into the pillow and the comforting smell of the cologne you bought your fiancé for Valentine’s Day a few weeks ago. Another nudge sends your body shifting again, the pressure more insistent this time, and you open your bleary eyes to find Steve sitting upright in bed, a finger pressed to his lips. You can feel the tension rolling off him in waves causing a bolt of fear to run down your spine and effectively breaking the sandman’s grip on you. You mouth, What is it?, and he holds up one finger in lieu of a response, listening intently. Then he asks, “Did you leave a window open downstairs?”

“No,” you whisper, “never. Growing up with cats made me paranoid.”

Steve eases his legs over the side of the bed, carefully opening the drawer of his bedside table and retrieving his gun and clip. Reaching for his arm as he slides the magazine into place with a faint click, you murmur, “Baby, what’s going on?”

“I think someone’s trying to get into the house.”

He checks his phone, frowns, and replaces it on the nightstand. “No signal,” he reports, looking hopefully at you when you raise the landline to your ear. You shake your head. He stalks over to the bedroom door, then stops with his hand on the knob at the sound of fabric rustling from behind him. Turning to find you tugging on one of his Navy t-shirts, he furrows his brow and hisses, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re staying here.”

“Fat fucking chance,” you argue quietly, racking a bullet in the chamber of your own piece while joining him at the door. “You don’t take me to the range so I can sit up here worrying while you play Super SEAL. Let’s go.”

He puffs out a breath of air, jaw ticking as he considers his options. After a moment, he relents, “Stay on me, and stick to the shadows. If I say run, you run, got it?” You swallow thickly and nod, his eyes softening at the determination and fear swimming in your own. “You remember what I taught you?”

“Keep my finger off the trigger unless I intend to shoot.”

“And if you do?”

“Aim for center mass.”

He tucks you into his body and presses his lips to your forehead, murmuring, “That’s my girl.” Steve quietly opens the bedroom door and steps out onto the landing. With his dominant hand on his weapon, he reaches behind with his free hand and laces his fingers through yours, tugging you closer until your chest presses against his back. Feeling your pulse thrumming beneath his fingertips, he gives your hand a firm squeeze before lifting it to his shoulder. After a quick sweep of the living room from upstairs, he looks at you over his shoulder and whispers, “On me,” then begins your careful descent. Glass shatters somewhere in the kitchen, and Steve can feel your entire body tense as you muffle a gasp against his bare back. He turns at the bottom of the steps, guiding you into the corner there and shielding your smaller form from the wide open space of the living room, then raises his gun in the dark. Pressed so tightly into him, you feel rather than hear his authoritative voice carry through your home. “This is Commander McGarrett of Five-0,” he announces. “Put down any weapons you have, and come out with your hands raised.”

The house goes dead silent, or maybe it’s just impossible to hear over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. God, you think to yourself, how does he do this every day? The seconds tick by, and the tension hanging in the air is downright oppressive.

Then, an object goes clattering across the floor and all hell breaks loose.

“Get down!” Steve roars, spinning and crushing you into his body moments before the backs of your eyelids go stark white from the flash bang. You force your eyes open as the light dissipates, readjusting to the dark once again enveloping you as time slows to a crawl and the world spins around you. You feel Steve’s palm tapping insistently against your cheek, and you realize he’s been calling your name, trying to get your attention. “Y/N, Y/N, look at me,” he pleads, and you hear a distinct edge to his voice that you’ve never heard before. He’s scared, you realize with a start, bile rising in your throat at the prospect of this man, the very definition of bravery, being scared about what you’re facing. The scene unfolding before you hurtles back to normal speed, and you spot movement on the second floor by your bedroom. Acting on instinct, your index finger shifts onto the trigger and you squeeze twice in rapid succession, gulping in air and staring in disbelief at the body that tumbles down the stairs to lay at your feet.

Your eyes dart back and forth between the landing and the living room where you can hear Steve exchanging blows with one of the intruders. He lets out a guttural roar, and you can just make out his form ramming a figure clad in black against the far wall. Then there’s a sharp crack followed by the sound of deadweight hitting the floor.

“Baby,” Steve says urgently, wrenching the semi-automatic from the dead man’s grip before returning to your side, his hand a comforting pressure on your shoulder. “Get to the basement. They’re going to send a second wave-”

His intuition proves right, the front door breaking off its hinges from a powerful kick and more glass shattering before you hear the thundering of boots across the hall upstairs. “Go! Go now!” Pressing your body to the wall that supports the staircase, you make it as far as the kitchen before the clouds part and the crescent moon illuminates another three men running towards you from the beach, weapons trained on your beloved home. The acrid smell of smoke fills the air as Steve fires a series of shots, trying to fend off the intruders so you can reach the basement for a semblance of tactical advantage, the relatively small room devoid of windows and featuring only a single entrance and exit.

You move into the kitchen, glass cutting into the soles of your feet that you barely even register thanks to the adrenaline coursing through your body, and reach for the handle to the basement door. “I can’t feel it,” you cry, panic flooding your voice while you paw at the wood. “Steve, I can’t find the handle!”

He realizes then, with a rising sense of dread, that he didn’t hear a window squeaking on its hinge. They didn’t need a window to breach the house. It was a fucking drill.

“Okay,” he nods, resigned. “Okay. How many bullets do you have left?”

“Four,” you answer shakily, swiping at your eyes to clear your vision.

He pops off an expertly placed shot, and you flinch when the man’s head jerks back before he crumples to the sand outside. “I’m sure our neighbors have called HPD by now,” Steve says confidently, trying to imbue his strength into you despite the myriad of scenes playing out in his head of how this could all go horribly wrong. “Tell me again what you’re gonna aim for,” he coaches.

“Center mass,” you answer dutifully.

Steve rumbles out, “You’re doing so well, Y/N. You keep your eye on that hallway, okay?” You hear the crunching of glass beneath heavy footfalls, and you take a deep breath in a feeble attempt to steel your nerves. Then shots ring out across the kitchen, the sparks of bullets affording you snapshots of the chaos, accompanied by the soundtrack of blows landing and bones cracking.

As quickly as it started, it’s all over. The longest six minutes of your life. Just about the length of Bohemian Rhapsody.

The thought has a laugh bubbling out of you, and Steve turns at the sound to check on you, the air rushing out of his lungs.

“Baby?” He drops to his knees, cradling your head in his lap and pressing his hand against your chest.

“Hurts,” you gasp out, trying to pull away from the unwelcome pressure.

“I know, my love,” he soothes you, “just breathe through it, okay? C’mon, breathe with me.” Following his lead, you take deliberate breaths, each gulp of air sending a shockwave of pain radiating through your body.

“This sucks,” you laugh again, almost delirious now. “I just picked out my wedding dress.”

“And you’re gonna look so beautiful in it,” Steve croons, pressing his hand even harder against the bullet wound in response to your rapidly worsening pallor. “Keep breathing, baby.”

You take in an obedient breath, and he blinks away tears, joking, “You wanted us to have another thing in common, huh? Matching his and hers scars?” You smile lovingly at him before gasping from the pain, and he continues rambling to keep you conscious, “It’s a through and through, Y/N, you’re gonna be fine.”

“Jus’ a through ’n through,” you slur back.

“Stay awake, Y/N,” he says roughly, jostling his knees beneath your head. The sound of approaching sirens grows louder with each passing second, and you try to memorize Steve’s handsome visage, his features drawn together tightly in concern.

You muse, “So pretty,” as his face comes in and out of focus, and you let out a content hum before closing your eyes, the sound of Steve’s panicked voice blending into the wailing sirens, and then nothing at all.

__________

“Hey, babe,” Danny calls as he walks briskly through the hospital just after three in the morning, lowering his voice when he receives a disgruntled look from one of the few other people in the lobby. “HPD said you were on your way to Tripler.” Seeing Steve decked out in an EMT’s jacket, he quips, “What happened? You ride in the ambulance so much they gave you a souvenir, huh?” Steve turns at the sound of Danny’s voice, his disheveled appearance and red-rimmed eyes a stark contrast to his usual sarcasm and self-assurance. “Woah, hey,” the blonde’s voice drops to a soothing murmur, and he pulls his best friend into a tight hug. “What’s going on?”

“It’s um-” Steve sniffs and smooths a hand over his face, steeling himself. “A tactical team broke into the house-” His voice breaks and he clears his throat, his hand balling into a fist that he repeatedly hits against his open palm before blurting out, “She got shot, Danny.”

The blonde is dumbstruck, unsure of how to ask his followup question and grateful when his partner intuits his fear. “She’s in surgery,” Steve supplies, and Danny releases a ragged breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“How much longer?”

Steve merely shrugs in response, glassy-eyed stare trained on the floor in front of him. He pulls his hands out of the jacket pockets and studies them for a moment before concluding, “She lost a lot of blood.”

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, babe.” Danny guides his friend down the hall toward the nearest restroom. “I’m gonna call the team and let them know what’s going on. And I’ll have Chin bring you a change of clothes. Should I… call Y/N’s parents?”

“Not yet,” Steve intones, letting the rest of his thought go unspoken, then pushes open the door to the bathroom.

He stands in front of the sink for a few moments in a trance, unsure of what to do next until he glances down at his hands again, unrecognizable in their current state. He runs his palms under scalding hot water and scrubs at them ferociously, willing the liquid in the basin to stop running red. After several minutes, crimson has dulled to a blush tinge- the same color as your cheeks when he makes you laugh and the flowers you chose for the table settings at the wedding. He moves to swipe at his pooling tears but can’t bring himself to touch his face. Instead, he pulls out several paper towels, wets them, and dabs at his stinging eyes.

The cool water brings him marginally back to reality, although he’s not sure that’s a good thing given the state of his world right now. Suddenly feeling hot all over, and definitely too hot for this stupid jacket, Steve yanks at the zipper and peels off the heavy fabric. It takes him a few tugs to get the material detached from his bare skin, and when he looks up into the mirror again, he sees why.

On the other side of the door, Danny’s filling Chin in on the vague details he has of the night. “…won’t even say her name. No, I know, but he just keeps saying ‘she’ like Y/N’s a victim in one of our cases and it’s honestly freaking me-” Danny gets cut off by a gut-wrenching howl followed by the unmistakable sound of glass breaking. “I have to go,” he mutters into the phone. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you when you get here. Thanks.” He allows himself a moment to breathe and prepare himself for what he’s about to see, then enters the bathroom.

He finds Steve gripping the sink so tightly that fresh blood oozes from the wounds on his knuckles with each flex of his fingers, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he stares blankly ahead into the broken mirror. “Steve-”

“Look at me,” his best friend rasps out, turning so that Danny can see his bare chest, a horrifying canvas painted with your blood. He opens and closes his mouth several times, clearly at a loss for words as he looks down at his hands in disbelief. “Her blood is literally on my hands, Danny. I was- I was supposed to protect her. My baby,” he whispers sadly, and then the dam breaks.

__________

As night creeps into morning, Steve sits in the waiting room with his team members poring over recent case files. He scratches at his chest for the umpteenth time, unable to escape from the hellish feeling of your blood on his body even after a hot shower in the nurses’ locker room and a change of clothes courtesy of Chin. “This is taking too long,” he sighs, slapping a file closed on the table before him and digging the heels of his palms into his raw eyes.

“Steve,” Kono starts gently, rubbing his arm, “why don’t you get some rest? We’ll keep going and wake you up if-”

“No,” he shakes his head, his voice rough with exhaustion and barely concealed rage. “I’m not going to sleep until I hunt down this son of a bitch and take away everyone he loves.” After a breath, he nudges Danny’s foot under the table and asks, “What’s Duke saying?”

“No hits through facial rec or even Interpol. It’s like these guys are ghosts.”

Chin sits up in his stiff hospital chair like an epiphany’s just struck. “What if this isn’t about Five-0?”

“Y/N’s a high school teacher,” Danny says, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Her biggest enemy is Mrs. Heifer down the hall who never replenishes the K-cups.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Steve smiles at his best friend and corrects, “Mrs. Hannifer.”

“I said what I said.”

“C’mon, you two,” Kono grins, squeezing their hands on the table. “Chin, what are you thinking?”

“When’s the last time you heard from Doris?”

Steve snorts out an incredulous laugh and answers, “When she got on that private jet a few years ago. She’s never met Y/N. Hell, she doesn’t even know she’s a grandmother now.” He shakes his head at that realization, gnawing at his bottom lip as he considers Chin’s line of thinking. “I’m gonna call Joe. You guys keep working through these files, okay?”

The older man answers on the ninth ring, his voice thick with sleep when he says, “Son, you have any idea what time it is where I am?”

Glancing at the digital clock at the nurses’ station, Steve replies curtly, “Four forty-seven in the morning. Where’s Doris, Joe?”

Steve can hear shuffling on the other end of the phone, and he can picture Joe sitting up in bed, trying to figure out an artful lie. “What’s going on, Steve?”

“There are at least eleven dead bodies at my house right now,” he says by way of an answer.

“Are you sure they were looking for your mother?”

“This wasn’t some intruder block party at the McGarrett household,” Steve snaps, ire overpowering his immense respect for the man whom he considers to be his second father. “They were in tactical gear with heavy weaponry and a clear target. This wasn’t just an op, it was a hit.”

“Christ,” Joe breathes out. “Are you alright, son?”

“No, I’m not,” he answers honestly, voice breaking on the last syllable. “Y/N’s in the hospital.”

There’s some shuffling again, louder this time. Steve can tell he’s getting dressed before he declares, “I’m on my way.”

__________

Joe’s baritone voice sounds garbled as it floats over to Steve’s ears like he’s stuck underwater, and the brunette sits up with a start, realizing he inadvertently dozed off while awaiting his mentor’s arrival. Kono places a paper cup with steam wafting out of it beside him, and he looks up at her gratefully. “I was just about to wake you.”

“Kono, hey,” Steve starts softly, reaching across their makeshift work desk to take her hand. “I just- I want you to know how grateful I am. For introducing me to Y/N and then giving me the push to-”

“Don’t,” she whispers emphatically, fighting back tears. “Save it for your reception, okay?”

He nods, sharing a bittersweet smile with your childhood best friend, before taking a fortifying sip of caffeine and heading towards Joe who’s being briefed by Danny. He pulls Steve into an uncharacteristically lengthy hug, then steps back with a sigh. “Son, there’s something you need to know. Your mother-”

“-never left the island,” Steve finishes the thought for him, spotting a concerned Doris rounding the corner into the waiting area. Then the other shoe drops, an all-too-familiar face stepping out from behind his mother.

“What the fuck?” Danny hisses under his breath at the sight of the two women arriving together.

“Steven,” Doris starts with a sympathetic click of her tongue, arms outstretched as she approaches her eldest. She stops short at the look in his eyes and the tight clench of his jaw. His rage is palpable, and the image of his hands around Doris’ throat flashes unbidden behind his closed eyelids. “They had plans of our house,” he says, his voice barely audible. “They took the handle of the basement door off so we had nowhere to go.”

If his mother is wondering who the we is, she’s doing an excellent job of hiding it. Her shadow, on the other hand, voices the question out loud. “Who was with you?” she asks, concerned. “Are you hurt?”

“My fiancée,” Steve spits out, trying and failing to tamp down the venom dripping from his words.

“I didn’t-” Tears brim in Doris’ eyes and Steve forces himself to look away. “I had no idea, Steven. I’m so sorry.”

“Of course you didn’t know,” he laughs sadly. Meeting his mother’s gaze once more, he says, “You shouldn’t be here. You need to lay low in a safe house until we figure out who’s running this op.”

“You need to play it safe, too, Steve,” the younger brunette speaks up. “Come with us.”

“Cath-” Her name catches in his throat like the shards of glass still taking up residence in the cracks along his knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then we’re staying here with you,” Doris says with a sense of finality. “At least until she's out of surgery.”

“Y/N.”

“What, Steven?”

Doleful eyes look up to meet his mother’s, the mix of blue and hazel in her irises an exact reflection of his own. “Her name is Y/N.”

__________

The first rays of sunlight stream through the cracks in the blinds into your hospital room, casting an almost angelic glow on your sleeping face. Steve would find the sight absolutely picturesque if his eyes weren’t laser focused on the steady rise and fall of your chest, terrified that every breath you take could be your last.

The bullet lodged in a tertiary bronchus of Y/N’s left superior lung lobe, just shy of the cardiac notch, your surgeon had explained to him. We were able to safely remove a portion of her lung, and we didn’t see any bullet fragments penetrate the pericardium, the sac around the heart. She’ll have to take it slow and avoid strenuous activity, especially with the rib fractures healing, but we anticipate a full recovery in due time. Steve had done some extensive Google searching following his conversation with the surgeon, but an article detailing the amount of hemorrhage that could occur from damage to intercostal vessels had his skin feeling hot and sticky again, and he forced himself to stop.

The flurry of activity in the recovery ward outside your room is muffled by the drone in his ears, interrupted every so often by the steady beeping of your monitors, proof that you’re still alive. Leaning his elbows against jittery knees, he presses his clasped hands to his forehead and finally breaks the silence. “So… the CIA, huh?”

Catherine sighs, running her fingers through her hair before saying, “I would’ve told you if I could.”

“I see why they assigned you to Doris,” Steve huffs quietly. “You both have the same penchant for half-truths.”

“Steven-” his mother starts, but he cuts her off with a withering glance.

“The least you could’ve done, the very least, was warn me to be on my guard.”

“And what would you have done differently?”

“Reinforce the house. Have Y/N stay with Danny. I don’t know what I would’ve done, because you didn’t give me an option.” He rubs his face roughly and takes a deep breath, trying to ward off the crushing weight of exhaustion. “Look, uh, Y/N’s going to be fine, so you guys really should get going. Get someplace safe.”

The two women nod, standing and gathering their things. Catherine steps out into the hallway, but Doris lingers at the threshold of your room, turning back to her son with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Steven,” she whispers, her voice cracking on his name. “I thought- I thought if I went back to the only thing I was ever good at, I could keep you safe.”

He rises from his chair to meet her in the doorway and pulls her into a tight embrace, years of questions left unanswered and moments missed passing between them in the span of a few seconds. “That’s not the only thing you were good at, Mom,” he divulges quietly.

She cups his cheek in her hand, and Doris can see the little boy she left behind peek through the hardened exterior of her adult son when he leans into her touch. “When this is all over, I’ll come see you, okay? I want to get to know my daughter-in-law.” I want to get to know you, she thinks sadly, deciding it’s better to keep that thought inside for now. “Stay safe, Steven.”

He nods. “You too, Mom.”

He follows her out into the hallway, calling out for Catherine who stops and turns at the sound of his voice. Jogging down the hall to make up the distance, Steve stops in front of his long-time lover, ex, and almost-wife. “Thank you,” he says awkwardly, now unsure of why he even stopped her from leaving. “For watching out for my mom,” he clarifies.

“Of course,” Cath responds. “She’s family.”

“Right, well, uh-” He sniffs and scratches the back of his neck. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too, Steve.”

He turns to head back to your room, but Catherine’s hand on his arm stops him. “She wrote to me,” the brunette blurts out in a confession. “Y/N, she- she wrote to me, and I found it in my old inbox a few months back.” Her eyes are glassy when she continues, “She, um, thanked me for being there for you all those years before she came into the picture. And the way she talks about you, Steve, God, she really loves you.” Steve drops his gaze to the ground, overcome with emotion, and nods. “Y/N told me about the ring, too.”

His head whips up at that, concern flooding his ocean blue eyes. “Cath-”

“It’s okay, really. I’m glad she told me.” They’re silent for a few moments, then Catherine says, “Look, Steve, just because I’m not in your life anymore doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you. And Y/N… it’s so clear that she loves you. That she’s good for you.”

“For the first time in my life,” Steve reveals quietly, “I know what it feels like to be chosen. For the first time in my life, I feel like a priority.”

“You should be a priority, Steve. You deserve to be happy, and you deserve to be happy with her.” Catherine presses a delicate kiss to his stubbled cheek, and it feels distinctly like a final goodbye. “See you around, sailor.”

She turns and continues down the hall, but Steve has lived a life filled with one too many unanswered questions. “Cath?” he calls after her. “What would you have said? If I had asked, what would you have said?”

Catherine smiles at him, a bittersweet smile that holds years of love, friendship, and fond memories. “I would’ve said ‘yes’, Steve.”

__________

A few days later, you’re enjoying a small, simple breakfast a la McGarrett that tastes like a Michelin star meal compared to the hospital food you’ve been forcing down since waking up from your surgery. “An omelet has never tasted this good,” you moan happily around another bite, and Steve grins at you. “I hope you still feel that way when we get you back home.”

The mention of home has your smile faltering as you recall the destruction that ensued on that fateful night. “Do we still…” You hesitate, unsure of how to phrase your question delicately. “Can we go back home?”

“We’re fixing the place up for you as we speak, babe,” Danny jumps in, sharing a quick look with his best friend. The crime scene cleanup crew had done a stellar job over the past two days, but Steve was insisting on pulling up and replacing the entire kitchen floor, claiming a remodel was past due anyway. No one had the heart to tell him they knew exactly why he couldn’t look at the old linoleum tiles.

“You guys are the best,” you gush. “I was worried we would have to move.”

“No, baby, are you kidding me?” Steve tuts. “Mary and I were raised in that house, and we’re gonna raise little McGarretts of our own there, too.”

“Don’t tell me I have to deal with more of you,” Danny groans, and you laugh before your entire left side smarts and you suck in air through your teeth.

“Danny!” Steve admonishes, and you’re quick to soothe his ruffled feathers.

“Are you two upsetting my favorite patient?” Your lovely nurse, Lani, narrows her eyes playfully at your boys as she enters the room, making notes in your chart of your fluid rate and vitals on the monitor.

“No, ma’am,” they answer in unison, and she huffs at them skeptically. Turning her attention to you, she asks, “How are you feeling today, sweetheart?”

“Less pain, more so discomfort. My stitches are starting to get itchy like you said they would.” She nods and hums sympathetically, then smiles and says, “That means you’re healing.”

“Does that mean I can take a real shower today?”

“Nice try,” she laughs, adjusting the pillow you’re leaning against. “Not quite yet. But Mina will be in soon to take care of you, dear.”

With a pout you ask, “You’re leaving me?”

“You’ll be discharged by the time I start my next shift,” Lani answers, squeezing your shoulder in a sweet gesture. “And Commander McGarrett?” She turns to him, one eyebrow quirked, and the SEAL sits up at attention. “We don’t want to see you in here for at least a year, okay?”

As Steve nods dutifully, Danny jokes, “I mean, really, you oughtta give this guy a punchcard or something at this point. Nine sets of stitches and the tenth one’s free, huh?”

Shaking her head, she calls, “Goodbye, you two. Get well soon, Y/N, dear!”

“What a gem,” you smile, “I love her.”

Danny stands with a soft grunt and announces his departure, too. “Gotta collect my monkeys and drop them off at school,” he explains, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll bring the kids by later and make sure this guy hasn’t bored you to tears, yeah?”

“You’re a real comedian, Detective Williams,” Steve yells as he leaves, rolling his eyes at his best friend’s ribbing. You reach your hand out towards your fiancé and wiggle your fingers, gesturing for him to come closer. Your EKG lines only allow you to stretch so far, and you fall back against the pillows with a huff. “I don’t like hospitals, Steve.”

“I know,” he responds sympathetically, coming to sit on the edge of your bed and brushing some loose hairs off your forehead.

“I don’t like having all these wires and tubes connected to every inch of my body.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“And I hate having to ask for help. Not even being able to bathe myself? Hard pass. It makes me feel useless.”

“Y/N-”

“And the last time we were in this place, the roles were reversed and I was so terrified that you weren’t gonna wake up and-”

“Honey, baby, angel, light of my life,” he cuts you off gently, squeezing your cheeks between his large hands, “would you just- would you take a breath for me? Nice and easy, just like that,” he instructs, breathing with you. “Thank you so much.”

“Was that your polite way of telling me to shut up?” You smile lovingly up at him, angling your head to press a kiss to each of his palms.

“I would never-” He molds his lips to your forehead. “-ever-” Another kiss. “-do such a thing.”

“Perish the thought,” you snort. “Will you snuggle with me, babe?”

He glances down at the bed, appraising. “Are we both gonna fit?”

You pout at him, dramatically jutting out your bottom lip. “I make it work when you’re in here.”

“You don’t pull your punches, future Mrs. McGarrett,” he laughs warmly, wedging his large frame beside you in the comedically small bed.

You hum contentedly as his arm settles around you, resting gently on your injured side. “Who said I’m taking your last name?”

“Ouch,” he mock cries, hand going to his heart. “Another direct hit.”

“I’m not done yet,” you declare, and he challenges, “Oh yeah? What else you got?”

“My scar is gonna be cooler than all of yours combined.”

His fingers trace delicate patterns along your side and he scoffs, “Is not.”

“Is, too!”

“Who’s gonna be the judge, huh?”

“All of our friends.”

“Nu uh,” he shakes his head. “Unfair advantage. You’ll get bonus pity points.”

“We’ll take pictures. Make it a blind experiment.”

“You’re on, Mrs. McGarrett.”

“What did I just say to you?”

“My last name’s cooler. You’ll come around.”

“You’re so annoying, Steve.”

“I know.”

“But I love you.”

“…I kn- Ow! Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I love you, too! Stop pinching me, you cheeky little- How do you have the energy to do this right now?“

__________

[A/N: Woo baby this one was a doozy, but I’m actually really proud of it? 🥹 Writing this gave me anxiety and then big sad and then big smile for my goofy baby Steve, I hate myself fr. This has been sitting in my drafts inspired by snippets of various episodes of the show because, let’s face it, writing myself into one Steven Jack McGarrett’s life is my guilty pleasure. I love this man sm and I wanted to explore his more emotional side as opposed to the tough and sarcastic version of Steve we’re used to. I hope you enjoyed this lil piece that’s been living rent free in my head for months now 🖤 Also...peep the Macbeth reference 💅🏽✨]

#steve mcgarrett imagine #steve mcgarrett fanfiction #steve mcgarrett x reader #steve mcgarrett #steve mcgarrett x y/n #steve mcgarrett x female reader #steve mcgarrett x you #hawaii five 0 #hawaii five 0 imagine #h50 #doris mcgarrett #hurt/comfort #angst with comfort #angst and hurt/comfort

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sinner-sunflower · 2 months

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A HH Lucifer-centric AU 13/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

For me, Goodie is not a total goody-two-shoes. Remember that she sees a soul's inner good. She is kind, yes, but only to those she deems worthy.

All I can say is that she and Roo are 2 sides of the same coin.

P.S. I'm not gonna put any snippets anymore, I end up not following them anyway aksjdlajk

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

Goodie: Such words! Angel, was self-preservation not included when you gave them the fruit of knowledge?

Lucifer: Apparently not.

Velvette doesn't dare to make eye contact when the King of Hell crouches in front of her. He roughly takes her face with one hand to forcibly make her look up.

Lucifer: A lot of you seem to think that 'King' is just a title I was merely given.

His claws were digging into her skin so hard that she knew for a fact that she was bleeding- if not for the wet sensation then the taste of iron in her mouth was a dead giveaway.

Lucifer: I can't blame you. I was not the most present ruler, after all. But I thought I made something very clear when I dealt with that moth man.

Velvette can feel her jaw dislocate from the sheer strength. Vox wants to help but he can't move- none of them could. He looks to his side to see Alastor smiling like he just got the best gift ever- the fucking psychopath.

Lucifer: I guess one example isn't enough.

She wants to struggle but her body won't fucking move. Her head was going to explode. She was going to die right here.

Lucifer closes his hands suddenly, crushing the lower half of Velvette's face. Surprisingly, she's still alive. Lucifer removes his command on only her, letting Velvette keel over. She's saying something but it comes out garbled. She makes an attempt to crawl closer to where Vox is.

Vox is looking at her with devastation and horror. His friend is going to die. Velvette produced a high-pitched noise as she felt something stab her leg, pinning her from where she lay. Then came the burning sensation. Her leg is on fire. It's on fucking-

Lucifer: So, let me keep it simple.

He twists Lightbringer and effectively cuts off Velvette's leg.

Lucifer: I'm Lucifer Morningstar.

He swings and slices an arm.

Lucifer: The creator of the first sin.

A stab to the torso.

Lucifer: The angel that damned humanity.

Velvette can't even do so much as a whimper now. Her whole body is mutilated. If she could still see, she's sure that all that's left is a gooey red mess.

Vox averts his eyes but something compelled him to keep his head facing the mess.

Goodie: Uh uh uh! A bit rude to look away, don't you think?

Lucifer: Í̷̫̈́́͂̒̚̕͝͝͝'̶̨̛̺̤̿̀͒͛̂̿͋̄̑͆́͘͠͝M̴̝̯̖̦͍̽̎̏͆̔ ̴̛̛̄̋̈̑̓̀̓̃̄͐͗ͅŸ̷͇̙̟͈̭̥̬̻̙͔̠̱́̽̊̊ͅÔ̵̤͙͈̬̫̪͕̼͍͌̀̔͜U̴͈̼͖̯̤͌̀̀̓̾̔͆̈́̊͑͗̕͠͝R̵̨̹͍̦͒͌̋͒͆͌̄͛̓͑̔́͜ ̸̝͑̐̀̉̃͠͝F̵̞͖̮̗̗̜̯̯͔̮͒̊͒̈́̈́́̽́̂̂͑̎͝U̵̟̙̱̙̯̤̼̙͈̳̘̫͊̈̀C̷̙̞̔̅̊͌͋K̷̖͙̼̪̠̾̄̅̾͘I̵̛̩̘̜͖̩̙̿̐̽́͊́̒͆̆̎̑͗N̴̤̏̂͝G̸͋̋̍ͅ ̵̡͈̩̹̗̹̝̻̬͍̗̬̲̳̟̍͋̽͛̒̉̍͊͑̑̋̅̽Ḳ̷̡̬͔̞̱̤̬̮͉̙͇̪͛̅͊̚I̵̤͙̪̞̝͔̱͎̜̩̖̺̟͔̙͊Ṉ̵͈̤̘͚̻̙̼̓͂̌͋́̎͜ͅĢ̸̭͔͇̹̹̳̭͋̓̒͗̈́̉̈́̂̚

Lucifer casts hellfire on the dying sinner. The king laughed as the flames grew tall. This is the power of the Devil and they will remember now of their place.

The flames dispersed leaving a charred mass. Lucifer turns to face the still-kneeling group of demons.

Lucifer: Û̶̪̌͐́̂̆͠͠n̸̛̟͕̱͍̫̘̻̣̱͈͈͇̱̜͛̓͗̏̅̇͋̒͆͊̓͗̚͠d̷̢̢̨̼̙͈̞͈͓͈͙̂̌͋̔̂̉̍̈́͆̿̈́̕͘͜͠e̵̛͍̯̫̼̫̐͛̊̒̆̉̓̊̽̓̒̒̚͘ŗ̶̨̢̧̮̜͙̪̹̯̙̪̤̠̝̓́̒̋͆̆̓̿͐̄̓̕̚̕ş̷̛̮͖̰̝̟͇͕̟̞̳̟̪̥̂̀̈́̈͗́̿̐̔̎̕̕͠t̶̮̖̭̹͓͉̪̣̦͙̖͍́͐͂̑͒̑͂̑̾̓̍̊͝ô̵̥͓̥͐̄̏̀̾̀̽̆ò̴̜͇̣̣̳͖̗̹̟̇̓͑͝ͅd̸̨̨͈͓̠͑͑̒̎̈́͘͠?̸̟̎̈

All nodded- he almost thought the sinner Overlords' heads would roll off from how frantic they were moving it. Except for Alastor- he kinda looks like he just experienced euphoria.

Lucifer: Good!

He claps in delight as transforms back to his normal appearance. With a snap of the King's fingers, everyone could move again. What they didn't expect was Velvette turning up in her dying place, perfectly fine, looking like nothing happened.

Vox runs forward to hold her as she shakes and cries in his chest. He gives the King a confused look.

Lucifer: What? Do you really think I killed her? Sounds counterproductive. We still have a situation at hand and you are no use to me dead.

They shuddered. His eyes say a silent reminder of how he could kill and revive them over and over again as he pleased. How he could, literally, show them what the phrase 'make your life a living hell' means.

Goodie: Up now! My sister is becoming restless.

Everyone reluctantly stands and gets in position.

Mammon: Show-off.

Leviathan: Ha! You wish you were that scary.

Goodie stands next to Lucifer, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Goodie: Remember, angel, if this fails, you must do what I have told you.

Lucifer nods. A giant red pentagram appears above the entirety of Sloth the moment he opens his palm.

Lucifer: Let's start.

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

Apologies Velvette stans

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persephoneggsy · 4 months

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so i did this a while back, finally remembered it, and now i'm posting it

Mass Effect x Dragon Age AU

I did one of these already, sort of, for ME: Andromeda, but this one is set in the Milky Way.

Elaborations below:

Merrill is a quarian who was exiled from the Migrant Fleet. She's looking for a way not to destroy the geth, but to bring them back under quarian control, thinking they're too valuable a resource to just get rid of. Unfortunately, this made many quarians view her as dangerous, and she was exiled for the crime of experimental geth research. Making Merrill a quarian was the first choice I did for this AU, I think it fits really well.

Aveline is an asari. I'd considered krogan or turian, or simply keeping her human, but in the end I went with asari mostly because Aveline always struck me as condescending in the same way many asari are, lol. She's a commando who later moved to the Citadel to join C-SEC.

Isabela is a turian. She's a barefaced turian, meaning she has no association to a colony. Instead of following the typical turian tradition of proudly serving in the Hierarchy's military, Isabela instead ran off to become a space pirate, specializing in smuggling. She frequents the bars around Omega and has earned herself a fearsome reputation among the mercenaries.

Bethany remains a human; she grew up on a colony world with her siblings, and had a relatively peaceful childhood, despite the Alliance constantly badgering her parents to send her and her older sister to their biotic training program.

Marian, also a human, eventually ran away from home to become a mercenary. She resented her father for forbidding her and her siblings from joining the Alliance - not because she was particularly patriotic, but she felt like her father's grudge against the Alliance prevented her and her siblings from receiving the best training possible. Her powerful biotics made her both an asset and a target, and she soon caught the eye of a certain Council Spectre...

Fenris is a drell. He was raised under the Compact, an agreement between the drell and the hanar, and his purpose was to become a bodyguard... And then his training group was attacked by batarian slavers and he was taken captive. For many years, Fenris suffered under the batarians' rule, until he finally managed to escape. Unwilling to return home, he instead roams the galaxy, taking out as many batarian slaving operations as he can.

Anders is a human who escaped from a biotic testing facility run by Cerberus. Though this left him with a grudge against Cerberus, he also hates the Alliance, whom he sees as no better and will also use biotic children as weapons. He dreams of establishing a safe haven for biotics, and is willing to go to increasingly drastic measures to see that dream become a reality.

Varric is a volus. Unlike his business-minded brother, Varric does not spend his days negotiating trade agreements or doing finance consultations. Spending his days at the Afterlife bar on Omega, he's an information broker, and a pretty damn good one at that. With his specially crafted weapon Bianca, he's not too bad in a fight, either.

Carver, much like his older sister, left home to seek out his own path, and ended up joining the Alliance against his parents' wishes. He thrived in the military, quickly climbing the ranks due to his strength and competency. He's being primed for N7 training under the wathcful eye of Spectre Sebastian Vael.

Sebastian is a human, and a Council Spectre (I'm imagining this AU as a sort of nebulous period where humanity isn't as looked down upon as they were at the start of ME1, and there are a fair number of human Spectres running around). A wild child in his youth, his parents sent him to the Alliance to straighten him out, and to their relief, it worked like a charm. He specializes in covert missions and favors sniper rifles and tech powers.

#my art #mass effect au #mass effect x dragon age au #sebhawke #yeah it's technically sebhawke bc of course sebastian and marian are going to kiss have you even met me #marian hawke #sebastian vael #i'm not tagging everyone lol #lowkey i was worried about posting this in case Weirdos(tm) saw it and grilled me about my choices but y'know #life is for living etc etc #and yeah a lot of them are obviously based on existing ME characters and backstories but I still like this

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authorbarbie · 2 years

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take my hand, now and forever.

pairing. steve harrington x reader.

summary. the battle for hawkins is over and the damage has been done. still reeling from the loss, your heart feels much more bruised than your skin.

warnings. reader uses she/her pronouns, soft steve, hurt/comfort, crying. spoilers for stranger things volume 2.

“Head up, sweetheart. Let me take a look at you.”

The words are spoken so softly in the quiet of the dark bathroom that for a brief moment, you wonder if you simply imagined them. After all, it’s been less than twenty-four hours since the so-called ‘earthquake’ occurred and to say your mind has been scattered would be an understatement.

It’s almost laughable how Hawkins can be violently split into four, leaving the town covered in dark smoke and disarray, and the general masses still manage to find a rational explanation for it.

In reality, there’s nothing rational about what happened. Nothing rational about Eddie’s heroic sacrifice for a town that hated his guts or what happened to poor Max, now resting in a hospital bed with little signs of life remaining. Shit, just the mere thought of them causes the back of your eyes to sting painfully with unshed tears.

You used to have so much faith. Maybe not in deities or some omniscient presence way up in the sky, but in the world. In people. You believed there was a purpose to it all, that you and your friends could tackle just about anything when you came together.

Today, you lost that faith in one fell swoop.

“Come on… Don’t go quiet on me now.” The pads of Steve’s fingers reach to graze the length of your jaw and you’re suddenly grounded back to reality, blinking rapidly to stave off the obvious upset.

You’re both exhausted right down to the bone, still covered in the disgusting dirt and grime of the Upside Down. The ligature marks on Steve’s neck from his previous demobat attack have only been made more prominent by the vines that had wrapped tight around him back at the Creel house — and now, you have your own battle wounds to match.

That’s what he’s so damn insistent on checking over as you both sit on the edge of the bathtub; the bruising that’s beginning to darken harshly along your skin. You swear you can still feel the effects of the choking, like your lungs haven’t yet returned to their regular capacity and are struggling to gain a full breath. Then again, that could also be attributed to the overwhelming guilt and panic that continues to rest upon your shoulders.

“I’ll be fine,” you say feebly. The last thing he needs to do right now is dote over you. “You have it a lot worse than I do.”

“What, you mean this old thing?” He gestures towards his neck before swiping a hand dismissively through the air. “Please, I’ve gotten worse injuries in the past just from play-fighting with you.”

“Are you saying I’m deadlier than a demobat?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

The familiar teasing brings a whisper of a smile to your face and though it’s barely visible in the grand scheme of things, Steve’s heart lifts with hope.

“There she is.” The hand that had been hovering near your neck shifts slightly to cup your cheek, thumb sweeping delicately over the skin, even as a hot tear finally falls from your eye. It’s a miracle he hasn’t broken down yet, too. “It’s okay, I’m here. You don’t have to hide from me.”

“We lost, Steve.” Just three words — three measly goddamn syllables — yet they have the power to open the floodgates before his name has finished leaving your lips. His arms are wrapping around you within seconds, pulling you into the comfort of his lap to hold you close to his chest. You’d done what you could to put on a brave face in front of the kids, but now that they aren’t around, there’s nothing holding you back from breaking down.

You weep for them. For Max and Eddie, a grieving Dustin and a sick to his stomach with worry Lucas. For a devastated Nancy and Robin. For Eleven, wherever she is, and the rest of the Byers family who are blissfully unaware of the night’s events. For Hopper. So much pain and death, and what was it all for?

Hawkins has fallen. You can’t see a way to bounce back from this.

As you cry — the horrible type of crying that has you shaking like a wet dog in his arms — Steve remains quiet and guides your head to rest into the comfortable crook of his neck, the wetness from your lashes dripping onto his skin. He swallows thickly past the growing lump in his own throat. Tonight has taken its toll on everyone and he is no exception, the adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins and keeping him moving slowly waning until he’s finally nothing but a dull husk of stress and panic.

“I’m not very good with words,” he begins softly, voice thick with emotion while he shakily tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear. “I never have been. I mean, let’s face it, I’m not the most poetic or even that smart, so… all I really know how to tell you is that I’m here. I’m here. Things are at an all time low and I’m terrified, too — believe me, I am. But we don’t have to be terrified alone. You hear me? No matter the time of day, no matter what I’m doing, all you have to do is call and I will drop everything to be there.”

Now that, you know, is true. Steve has never lied to you before and he would never start now, especially not when he’s never seen you so utterly broken. For the last few years, through each fight that came your way, he’s been your one constant. The one thing you can always rely on.

“We’re going to get through this,” he continues. “We’ll regroup and figure this out. Max will get better in time and be back to rolling her eyes at us before we know it. But for now… For now, just take my hand and we can pretend like we’re anywhere else but here.”

A beat passes before your hand slips safely into his.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #x reader #mine

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eureka-its-zico · 1 month

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A Body of Stars

Ongoing series

Synopsis: With a galaxy at war, it’s hard to distinguish the stars from the metal of UNSC ships. You were told about the war that waged between the UNSC and insurrectionists; your planet opposing them since you were born. Your enemy was meant to be the UNSC and the Spartans they created, specifically John-117 - the Master Chief. Except, all isn’t as black and white as you were raised to believe, and the galaxy holds secrets far darker than you could’ve imagined.

Pairing: John - 117 x F!Reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, Halo TV series/Mass Effect mashup

Warnings: mentions of war, violence

Word count: 11.7k

A/N: Alright. As hyper fixations go, the Halo series (and let’s be real, Pablo is a menace) has my ass in a chokehold. That being said, season 2 was amazing and made me want to work on a small fic that blended the series and my love of BioWare’s Mass Effect. Mass Effect is my favorite sci-fi space game about galactic war, friendship, love, sacrifice. I could rant but I won’t. There will be mentions of certain ME things in here, like the reader having biotics, to go along with the lore of the halo series. So, without further ado: its back story time. I hope someone out there enjoys this and as always, thank you for reading 🖤 much love, Jenn

Year: 2521

•Shadow Sea cluster•

•Lera system•

Destination: Laconix

ETA: 13 hours

The Midsummer Night came out of slip space without a hitch.

Not that he’d been worried. It was one of the few things that Captain Jacob Keyes hadn’t worried about during this current mission. What, or rather who, currently worried him was standing less than ten yards from him and came in the form of his ex-wife. He risked a glance where Dr. Catherine Halsey was hunched over with her nose deep inside another holopad.

Those holopads had been one of the many reasons why their marriage fell apart.

There was no doubting the brilliance her work contributed to the scientific field or the war effort. All of her research was the stepping stone humanity needed in terms of augmentation and the human genome. The contributions Halsey and her Spartans made towards this never-ending battle against the covenant saved lives, but, and it was a big but, Jacob knew that Halsey’s methods were questionable, at best. Hell, he’d been a part of those questionable decisions, driving the helm, while she did what she deemed was necessary.

Vital.

So, Jacob Keyes knew without her ever having to say a word that something was off. The Midsummer Night and the Pegasus holding Halsey’s darling Spartain-III’s were meant to go for a routine extraction. Intel indicated one of the leaders in the insurrectionist rebel groups, Kahn Montrello, was located on a planet within the Lera system of the Shadow Sea cluster. It was a typical snatch-and-grab unless they were met with resistance.

Halsey requesting to tag along was more than just a surprise. It was suspicious. Jacob knew Halsey didn’t do anything without purpose.

“Tell me again why you’ve insisted on inserting yourself into a routine mission dealing with insurrectionists?”

Halsey hadn’t even looked up from the damn holopad to acknowledge he’d walked over.

“I’m just here to gather some data while the Silver Team is dispatched to help your marines on the ground.”

Jacob’s boots scuffed against the metal of the bridge as he moved closer to her. His eyes on Catherine’s back - willing her to turn, to acknowledge him - as her gaze held tightly to the readings she’d taken from a tablet from her lab. The data was transferred to the larger scale computer in the bridge’s main console. Halsey’s eyes roaming endlessly through data Jacob himself knew he’d never understand without her help.

“Come on, Catherine. That may be the bullshit you fed Parangosky and the other admirals, but don’t feed me the same lies and expect it to go down smoothly.”

Halsey broke away for the briefest millisecond from whatever data she was reading. Her eyes skimmed over him before returning back to what was more important.

Research in the name of human exploration always was.

“It’s not bullshit. Data collected in the field is highly valuable for furthering my research; proof to Parangosky the Spartan research is worth her continued funding.”

“That’s a nice speech, Catherine, but I know that any collected data during the mission is recorded and sent back to your lab for analysis. So, when are you going to start telling me something honest?”

Honesty.

Asking Halsey to be anything other than secretive was like asking a tiger to get rid of its stripes. Jacob knew even if she told him - really shared - it still wouldn’t be all of the actual information. Key pieces of information - the most valuable - would be forever stored within her; leverage for another day.

Whatever it was she could see on those holopads had her sky blue eyes wide in excitement. Halsey wouldn’t be able to contain it - hide it - for much longer. If the small rise at the corner of her mouth was any indication, all Jacob needed to do was push a little further. Find the right words to spark a rush of hypotheticals that might turn out to hold some truth. If she didn’t crack yet, it would take one more well-placed question and she would cave.

“Jacob,” her voice was breathy, tinged with unrestrained joy. “I think I found something.”

“What are you talking about, Catherine? Found something?”

More cryptics. More hoops.

A sigh heavy with years of fights - conflicts - departed his lips and Halsey rushed to recover some ground. Her body quickly took back the space he left to place her hand gently on his bicep. The grip was soft but demanding that he stay close; pleading with him not to pull away.

Halsey needed him.

“A few weeks ago the UNSC sent over old documents from companies they’d disassembled. Conatix was one of them.”

It wasn’t hard to spot the confusion that deepened the lines in the crease of Jacob’s forehead and scrunched up his nose. His eyes roamed her face searching for a tell, but if Halsey had one she’d never show it.

“Conatix was an old UNSC factory that produced our warships-“

“Yes, I know.”

“Why would you be interested in anything about warships?”

Halsey scanned the room to make sure no one was watching - no eyes lingering on the two of them - before she directed her attention back to him. The caution that darkened her eyes shifted with a spark Jacob knew all too well.

Halsey had found something. Really found something.

“Usually, nothing of value would be of interest in old documents and schematics for warships but, while scrolling through the files I stumbled upon an encrypted file.”

“UNSC documentation is always encrypted when it’s being shipped out to-“

“To be destroyed, yes I already know that, Jacob,” Halsey cut in. Her body directed back towards the holopad that she carefully picked up. Her fingers darted across the screen hunting for the files in question. “But this was different. It wasn’t schematics or calculations - it was redacted - sealed documents about an incident.”

No sooner had she started Halsey was finished. Her hand reached out to give him the holopad and waited patiently for him to take it.

“Go ahead.”

Jacob looked around the ship's bridge to make sure no one was watching. He needed to be careful, not necessarily for Halsey’s sake, but for that of his crew. He should’ve known - did know - Halsey had a habit, a bad one, to go above the chain of command to get what she wanted. That leverage she saved for a rainy day coming in hot to throw around pawns and pieces as she saw fit to get her way.

Cautiously, Jacob secured the holopad from her and started looking at the documents, or what little he could see. Almost with every swipe all he saw were broken links and documents with holes of information missing. Sentences that formed into two words with the rest gone or replaced by shapes and numbers. An elaborate break in the code.

“I was able to decipher most of them. Get back what information they tried to hide-“

“Catherine,” he whispered her name in warning, not for himself, but for her.

“Jacob - this wasn’t about warships or weapons or schematics. Something happened. A ship they’d used with element zero - eezo - had leaked out over a few colonies. A hole in one of the port engines that wasn’t caught in time.”

“Catherine,” Jacob pleaded again, “This isn’t news or anything that concerns you or me.”

Halsey wasn’t going to back down. He knew she wouldn’t. Not when the sheer joy of finding something undiscovered was close. The science behind furthering human evolution. The moment he realized what this was - what he held in his hands - Jacob knew his eyes were saucers. The sudden shock of realization stunning him to the spot.

“Children, Jacob,” Halsey practically laughed. “The pregnant mothers who were infected by the particles gave birth to children with eezo ingrained into their nervous system. The abilities these files claim they saw…it’s like nothing I’ve ever read.”

In her excitement, Halsey reached out and took a hold of his arm. The startled warmth of her touch was enough to knock Jacob back out of his daze. His eyes skimming one more time over impossible things he saw in diagrams Halsey recreated.

“Even if that was true, you don’t even know if any of them are still alive or where they are.”

With her lips curved up in victory, Halsey plucked the holopad from his hands.

“Yes I do. We’re headed there now.”

————-

“You get caught staring up at the sky again and Caster is going to throw a fit.”

“When isn’t he throwing a fit?”

Your question wasn’t meant for an answer. The words barely made it above a whisper while you kept watch on the green hued light that streaked across the sky like a river. Calling it green felt like you were doing it a disservice. You knew it was more than that - the way it moved with purpose across the endless blue above. The different shades that reminded you of the grass on which you stood and dark as the forest that surrounded you.

“Come on,” Thao called over his shoulder. Your name calling from his lips like it would be enough to coax you forward. “I want to get back to actually enjoy what little of my day I have left.”

“You can enjoy it now,” you reminded him.

It took a few more seconds - another millisecond after that - for your eyes to turn back to the world around you. The snap of a branch somewhere off to your right informing you Thao had taken off without waiting for you to catch up.

“Not when my friends are back at the colony having fun without me. And I’m out here looking for dumb ass yaks.”

A small tut of disapproval clicked at the roof of your mouth. Your stride easily brings you closer to the shorter eleven-year-old boy. It allowed you to gently ruffle his hair. Your efforts were greeted by a grunt of annoyance with his hand grabbing at your wrist to gently shove you away.

“And just think, you would be there now, doing whatever it is you troublemakers do, if you and your friends hadn’t set a flare off inside Caster’s hut. And don’t disrespect the yaks.”

Thao’s eyes disappeared inside his head as your elbow gently nudged his shoulder. You must be making some kind of progress, because this time he made no move to push you away.

“Old man deserved it. Always hoarding the chicken eggs.”

“He owns the chickens.”

“So?”

“So,” you drawled, “it means he owns the eggs. Owning the eggs also means he gets to distribute them however he sees fit.”

“How is that fair? You know he gave Lydia and her kids three eggs last week? Three eggs. What is a family of five supposed to do with that? It’s not right.”

You knew what Thao meant. You understood the feeling of anger that burned into sadness and ultimately to the ash of defeat. Kahn allowed those who proved useful in the fight against the UNSC to have a majority hold on most of the items in the colony. Those who allowed themselves to be shuffled around an unseeable chessboard like pawns.

Willing to die, to give up everything, at his disposal.

All in the name of fighting a government who grew more powerful everyday. The UNSC sharing their own videos of propaganda that showed thousands upon thousands of soldiers equally willing to die for a cause, and Spartans being the unmovable force needed to shift any battle back into the UNSC’s favor. It was this very reason Kahn looked for those desperate enough to join, to do anything he asked, to win.

A devoted father agrees to be a walking bomb to blow up a UNSC building? His family is rewarded with food, wood, and blankets to help make it through the harsh winters. Attempting to infiltrate a building to release a virus, whether you were caught or not, Kahn took care of your family. It could be with livestock, guns for protection, or even the yaks whose pelts made the biggest profit at the markets.

Every loss of life was just another reminder of the men and women who slowly disappeared from the colony. A senseless loss of life. You were still trying to figure out what it was for; what purpose you hadn’t been able to see, because for every life lost in the pursuit of justice against the USNC, their numbers only grew. The colony's numbers, however, weren't so lucky.

“You could turn this war around.”

“I won’t kill for you, Kahn.”

You swiftly whipped your head to the side to rid yourself of the memory. Your eyes narrowing on the green rolling hills on the other side of the treeline. That was where you would find the yaks grazing. You gently patted Thao’ss shoulder - for whatever comfort it would give - before you moved forward to take point.

“That’s because it isn’t fair, Thao.”

“See! Even you agree,” Thao huffed out your name. His small body broke into a jog to match your hurried step. “If anyone in the colony would be able to kick his ass, it would be you.”

Your feet were turning before you’d even realized it. Your body answered the piercing spike of adrenaline in your blood with your hands shooting out to grab his shoulders. The action made you crouch a couple inches until you were face-to-face with Thao. Your eyes scanned wildly across his features reading nothing but uncertainty.

“Don’t ever say something like that out loud again, Thao. Do you understand me?”

“I was only saying-“

“I know what you're trying to say. The answer is no, and if Kahn or any of his dumbass lackies ever heard you even mention something like that we are both as good as dead.”

“But-“

“Tell me you understand!”

If anyone asked why you felt the sudden surge of panic ripple over your skin, you wouldn’t be able to say, or place where it stemmed from. Technically, the both of you were out in the safety of the mountain fields and away from the prying eyes of Kahn’s dictatorship. Lost behind a sea of forest, the rolling fields of green, and poppies that puddled around you like blood.

You’d seen what Kahn and his insurrectionists were capable of. Any whisper - false or not - and the person went missing. Kahn ruled the colony with the fear generated by the UNSC, but cultivated his own like the boogeyman.

“Yeah I get it. Whatever.”

Thao shrugged out of your hold and turned away from you. His pre-teen feet stomped a path out of the tree line and out into the field. A sigh left you, worn and heavy, as you watched his retreat.

I Should’ve been softer…

You let out a huff of air as a hand scrubbed over your face. It was supposed to be a simple ‘herd the yaks back to the colony’ type of day. Not grovel to one of the only people - kid or not - who wasn’t afraid of you.

It was your turn to jog after his retreating form. Quickly, you noticed that he didn’t even look up to acknowledge your presence. He wasn’t sending jokes about being an old lady (you were twenty-four, thank you very much) whose brittle bones could snap under the strain of being a person. You would’ve taken being called an old lady than suffering through the silent treatment.

Gently, you nudged his shoulder with your elbow. When he didn’t turn you tried again and again until, finally, you were rewarded with him turning an annoyed side-eye in your direction. You gave him your best apologetic smile and carefully looped your arm around his shoulders to bring him in close.

“I’m sorry. Okay? I was kind of an asshole.”

“A major asshole.”

“Okay. I’ll accept that major part but only for today.”

“If there was an asshole award, you would’ve taken home the prize-“

“Okay, geez. I get it.”

You both settled into a comfortable pace with your arm still draped over his shoulders. Your mind raced back to the last time you’d been able to do this. Thao had been younger - shorter - and with the rate he was growing, you soon might not be able to reach him. Soon, Thao might not care for your company.

“You know, I am surprised you didn’t fracture an ankle running after me at your tender age.”

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” you grumbled in mock annoyance.

You ended up having to shove him away just to try and hide the smile that threatened to lift the edges of your mouth. The sound of Thao’s laughter at your weak attempt at being mean - he 100% knew it took way too much to even make you raise your voice - made the crack of a smile begin to form.

The yaks were about another ten or so feet ahead of you both. Their massive bodies moved in slow steps while they grazed along the long grass. You weren’t sure if it was their adorable long bangs that made it impossible for them to notice you right away (doubtful) or if they just didn’t consider either of you a threat (possible). Either way, they didn’t startle as the two of you closed the remaining distance. Didn’t jump up to try and kick or gore either of you with their horns when Thao produced the ropes from his satchel.

It took a grand total of ten minutes, maybe less, to have all seven of the yaks securely held in makeshift collars from the rope. Their large bodies begrudgingly followed the two of you as you gently pulled the lead, forcing them to give up their meal of dewy grass and follow you back through the treeline.

“You know,” Thao cautiously began, his eyes skimming between you and the trees. “This might be a lot faster if you just…ya know, float them up.”

“Float them up?”

“With your blue magic.”

This time you weren’t able to hide your smile as you shook your head.

“It’s called biotics, Thao, not blue magic.”

“Blue magic sounds waaaay cooler than ‘biotics’. Who even came up with that lame name, anyway.”

“You can thank the good folks at Conatix for that one.”

One of the yaks pulled back on its lead forcing you to give a slight tug back. You could understand if they were tired after eating, but you really didn’t have time in your schedule for yak naps. A huff of air came from the nostrils of the yak to drive home that it wasn't happy not having its nap. Or maybe it was the berry bush it was after, either way, napping and eating stops were prohibited.

You weren’t aware the conversation had died until Thao’s voice interrupted the silence.

“Is it true that you were born like that?”

His question was timid - afraid he would upset you. You were used to the questions; the stares. You remember sitting with your parents in a room, about Thao’s age, when Conatix came back around trying to clean up their mess. Said mess being spilling eezo from their ships across planets that later infected children. While some pregnant mothers had children like you, exposed to element zero in the womb creating a nervous system made of eezo, a majority were far less lucky. Children born riddled with tumors or horrific physical complications that left them in pain their entire lives.

You were supposed to be a lucky one.

One of the lucky ones they’d been trying to take back with them to their laboratories. A lucky one meant to be bought by a substantial fee that your parents quickly declined. It was the last choice they ever got to make for you before they mysteriously died in a tragic accident off-world.

“Yes.”

You didn’t feel lucky and maybe it was the way the words crumbled out of your mouth. The way they sat suspended in the air in a swirl of regrets and dead wishes that Thao knew you didn’t want to talk anymore. Not about your past or anything that reminded you that what you are - who you are - has felt like one big burden. You wondered, most nights, if there was a possibility that curses could be born.

————

The rest of the walk back was filled with an awkward silence. You weren’t sure if it was one you’d made by your lack of response, or if Thao no longer felt like talking. A part of you feared the image he’d held of you since he was young, full of mystery that made you seem cool, was slowly becoming destroyed. You knew it was a matter of time before it happened.

You were an anomaly.

Children saw you as magical, while adults believed you could perform some kind of mind control or read their thoughts. It was the main reason Kahn wanted you to join the resistance. Who wouldn’t want someone who could read thoughts and control minds on their team? You’d know when and where attacks could happen and make them blow up their ships from the inside. Unfortunately, for Kahn, the only thoughts you could read were your own and, as of right now, they were desperately shouting at you not to lose one of the few friends you had left.

Even if they happened to be a young boy who was notorious for being the most talkative kid in the colony.

With a few more steps up the hill, you both came to a stop at the top of the hill. You took in the thatched roofs of the huts that lay scattered in a misshapen circle of rows. The outer ring of homes were made of clay and the only splash’s of color came from designs being painted on the sides of homes or flowers planted in the yard.

The middle ring was meant to be for men like Kahn and his commanders; men and women of importance so that they lived closer to the final, smaller ring, of storefronts and farmers. The middle circle was left open and featured a large walkway down the center of town and out into the hills.

Kahn specifically had the colony built this way. The walkway was the most important, because Kahn believed it was good for his people to be able to watch those that fought for their freedoms return from another victory against the UNSC. You knew it was more about parading around having people kiss his ass than for uplifting any kind of morale.

It was the same path that Thao and you took now as you brought in the yaks from the mountains. You knew it wouldn’t be long until you got them back inside their pen and with the irritated snorts and tugs on their leashes, the yaks knew it too. The sound of multiple small feet came rushing in on Thao’s side and the faces of a few village children came into view. They made sure to stop just before they got in the way of a yak.

“Thao, can you come play?”

“Not yet. I have to finish this choir for Caster.”

A lot of groaning ensued and you felt your free hand reach over the back of a yak. Your fingers waving for him to give you his leashes. Thao’s brow raised in question and you only answered him by pointing at the leash and waving him again to hand it over.

“Hurry up and give them to me before I change my mind.”

You were trying to be grumpy. The way any elder in town would complain about the youth of today being too soft and not knowing the meaning of hard work and blah blah. You were sure they were all just stuck in super grouchy mode from having to be an adult with responsibilities for too long. And because of that, you knew, instead of looking grumpy, a smile was already brightening up your face. Thao’s face lit up in response and his eyes darted - unsure - from up the path and back to you.

“Are you sure? Caster -“

“Will never know that you didn’t help bring them all the way back. Now, like I said, hand over the lead before I suddenly have a fit of amnesia.”

He didn’t need further prompting. Thao’s hand smashed the remaining leashes into your waiting palm and turned on his heel to run off with the other kids. A soft, “thank you,” calling out behind him.

You didn’t waste any more time watching their retreating backs as they tore down a small alleyway between huts. You had your own things that you still needed to finish today. As you continued on your way, you greeted people who were outside in their gardens or hanging up laundry. Some of them returned your greetings of, “Hello,” with grunts with their backs turned to you or hurried inside. Apparently, if they didn’t look you in the eye or were behind the safety of a wall it kept you from using your mind control powers.

You were willing to bet Kahn had something to do with that latest lie about your make believe abilities. If you wouldn’t fight for him, why not cause a little mass panic in your presence. You being the monster and him, the hero, forcing you to toe the line. No ‘mind reading’ unless it was for the ‘cause’.

As you neared the pen in front of Caster’s shop, you started to rotate the leashes tighter in your hands. You were positive if the yaks felt a slack in their leash, they would attempt a revolt. They also weren’t the biggest fan of the metal pen of broken down ships Caster created to house them; the metal of an old hatch door from a USNC frigate - rusted and covered in moss - groaned as it opened. A sound the yaks knew well and instantly sent their hooves stamping into the muddy grass.

“Alright, ladies, I don’t want any trouble. It’s time to get your butts back in here - whoa!”You shot around with a start as one of the yaks gently bumped its nose against your back sending you forward towards the pen. “None of that,” you mumbled. Your index finger pointing at your chest then back to every single one of them. “Your home, not mine. Now go.”

With a cautious glance over your shoulder you took a step forward leading the herd inside. It wasn’t until you’d begun to remove their leashes that the familiar sound of a man clearing his throat brought your gaze up to search the fence. It didn’t take long for you to find Caster leaning against it. An arm hanging over while the other held up whatever self-righteous bullshit questioning he was about to spew.

“Where’s Thao?”

“He helped me bring them here, Caster. I sent him on his way once we reached the pen.”

“That’s not what he was told to do and you don’t have any authority to change orders.”

Every word reached you like a slap in the face. Caster’s irritation was evident with the click of his tongue. You tried to keep your face neutral; your gaze fixed on one of the yak's as your fingers ran through the tangled fur. You gave one final pat to signal your departure before you walked back to the pen’s exit.

“I wasn’t aware Thao had to be the specific individual to deliver a bunch of yaks inside the pen.”

“Bullshit,” Caster snarled your name. His body closing the distance between you as you stepped through the pen entrance. “You can try and play dumb with me all you want, but we both know you aren’t that damn dense. Thao can’t shut up even for a second in his sleep, and you’re trying to tell me the boy magically didn’t complain the whole time he was with you?”

Caster invaded what little space you had once you stepped fully out from behind the pen. The door hadn’t even closed yet before Caster rushed you, attempting to trap you between him and the metal. The cold gray of his eyes roamed your face waiting for you to break at his intimidation.

One of the Shadow Sea’s three moons would have to explode first before that ever happened.

You jammed the cool metal of the pens chains into his chest. You didn’t bother to see if he would catch it when you released it. You knew he would, and when Caster did, you made sure to take a step towards him forcing the older man two options; hold his ground or back up. You weren’t surprised when he did the latter.

“You’re right, Caster, I’m not that damn dense. Close up your own fucking pen.”

You didn’t give him the chance to reply. The first step you took forced him to take another step back, your shoulder ramming into his as you pushed your way past him.

Could you have gone around?

Yes, but, no matter what, it felt a lot better being petty for a couple of seconds than pretending for a second you cared.

It didn’t take Caster long to find his bearings. The sound of the chains rustling in his hands and a slew of curses thrown at your back were the first to greet you before he yelled after you: “Just wait until Kahn hears about this!”

“Yea, yea,” you mumbled.

You were willing to bet no matter how the exchange between Caster and you went, Kahn was always going to hear how it went. Good or bad. Caster yelled something else at your retreating back. You responded with a wave and continued back down the main path before you veered off course into a smaller path. It was one you knew well since you were a child. One you knew led to your grandparents' hut.

Smoke rose from the clay chimney and you knew, before you entered through the doorway, you’d find your grandfather working to dry his latest clay pots by the fire. Your grandmothers weathered fingers working tirelessly with a needle and her beadwork scattered over the small table. It was only a few days before everyone with goods left to try and sell them at the Market. You moved through the small space stopping to kiss the top of your grandmother’s head before you gently took over for your grandfather.

“And where did you run off to this morning?”

You didn’t have to look up to feel the weight of your grandfather’s stare. His scrutinizing eyes waiting for you to give him a response knowing full well it wasn’t going to be the one he wanted.

“There is no need to worry, grandpa. I was nowhere and everywhere all at once.”

“That sentence alone turned what little hair I have left white.”

“All of your hairs’ already white.”

“Precisely my point,” he groaned.

The soft chuckle of your grandmother cut through the tension in the small room. Your eyes now directed to the open flame and focused on turning the pot slowly with the tongs. The last thing you wanted to hear on top of giving your grandfather white hair and an early grave was ruining a pot he’d worked on most of this morning.

“Would you two stop it? I’m sure she has a perfectly good explanation for why she was missing this morning. Don’t you dear?”

Your grandmother sent a coy look in your direction and you couldn’t wait to completely crush her dreams. While your grandfather believed in hard work, your grandmother believed in finding a good spouse who could provide for the imaginary great grandchildren she’d already named.

Either that or joining the resistance.

“I was out helping Thao rally up the yaks that ran away this morning.”

A sigh so heavy escaped from your grandfather’s chest that you could’ve sworn all your ancestors before you joined him.

“And there it is.”

The soft call of your name forced your attention back to where your grandmother now sat idle. Her hands placing the beadwork and adjoining needles on the table. Her small frame turned on the bench to make sure she had your full attention.

“I’m happy you want to help but you already know Kahn will-“

“Will throw a bitch fit. Yeah, yeah, I know.”

A smack on your arm sent you jolting back in surprise. Your eyes cautiously roaming over to your grandmother to see if she was going to hit you again. With how tightly her lips were pressed together, you had a feeling, with some of the things that came from your mouth, the possibility of her doing it again was imminent.

“Whether you like him or not, Kahn is our leader.”

“No, he is your leader. Kahn will never be mine. A real leader doesn’t sacrifice their people to gain information or so they don’t get locked up inside a UNSC prison.”

“And do you think there is someone more fit to lead if he was gone? Who do you think would run the rebellion?”

“Plenty of more competent individuals could step forward to take his place if he wasn’t aro-“

You realized you sounded like Thao who, hours before, you’d shushed him into complacency. Your fear for his safety was paramount over how right his words might have been. And here you were doing the exact same thing inside your grandparents hut.

“Enough!”

Your grandfather wasn’t known for raising his voice and when he did it was usually out of desperation; a fear that surpassed anger that delved into worry from the unknown. You could see it now etched into every wrinkle that creased in the sagging skin of his sunburnt face. The way he tried to hold onto the anger before it was swept away by something he wouldn’t voice in fear of giving it a name.

“Whether you like it or not, Kahn runs this settlement. He is the only one working here to free us from the tyrant that is the UNSC! At least he is doing something, which is more than I can say for my own granddaughter!”

“Ernest,” your grandmother’s voice cautioned.

“So you want me to just let him use me like some kind of weapon?”

You no longer cared about holding the pinchers over the fire or the clay pot - your grandfather's life’s work - held delicately between them. As you stood up from the stool you dropped the pinchers and the sound of clay cracking tapered over your shuddering breathing for just a moment. You moved away from the fire towards a corner of the room closest to the door. The thunder in your ears drowning out the shouts of your grandmother; your eyes coming in and out of focus as you tried to ease the panic from your veins.

It would only take a second - a fatal second of panic to fill the room with a cobalt hue of flame that would ruin everything.

“Kahn offers you a way to use your gift, to teach you how to use it, and better help our people and you spit in his face!” He hissed. “Your parents gave their life for the cause-“

“And what has Kahn given!?” You hadn’t meant to scream. Each word laced with a grief stricken with rage that only bloomed brighter over time. “He asks families to give their husbands, wives, their children to fight his battles and what the fuck does he do for us?!”

“Why can’t you ever see that you can help save us? Kahn can help teach you how to control it.”

“Help me control it or control me?”

“You ungrateful child.”

His words hissed through the air and buried themselves in the hollow of your chest. Your feet involuntarily took a step back, ready to flee the hut, ready to find peace in the hills of the forest when the collective raised shouts of the villagers rang out from behind the walls.

“UNSC vessels spotted!”

It was the distraction you needed to escape the hut. The shouts of worried men and women pushing you to rush outside and greedily take gulp after gulp of fresh air until the flare, the warmth, of your power began to dig back inside your skin. When you dragged your gaze away from the grass you were greeted with villagers running back and forth. The ones who sprinted down the open lane back out towards the open forest only ended up coming back moments later.

You made your way out into the crowd, weaving in between the bodies to get to the heart of the circle their bodies created. They all stood in large huddled groups; mothers clutching their children and the able bodied men moving in front of them, in front of everyone, to try and guard them. The villagers who tried running down the main road were coming, as if herded, back to the center of the village. You didn’t understand why they were all running back to the middle.

This was a kill zone.

Strategically the worst place to be for any of the resistance fighters if they were going to make any attempt to fight back. It wasn't until you made it to the middle that your earlier rage turned to ice as you watched the UNSC marines, and four very big fucking Spartans, make their way up the middle.

If Spartans were here you knew no one stood a chance. A fight would be suicide. You needed to get back to your grandparents. You needed -

“Attention settlers of the Lera system of Laconix: I am Captain Jacob Keyes of the USNC. We have viable intel that led us to believe that you are harboring a fugitive by the name of Kahn Montrello - a known insurrectionist. We are asking for your cooperation in this matter. We can resolve this matter peacefully, with no need to resort to any unnecessary violence.”

“Screw you! You have no jurisdiction here or any outer colonies.”

Fred. That was his name. Maybe. You didn’t know - couldn’t remember. Your brain couldn’t think past your own rushing pulse or speeding thoughts. He was just pushing past the crowd with angry shouts and limbs flying while he moved towards them. You watched as he made his way towards the marines like a man on fire, and was met by a Marine who burned brighter. The butt of their gun cracking against his cheek sent him spiraling to the ground.

You weren’t sure if you were already panicked or if the sight of blood seeping through his fingers caused it. No matter what the real reason was you knew there was no getting around whatever came next. Like a swarm of locusts, the marines fanned out and moved forward. Their bodies corralled the villagers tighter together and kept any hope of escape at bay.

It was the perfect time for Kahn to make his appearance. His form practically glided from between a lake of terrified bodies frozen in fear, clutching one another, as he opened his arms in welcome.

“You say you wish us no violence, only want our cooperation, and yet attack a simple working man.”

“You need to stay where you are or you will be taken down with force,” a marine answered, their gun trained on Kahn who continued to take careful steps forward.

He responded with his hands showing he wasn’t armed. Kahn made a show to come to a stop in front of Captain Keyes.

“Maybe that was advice you should’ve opened with, Captain Keyes.”

Kahn was treating this like a joke. He was wearing that easy smile of his displaying he didn’t have a care in the world. He was either suicidal, genocidial in willing to let them completely kill the colony or, you realized with a sickening drop in your stomach, Kahn had another plan.

“And you are?”

“I’m Malcom. Another humble merchant who lives here.”

Liar!

The panic that settled like lead inside your gut dropped heavier, threatening to upend whatever was left from your morning breakfast. You didn’t have to guess what his plans were, because Kahn was laying them bare for everyone to see. The only difference between you and everyone else is that whoever he chose to sacrifice for the name of his ‘revolution’ would be met with silence.

Captain Keyes outlined Kahn’s frame with suspicion and a pebble of hope was thrown your way. Maybe he could sense the lie that costed Kahn’s words. Maybe it would be enough for him to call bullshit.

“Okay, Malcolm. And what is it you’re wanting?”

“I want nothing, Captain. I just want to show you exactly who you are looking for.”

Kahn never intended to point the finger at himself - why would he when there were dozens of men brainwashed to think their sacrifice mattered. You followed his finger like everyone else drawn to the imaginary string he pulled and waited to see what poor fool he chose this time.

Except this time - no…NO!

It was your grandfather who took a step forward out of the dozens of bodies. The wooden tip of his cane met the ground with a depth of a shovel digging a grave with each step. Your grandmother reached out her arms - called for him to come back - but he continued to make his way forward. His head held high like he was making a decision everyone should be proud of.

“I am Kahn Montrello. The man you seek.”

Captain Keyes took one look at your grandfather and you could see the disbelief reflected in his eyes. The way they darkened further on a decision you, or anyone else, would ever be made aware of until he made it.

“I’ve never known an insurrectionist leader to give themselves up so willingly.”

Thank god Captain Keyes was smarter than he looked. Your grandfather, however, wasn’t backing down. He squared his shoulders and planted his hands coolly over the hilt of his cane. His head held high enough for his next words to strangle him.

“Any leader should be willing to give themselves up for the safety of their people. Is that what you can offer me, Captain Keyes? The safety of my colony if I come willingly?”

“What are you doing?”

You were sure it was the panic that surged you forward. How you found yourself taking step after step until you were out from behind every last villager and into the clearing with Kahn and your grandfather.

“Stay back!”

“Don’t take another step forward!”

You were vaguely aware of the commands being slung your way. The arms that lifted weapons as you took scrambling steps towards your grandfather who only looked on with distaste.

“Go back with the others. I won’t tell you again.”

It was the voice he’d used countless times since you were a child. A voice that radiated with authority that now only showcased his age. A part of you wanted to follow his orders and run to your grandmother’s side. To be a good granddaughter and comfort her the way she needed.

But she wouldn’t need comforting if Kahn wasn’t such a fucking coward.

“No!”

He hissed your name as he nervously looked out over the marines. At Captain Keyes.

“Be good and do as you're told.”

“I won’t let you do this!”

“And I don’t need your permission-“

“What about grandma? You’re just going to leave her like this?”

“I wasn’t aware Kahn Montrello had grandchildren?” Keyes quipped.

You could see your grandfather open his mouth to reply and you made sure to cut him off before he could say another lie.

“That’s because he doesn’t because Kahn -“

“Apologies, Captain Keyes,” Kahn cut in. “This girl is unwell. Ever since she lost her parents -“

“Don’t you dare speak about them.“

“-she’s been desperately trying to cling to anyone willing to call her family.”

You weren’t aware you were moving forward until you heard the shouts from the marines; the gasps of fear from your own people. You were vaguely aware of the tingle of heat that moved like a shockwave from your fingertips up your arms until it consumed you. In another time, a different life, maybe you would’ve been aware that your biotics had flared to life and enveloped you in what looked like cobalt flame.

A fitting image for the one Kahn so lovingly painted for you. An unhinged woman filled with crazy fantasies and a desperation for family.

The only thing you could focus on was Kahn who stood before you. The coward who easily was willing to give your grandfather up to the UNSC knowing what they do to insurrectionist leaders. The unspeakable torture done to collect secrets, and their executions televised on every available feed for all to see.

With the thought of your grandfather’s future weighing behind your eyes you lashed out. Your hand rising forward to catch Kahn midway in taking a step back. Your biotics held him suspended in the air. You were vaguely aware of what sounded like your grandfather calling your name. The wood of his cane crunching through dirt and leaves to rush to you.

There was more shouting - orders being relayed and metal clicks of safeties being released - and you knew chaos was about to ensue.

“Spartan’s your orders are to grab the insurrectionist known as Kahn Montrello. Marines focus on providing backup and subduing any and all threats.”

A wash of relief rippled through you. The UNSC had come to their senses. They must have realized Kahn for the liar he was. Captain Keyes caught on that the rouse Kahn created with your grandfather was all a lie.

Except that wasn’t what happened.

The marines who fanned out around the clearing were now moving in towards one sole target: you. The Spartans who Keyes sent forward to capture Kahn weren’t headed in your direction, but towards your grandfather who was visibly shaking as he watched two of the UNSC’s giants - their most powerful weapons - move towards him.

“No! You have it all wrong! He isn’t Kahn!”

You released the hold you had on Kahn. No longer was he held suspended in the air as you sent his body flying towards the marines. Your feet were digging into the soil, pitching you forward in a hard sprint, as you barreled blindly towards your grandfather. You could hear him warning you to stay back - ‘stay away’ - but you never were good with doing what you were told.

The closest Spartan,only identified by the numbers 028 on her chest, was almost on him. They were so close it would only take a couple more inches and this Spartan would grab a hold of him and you would lose him. Forever.

You were running on pure adrenaline. Your vision honed in on nothing else but the hand of the Spartan that reached out to grab at his arm. If they got a hold of him, that was it. You called on every cell of energy in your body, your arm drawing back - nerves frying - as the eezo inside your body compacted in the space around you, changing it into a powerful ball that you launched with a scream. The Spartan barely had time to react when the cobalt sphere of element zero slammed into her suit and sent her flying back.

“Riz!”

You had a split second to make half a shield before the second Spartan’s fist slammed against it. The impact snapped like a shockwave of its own. The force of impact sent your feet sliding back against the dirt. The sound of heavy footsteps following your rolling body forced you to spring to your knees as you called on another surge of element zero and sent it flying like a fastball.

It slammed into the Spartan but, unlike the first one, it barely slowed them down. The impact crackled against the air and the force field around his armor allowing your biotics to push them back only a few feet. It was all the feet you needed to scramble on all fours to your grandfather, who was kneeling in a heap in the dirt.

As soon as you slide in next to him, you put up a small force field - a bubble of blue that encapsulated you both just in time before bullets bounced against the shield. Gently, you secured an arm underneath his shoulders and tried to lift him up to you. All while your right hand stayed pressed against the barrier you’d created. Your arms shaking with the strain of holding back another round of gunfire and the slamming fists of a very big, very angry, Spartan.

You were running out of time. The strain of keeping the barrier up, of using powers you usually never touched, left a noticeable trail of perspiration to crown your forehead. If you kept this up much longer, you knew the nosebleeds would start soon.

“Come on grandpa. We have to get up now. We gotta get you out of here.”

“Just let them take me, deheyah*.”

A heavy wave of memory, weighted with emotions thick and stifling, threatened to knock you off balance. The last time your grandfather had ever called you that, was before your parents died. When you were allowed the luxury of childhood innocence and the imagination that the world held the beauty of magic before it was destroyed by the gravity of reality.

“That’s not going to happen, grandpa. I won’t let it happen. I can’t lose you too.”

Your body jerked with the next slam of a fist against the barrier. The impact sent a shutter down into the marrow of your bones and snapped at your nervous system. The pain was immediate and tore a gasp from you.

“You will never lose me. I will always be with you. Wherever you go. Whatever you choose to be.”

“No.”

You shook your head violently forcing him to reach out to steady you. The soft leather of his hand cupped your cheek quieting your protests and forced you to keep your eyes on him.

“I’m sorry for what I said. Earlier. I just - I just wanted what was best for you. I always have. But…only you know what is best for your life. Never stop fighting. Don’t be afraid of who you can be.”

“Why are you talking like this? This isn’t goodbye grandpa. Come on, I have to get you back to grandma. She’s going to be pissed if you just stay here.”

But it was, wasn’t it? You’d felt it when your hands touched the layers of shawls that draped over his chest. It was wetter than it should’ve been. His eyes glassy and unfocused and struggling to keep them on you while he spoke. Somehow, you’d been a few moments too late when the bullets came your way, and those few seconds allowed the hollow point of a bullet to find a hole in the center of his chest.

Blood covered your left hand as another sharp synopsis of pain resonated through your nervous system. Spartan 028, Riz, was back up and hammering away at the sphere of the barrier you’d created. The pain should’ve been unbearable but nothing compared to the last gasp of air that shuddered from your grandfather. It couldn’t compare to the feeling of his body, lifeless, and sagging towards the earth where the weight forced you to place him.

None of this would’ve happened if Kahn wasn’t a coward. If he didn’t use people, the very people he claimed were his. People he swore to defend and liberate - for his own gain.

The anger swelled brighter inside like a raging flame. Every beating your nervous system took holding up the barrier became a dulled sensation as you struggled to breathe around the loss of your grandfather.

The Spartans had stopped but didn’t move back. A woman was off to your right. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Smiling like she was friendly but the mock kindness didn’t reach her eyes. They were bright with excitement; the way hunters spotted prey. A scientist finding a new object to dissect.

“…I’m Doctor Halsey.”

Of course she was. She wanted to dissect you. The same way the scientists from Conatix tried many years ago by trying to buy you from your parents. She was saying your name but she had no right to it.

This Dr. Halsey.

False smile given under false pretenses. Just like Kahn has his fancy glittering speeches that kept hopes high and results low.

“We don’t want to harm you. If you are willing to come peacefully we promise we will leave the colony immediately. No further bloodshed needs to happen.”

The part of you that wasn’t soaked in grief agreed. It was the best call to make - the right call. It promised no more suffering would happen. It meant your grandmother would be safe.

Your grandmother. A woman who lost her son. Her husband. Now her granddaughter. Who would watch her if you left? The thought alone sprang a sharp refusal to your tongue until you stood, your eyes cast down at the warm body of your grandfather. In that moment, whatever reasonable human being you used to be ceased to exist. The only thing left was rage.

Dr. Halsey must have noticed. No longer was she crouched to be eye level with you. She returned to her full height. Her hands placed out in front to shield herself, as if that would be enough to stop what happened next.

“Whatever you’re thinking - don’t.”

Your reply came in a scream that crawled its way from the pit of despair that had lodged itself inside your heart. The loss of your parents, the death of your grandfather, and for your grandmother who would be alone. You used that hurt, bitterness, and rage and used it to erupt your shield into a burst of biotic energy that detonated like a bomb. The sheer force alone sent the Spartans back.

It wasn’t enough but you only needed a minute or two. Just enough time for you to send your biotics crackling along the air in a line until it grabbed a hold of Kahn and pulled him like a slingshot of force back towards you. When he was close enough, you dropped your left hand that you’d use to control the pull of his body, and cocked back your right arm, your palm open, and launched it forward. The slam of the biotics hit home at the center of his chest launching Kahn back through the scrambling crowd of people, with the sickening crack of his sternum mixing with the scream that tore from your throat.

It was all the time you had before the Spartan marked with 117 came into view. His armored fist closes in like a warthog at full speed against your cheek, sending your body spiraling into the dirt. You could feel the earth shift with tremors as he moved to follow you. You could taste the blood from the hit and wondered if your jaw was broken. If you just lost a whole row of teeth.

“John, Incapacitate her only! I need her to be brought back with us. Alive.”

For a glorious moment, your blurred vision swirled only with the uninterrupted view of the sky before the cameo green of Master Chief, savior of the galaxy - or John - 117 - helmet came into view. A joke was brewing on the back of your tongue, covered in humor and blood before his fist came crashing down your line of sight, and the world became blissfully quiet.

_________

You found that the darkness wasn’t as quiet as you’d hoped.

The impact from the punch the Maater Chief, or John - 117 as that woman called him, had launched you into what felt like a nightmare. Held hostage by a paralysis of your own mind. Unable to change the forms of what you saw. The images were vivid. The sounds carried a weight that sat heavy like lead in your skull. It made you miss the pain of being conscious.

You weren’t sure if the screams that bounced around inside your head were real or if they were just a part of the nightmare. Over and over your broken mind played out the moment a Marine’s bullet found a hole inside your grandfather's gut.

No matter how fast you ran, if you launched yourself in front of him, you were never fast enough. Each step you took sunk deeper into the earth as if your legs were trying to race through quicksand. Your own biotics mysteriously grew quiet - refusing to work for the first time in your life.

No matter what the outcome never changed. Your grandfather was gone, and there was no time travel to head back and change that startling fact.

A sickening lurch, one you knew meant a ship was coming out of slipspace, sent the contents of that morning’s breakfast swirling in your stomach. You barely had time to register that it was real, the nausea, and that you were really about to throw up. You’d barely rolled to your side before said breakfast displayed itself onto a very shiny metal floor.

As soon as you finished, you rolled back onto your back. Your eyes fluttered open to take in the fluorescent lights, the cool slated metal ceiling that matched the walls and floor. It was definitely a cell, and you most definitely found out much too late that your wrists were tied behind your back.

When you were sure you weren’t going to upend anymore of your breakfast, you slowly began to maneuver to sit on the only bench they’d laid you on. The pain in the sockets of your shoulders informing you that you’d been like this for quite a while.

You were still trying to gather your bearings when the sliding doors to your right opened. A woman with blonde hair stood at the forefront with a Spartan, the dusk green armor of John - 117, standing protectively behind her. When she moved, he moved. You couldn’t help but consider her a puppeteer and the Spartan the puppet. He didn’t move unless she did and you doubted he would be doing any of the talking.

She entered the room with a cautionary smile and clinical eyes assessing you before she even entered. It was easy to tell she was a scientist and, more than likely, a very experienced one in whatever it was she specialized in.

“Hello, Subject Cobalt,” she said brightly. Her smile never faltered once. “I’m glad to see that you are alright. My name is Doctor Halsey. I’ve come to do an assessment on you and make sure you didn’t sustain any life-threatening or mind altering issues after what happened back on Laconix.”

Subject Cobalt?

Was that supposed to be you?

You eyed her warily as she took her first step inside the cell. The heavy footsteps of Mjolnir armor followed closely behind. If she suspected you were jumpy - a rabbit in headlights, as the old ones used to say - Halsey never showed it.

A few more steps and she was beside the bench. Another breath and she was sitting beside you. The smile on her face beaming and hollowing out her eyes with rapture at what she must have considered a new species. You made a fine new specimen for any scientist, you would imagine. A nervous system full of eezo that lit your body up like an Earthen Christmas tree and the power to wield it like a weapon.

Doctor Halsey was practically giddy beside you.

“I’m going to do a few simple tests to verify cognitive function isn’t impaired. To do so, I’m going to need your assistance. Do you think you could do that for me?”

Your eyes scanned over her as you considered your options. It turned out to be a very short list that was available to you. The only option being to go along with what she asked.

“Okay.”

That one word was all the go ahead Halsey needed to cause her megawatt smile to go up a notch. She must have thought you would be resistant to following orders and she wasn’t wrong but, from where you were sitting, this seemed like the lesser of two evils.

“Splendid. First, I’m going to run this pen horizontally and vertically. I need you to focus on the tip of the pen, and follow it as closely as you can.”

“Okay.”

Doctor Halsey lifted the pen up to eye level, a few inches away from your face, and waited for your eyes to train on the silver point. You hadn’t expected an examination as soon as you woke up. You weren’t sure if you should’ve felt happy or worried about it. If you were one misstep away from becoming a lab rat.

You’d been so deep in thought - your mind considering all the outcomes and possibilities of this interaction ending well - that you completely missed her first question.

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

Another smile. Another deflection. It was enough, however, for you to notice the tightness in the fine lines of her face. It was so small you could’ve missed it.

“Of course. During your biotic episode on Laconix, I noticed your nose started bleeding. Does it do that every time you use your biotics?”

“No.”

The tightness again. This time it was the edges of her smile - suspended in that mock sweetness - that reminded you of your mother. Waiting for you to give more detail without prodding and realizing, rapidly, you feared incriminating yourself. The pen dropped into her lap. Her eyes roaming over your face for a sign - a tell - that she could exploit.

“You aren’t in any kind of trouble. I’m merely trying to help you -“

“Is that what you’re trying here, Dr. Halsey? To be my friend? To tell me I’m not in any danger when you took me off my planet against my will?” You inquired. Her mouth was still suspended open, forming around a word cut short by your desire to not hear anymore bullshit. “It feels like there is more going on than what you’re sharing.”

She schooled her face - even her eyes - to remain emotionless. A perfect blank slate to display only what she wanted without giving away what she didn’t.

“Alright. I watched you. At first, you seemed in control, but after the third or fourth time your biotics displayed themselves, and you overextended their use, you suffered an epistaxis - the nosebleed. Further scans done here in the ship’s medical bay presented signs of swelling and hematoma on the brain. A few hours before you woke up, I had them run another analysis and both are gone. Which leaves me to believe it only occurs upon exhaustion.”

She watched you as she spoke. Her gaze searching, prodding, for signs of whatever reaction she expected but wasn’t getting. You would’ve loved to offer up whatever it was she wanted, if only you knew which specific one she was hunting for.

“Tell me. Do you get migraines?”

“What is this?”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s a lie,” you shot back.

The tone in your voice matched the anxiety rising in your chest. It caused your words to be rougher than intended, alerting the Spartan in the corner who took a step towards you. Only the rising hand of calm - control - from Dr. Halsey kept him from taking another step.

“I think you understand more than you’re willing to tell me or, at least, not wanting to show your whole hand, anyway. You’re a scientist, right? Probably super smart. Smart enough you probably come from some UNSC lab from Reach or Illium?”

“Reach.”

The carefully constructed smile was back on her lips, but this time you could see a spark of something brighten up the soft blue of her eyes. You were doing something she didn’t expect, but her scientific mind found it fascinating. No doubt logging it away to draw it open later somewhere quiet to dissect.

Your lips pouted around her admission. Reach. One of the top three planets, if not the first, for all private and commercial research filled with legal litigation and NDA’s to protect organizations and UNSC labs from the courts of public opinions. It was how Conatix got away with doing what they did to you and the other kids scattered across the galaxy. Only taking notice when it seemed like something that could benefit them. You weren’t stupid. Halsey had taken one look at what you could do - what you did - and only two things came to mind: control or destroy.

You hadn’t figured out exactly which one you were to Dr. Halsey yet.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Halsey didn’t necessarily give you a reason to think it was an outlandish guess. Everything - everyone - was expendable when it came to science and the betterment of humanity. Or whatever the UNSC’s science team's new slogan was.

“Why would we kill you?”

You tried to shrug off the growing anxiety that sat coiling inside your gut.

“To experiment on me. Take me apart and see what’s buried underneath, so to speak. Isn’t that what you people do.”

“You don’t realize what you are, do you? The advancement of human genetics - biology - that is flowing through you.”

“What’s flowing through me is eezo and it cost hundreds of children their lives.”

“Yes, but for one out of a hundred children there is something remarkable. You. The one out of a thousand. A stepping stone towards humans having a place amongst the vast and ever growing populace of space. I don’t want to kill you, Cobalt. I want to integrate you into my program.”

“What program?”

You wondered if madness was contagious. If you asked anyone else, they might have dismissed your words as too harsh. No doubt calling Halsey’s display of excitement for simply that, but you could see her eyes. Underneath all that perfectly concealed pleasant exterior was an intelligence that was willing to break the norms - rules - to get to whatever she needed.

“I run the Spartan program. Granted, you are well past the parameters to become a Spartan, no, I…I want to make a subunit. I think Cobalt, we can help each other, and not only help each other, but possibly end this war.”

UNSC propaganda.

That’s what the war was. Everyone in the outer colonies knew it was just a fancy attempt to stop the growing surge of colonists from joining the insurrectionists. Halsey sensed your doubt before you disregarded her words with a shake of your head.

“No. The covenant is just a UNSC nightmare story to try and get the outer colonies to toe the line. To allow themselves to be governed under your jurisdiction.”

“I can promise you. It’s not.”

“Of course you would say that! You’re a USNC scientist for Christ’s sake!”

“John.”

Somehow, you’d forgotten that big hunk of tin was in the room. Halsey kept you focused on her - solely on her - that when the Spartan took a step forward, the reflection of the room mirrored in his visor, you almost jumped out of your skin.

In his hand was a holopad that he deposited into her waiting palm. Halsey didn’t waste time logging in. Her fingers tapped wildly across the screen with a speed that left you dizzy. When she found whatever it was she’d been looking for she extended the holopad out for you to take.

“This was transmitted to us only a few hours ago.”

Warily, you watched her. Your mind debating if you should take the holopad or tell her to fuck off. It was more made up videos or fancy speeches, you were sure of it. The grim lines of her face, however, left you wondering just how certain you were. It was her turn to place the holopad in your hands. Your gaze on her a few more seconds before it dropped down to the video that played on the screen.

Bright beams. It’s what you noticed first. Beams that erupted from the sky with such brilliant clarity you knew it could only be one form: plasma. You couldn’t understand - comprehend - what you were seeing.

Plasma on that scale was impossible. It should’ve been and yet, you watched as it sliced through the planet's barrier, through molecules, and simple things like trees and mountains. Everything it touched turned red hot like lava from volcanoes you’d heard stories about that were on the original human planet of earth. While the plasma beam continued its destructive course, the magma it left behind flowed behind.

You didn’t understand until you did.

You knew that mountain. You’d glanced at it many times on walks to neighboring villages for trade. Attempted to climb it a thousand times as a child.

“What is this?”

Your disbelief was met with something you couldn’t place from her. Halsey didn’t offer up sympathy. She offered up an understanding of watching everything you love disappear in a wave of destruction. But how could she understand the hollowness, the sinking feeling of dread that gripped your heart and threatened to make it stop?

“It’s Laconix. Shortly after we left the Covenant arrived. They glassed the planet.”

“Glassed? I - I don’t. I don’t understand.”

You were going to hyperventilate if you weren’t careful.

“It’s gone, Cobalt.” That’s not my name. “The Covenant doesn’t take prisoners. They destroy everything. Kill everything. Your planet is gone.”

Gone.

Your home. What was left of your family - your people - your community. Gone. In less than 7.8 seconds of holopad footage.

“But you can avenge them. You can fight for them and to protect every other planet still left out there in the galaxy and I can help you do it.”

Deep down a part of you knew this had been her tactic all along. If reason didn’t make someone join your cause, then using their emotions against them would. You should’ve seen it coming. Took the time to ask more questions but the growing hole in your soul moved on from shock and grief was rocketing towards unbridled rage at lightning speed.

When you glanced back up at her, Halsey knew she had you before you even spoke.

“What do you need me to do?”

As always, thank you so much for reading. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

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girafficparka · 3 months

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Untitled WIP I’ve been working on off and on to help with writers block for a different fic. I kinda really liked it so here ya go!

Inspiration: mass effect 3 owes me a decent shep/garrus/kaiden love triangle, and I plan to collect.

~~~

“I don’t know what you’re in the mood for tonight, Shepard. But Vega insists that we watch something called…Hard Death?” Garrus was saying as he entered her cabin. He was reviewing the title of the vid on his omni-tool. “Scratch that. Die Hard. He said it was a traditional human holiday vid, so I thought…Shepard?”

He stopped short when he looked up and caught Shepard staring at him, silently, from her couch. Humans weren’t exactly the easiest species to read - they were expressive, but often he could never figure out what each of their hundred of expressions meant - but he’d like to think he knew Shepard pretty well. She looked…stricken.

“Shepard?” he repeated, fully entering her cabin and approaching her. He went to sit next to her but she held up a hand to stop him. He paused at an awkward angle, halfway between standing leaning down to sit next to her. She stood up, standing in front of him with her hands fidgeting before her. He had never seen her look so…nervous.

“Shepard,” he repeated, for the third time, his voice soft. Confused. “Talk to me.”

“I…I have something to tell you and I don’t…want to.”

Well this was new. Shepard wasn’t afraid of anything, least of that being talking.

Thoroughly confused, he asked, “Ok?”

Shepard stared up at him and pulled her lower lip into her mouth, biting it. He’d seen her do that before, in a very different circumstance. Here it was just further proof that she was worrying. Panicking. “You are starting to freak me out a little bit here, Shepard.”

Shepard released her lip with a POP and raised a hand, running it through her fringe - er, hair. Judging by how it was sticking up she had been doing that for awhile.

“Are you hur-” he started, reaching out a hand to touch her face.

“Kaiden came by. A little bit ago.” Garrus’ hand froze. He didn’t know why, but the way she had said it…made him feel cold. He waited for her to continue, dropping his hand. Shepard’s green gaze followed it’s movement before she dropped her own hand from her hair. Her eye flicked between his for a moment before she let out a harsh breath, turning away from him to pace.

“He…said he wants to try again. After that bullshit he pulled I almost threw him out. But…he seemed…sincere. He kept bringing up Ilium and the SR1 and…uggh.”

Garrus remained silent, and frozen, where he had paused near the couch.

“I didn’t tell him yes. But I did…agree to a date. One date. We never got closure after…I died. Not really. And I wasn’t sure if we - you and I I mean - were still, I mean you’ve been back no the Normandy for a month and we haven’t even talked about…oh my god, I’m rambling. I never ramble.” Shepard stopped her pacing, turning to look at Garrus. “If you tell me not to go I won’t go.”

That pulled him out of stasis. “What? Why is that my decision?”

And it was an easy decision.

No.

Don’t go on a date with Kaiden spirits fucking forsaken Alenko. He had his shot, and he blew it. It was Garrus’ turn now. But what had he been doing with ‘his turn’? (and how pissed would Shepard be if she could read his thoughts right now). Movie nights, quips across the battle field, platonic if lingering touches as they hung out in the battery. She was right, he’d been back on board the Normandy for a month and he had nothing to show for it. He’d had a chance - a hundred chances - to bring up how he felt about her but he hadn’t. She’d always seemed so stressed, so harried. He hadn’t wanted to burden her, to pressure her. He’d let her take the lead on their reconnection. She’d been friendly, so he’d been friendly. And every two minutes there was some damn crisis - a dalatrass to bribe, a galaxy-changing medical marvel to facilitate. He’d wanted to be the calm at the center of her numerous storms. And now it sounded like she’d been waiting for him to-

“We were, you know, together recently. So I thought-”

“Seven months ago.” Garrus clarified, unsure why he was bringing up the time frame.

“Huh?”

“We were together seven months ago. And we thought we were going to die.” What was he talking about? Why was he saying this?

Why did he sound so cold?

His tone tripped Shepard up. She suddenly looked less frantic. She stopped wringing her hands, and was looking at him with an expression he could not even begin to interpret. “You’re right. We didn’t make any promises to each other. You aren’t…responsible for me, nor I you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you about this. I guess I just…wanted to make sure you and I are…good. If I do this - the date with Kaiden, I mean.”

Garrus needed to swing by the medbay - there was a pain in his gut that had to be from something physical - a bullet wound his medi-gel had somehow missed?

Tell her to not go out with him. Fucking idiot, tell her!

“We are good Shep. You go on that date - or not! Whatever…whatever you want. We are good.” Shep? Where the hell had that come from. “If that’s all, I got to go - guns to calibrate, you know-” Garrus began making his way back through the door. He paused at the doorway just as Shepard called.

“What were you…saying about a movie?”

“Uh, oh that? Nothing. I’ll tell you later. See you in the morning, Shepard.” And before he could say something embarrassing, or pitiful, he left.

As he made his way to the elevator he stumbled. He felt off-balance - like the artificial gravity had abruptly been turned off. What had just happened? What the hell had just happened? He felt a sick, heavy feeling rolling along his veins, originating from somewhere deep in his gut. As the doors slid open on the crew deck, Garrus had had the chance to examine the sensation coursing through his body, finally setting in his chest like a heavy weight.

Jealousy.

~~~fin, for now~~~

#mass effect fic #mass effect fanfiction #shakarian #shlenko #garrus vakarian #kaiden alenko #commander shepard #shepard x garrus #shepard x kaidan #femshep x garrus #garrus x shepard #garrus my beloved #kaiden my beloved #trying something #mass effect

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memobread · 1 year

Text

𝕴'𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊 - 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖊 -- (𝕵𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝕯𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖘 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗)

=================================

Contents: 1994! Jonathan Davis x reader (tag empty asf), HEAVY mentions of s*xual and mental ab*se, smutty smut, friends to lovers, TONS of fluff, angst, insane amounts of GORE, very violent language, violence, drug and alcohol use, etc.

Honorable mention: @jonathandaviskisser

=================================

~~find my nest full of salt…everything's my fault…~~

Kurt Cobain soothed my weary mind as I lugged my last load down interstate 110, trying not to pass out at the steering wheel. I dreamed of starting my two-week winter break with a sweet night at Wes's, an underground bar below a gas station that sold inexpensive but effective products, my favorite kind. I was in desperate need of a cigarette, just like after any long busy day of trucking. Once I got to the designated location, I heaved off the supplies and signed a few papers. Once I got back in my truck, I sighed in relief. I would have the next two weeks off for winter break. All that was left to do was to go to Wes's and drink the night away. Once I arrived at Wes's through a rough, snowy highway, I filled my truck with gas, parked it in a safe spot, and stopped under the store's awning to look at the snowy night sky. It was strangely beautiful to me, even though it was pitch-black under the streetlamps. I suddenly remembered this was the weekly night that hillbilly Joe Singleton and his wife go on a frenzy of religious insanity. I wanted to kill them both, so I avoided them to keep myself from doing so. I quickly ran inside when I heard their radio blasting behind me. I grabbed a Heath bar from the shelf near me and made my way to the register, waving to the cashier, my best friend, Mikey.

"Damn y/n, you runnin' from the devil or sumn'?" Mikey asked, slightly concerned.

"Yeah, man. Joe and Monica came here to unleash hell." I whispered, keeping an eye out for them.

Mikey leaned forward on locked arms.

"Don't worry about it so much, Y/N. They dumber than rats on PCP."

Mikey knew about my anxiety. He never failed to help me calm down with his humor. He's always been my human antidepressant ever since we were teenagers.

"They came in here earlier today bitchin' at me because we sell pot here." Mikey laughed, putting on his red baseball cap.

Mikey did a typical redneck pose and stuck a rolled-up receipt in his mouth,

"And-And they was all like-"

Mikey slammed his fist down onto the table, a mocking look of disgust.

"YOUSE ALL GOIN' STRAIGHT TO HELL WITH YOUR DEVIL HIPPIE SHIT!!! GOD CAINT STAND FOLK LIKE YOU!!!"

I cracked up laughing, my nerves disappearing mostly.

"Man, when will they accept that the Aryan race isn't a thing anymore!" I laughed, leaning forward on the counter.

That's when Mikey burst out into laughter, playfully slapping me.

"Jesus Christ Y/N…" He wheezed, unable to keep a straight face for even a quarter of a second.

While our laughing fit was happening, we didn't notice Joe and his whore wife hearing our conversation. Joe threw a dime at me to get my attention. My smile instantly faded. Mikey cussed under his breath. We both turned to face the two cunts. They looked as aggravating as ever.

"You two won't be sayin' that shit in the lake of fire, imma tell you that!" Joe snapped, stepping towards us.

Mikey looked like he was about to commit mass homicide.

"Great! I'll see you two there, cocksuckers!" Mikey fumed, flipping Joe the bird.

Joe lunged at Mikey, to which I responded by kicking him in the stomach, making him fall to the floor. Mikey jumped over the counter and started beating the living hell out of Joe while the whore made a beeline for me. I tackled her down and repeatedly punched her with all my might, forcing an annoying squeal out of her. It was the best I had felt in a long time since she reminded me of my mother. It was like I was trying to kill my past. Mikey held off Joe while I got up and stomped on the whore's face repeatedly, blood starting to ooze from her annoying nose. I was laughing while the whore screamed in pain, unable to fight me off. I got back onto her and plunged my fingers down her throat, thrusting them in and out at an inhumane pace until she started vomiting on herself. Nearly screaming with maniacal laughter, I took my vomit-ridden fingers and plunged them back into her throat, making her swallow her vomit. My elbow plummeted to her face, her eye exploding into seeping red. All the memories of her groping Mikey, aiding my mom in assaulting me, stealing my cigarettes, and reminding me of my mother fueled my primal rage while I beat her senseless. I felt like I was taking revenge on my mother; a wave of utter bliss and satisfaction washed over me, causing me to burst out in shrieking laughter before plunging my fingers into her eyes. She burst into tears and screaming when I fingered her eye sockets like my mother did when my brother broke her glasses. Blood spurted out of her eyes and onto my cheek, my maniacal shrieks only getting louder.

"YEAH!!! YEAH!!! TAKE THESE FUCKING FINGERS IN YOUR BLOODY HOLES, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT SLUT!!!" I got up and stomped on her bloody, snot-and-vomit-ridden ugly face.

Tears streamed down her bloody face when she wailed;

"No! Please stop it now! I've d…done *cough* nothin-"

Already having enough of Monica's shit, I jumped up and plummeted back down, my elbow making a beeline for her face before it crashed through her thick skull with all my body weight. I swear I nearly peed myself with joy when I heard her skull crack and a pig-like squeal, followed by loud sobbing and thick, metallic blood soaking my sleeve. I dove onto her and slammed my tight, rock-solid fist into her bloody mess of a face multiple times, each punch getting more lethal. When I looked up, not noticing my surroundings, Mikey knocked Joe unconscious with a bottle of Busch and dragged him back to his car.

"Hold her down with me, Mike!"

Mike rushed over to me and the dying bitch on the floor and gleefully held her wrists above her head.

"Yeah, fuck her up!!" Mikey shouted, spitting on her face before getting up and stomping on it.

"P…Please…..Joe….Joe made me do it…."

"Bullshit!"

In a fit of blind rage, I grabbed Mikey's broken bottle and plunged into Monica's face, lacerating the soft, pink tissue under a chalky burlap sack, blood spurting onto my face. I gave the bottle to Mikey with a bloody grin. He snickered and shredded the bottle side to side in the bitch's torn face, a tent growing in his jeans.

"Wait, wait, Y/N, hold her down for a sec." Mikey panted before standing up and unzipping his fly.

Mikey groaned in pleasure and relief when he pulled out his unit and started pissing on Monica. He and I both laughed maniacally at the humiliation.

"Yo Y/N, you think we should string this bitch upside down from the roof and have folks have their way with her for tips?"

Before I could agree, I felt a thick rope fling around my neck from behind; Joe woke up.

"Shit!" Mikey shouted, trying to fight off Joe but getting kicked by him square in the bare nuts.

Mikey howled in pure agony, his gonads obliterated and his eyes watering.

"Nobody fuckin' touches my wife…" Joe snarled, too shellshocked by anger to yell.

I kicked helplessly against my oxygen restraint, trying to pull off the rope while not being able to reach any punching points on Joe. With merely a few factors of dying, I accepted my fate; I had always wanted this, but I didn't want it to be then. I was having too much fun. My vision started to blur, and my head started racing with memories as Mikey's cries became more distant and inaudible. I flailed in Joe's grip and heard him laugh amid my panic.

"This is what you fuckin' get, slut…"

When I felt like I was a few seconds away from dying, I suddenly heard a loud crack, and I felt glass tumbling down my face and into my lap. Joe's grip went limp instantly, and I started coughing.

"Fucking piece of shit…" I heard a familiar voice spit.

I felt Joe getting hauled out under me, and my head hit the floor, awakening me a bit. With my vision blurry, I could only make out a tall blurry figure with long, dark brown hair kneeling over me.

"…c'mon…" The figure murmured, seeing me struggle to clear my vision.

Once my vision started to clear up, the familiar features of the figure became evident. The pretty, deep inky eyes, the heart-wrenching dorky face, the frazzled long hair; it was none other than Jonathan Davis in the flesh. He was the cute boy I worked at the Fritz warehouse with in high school. He was always shy and never talked to anyone except me. The second we met each other, we hit it off instantly like we needed to be best friends. We would laugh together about the shit we saw in magazines or what we wanted to do when we got older. We would play video games together at the local arcade, and Jon would always beat me at Street Fighter, and I'd have to carry him home as a losing punishment. We would even hang out in a nearby alleyway and eat Chinese food while looking at the smoky sky and talking nonsense.

Yeah Y/N, I kinda wanna start a band, but this job doesn't pay shit for equipment…

Eventually, I fell in love with him, MADLY in love with him. I haven't spent a living second without thinking about him since.

He's so fucking cute-

"Hey!"

I snapped out of my dream-like state, bursting into a coughing fit, aiming my spurting blood away from Jon.

"Shit!" I heard Jon's voice again.

I wasn't hallucinating.

"Agh…fuck…" Mikey's voice trailed closer to where Jon and I were.

Mikey ran to Jon and me once he saw me coughing.

"Oh my god, Y/N!"

Hacking out my last bit of blood, I turned to Jon, shit-and-blood-faced, drooling everywhere. Jon couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Is that…y-*cough*you, Jon?"

"Um…yeah… You look kinda familiar…"

Oh god, please don't fuck this up…

I prayed that he recognized me.

"It's Y/N from high school, remember?"

At that moment, Jon analyzed me, processing the two versions of me. When he realized who I was, his face lit up, morphing the prettiest, most heart-wrenching smile known to the universe. I flung my arms around him and buried my face in his shoulder. Just as shocked as I was, he squeezed me back, providing a comfort I had never received from anyone else.

"I missed you so much…" I whispered into his shoulder, rubbing his back.

Burying his face in my hair and running his fingers through it, Jon said,

"I missed you too, Y/N…a lot…"

Jon hugged me tighter, nuzzling into my hair and groping at my back, leaving no space between us. I swear I almost fell asleep in his warm embrace until Mikey said,

"Yo…uh… Jon?"

Jon lifted his head, all flushed and full of serotonin.

"…mm?"

"You uh… you know Joe?"

Jon chuckled and pulled back a little, still keeping his arm slung around my shoulders.

"Oh, that sister-fucking piece of shit? He narced me and a meth dealer and nearly got us thrown in jail. If his wife hadn't fucked up the evidence on accident."

"Jesus, man…"

"Y-Y'know I was trying to quit, I really was, and I did! I fucking-"

I found myself completely zoning out, only listening to Jon's attractive voice, staring at the veins in his hands, his side profile, his dorky smile, his adorable laugh… I wanted him.

I need him so badly. I need him to know about my feelings for him. I need to-

"Y/N!"

I jolted awake, still semi-conscious and dreaming of Jonathan.

"Shit-sorry…" I coughed, my spit slightly red.

"Oh no no no it's fine Y/N, take your time." Jon wiped my teary eyes with his thumbs.

"Nah you're good Y/N, I was jus' gonna ask if you and Jon're ready t' go to Wes's."

"Oh yeah, mmhmm…" I said.

Jon helped me up, keeping a hint of his cute smile.

"So uh… what's your name?" Jon asked Mikey as we walked to the secret entrance to Wes's.

"Oh, I'm Mikey; I'm a friend of Y/N's."

Jon hummed before Mikey led him and me into the storage cabinet behind the front counter. I entered the code into the number pad attached to the trapdoor on the floor; 110192837. I pried the door with the broomstick handle next to me; the only way to open it.

"Damn, guys! This is insane!" Jon exclaimed, impression dusting his pretty face.

"Yeah, the owner designed this; it's pretty fuckin' cool," I said before stepping aside to let Jon and Mikey go in.

The second Jon held my hips to help me down the ladder I nearly had a full-blown panic attack due to how completely and helplessly flustered I was by this man. Even one tiny touch can send me spiraling into insanity. His grip on my hips was so tight, but not to the point where it hurt, but to an extent when I felt protected.

"Oooooh Y/N's blushing!!!" Mikey jeered like a teenage girl.

"Pr-probably because I almost just got murked." I lied, a slight stutter and a hint of nervousness in my voice.

Mikey scoffed and led us down the dim tunnel to the venue. My mind raced, wondering if Jon noticed my mannerism and thought I didn't like him touching me. Once we reached the entrance to the venue Mikey knocked on the door. Jon looked a little distraught. With one overreaching thought came another, then another, and so goddamn forth.

I acted so fucking nervous around him before he left, does he think I hate him, or does he hate me now? Does he even-…No. He was happy to see me, but why is he-

"Hey, Mike, who's this zesty Raggedy Ann lookin-"

"He's a friend of Y/N's, calm the fuck down." Mikey interrupted the bouncer, stepping forward slightly.

The bouncer, Jim, pursed his lips and lowered his eyes to me with dangerous intentions.

"He a friend or what?"

Clearing my throat, I said calmly,

"Yes, he's with us, I promise."

Jim's nostrils flared, and he pursed his lips again.

"Come in."

We hurried inside, avoiding Jim's death glare. The place was just as I remembered; dimly lit, with a touch of gray in everything, a putrid odor of meth and piss in one particular spot, but the rest smelled like sandalwood and cigarettes.

"Wanna go to the bar?" I asked Jon.

Jon obliged, and we slinked to the bar while Mikey trailed off toward a leopard-print-clad chick. We awkwardly sat down, and I waved to the bartender.

"Oh hey, Y/N! Who's this guy?" The bartender, Sid, asked me.

"Oh I'm Jonathan; I'm Y/N's old friend," Jon said.

"Always nice to see newcomers who aren't pieces of shit! Anything you want, Jonny Boy?"

Jon chuckled.

"Just a rum and coke, please."

"Oh, Y/N, you want that too?"

"Oh yeah, thanks, man," I replied awkwardly.

Sid walked off, leaving Jon and me alone. I nervously shifted slightly in my chair before asking,

"So, uh…you're in a band now, huh? That's pretty cool!" I said, screaming at myself not to sound so awkward.

"Oh yeah I started Korn last year after Sexart broke up, and we're doing pretty great!"

"Oh, I saw you guys in concert, all of you are just so talented, I swear to god."

"Wait, what? Why didn't you come to say hi?"

My head hurt with negative anticipation.

"I…I didn't wanna intrude on anything or piss off security…"

Fuck.

I swear I nearly burst into tears when Jon looked slightly hurt. I felt god awful, but my misspeaking was hard to take back.

"I-I mean, I really wanted to, but-"

"Y/N, this whole 'band' thing hasn't made me into some posh asshole! You can come up and say hi to me after shows! There isn't even that much security!"

I froze, trying not to cry as I watched my world crumble around me. I hurt someone I loved more than anything else to ever exist like an incompetent piece of garbage. I couldn't speak, or else I would start crying.

Okay, why is Jon so pissed off and why am I such a FUCKING IDIOT?!

Jon scoffed and turned back away from me, taking his rum and coke from Sid, who slid a second one over to me.

"Whoa, whoa Y/N! Are you alright?" Sid noticed me trying with all my strength to hold back tears.

"I-……I'm okay…" I choked out, my voice cracking.

"No you're not Y/N, what's wrong?"

I needed to lie somehow.

"M…My pet cat needs to get surgery, and I'm just-"

I burst into loud sobs in front of Jon, even though I didn't have a cat. Sid rubbed my back and said,

"Aw, Y/N, the vets here are great, okay? Your cat's gonna be fine, promise."

I looked up at Sid, tears still streaming down my red face.

"Here, Y/N, just drink the worries away, and you and your cat will be alright…"

I nodded, taking a sip of my rum and coke and slipping Sid five dollars.

"Th…Thanks…"

Once Sid left, I turned back to Jonathan, who was rubbing his temples and running his fingers through his dreads.

I hate myself so much…

Jon turned back to me, a troubled look on his face.

"Y/N, please look at me."

Fuck.

Reluctantly, I slowly turned to face him, my face red and wet with tears and snot. Jon knit his brow and lowered his head when he saw what he did.

"I…I'm so sorry, Y/N…I just…This whole 'fame' thing, it just…"

Jon set his hands on my knees.

"*sniff* It's really okay, Jon. You don't need to apologize."

Jon clasped his hands around my face, cupping and caressing it.

"Y/N, look at yourself! Of course I need to apologize! I hurt my best friend!"

"Jon, it's *sniff* okay, I know what fame can do to someone…" I sniffled, wiping my tears.

Jon sighed, taking his hands off my face and sipping his drink.

"Yeah… it's been god-awful, but that doesn't mean I just get to bitch at everyone." Jon said, setting his drink down.

"I know… But I'll let you bitch at me just this once." I said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Jon snickered, turning back to me.

"You should drink that before it gets warm."

I nodded and took a giant sip, feeling the sting of alcohol rush into my sinuses, starting to cleanse them of horrible thoughts. Jon cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I have security on my ass 24/7, I can't fucking go anywhere without being bombarded by fuckin' fans, I got fuckin' bruises from being tossed around during concerts, and I just-…"

Jon trailed off and ran his fingers through his hair, his brow knitting again in frustration.

"I needa stop drinking, but nobody likes me when I'm sober…"

My heart dropped into my shoes.

This can't be happening…He deserves so much better…I need to get him out of this…

I scooched over to Jon and wrapped him in a big bear hug, cradling his head to my breast while he clenched his arms around my waist for dear life. Even though I hated seeing him like this, I loved holding him so much. The side of his face resting against my chest while he held my waist flooded my stomach with butterflies.

His hair, oh my god…

Even though it was in dreadlocks, it was still soft to the touch, and it was so satisfying to scratch at his scalp, making him hum through sobs.

He's so adorable it hurts…

Jon looked up at me with red, glossy eyes.

"Jeez, it's like you never left…"

I smiled and nuzzled his head before taking another sip of my rum and coke. I was starting to loosen up.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't get ahold of you. I tried, I really did…" I whispered into his dreads.

Jon pulled away and held my hands.

"I know, so did I, but this whole fucking-…"

Jon trailed off, realizing he was repeating himself.

"Well, you have me now, and I have you," I said, trying to calm the mood again.

Jon turned back to me.

"I'm so glad I do…"

Over the next few hours, we continued laughing with each other through drinks, catching up and talking about what was happening within the past few years.

"Hehe…Yeah, I remember one time; Head got so fucked up on stage he pulled down his pants and humped his guitar…"

"Whoa, what the hell? Did you guys get banned or something?"

Jon laughed.

"Oh no, no; it was a chill venue…The guys were mad though."

I finished my rum and coke, setting the glass down, my nerves relaxed.

"Y-You guys were so fucking good in concert, like…I was afraid you were having a seizure or something, just turns out you're really fucking talented…"

"Nah, we're alright; we're just really *chuckle*, we're just really fucked up in the head, that's all…" Jon laughed, flashing his pretty smile yet again.

We continued laughing and talking until the dancefloor lit up in the center of the venue. All of a sudden, "Loser" started playing.

"Oh my GOD, I love this song…" I said, turning around to get ready to leave.

"Oh man, me too…You wanna dance?" Jon asked, hopping off the stool and extending his hand for me to take it.

I happily obliged, taking Jon's sweet hand and traveling smoothly with him to the dancefloor. The song started with us swaying next to each other, grooving to the beat, but when the beat dropped, Jon and I threw our heads forward and started headbanging, swaying around like headless chickens. But then again, so was everyone else.

"SOYYYYYYYYYY UN PERDEDORRRRRRRRRRR IM A LOSER BABYYYYYYYY SO WHY DON’T YOU KILL MEEEEE…."

"GET CRAZY WITH THE CHEEZ WHIZZ!!!"

Jon and I nearly screamed the lyrics while getting fucked up on straight dopamine.

It feels so good to have this much fun without getting blackout drunk…"

We danced through "Fucking Hostile," "Pull the Plug," "Enjoy the Silence," and god-knows-what-else, and spun ourselves silly. During "Total Eclipse of the Heart," Jon motioned for me to come into his arms. Of course, I obliged, blushing profusely, and he took me into his arms, swaying me side to side with my arms around his torso and his on my upper back.

He's so pretty up close…

His vantablack eyes twinkled with the dim lights, as did his soft features.

Right here is the most kissable motherfucker alive.

Without thinking, I tightened my arms around Jon and laid my head on his chest. He was taken aback at first when he suddenly loosened his grip but held me tighter as if he was trying to keep me as his. I laid my head on his chest and listened to Jon's heartbeat, which ran faster than Bullet Bill on speedball and steroids.

Am I doing anything wrong, or does he want me too?

Suddenly, I heard a loud crash and glass shatter everywhere.

"Get the fuck out now!"

I swiveled around to see Joe and Monica, both mutilated to unrecognition. Monica had jumped behind the bar counter and knocked over all the alcohol on the shelves, and Joe stood beside her, holding a lighter. Monica saw Jon and I and lunged at us.

"Jesus!"

Monica smacked me down before swinging at me with floppy fists, clocking me square in the nose. Jon tried to help me, but Joe tackled him, socking him in the stomach. I threw Monica off me and tried to kick Joe off of Jon, crying out for backup.

"Hey! Someone help us!"

As soon as those words left my lips, a stampede of beefy men and angry intoxicated girls came to our aid. Joe got knocked down, instantly thrown against the wall and socked in the face hard. I could only watch in awe as Joe, a man I couldn't even look in the eye, was effortlessly shredded to pieces.

"You heretics!"

Those words were Joe's last words before a guy grabbed a spoon and started digging out Joe's eyeballs, turning his swears into breathy screams and sobs. Watching the scene unfold, I prompted myself to grab another old spoon and lunge at Monica, who was sitting on the floor screaming at the men to stop, not doing shit about her dying husband. I tackled her to the floor and took a broken bottle, contorting her squirming body before ripping off her shirt and piercing the flesh of her thin abdomen, a pocket of thick blood bursting from the laceration and making her vocal chords raspy with how much she screamed. A random guy pinning her down with me, I got up, got a running head start, and plummeted onto her face, the heels of my boots bursting her eyeballs and nose with red, slimy fluid.

"Y/N please just stop! This won't bring back the little pussy, Chris, you called a brother!"

She did not…

Monica had the nerve to put the name of my brother she drove to suicide into her mouth. She tormented him relentlessly, telling him nobody loved him, pretending to kill his imaginary friends, and used his autism to make him do whatever she wanted, including sexual favors.

C'mon Christopher, be a man and fuck me! You don't want Whizzy to be sad, do you? He would just LOVE to see your porn star dick before he DIES OF CANCER!! Now come on, you little fa-

The memories flooded back to me of Monica's abuse towards Chris and how I was too young to fight back against her. I didn't understand that he didn't want it.

And now Chris's bones are still hanging in his bedroom…

With tears pricking at my eyes I got up, allowing Monica to hobble to her feet, a smirk teasing at her face.

Now's my chance to show Chris I love him…

Stepping up closer to Monica, my nostrils flared slightly.

"I hate you."

Monica scoffed.

"Oh really? You weren't saying that when I bought you pizza after your brother ate my pussy like he was starving! I just know he liked it when I used a little…FORCE on him, is all!"

"Chris wanted you dead."

Monica cackled, slapping her thigh before getting all up in my face.

"Then why was he so eager to fuck me and give me ALL his money when I was the only one that could save his little imaginary friend? That motherfucker needed me!"

Monica stepped closer to me.

"And all you and Chris could say was 'we love you Monica!'"

At that moment, I lost all means of composure, adrenaline shooting through my veins and my eyes red and wide as saucers. My blood was searing through my skin; it needed to dart my hands at Monica.

She's gonna regret even LOOKING at Chris.

Using one-hundred percent of my strength effortlessly, I seized Monica by the throat and slammed her down WWE-style to the floor. One of the guys pinning her down, I grabbed my spoon.

"No! Please!"

I cackled, followed by a harsh smack to her face.

"You were talking so much shit just a minute ago, and now you're crying like a little FUCKING BITCH for me to stop?"

Monica loved using that line with Chris.

"I'm sorry!" Monica cried, trying to slap my hands away.

I got up and stomped on her throat.

"Bullshit!"

I got back down and positioned my spoon at Monica's left eye.

"Chris would be so fuckin' happy to see this…"

I spread apart Monica's cyan-pigmented eyelids and started wedging the rusty spoon into her cornea, earning another strained scream from her.

"Y-You don't have to do this!" Monica tried pushing me away again.

The guy holding her down landed a violent smack to her face.

"Shut up, bitch."

I shot him a friendly smile through all my anger before slowly digging my spoon into Monica's eye again.

"Hey y'all, come watch this!"

The people who killed came and watched me torture Monica.

"Fuuuck, this is gonna be so good…"

I jabbed my spoon behind her eye, more blood seeping into the well of the spoon. At that point, Monica couldn't even scream anymore; all I heard was the attendees cheering. Deep red hues pricked and teased into the whites of her eyes while I pushed the spoon deeper, her eyeball emerging from her socket and out from under her decorated eyelids. I yanked the spoon, dislodging her eye and earning loud cheers. I stood up on top of Monica's retching body.

"Alright, who wants to keep the eyeball?"

Almost everyone raised their hands excitedly.

"Alright, let's see here…"

I chose a short girl in the back because she and I both liked Cannibal Corpse.

"You, in the Cannibal Corpse shirt! Catch!"

The girl squealed with joy as I ripped the nerve and threw her the bloody eyeball. I dug out the other eye and threw it to a big guy wearing no shirt and covered in tattoos, to which he responded by laughing,

"You crazy as shit!"

He and a group of guys came up to Monica and I.

"May we?"

"Sure!"

I stepped back and watched the scene unfold, my body trembling with sheer dopamine. One guy had picked her up by the wrists with ONE hand and hung her from a ceiling beam like a piñata. I grabbed a half-drank Heineken left on the floor and looked for Jon when the men had their ways with Monica, violating her in every manner, from sexually to emotionally, to straight-up physically.

"Yeah, take this fucking knife in your saggy ass, you brother-fucking cow!"

"Tsk…making my bro fuck your fishy cunt when you can't even suck dick? What a fucking ingrate…"

"I bet you had your first time with your dad, you little pissy shit-whore slut!"

I took another sip of my beer, getting into the closet where the exit was.

I need to find Jon soon…

I was about to leave when I got called back to where the guys and Monica were.

"Yo! You in the closet! Come out here you crazy motherfucker!"

I opened the door to see every attendee, including Sid, forming an aisle leading me to Monica's now naked and mutilated body. She was barely holding onto life.

"Will you do the honors?" One of the men asked, holding out a dull, rusty box cutter.

I happily obliged, approaching Monica while drawing the box cutter.

"Monica…"

All she could do was cough up semen and blood.

"You may think you're hot shit and that all the poor men you manipulated are groveling at your feet…"

I stepped closer.

"But all you are is a fucking disease that they just happened to catch."

I angrily drew the blade to her throat.

"…and I'm the cure."

I jabbed the blade deep into Monica's jugular vein and ripped it through pale flesh all the way to the other side, almost completing a 360. The bar attendees cheered while they watched Monica choke and bleed pathetically down her face. I dropped the boxcutter like a microphone and stood in the crowd to watch Monica die, finishing my beer. I earned pats on the back and cheers of my name.

"Damn bro, you fucked her up!"

"MAD respect, dawg."

Turns out I wasn't the only one Monica messed with.

I want to see Jon.

Nudging my way through the crowd, I exited the bar through the closet. Once I reached the snowy surface, I saw Jon sitting in the alleyway where we used to hang out.

"Jon!"

He turned to me, flashing his pretty smile.

"Hi Y/N!"

I hurried over to him and sat down next to him.

"Why'd you leave?"

Jon sighed, his smile fading slightly.

"It was just…too much."

I immediately went to comfort him. I hated seeing Jon like this.

"Oh no I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry I didn't look for you or fu-"

Jon put a finger to my lips.

"It's okay, Y/N! You need to stop apologizing so damn much…"

Jon chuckled, putting his arm around me. I laid my head against his shoulder and looked up at the snow. It was strangely beautiful to me.

"Besides, it wasn't even your fault! That bitch had it coming." Jon said, snuggling into me a little more.

I chuckled.

"Couldn't've said it better myself…"

I yawned, and without thinking, I wrapped my arms around Jon and buried my face in his neck. He pulled away slightly, taken aback and flushed.

Fuck!

I pulled away as well, scrambling to give Jon space.

"Shit, I'm sorry…"

Jon immediately scrambled back to me.

"Oh no, no, no, no I didn’t-…I mean I-…I liked it!"

My heart jumped out of my throat and into his hands.

"Oh…uh..."

Y/N, you idiot…

Jon broke the awkward silence by asking,

"Y/N, I'm just gonna say this straight up because I need to know; Do you love me?"

I froze, shellshocked by what I heard. Without holding back, I drunkenly blurted,

"Yes, Jonathan! I love you so much. I can't even spend a living minute without thinking about you! You're the only thing giving me hope in life, and I hope I did too with yours. You know why? Because I fucking love you! I would go through a fate worse than hell for you! I would give up everything in my life just to see your…BEAUTIFUL smile! Every night I hug my pillow and pretend it's you, and it's the only way I can sleep! I would do anything for you! I would buy you anything and everything I can't afford! I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU!"

Jon's face got burnt to a crisp. He never given that kind of dedication from anyone other than his mother.

"Y/N, I…" Jon stuttered, shifting in his place.

I scooched back, my eyes burning with tears.

I just ruined my relationship with him, like I ALWAYS FUCKING DO! I ruin everything!

"I'm really sorry, Jon. I'll leave you alone."

Before I could leave, Jon instantly grabbed me and pulled my face an inch from his, holding it in deep devotion.

"I love you too, Y/N."

He pulled me in and connected his soft lips to mine.

HOLY FUCK, WHAT?

My stomach jumped out of my anus, and my head raced.

Is it getting hot out here, in this snowy weather?

I hugged around his upper back and pulled myself in closer to Jon, deepening the kiss. He hummed, moving one of his hands to the back of my head, taking off my hat before scratching and massaging my scalp.

He's so perfect…

I moved my hand up to his head, letting go of all my nerves completely. I buried my fingers in his dreads and caressed his soft cheek with my thumb. Jon wrapped his legs around me to get closer, more blush spreading across my cheeks. I buried myself into him, wrapping my jacket inside his so there would be no space between us. Jon broke the kiss, still holding me in the cuddly position.

"You're a good kisser, Y/N."

I smiled, nuzzling his cute nose.

"So are you, Jonathan Howsmon Davis."

Jon giggled and pulled me in closer with his legs, shifting me over so my back was against the brick wall.

"I love you so much, Y/N. I always have…"

I pecked his lips.

"I love you more."

Jon kissed me again, this time a little more passionate, turning the kiss into a sweet makeout session.

I feel so safe under him…

Jon pulled away.

"You look so flustered, isn't this what you wanted?"

I stammered,

"Oh no, no, I want this, it's just…"

Jon cocked his head to the side.

"You're so fuckin pretty, it hurts." I finished my sentence, pulling him in for a harder kiss.

Jon kissed me back, grunting as he shifted more onto me, pinning me against the brick wall. He squished my face into his with his hands, starting to eat at my lips a little.

I need him so bad…

I moved my hands to his hair and face when he moved his to the small of my back, enveloping me into him and allowing me to bring him closer. His skin was softer than anything ever felt under my calloused fingertips. His hair was so long and frizzy; I could hold onto it for hours. EVERYTHING about this man was absolutely perfect in every way.

"I've been wanting this for so long…" I breathed in between kisses, lost in his pretty face up close.

Jon smiled again, nuzzling into me and pecking my red cheek.

"Me too."

We continued to lazily make out, snuggled in each other's jackets and making up for all the missed time we could have spent together. I felt like I could disappear into his arms and snuggle him forever. Jon's fuzzy hair surrounded my face while he straddled my lap and held my head sweetly. Our noses and eyelashes fluttered on each other under large snowflakes, more slow songs playing in the background. When we weren't kissing and nuzzling, we just gazed into each other's pretty eyes for a few seconds before kissing again.

He's so soft…

Jon pulled an unopened beer from his jacket pocket and cracked it open against the wall. He took a sip before offering me the bottle, to which I obliged to him feeding me like that. From then on, gentle beer kisses and sweet nothings got shared between us. As we finished the bottle, there was more tipsy shifting and growing lustful tension, both of us wanting more than just cuddles.

"My pretty baby…" Jon murmured before tilting my head backwards and planting sweet, open-mouthed kisses on my neck, making me gasp and bite my lip.

When Jon said those words and kissed my neck, my heart rate went from zero to infinity. Kissing Jon was every nightly desire come true; my fantasies had become realities. I felt my nether regions tingle in my thick, baggy jeans. I ran my fingers up and down his hot body under his jacket, raking my fingernails over his sensitive spots, making him whimper against my neck.

Fuck, his noises are so hot…

I could feel Jon's erection poking at my lower tummy as he started shifting on my lap.

He's so desperate, it's so cute…

Jon pulled away, crashing his lips back into mine while gripping the sides of my face again. My fingers trailed down to his waist, feeling all over his hot back.

"I want you bad, Y/N…" Jon husked between kisses, biting and tugging my bottom lip.

I slid my cold fingers under his shirt, making him yelp.

"I want you more, Jon…"

I latched my mouth onto his neck, feeling up his sides and hairy chest.

Now I'm in charge…

I snaked my hands down to his hips, dangerously close to his crotch.

"Oh fuck, Y/N, please…"

Jon was already at my mercy, begging me to touch him. I continued teasing around his throbbing cock, licking and sucking hickeys all over his neck. He was a moaning mess on my lap, like a little slut in heat. I snickered against his neck.

"You want me to touch you, baby?"

Jon buried his face in the crook of my neck and nodded frantically. I removed my hands from him and whispered in his ear,

"Use your words…"

Jon thrust hard into my hand and begged,

"Please, Y/N…make me cum all over your hand…or mouth…or pussy, I don't fucking care which…"

I got up, helping a whining Jonathan up with me.

"Let's go somewhere a bit more private…"

Jon followed me around the front of the building to my truck. He was practically shaking from my hands, making me shiver with anticipation at how he would take revenge on me later. I opened the back of my truck and turned on my lantern next to an old mattress.

"Shall we?" I asked, hopping inside.

Jon scrambled into the back of my truck, desperate to have my hands on him.

"Fuck yes…"

I stood up and closed the opening.

"Unzip your pants, babe."

Jon unbuckled his belt and pulled down his black khakis just past his ass, his erect cock stretching the fabric of his red boxers. He laid down, ready for me.

"C'mere…"

I slowly crept towards Jon, like a predator catching its prey, then I pounced on top of him, slamming my hips down onto his member.

"Oh fuck!"

Jon threw his head back and moaned helplessly, bucking his hips into my beaver. I bit my lip, holding my hips down for Jon to grind against, feeling powerful on top of him. I quietly whimpered when his bulge rubbed against my clit.

"You're so fucking hot…I need to go down on you…" I groaned, lifting up Jon's shirt and trailing hungry kisses down his hairy torso, him squealing when I nibbled at his nipple.

When I reached Jon's crotch area, it was warm and throbbing for me, a strangely comforting and cuddly feeling, even though it was a sexual situation. Jon whined when I cupped his clothed nuts and traced my tongue along his trapped length, placing kisses on his swollen tip through the elastic fabric. I teasingly nuzzled Jon's tip with my nose and kissed down his shaft to his balls, earning cute twitches from his cock. I slowly licked up between his nads and trailing lightly at the base of his cock with my fingers.

He's so cute, it hurts…

I turned my head to the side and put his shaft in my mouth corn-on-the-cob-style. I moved up and down, my tongue tracing the bulging muscle on the front.

"Oh, Y/N…" Jon keened, gripping my hair and humping into my face desperately.

I gripped Jon's erection and started slowly stroking him through his boxers, making his pretty little head fall back and making whimpers tumble from his cute lips. Continuing the teasing with my mouth while I stroked him, I cooed,

"You're so cute when you're all flustered like that…"

Finally gathering up enough strength to say something clearly, he replied with,

"Just imagine what you'll be like later…"

Feeling challenged, I yanked down Jon's underwear and sucked his tip hard, making him gasp and turning his cocky words into loud moans. Snickering at his duality, I slowed down again, sliding my wet tongue all over his tip sweetly while looking up into the prettiest eyes to ever exist. In between tingly licks, I pressed loving, gentle kisses to Jon's tip, precum sticking to my lips. When Jon bucked his hips into my face and groaned, I decided to stop teasing. I started pumping his wet shaft at a medium pace and sucking hard, twisting my neck different ways and putting my tongue on the bottom of his dick while I sucked his soul out, earning the sexiest moans and whimpers any ears could experience. Jon's grip on my hair pushed me down to deepthroat him, making me grip onto his feminine thighs for extra endurance.

"Oh my god, Y/N, you're so good at that…Oh shit!"

Jon yelped when I spread his legs out and started going faster, squeezing his nuts lightly. The saliva dripping from my occupied tongue trailed into the hand that squeezed Jon, lubing up his sensitive areas and making him lose his damn mind down my throat. Jon desperately fucked my face, rambling curses and praises while nearly ripping out my hair. I flicked my tongue wherever it could and went deeper, fitting Jon's whole shaft down my throat and increasing suction at the back of my throat.

"You're gonna make me bust twelve nuts at once, fuck…"

Already soaking wet, I ground my clothed pussy into the heel of my boot, needy for friction while I continued blowing Jon hard for the next several moments; I lost track of time in a fit of desire. I looked up at Jon again while he was nearing his orgasm, earning the view of a pretty head tilted back all the way and a spotted neck above a dark green heavy jacket.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, good god, Y/N you're so…" Jon stammered, my wet, tight mouth driving him to insanity.

Once I started gagging, I pulled off and slobbered all over his cock, pumping his squelching cock with a vice-grip. Jon's pretty unit glistened in the lantern's light, all red, throbbing, and tingly. I dived back down and continued my attack, arching my ass up in the air and going all the way down, more precum leaking down my throat. My tongue explored him, tasting his desire for me.

"Oh god, oh my-oh shit!!"

Warm, salty, delicious ribbons of semen shot down my throat for each one of Jon's strained moans as he tugged on the roots of my hair, making me whimper a bit. He desperately fucked into my face, drunk on both beer and his need to cum. I took every drop down my throat, like I had always fantasized. Once Jon was done, he shakily leaned forward and caressed my raised ass.

"That was the best…fucking head…I've ever gotten…even compared to my own hand…" He panted, giving my butt cheek a squeeze.

I hummed and licked the remaining cum up his shaft teasingly, planting more sweet kisses to the tip, making him twitch and groan.

"Fuckin' tease…" Jon growled, smacking my ass.

I gasped and whimpered on his cock, not used to him being all dominant like that. My time was over.

"C'mere…" Jon said again, trailing his hand up my back.

I sat up and straddled his lap, looking down at his cute face and caressing it.

"Hi…" I giggled tipsily.

"Hey…" Jon replied before suddenly whirling me around, throwing me down under him with my back hitting the thin mattress.

I could feel my panties overflowing as my dominant demeanor dropped. Jon was in control now.

"We might wanna go home for what I'm about to do…" He breathed, his teeth scraping against the shell of my ear.

I trembled underneath Jon, feeling up his body as I nodded, both of us leaving the truck. We took a tense bus ride to my apartment, and once we arrived, we ran out, throwing the driver a dollar. Once the bus was gone, Jon lunged at my lips, grabbing me by the face and pulling me into him. I hugged around his waist and raked my nails up his back again, groping and scratching wherever I could reach. Jon pushed me to the stairs, traveling with me on his lips the whole way up to my apartment.

"Fuck…"

I fumbled with my keys to find the right one, Jon leering behind me impatiently, needing to fuck my brains out. Once I found the key and unlocked the door, Jon grabbed me and pinned me up against the wall, slamming the door behind him with his foot. He crashed his lips into mine, gripping my face hard enough to break my jaw while I shifted into him as much as possible, raking my fingers under his shirt after he took off his jacket. I quickly put down my purse before pulling into Jon harder.

"Mmh-.…" Jon moaned into my mouth at the mercy of my cold fingers.

Jon gripped my hair, and his tongue slithered between my teeth into my mouth, challenging my tongue to a battle for dominance (his obviously won).

I've always wanted his sexy body pressed up against mine…

Still making out, Jon led me to my pullout couch bed I slept on and pushed me down onto it, crawling on top of me. After giving me one last peck, he removed his shirt and undid his belt, throwing both on the floor. He came back down and started kissing my neck again, sucking and harshly biting my throat while pulling my hair, drawing an erotic whimper between my lips. Jon did his signature chuckle against my neck.

"Told you…"

I wrapped my legs around Jon's waist and humped into his crotch, making him groan against my neck.

"So…so…desperate…"

He took off my jacket and shirt, throwing it with his clothes.

"So pretty…"

Pale hands and long fingers immediately latched to my breasts, squeezing the plump flesh through my bra in an insane and hungry manner, making me dizzy with arousal. I was helpless under Jonathan, so pathetic I couldn't even speak. All I could do was whine and whimper into his mouth as we ate each other's lips hungrily.

"Please…Please, Jon, let's fuck…" I keened, my face hot and flushed a deep red.

Jon bit his lip, wanting nothing more than to pound me open.

"…I'm gonna need to prep you first…"

Yanking off my bra, Jon lunged at my tits, not caring what they looked like enough to look at them first. He buried his face between them, enjoying my warm skin against the sides of his face and leaving purple hickeys. My breath hitched in my throat, stopped by his demanding mouth. I gasped when Jon's tongue glided to my nipple and started sliding around comfortably, the tiny tingles in my chest and cunt making me whimper more. I helplessly ran my fingers through his dreads roughly while he gently attacked my tits, making him hum at the feeling and crack a smirk against my nip. More hickeys were sucked and bitten onto my chest and neck, making sure to leave no bald spots. Jon pulled back to admire the number he did on my chest, now covered in deep purple and red blotches.

I love his biting love language…

While he was up, I took the ample time to admire how pretty Jonathan is, running my fingers around his thin waist, his soft chest and tummy, his body hair that was strangely comforting, like every other part of him.

He's nothing short of an angel…

Completely smitten, I sat up under Jon and started kissing his chest, feeling his warm skin under my lips while still feeling up his body. I tugged down his pants a little, signaling them to come off. He obliged and pulled them off, only wearing red boxers bearing a throbbing erection before flashing a sexy smirk and pushing me back down.

"Be patient, Y/N…"

Jon nuzzled between my ribs before trailing kisses down my tummy, stopping at my pelvis, the anticipation of my wet pussy on his lips making me shiver. He undid my belt and pulled down my pants, throwing them onto the pile on the floor. When I looked down, I swear Jon was drooling when he saw my panty-clad core.

What a great day to wear gray panties…

Jon could see every ounce of wetness caused by him for himself; he could see, feel, and taste what he did.

"Oh my god…" Jon groaned before tearing off my panties hungrily, needing my pussy like oxygen.

He took a second to look at his midnight snack, a string of drool dripping onto my throbbing clit, making me bite my lip. Jon dived down to nip at my inner thighs, trying with all his being not to immediately start eating me out. I whined, and my pussy twitched, needing Jon's mouth. Unable to contain himself, he swiftly attached his mouth to my soaking cunt, nudging his mouth between my red, puffy folds and tasting my wetness.

"Mmh…you taste…so good…"

Jon slowly started licking up and down with his long tongue, making me gasp every time his tongue flicked against my clit. He snickered against me when he heard my little noises, proud of his dizzying tongue skills. My poor cunny was engulfed between Jon's pretty lips as he suckled on my clit, circling it with his tongue.

"Ah…Jon…that feels so-…good……" I whimpered and moaned helplessly, pushing back the dreads in his angelic face.

Moving his head side to side, Jon snaked his long fingers to tease around my entrance before easing two into it. Tingly sensations shot up and down my spine, producing more wetness to coat Jon's mouth and chin.

"Oh god….tastes so fucking good….." Jon huffed into my messy cunny, pumping his fingers faster and slurping my whole pussy hungrily.

I could feel the knot in my tummy start to tighten to the point of unraveling while Jon pushed his mouth deeper, paying the most attention to my clit.

"Oh my god, Jon….please don't stop….I'm gonna cum…." I whined, followed by more pathetic inaudible moaning.

Jon's actions became desperate, him moaning into my pussy while he devoured me senseless and punched my g-spot swiftly.

"Ah, fuck!" I squealed, my pussy pulsating as I released in Jon's pretty mouth, my back arching almost ninety degrees and my pussy magnetically attached to Jon's mouth.

He moaned relentlessly and drank up all my juices, swallowing me whole and trying to get more like he was starving. With a loud pop, Jon released my quivering pussy from his mouth, crawling back up to my eye-level with a cum-coated grin.

"How was that?"

My face red, I replied shakily,

"Fucking crazy…"

I pulled him back down to kiss me, tasting my salty cum on his lips.

"Ew…" I giggled, nuzzling his cute nose.

Jon snickered and pecked my lips again.

"Yum."

I was oblivious to the party upstairs until "Closer" started playing right as Jon crawled back up to me.

Shit's going down…

I fired a Kubrick stare at Jon and started teasing his erect cock with my fingers again while taking off his boxers, a pretty cock springing out, ready to fuck.

"Oh god, Y/N…"

Jon violently shoved my legs over his shoulders, throwing me upside down and angling me so he could pile-drive me insane. Leering down at me, he slapped his tip on my wet entrance, triggering a quiet moan and a lip bite in both of us.

~~you let me violate you~~

Jon slowly pushed himself inside me, his teeth gritting when he hit contact with my tight insides.

"Shit…" I moaned, my eyes rolling back in my head while I squeezed his unit hard.

With that, Jon started moving in in and out slowly, leaning forward a bit to get closer to me. I could feel his cock breaking my pussy in, claiming it as its new home.

~~I broke apart my insides…~~

"You good?" Jon breathed, subdued by my vice grip.

I nodded, needing him to go faster. He leaned forward more to hold himself up on my shoulders at a dizzying angle that could have anyone screaming in no time. Jon changed his pace from slow to medium, both of us choking out heated whimpers and moans. It was like our genitals were becoming inseparable friends, like a magnetic field inside me.

The view is so beautiful…

Jon smeared his face with desperation, his chest hair, eyes, and forehead shining with sweat in my dimly-lit apartment, tints of dark orange and yellow saturating him into the dark, raggedy, peeling room. I felt up his skinny waist, him fitting easily in my hands while I trailed them all over his back and torso.

"Ahh…."

Jon's movements turned into thrusts as he held onto my leg for leverage, kissing it between loud moans.

I swear, his moans could kill god…they're so hot, holy fucking Christ…

"oh-Oh god, Jon, fuck!…." I cried when Jon snapped his hips into my g-spot.

~~help me get away from myself…~~

~~I wanna fuck you like an animal…~~

I cried out when Jon slammed himself forward to clasp his hand around my throat and pummel my g-spot repeatedly, groaning and pussydrunk.

"I'm using…this-oh fuck!- this pretty pussy tonight…"

With an erotic moan, I thrusted back into him and did a Kegel, causing a yelp to jump from Jon's chest before he fell down to me.

"Do that again…"

I squeezed another cock-crushing Kegel around Jon's throbbing cock, earning the hottest whimper known to this earth right in my ear.

"…so good to me…"

His groans becoming carnal, and dangerous, Jon gripped the roots of my hair and starting pounding me into oblivion, my g-spot crying from all the battery. It felt like we fused together, like a loud, sweaty, horny creature whimpering, moaning, and producing every bodily fluid possible.

~~you can have my everything…~~

I hooked my arms under Jon's lean shoulders, pulling his chest to mine and squishing my boobs under his.

Empty space isn't allowed between us…

Still gripping my hair, Jon scooched up, buried his face in the top of my head, and rammed into me harder, both of us groaning and shaking at the feeling of each other.

"Oh my god, Y/N…so….so…tight…..shit!"

I violently raked my nails down Jon's back, sending each other straight to paradise and desperate for more. Jon's growls turned into loud whimpers, pleas, and cries as he struck my g-spot even faster at the mercy of my fingernails.

"You feel s-so good, Jon…..I've b-been wanting th-this for so long…." I finally managed to choke out through erotic noises.

Jon crashed his lips into mine, gripping my throat and jaw with brute force and sloppily pounding my cunt open.

"I have too…but I didn't-…know you'd be…this crazy…"

Jon reached his hand down to flick my clit, making me squeak and dig my nails harder. He groaned loudly, and his head fell to the crook of my neck.

~~my existence is flawed...~~

~~you get me closer to god…~~

Jon choked out various whimpers and loud, desperate moans into my ear, holding me down and pounding my gushing pussy open.

"Fuck, Jon…!" I yelped when he deepened his thrusts to the maximum and flicked my clit faster.

With a slutty groan, Jon bit down harshly on my neck, moaning on the marked skin,

"You're so fucking good….dirty slut…"

I hooked my legs around his hips and buried my face in his shoulder. Sounds of clapping, pornographic cries, and the painfully erotic song in the background seeped into my dim, filthy apartment. If I had not been horny, I would have cried tears of joy.

I dreamed about being with Jon for so long…It's just as amazing as I imagined…

I needed this pretty boy in my life and I finally have him…I love him so much…

I smothered kisses wherever I could reach on Jon's hot, sweaty skin, addicted to every part of him and never wanting to let go. He cried out when I bit down on his chest. Taking the hint, I bit another part of his chest and left a dark red hickey, my g-spot being destroyed in the process, distracting me and making me nearly fall back in a fit of slutty moaning.

"Shit, Y/N, I'm close…." Jon choked into my ear, followed by a harsh bite on my neck.

The dizzying feeling of nirvana crept into my tummy, my walls twitching on Jon's throbbing cock.

"Oh god, yes! Right there…" My back arched, and my head craned backwards into my pillow.

Thank god Livvie's out on a business trip…

"Fuck, Y/N!" Jon cried out, grabbing my hips and leaning backwards, exposing his decorated neck.

~~you are the reason I stay alive…~~

Jon's pretty eyes were fixated on my pussy gripping him, my thighs clapping at an inhumane speed against his.

"Oh god, I'm cumming!!"

When the song ended, Jon released strings of hot cum into me, quickly followed by a euphoric wave crashing over me and my pussy coming undone with my cum while I rubbed my clit. Jon's signature growls and whimpers trailed to my buried ears, causing my pussy to squeeze more cum out of Jon. Once we finished, Jon collapsed onto me, panting heavily into my neck. I heaved hot breaths under Jon and rubbed his clawed back, planting a sweet kiss on his shoulder. We laid there for a few minutes, trying to comprehend how happy we were with each other.

"…you good?..." I breathed, feeling the back of his neck.

Jon nodded.

"…yeah…what about you?...you doin' alright?"

Jon raised himself up and caressed my red cheek. I smiled up at him and said,

"Never better."

Leaning back on his knees, Jon reached out for my hands, taking them and pulling me to him, catching me in his arms.

"Round two?" Jon asked, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

I ran my hands up his thighs and obliged, desperate for more. Jon held my face sweetly and pecked my lips.

"Ride me?"

When I heard those words, I toppled on top of Jon and positioned his tip at my entrance.

"Anything for you, Jonathan Davis…"

Flashing a dangerous grin, Jon smacked my ass and grabbed my hips.

"Such an impatient little whore…"

With a bone-breaking grip on my hips, Jon started grinding my cunt against his shaft, his head falling back in tingly pleasure.

"So wet…feels so good…"

I instinctively tried to buck my hips forward, but Jon spanked me again, tightening his grip.

"My pace."

With that, I continued to let Jon get off on my pussy, biting my lip and moaning quietly at the feeling of his hard cock against my clit. When Jon let go of my hips a bit due to the pleasure, I leaned back and held myself up, my hands on his knees. I started shoving my pussy farther into Jon's shaft, making him groan and completely engulfing it with my folds, leaning my head back and splaying out my boobs. Shortly, Jon pushed me off and huffed,

"Alright, NOW you can ride me..."

I snickered, swinging a leg over his and wrapping my arm around his neck, using the other to position his tip at my entrance. As soon as the head entered me, my eyes rolled back into my head.

"Ohhh my fucking god…" I groaned, pushing myself deeper.

Jon craned his neck back and moaned loudly while my pussy swallowed his cock whole. I felt so powerfu, like I had him in the palm of my hand. I slowly started moving up and down, clenching his cock like Andre the Giant was squeezing it in a massive fist. In mere minutes, Jon changed from a cocky dickhead to a whimpering, pleading mess inside me.

"God, I love you…" Jon growled, weaving his fingers into my hair and grabbing my face before pulling my lips to his.

When I sank down, I moaned pathetically into his mouth, squeezing my thighs around his.

"I love you more… I pulled away and wrapped my arms around Jon's neck, angling my pussy better to fit his fat cock.

Resting my head against the wall behind Jon, I picked up the pace, arching my back for maximum ass-bouncing efficiency. My walls crushed his cock so hard it made his head spin like he was getting fucked senseless instead of me.

"Ahhh Y/N!!" Jon cried, so deep in euphoria that he was nearly overstimulated.

Feeling too powerful, I went faster, overstimulating him and making him squeal like a little girl. He twitched rapidly underneath me, gripping my hips so hard it nearly broke the thick skin down there. I kept going, enjoying seeing Jon writhe underneath me. Trying to get revenge, Jon started sucking my left nipple and flicking my clit hard, triggering a pornographic moan to fall from my lips and more wetness to gather on his cock.

His dick is so sensitive, it's so cute…

I looked at him while bouncing with a Kubrick stare through my shaggy, long black hair, resembling a sex gremlin with tits. This attribute turned him on to the maximum.

"Fuck, you're so hot, Y/N…I wanna fucking destroy you…"

Speeding up more until I hit my maximum speed and depth, I pounded myself onto Jon's dick hard, the moaning and clapping louder than ever in the heated room. I rode this man like I would never walk again, unable to get my hands or pussy off his hot body.

"Oh god! Right there!!"

"Shit, Y/N!"

Jon suddenly trapped me in a big bear hug and slammed up into me rapidly, needing to cum more than anything. I hugged my arms around his neck and squeaked and whimpered into his ear, making him growl various praises to me.

"Fuuuck, you're gonna be the death of me…"

"You're gonna make me cum again, baby…"

"You want me to make you squirt like a little dirty slut, huh?"

Jon rolled over on top again, positioned my ass was in the air, and pounded me fast and violent like a hungry animal catching its prey.

…the best way to die…

I could feel butterflies raving in my stomach as my climax neared its time. I could tell Jon was close too.

…shit, do I need to pee or am I gonna squirt?...

"Oh my god, Y/N I'm cumming!!"

"Me too, oh fuck!"

A harsh stream of wetness shot from me onto Jon's sexy pelvis, soaking his nuts and pubes.

"Oh my fucking god, Y/N…that was so hot…"

Jon flicked my clit with his fingers so fast it made my head spin while he kept fucking me, trying to cum again. The pleasure of him continuing with me after I came and him flicking my clit hard made me bury my face into the pillows and twitch violently, squeaking like a mouse and tears pricking at my eyes. I could hear him nearly screaming as he and I came close to our second orgasms.

"Oh god, oh my- fuck!!" Jon cried out as he fucked the living daylights out of my twitching cunny.

Once he finished, Jon lazily flipped me around and gently laid beside me. When I saw him, his eyes glistened, and he was panting. I turned on my side to face him and wrapped my arms and legs around him like a koala, burying my face in his shoulder.

"Awww." Jon beamed, turning to face me and wrapping me in his comfy arms.

I snuggled up into his chest, happier than ever before.

…I finally have him all to myself…

Jon kissed my head repeatedly, just as happy as I was. We lay there panting for a few minutes before Jon said,

"…glad I could get that off my chest…"

I hugged him tighter.

"…me too, honey bun…"

He chuckled and nuzzled my hair.

"…are you sleepy?..."

"…not really…just relaxed…" I replied, my eyes slowly fluttering.

Jon took a thick strand of my hair into his mouth.

"…i'm hungry…wanna order pizza and watch movies?..."

My stomach growled right as he said that. I hadn't eaten dinner yet and it was almost midnight.

"…mmh…yes please…"

Jon sat up groggily, bringing me up with him. He was strong despite his skinny frame. My head fell on his shoulder, still hugging him. He quietly laughed.

"Babyyy, I need to get the phone…"

I sighed, not wanting to let go.

"…ok, but i'm coming with you…"

Jon chuckled,

"Fiiine…"

Jon struggled to get up with my arms around him, but he finally managed to do so, butt-naked and dizzyingly happy. I shuffled with him to the telephone, hugging him from behind around his skinny waist.

"What kind do you want?"

"…pepperoni and onion…"

"Me too."

Jon dialed Tony's Pizzeria lazily, resting his tired head against the wall.

"Yeah, hi. One large pepperoni and onion pizza please…yeah thanks, see you…"

Jon hung up, turning around to give me a big bear hug.

"I love you."

I nuzzled into his chest.

"I love you more, Jonathan…"

Jon picked me up, straining a bit.

"Lies."

I wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him.

"Truths."

Jon carried me back to the bed and laid me down, crawling onto me. He kissed my cheeks sweetly.

"Yeah, well I love you just as much…"

Before I could protest, Jon kissed my lips.

"You better not say shit…"

I laughed, pulling him into me. He giggled against my neck, pecking it softly.

"Okay, fine…you win…"

Jon laughed evilly and laid beside me, pulling me into his chest and stroking my hair. I koala-hugged him again, squishing my cheek against his chest.

…he's all mine now…he's my boyfriend…or at least he's acting like it…

I couldn't believe it; the boy I had loved since I was a freshman in high school was holding me tight in my bed, squeezing me and kissing me because he loved me.

He loves me…?

Even though Jon told me he loved me and fucked the dogshit out of me, I couldn't convince myself that he, let alone anyone, liked or loved me; I hated myself so much. In the time spent in silence cuddling, I had time to think.

I hate thinking so much.

I felt stinging tears well in my eyes.

…he's too good for me…he's out of my league…i'm such a piece of shit…

Jon noticed my sniffling and immediately sat up, pulling me into another hug.

"Oh god, baby…what's wrong?"

Jon pulled away and held my face, wiping away my tears. When I saw his concerned expression, I sobbed, burying my face in his bare shoulder. He stroked my hair and rubbed my back, sweetly muttering words of comfort to me.

"It's okay Y/N, take your time, baby…"

Embarrassing sobs escaped my eyes, nose, and mouth as I tried to explain myself.

"I…I just…"

I broke down again, Jon humming and stroking my hair.

"I…I hate myself so much… and I keep thinking I'm forcing you into this…and that nobody actually loves me when they say they do; I think they're lying…"

I felt like I was talking out of my butt right to my high school crush.

"…baby…why would I say I love you if I didn't mean it?"

That contradicted all my illogical thinking, stumping me.

"I….I dunno…I-I'm sorry, I'm not making any sense…" I replied, feeling helpless.

Jon held my face, caressing my cheeks and gazing lovingly into my eyes.

"Y/N, You're my best friend, well, now you're more than that but you WERE my best friend all throughout high school. You loved me like no one else. Why would I think you weren't good enough for me?"

I hung my head in embarrassment.

"I…I dunno…I'm sorry Jon, I just-"

Jon cut me off by connecting his lips to mine for a long kiss. He held the small of my back, and I moved my hands to his hair and around his neck.

"Don't apologize, Y/N…There's no need to…I love you…

We continued sweetly making out, just like we did in the snow. My bare skin locked with his, and it felt so good; rough hands ran along my back tattoos, tracing my shoulder blades and my ribs. I played with his dreadlocks with one hand while trailing the other one all over his shoulders and chest, him humming at my gentle touch. It felt like I was in heaven, like an angel blessed me with Jon. We kept making out sweetly until we suddenly heard a loud knock, startling us both. When we realized we were completely naked, Jon panicked, quickly throwing on his boxers and a random hoodie while I got up and searched my purse for a five dollar bill. Once I found it, I passed it to Jon, and he opened the door, blushing profusely.

"H…Hey, what's up?" Jon stuttered when he opened the door.

The delivery guy chuckled and said,

"Nothin' much, thanks for the cash, you have a good one."

"You too."

Once the door closed, Jon set down the pizza on the kitchen counter and lunged back at me, tackling me in another big bear hug.

"Jonathan!" I squealed, caught off guard.

He laughed and kissed me again, resuming our makeout session. Jon set me on his lap, allowing me to envelop his neck in my arms and comfortably hold him while he gently held my waist, rubbing my back sweetly.

"…we should probably eat that before it gets cold..."

Jon's tummy growled.

"Agreed."

Putting on a pair of boxers, a comfy Aerosmith t-shirt, and a thick, fluffy hoodie, I snuggled up next to Jon, who had already turned on The X-Files and was waiting for me with pizza and open arms before I came to him. Engulfed in each other, we finished our pizza and binged countless episodes, our minds calmed and forgetting about the earlier events.

…I have him now…that's all that matters…

At around two in the morning, Jon flopped his head against my chest and asked me to turn off the TV. We were both unbearably sleepy.

"…can I turn on my fan?..."

"…i was just about to ask you that…i hate silence…"

I carefully laid sleeping beauty down and turned on my fan, taking my sleeping meds and brushing my teeth on the way back. Jon used my toothbrush after me, which I somehow found adorable. Once I got back, I nestled into Jon's chest under thick, fluffy blankets and held him close. He dragged his fingers through my scalp, creating the effect of a horse tranquilizer.

…he's magic…

Jon sleepily placed tiny kisses on my embraced head, nuzzling my scalp with his nose and fingers.

"…i love you so much, Jon…i wanna be your S/O…" I murmured, feeling his arms tighten around me.

"…i'm all yours, Y/N…i'm your boyfriend…i love you too; so, so, so, so much…"

My sleepy head lay in Jon's protective arms, under warm blankets as I drifted into a deep sleep, never having slept that peacefully since I was in a coma. I remember dreaming about some guy dressed as a celery stick and buying a house where Jim Carrey was my realtor. It was a nice dream, in sweet arms, in a comfy bed.

…i never had all three until now…

…i love him so much…

THE NEXT MORNING:

"…oh and in case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and JESUS CHRIST WHAT IS THAT?!?!-"

…..fwoooosh…..

krkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkr…..

The rattling windows and snowstorm outside awoke me from my dream, groggy eyes still closed and my surroundings still unclear. I felt well-rested, like I had slept for several days. I huddled back in my blankets and lay with my eyes closed and a familiar essence surrounding me. It was a comforting essence, like one of a sleepy cat. Once I noticed the arms loosely draped around me, I slowly fluttered my eyes open, coming face-to-face with an adorable sleeping Jonathan. My heart immediately warmed when I remembered the night before; all the revenge, fighting, cuddling, kissing, and a nice hardcore fuck. I gave Jon a light kiss on his nose and closed my eyes again, too sleepy and cuddly to think about my internal struggles. Jon's soft embrace and warmth melted my troubles like an ice cube in hot tea, making me sleepy. I felt myself drifting in and out of sleep, Jim and the celery guy reappearing to try and sell me an inexpensive but great house. It was a one-story shack-like abode with a dirty, stone-floored basement and a couch and TV right in the middle of all the filth.

…perfect for me and jon…

Once I woke up again, I huddled up to Jon as stealthily as possible, not wanting to disturb his peaceful sleep. However, soon after I cuddled him, he shifted semi-consciously and instinctively hugged me close to him, groaning a bit in his sleepy state. I hugged Jon tighter and kissed his nose again, humming in his warm embrace. The frigid, howling winds outside my apartment calmed me down as I fell asleep one more time, a warm snuggle engulfing me into another dream about Jim and the celery man. This time, it was a recap of the night before, the celery man sharpening a celery stick and slitting Monica's throat with it, then Jim Carrey delivering a cheesy one-liner, then chopping her in half with an axe.

"How you like them celery sticks?-"

FWOOOSH

When my eyes fluttered open, my face got buried in a Pantera hoodie, and my scalp massaged gently. Jon was awake. I hummed and wrapped my legs around him, holding him tight. He giggled, ruffling my hair.

"…g'morning…"

"…g'morning…" I murmured, snuggling him a little harder.

Jon rubbed my head a little more, still being gentle. I hummed against him at the relaxing feeling.

"you're making me sleepy…"

Jon giggled and kissed the top of my head.

"mmh…can't have that happening, It's already 2:35 p.m…"

"oh really?..."

"yeah."

Jon sat up, resting his head on the headboard, leaving my sleepy head in his lap. I huddled up into him like a sleepy dog, trying to get as close as possible to him.

"Babe, if you do that you're gonna give me morning wood." Jon laughed, pulling me up into his chest and stroking my hair.

"…mmh, sorry hon…" I murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"It's okay, baby…no need to apologize…"

I love Jon so much. He makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside, kills the alcoholic drug addict in me, and makes me a cuddly bastard…

After a few moments of warm cuddles and random conversation, Jon asked,

"You doing anything for Christmas?"

I shook my head.

"Nope. Ever since I moved out, my extended family never wants to see me again."

Jon hummed, nuzzling the top of my head.

"Wanna spend Christmas with me and my mom?" He asked.

My heart jumped out of my throat with that sentence. Fully awake now, I sat up and faced Jon.

"Wha- Really?! I mean-…Are they okay with it?"

"Of course, they're okay with it! They love you."

I almost started crying again.

"Jon….What did I do to deserve you?"

I held his pretty face in my hands and kissed his lips.

…pepperoni…

My heart wrenched at the offer. I wanted to turn it down in humility, but I wanted to be a part of the Davis family so badly.

"You were my best and only friend throughout high school and after; I should be asking that question…"

Overcome with insane amounts of serotonin, I threw my arms around Jon's neck and pulled him into a massive hug, burying my face into his shoulder.

"I can't believe this…"

"I can." Jon beamed, chewing on a strand of my hair.

He pulled me into his lips, kissing me passionately and holding my head against his, initiating another lazy makeout session. Jon spun us around and sat on my lap, holding my face while I hugged his tiny waist. He squished my cheeks and caressed them lovingly as if I was a five-foot-two teddy bear. After several minutes, Jon pulled away, still holding my face.

"Wanna get breakfast and play in the snow?"

I pecked his nose.

"I'd love nothing more…"

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