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chickensarentcheap · 6 months

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In a Heartbeat- Chapter Five

Fandom: Extraction

PAIRING: TYLER RAKE AND ESME DRUMMOND (ESTABLISHED OFC)

SUMMARY: Dhaka nearly ended everything before it even began. In it’s aftermath and with Tyler’s life teetering on the threshold between life and death, Esme is about to realize just how strong she can be. And that love happens when it happens. There’s no rules. No rhyme or reason. No timeline.

Warnings: brief mention of sex toys and kinks (butt plugs, dildos, pegging. But not in the way you think lol)

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @munstysmind @themaradwrites @ninjasawakenedmystar @thebejeweledwatercat @alisbackalleybbq @theesirenteller @karimac @kmc1989 @asirensrage @residentdormouse @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciation @occommunity

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48691714/chapters/129441475

My tag list is OPEN. Please just ask to be added if you'd like :D

****

“Okay…” Slipping off his coat, Tyler surveys his surroundings, greeting a waiting and ecstatic Lucy with a vigorous rub of the head. “...now it’s all starting to make sense.”

Esme sets both the wheeled suitcase and duffle bag by the door, then drops her hobo-style handbag on the kitchen table. “What’s making sense?”

“Why none of those pictures from the ‘net showed the inside of this place.”

Shrugging out of her jacket, she removes her beanie and tosses both aside; shaking out her long, dark tresses before placing her hands on her hips and surveying their surroundings. “It’s not THAT bad. It’s quaint. Cozy. Cute.”

“You realize that’s wood panelling on the walls, yeah?”

“Okay, so it kind of reminds me of my grandparents’ basement. Which they haven’t remodelled since the early seventies. But I’ve seen worse. I’ve LIVED in worse.”

“Is this where you tell me about your time in some rat-infested dump in New York City?”

“New York isn’t as horrible as you make it out to be. I would have given up an organ, even a limb, to land something right in the city. A walk-up apartment in an old brownstone. That was always my dream. To have a cute little place like Carrie Bradshaw’s.”

“Who?”

“Carrie Bradshaw. The main character in Sex and the City? Played by Sarah Jessica Parker? She’s married to Matthew Broderick? You know, the guy who was Ferris Bueller?”

“I have no goddamn clue who any of these people are.”

“You’ve never heard of Sex and the City? Have you been living in a cave? Cooking over an open fire? Throwing random women over your shoulder and carrying them back for sexy time?”

Smirking, he removes his beanie. “That’s how I landed you, wasn’t it?”

“You landed me with your pretty blue eyes and your sexy voice and your big dick.”

“You’re nothing if not honest.”

“Carrie is a writer,” Esme continues, holding the back of a kitchen chair to keep it steady as he lowers himself into it. “She writes about relationships and sex and life in the Big Apple. And she’s got her little posse; Miranda, the fiercely independent lawyer, Charlotte the die-hard romantic, longing to find true love, Samantha the big-time slut who loves men just a little too much. She was my favourite, by the way.”

“Makes sense. What’s that saying? Something about birds of a feather flocking together?”

She scowls. “Well, that’s just plain rude.”

“If you ask me, the show sounds like it’s for girls.”

“Plenty of men loved it. Mostly gay men, but…” Retreating to the middle of the living room, she places a hand on her hip, eyes narrowing as she taps the tip of her index against her lips.. “...I see the potential here. It’s not a lost cause. And it’s definitely not hideous. It’s just…”

“It’s ugly, and you know it.”

“Dated. It’s dated.”

“It’s not a person. You can say what you really feel. You can’t hurt its feelings.”

“I thought you, of all people, would love something like this. This is a five-star resort compared to where you were living when I met you.”

“I’ll have you know that I built that place myself. By hand.”

“And I’m extremely proud of you, and I find it very sexy when a man is great with his hands. In all the best possible ways. But babe, you had no interior walls, most of your windows didn’t close properly, and you had chickens as roommates. Believe me, this is a step up.”

“So what you’re saying is that it’s a ‘no’ to chickens in the house. Kinda ruins my plans.”

“As much as I’d rather NOT be constantly picking up their shit, I’ll deal. Only because I know how much you love the mangey little bastards. But they are NOT sleeping in bed with us.”

“What about night’s you’re not here?”

“It’s unlikely we’ll encounter nights like those, but IF it happens? You better make sure you change the damn sheets before I get home. You totally slept with your chickens before you met me, didn’t you. You totally let them in the bed.”

“Once in a while.”

“So which one of you was the little spoon? Or did you alternate every second night?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a really smart mouth?”

“No. But I have been told how extremely talented it is.”

“That I CAN’T argue with. I definitely have no complaints.”

“Even if you did, I wouldn’t listen to them. So…” Tugging playfully on his ears, she lays a hand on the nape of his neck and steps around to the side of the chair. “...what do you think? About this place? I know it isn’t as bougie as you’re used to, but…”

Reaching under the bottom of her shirt, he hooks a finger in one of the belt loops on her jeans and pulls her down onto his left thigh. “It’s tolerable. For now.” Pressing a kiss to her shoulder, his hand moves to her stomach, calloused palm flat against warm, smooth skin. “Until we’re able to get around to doing stuff.”

“Nik says it’s all ours. We can do whatever we want with it. I know it’s not going to be a permanent place for us, but…”

“I mean, it could be. If that’s what you wanted.”

“I just assumed you’d want to go home. That we’d end up in Australia.”

“We can end up wherever you want. I have no ties to ANY place. Just say where you want to go, and that’s where we’ll head.”

“It’s definitely something we’ll have to talk about. I can’t really decide something like THAT all on my own. You need to have a say in it, too. It’s not just me that deserves to be happy.”

“I’m happy as long as you are. Just say where you want to go. We’ll go.”

“As cute and sappy as that is…”

“You did NOT just use the c and the s word to describe me. In the SAME sentence.”

“...we both know it doesn’t work that way. That if you just follow me somewhere with no say, things would not end well. So we’ll talk about it. When we’re ready to make a decision like that. Sound good?”

“Whatever you say.”

“Goddamn, you’re difficult.”

“I thought I was being pretty easy and reasonable. What more do you want from me?”

“We both need to do a lot of work when it comes to being in a relationship.”

“Please don’t suggest therapy. I’ve had enough therapy in the past two months to last me a lifetime.”

“No therapy. I might get you to read some self-help books or listen to some podcasts…”

“Get off me.”

“That’s a request you usually don’t make,” she quips, then laughs and tightens her hold on him when he attempts to push her off his lap. “Baby, you’re so cute. Even when you’re being a grumpy shit.”

He smirks. “Fuck off, Esme.”

“You need a nap.” Placing a kiss on his temple, she affectionately tousles his hair and stands. “Or something to eat. Maybe both. Are you hangry, Tyler James? Are you hangry and sweepy?”

“Yes.”

“I’m just going to take a quick look around and then make us something to eat. And you’ve got meds to take. You’re due.”

“I’m fine.”

“You know what the doctor said. About making sure you keep on schedule. If you don’t do that…”

“The pain will really set in, and it’ll be harder to get rid of it. I was there. I heard him.”

“Then quit being so difficult. You don’t need to be an insufferable asshole twenty-four-seven.”

“Yes, I do. I have a reputation to keep.”

“Believe me, your reputation isn’t going anywhere. Not everyone can survive what you did. I think you cemented your legend status.”

“By the way, how does that make you feel about things?”

She pauses in the doorway of the spare bedroom. “What things?”

“Life, in general. Knowing you’re spending your life fucking a legend.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know, would I? Considering I haven’t fucked him since he got the title.”

With a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, he snatches the discarded beanie from the middle of the table. “You can be a real bitch, you know that?”

“Now THAT I do know.” She laughs as she effortlessly dodges the hat thrown in her direction. “Give me a few minutes, and then I’ll make something to eat. You won’t starve in the meantime.”

“You’re actually going to subject me to your cooking the first day in?”

Scowling, she disappears into the second bedroom. Several seconds passing before just her hand appears in the doorway in order to flip him the middle finger.

His fingers alternate between slipping through Lucy’s short, smooth fur and scratching her favourite spot directly under her chin. Listening as Esme’s feet -clad in thick, mismatched woollen socks move over the weathered and creaking floorboards. Hearing intermittent soft clicking and the sliding of wood against wood as she inspects dresser and nightstand drawers. And when it finally falls silent, he calls out to her. “Anything interesting?”

“Whoever lived here before us were total freaks! I just found a whole load of gigantic dildos in the bedside table! And one of those harnesses a woman wears. You know, when she does her man up the…”

“Esme…”

“I don’t see any lube though. I guess we’re not trying pegging tonight.”

“Don’t even THINK about it.”

“What would you say if I came to bed and had a butt plug in with a raccoon’s tail hanging off it?”

“I’d call you a freak and kick you out onto the couch.”

She gives a disgruntled, dramatic huff, then appears in the doorway. “You’re boring.”

“You certainly weren’t saying that two nights ago when we almost got caught by the night nurse. While you were giving me…”

“Like, no pegging with giant dildos and no raccoon tail butt plugs? I swear, a girl can’t have ANY fun.”

“If that’s your idea of fun, you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“Don’t worry, big boy.” She shoots him a wink as she pads through the small, open-concept living room and kitchen. “There’s nothing to be scared of. I’ll be gentle with you.”

“You even come near me with one of those things…”

“I was joking. I didn’t find a damn thing. Which is incredibly disappointing. I was hoping some eccentric weirdo lived here before and left some wild shit behind.”

“Have you looked around this place? The panelling? Fucking knick-knacks all over the place? A goddamn deer head on the wall? Does any of that scream eccentric weirdo do you?”

“It could have been to throw off visitors. Convince innocent, unsuspecting people that they were completely normal. You know, so they could drug their coffee and tea in order to knock them out and hide them in their sex dungeon!”

“I think it’s safe to say that no one normal lives here NOW. Well, one of us might be considered somewhat sane.”

“Don’t worry. Your secret's safe with me. I won’t tell anyone you’re a psycho.”

She opens the door to the main bathroom and pokes her head inside. Fingernails tapping against the wall as she makes approving noises and comments about the brand new shower, tub, sink, and toilet. Then proceeds to curse and grumble about having to DEFINITELY change the flooring and the colour of the walls.

“I think we both know I’m the only somewhat normal one around here.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” She moves to the master bedroom, mere seconds passing before she gives a loud gasp. “Oh my god….TYLER!”

“Let me guess, you found the sex dungeon.”

“Even better!” She appears in the doorway, eyes sparkling and dancing as she gives an excited squeal and bounces up and down on her heels. “It’s bigger than I expected!”

“Didn’t you say those exact words in Dhaka? The first time I dropped my pants?”

“I was pleasantly surprised. That you exceeded even MY lofty expectations.”

“What did you find? I swear if it’s anything remotely related to me taking something up the ass…”

“Nothing like that! You need to see it! It’s enormous!”

“You don’t have another guy stashed in there, do you?”

“I can barely handle the one I already have. Why would I want the extra stress? Seriously, come and see this.”

“I know what a bedroom looks like.”

“It’s not just the room that’s bigger and better than I thought it would be! It’s the bed! It takes up so much space, and there’s still lots of room to spare. Please just come and take a look? Because I asked so nicely? Pretty please? I know how much you love to make me happy.”

“For someone so tiny, you’re an enormous pain in my ass,” he grumbles, yet shoots her a wink. A hand on the table top as he slowly pushes himself up onto his feet; fighting back a wince as even the most careful of movements bring almost unbearable agony. Too much time spent on his ass during the flight and the long drive from Vienna to the cabin; his knee feeling tight and swollen and in desperate need of relief.

“As soon as we eat, you put your leg up,” Esme informs him, as he joins her in the doorway. “It’s not good to go this long without elevating it. And you WILL take your meds.”

“While I’d normally argue with you and tell you I’m fine…”

“That’s how I know it’s bad. You’re NOT giving me a hard time.”

“I’ll be okay. Just he assures her, and places a hand on the back of her neck, his lips meeting her temple as his fingers massage the stiff, tight muscles. “Just need to rest it.”

For months she’s held onto an enormous amount of stress and tension; those long, trying days and nights spent at his bedside, fighting back against the doctors who had already declared him a lost cause and wanted to just pull the plug. But she’d held on there despite the pressure dumped upon her, digging her heels in even further and refusing to break to their demands. They weren’t using him as a sacrifice to the healthcare system Gods; they’d have to find another way to ‘free up a bed’.

“She’s going to break sooner or later,” Nik had warned him just days before his release. “She’s been shouldering all of this for three quarters of a year. I’ve been around some very tough people, but none as tough as THAT. She can’t keep it up, Tyler. She just can’t. We all break at one point or another. And when her time comes, you’re going to have to be there for her. Because she’ll need you. So you better be sure that you’ll step up.”

One of her tiny hands falls on the small of his back as he sticks his head into the master. “What do you think? It’s huge, right?”

“Definitely bigger than I expected. The room AND the bed.”

She playfully smacks his ass, grinning up at him as she tightly squeezes a cheek through the fabric of his pants. “You know how much I love a large playground.”

“Speaking of playtime, when do I get my surprise?”

“Patience is a virtue, old fella.”

“For who?”

“The virtuous, I guess. Besides, I thought you were hungry. And tired. And sore.”

“I am. I’m all three of those. But…” He hastily removes the sling from his left arm, tearing open the velcro fasteners and tossing the object onto the dresser. Not giving her a chance to respond, he grabs hold of her hips and uses his much larger, heavier frame to propel her backwards into the room.

“We’re really going to give it a go, are we? Right this second?”

“No time like the present. I’ve been wanting to give it a go since we left the hospital. Even BEFORE that. I was going to say something on the plane; about joining the mile-high club, but…”

“Been there, done that.”

He frowns, pausing as he leans in to kiss her, their lips a hair’s width apart.

“You’re not the only one with a past, Tyler Rake.”

“Did he teach you anything good?”

“He taught me a few things.” Her hands slide up the front of his henley shirt, chestnut eyes locked on brilliant blue as she softly drags the nails of her index across his stomach. Beginning their lazy journey at his belt buckle and finally finishing at each of his hips. “Who do you think is responsible for this mouth being so talented?”

“As much as I hate even thinking about you with other guys, I want his name and address. So I can send him a thank you card. And a case of beer. You know, just a small token of gratitude.”

“And seeing as he didn’t give a shit about what I needed to feel good, I figured I’d let you teach me the rest.”

“I’m honoured.”

“You should be. I’ve already let you go where no man has ever dared to go before.”

“Only because you asked me if I would. Can’t believe it only took two days.”

“What can I say…” She catches him off guard by pushing him backwards, pinning him between her body and the dresser as she aggressively yanks open his belt. “...you have that effect on me.”

“I realize I’m still hurting, and I got a long way to go, but don’t think for a second you get to be the boss. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Who are you kidding?” She pops open the button on his pants. “I’m always the boss.”

Smirking, he snatches her by the throat, fingers lightly pressing into the soft, delicate flesh as he pushes her towards the bed. And she gives a gasp of surprise when the back of her knees hit the edge of the mattress, giggling when she loses her balance and topples backwards.

She pushes herself up onto her elbows. a slow grin spreading from ear to ear as she watches him quickly dispose of both knee brace and pants and hastily toss them into the nearest corner. “No underwear, huh? You WERE hopeful.”

“Easy access. For both of us.”

“Even in this weather. I’m surprised your balls didn’t freeze off. That would have been a goddamn Greek tragedy.”

“They’re still a little. If you can warm them up. It’ll keep you quiet for a while.”

“Kinky.” She laughs when he grabs hold of the bottom of her jeans; falling backward when he aggressively pulls her towards him. “You ARE eager.”

“Things are working. You said yourself, it’s been hit or miss. Well, right now it's a hit, so…” He yanks both the denim and her skimpy lace underwear over her hips and ass and down her legs. “...let’s not waste time. Just in case.”

“Aren’t you even going to wait? For me to get your surprise on?”

“Nope.” He shoves her thighs open. “Right now, I don’t care. We’ll do that later.”

“Two times in one day? Someone is feeling awful cocky.”

“It’s my cock that’s feeling something. Don’t worry, you’ll be feeling it soon too.”

She opens her mouth to respond but quickly bites down on the bottom lip as he makes his way up her body; a mixture of calloused palms, the roughness of his beard, and the press of warm, soft lips. Thick fingers -with their various scars and misshapen knuckles- digging into the back of her thighs as he licks, sucks, and nibbles his way along the insides of her legs. And though disappointed when he ignores the most desperate and aching of parts, she still manages a giggle when he pulls her surgical steel navel ring into his mouth and lightly yanks at it with his teeth.

No one has ever worshipped her the way he does. The attention and focus he displays while paying homage to her body; the fire in her very bones and nerves growing in intensity with every swipe of his tongue and suckle of his lips and every caress and group of her hands. Selfless and never selfish, even when his own wants and needs are profound and overwhelming. Forever paying keen attention to the way she responds to him. Learning through every sigh and moan, every flinch and shiver, the differences in tone and pitch when she says his name. And somehow always knowing exactly what she needs.

By the time he reaches her lips, she’s desperate for so much more, nails raking across his shoulders and down his back, hips continuously rising to meet his in an unspoken request. When he finally kisses her, she moans into his mouth, and her hands find his hair; her fingers immediately tunnelling through the longer strands as she responds eagerly and hungrily. But when he pulls away to look down at her, there’s a tenderness in his eyes that she isn’t prepared for. An affection and adoration that softens his features and enables her to truly ‘see’ him for the first time. And suddenly, he seems far removed from the hardened and highly skilled mercenary that she had initially fallen in love with. Instead replaced by a previously broken and haunted man who’s in the midst of the most important transformation of his entire life.

The healing of both body AND mind.

“I love you.”

It brings tears to her eyes. The sincerity in those three simple, yet powerful words.

“More than you’ll ever know.”

The sob escapes her before she has the chance to bite it back, and she quickly finds herself gathered into strong arms and a broad chest. His body is warm and hard against hers, and his hands are steady yet comforting as they lovingly stroke her hair and repeatedly caress her back.

It’s all so foreign and overwhelming. Completely unlike anything she’s ever known or experienced. He’s reliable. Protective. Making her feel safe and secure in ways no one else ever has.

And in that moment, she’s sure of one thing. She’s never been loved like this, either.

*****

He feels sleepy and content as he lounges on the couch; his bad leg -once more sporting the knee brace- stretched out, foot resting on the coffee table. Both body and mind sated by a successful -if not disappointingly short- love making session that ended up more slow and tender than he’d originally anticipated. It had been followed by a hot shower and a surprisingly good meal that Esme had been incredibly proud of; a simple pasta and meat sauce dish paired with salad and garlic toast. Now he alternates between watching football and listening to his girlfriend as she busies herself in the kitchen. Lucy refusing to leave her side; more than pleased with the morsels of food she’d been slipped under the table. And with the seemingly endless amount of ear rubs and hair ruffles and chin scratches that are passed her way.

It’s the most relaxed he’s been in years. The warmth of the fire as snow trickles down outside, the rattling of dishes and silverware, and the way Esme alternates between humming as she works and talking to Lucy in a quiet, motherly way. The fear is starting to fade; the realization setting in that not only this is his life now, but he’s good with it. Not entirely accepting of the fact he’s retired; remaining somewhat concerned about where he goes -professional speaking- from here. But he feels safe and secure in the knowledge that knowing that Esme is under the same roof. Wanting and needing him. Loving him.

“I don’t have anything else, my love,” Esme addresses the dog sprawled out at her feet. “At least none of what you really want. Do you want a cookie? Auntie Nik got them just for you. I bet they’re delicious. Let’s get you a cookie.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees her move across the room, her hair still loose and flowing and nearly reaching the middle of her back. Her tiny frame clad in a pair of simple black leggings and one of the plaid shirts she’d poached from his side of the closet. And he finds himself amused by the way she has to stand on her tiptoes to get the container of dog biscuits off the second shelf in the cupboard.

“Tyler…”

“Yeah?”

“This d…o…g won’t stop eating.”

“Why did you spell that out?”

“Because I don’t want her to know I’m talking about her. It might give her a complex.”

“Your logic is…astounding.”

“Even animals have feelings. I mean, you’re the biggest one of all, and you’ve been all up in your feels lately.”

“Esme?”

She glances towards him.

Without looking away from the television, he holds up his right hand and flips her the middle finger.

“Well, that’s just rude, isn’t it Lucy? Just plain rude.”

“She’s a traitor. That’s your dog now. She’s made that perfectly clear. Hasn’t left your side since before dinner.”

“Well, if we want to get technical, she’s OUR dog now. But I’m sure she still loves you best. Daddy’s still your favourite, isn’t he? You could never love anyone the way you love him. I’ll let you in on a little secret; I feel the exact same way about him.”

He smiles. “You BOTH have horrible taste in men.”

“Excuse you? I’ll have you know that my taste in me is impeccable. Well, at least NOW it is. I didn’t have to kiss too many frogs before I got to my prince, but the ones I DID have to kiss? Ewwww.” Giving Lucy a final pet, she fills the kettle and plugs in it, completing her tidying of the kitchen and then making a coffee for him, a tea for herself. Starting her journey into the living room, she pauses by the front door; spotting the small cardboard box he’d set down earlier. “What’s this?”

He casts a glance in her direction. “Just some stuff from my old place. That Nik and Yaz packed up.”

“That’s all they brought?”

“That and some clothes.”

“Where’s the rest?”

“What rest? You saw my old place. What more was there for them to bring?”

“What’s in it?”

“Just some personal shit. From back in the day. Nothing you need to worry yourself with.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business. I shouldn’t have even asked. It’s really none of my business.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Fuck. He really needs to pay more attention to the tone of his voice when speaking to her. He’s always been straight to the point; never dragging things out or sugar coating them. While it had suited him well in both military and mercenary life and had, it had unfortunately been one of the many issues that eventually sunk his marriage. Esme deserves better; she’s sensitive and feels and loves so deeply and profoundly. And, like her need to give and want affection, it’s yet another thing he needs to get used to. “I just meant that it’s nothing serious. I’d tell you if it was.”

She doesn’t pursue it. Either not as hurt at his reaction as he had thought she would be, or just deciding to pick her battles. But she greets him with a smile when she joins him, setting their mugs down on the coffee table and then accepting the hand he offers her and dropping down beside her.

Releasing her hand, he wraps his arm around her, he pulls her tightly against him, his hand resting on her hip as he presses a kiss to her temple. She smells so damn good; that mixture of coconut, honey, and milk that he’d first discovered in Dhaka and had been so enthralled. It’s simple and unassuming; a cheap shampoo that she’d found in a corner store in Prague just hours before Nik had brought her to Australia. And she’d been so taken aback by his genuine compliments about the scent, that she’d decided never to use anything else.

“I’m sorry.”

She reaches for the coffee and hands it to them, then picks up her tea. “For what?”

“I honestly didn’t mean it the way it sounded. When you asked about the box. It’s not it’s not your business. It’s just…” Shrugging, he sips at his drink. “...nothing you’d be interested in. Or at least, I don’t think you’d be.”

“I’m interested in YOU. In your life. Especially the one that came before me. I know it wasn’t a utopia by any stretch of the imagination, and you’ve been through some shit, but if you ever WANT to share, I’m good with it.”

“Same goes for you, yeah? If you ever just want to tell me about things? I don’t want you holding back because you think it’s going to piss me off. Even if hearing about your ex and the shit he did might make me feel homicidal.”

“And he’d deserve it. If you got a hold of him and broke every bone in his body.”

“I wouldn’t just stop there. I wouldn’t be able to. And a lot of places to stash him afterwards. Where no one would ever find him.”

“As much as I appreciate and love you for wanting to avenge me, I also don’t want to bring him into this. Into our life together. I don’t want him tarnishing things. Ruining them.”

“He could never do that.”

“Just some things really are better left in the past. Some of the things he did…” She chews on her bottom lip, choosing her words carefully. “...I just can’t talk about those. And that’s not a personal slight against you. It’s not because I feel like I CAN’T you. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know. But if you ever DO want to talk about things…”

“Believe, you’d be the first person…the ONLY person…I’d ever go to. I trust Nik and Yaz, but not in the same way I trust you. Does that make sense?”

“It does. I feel the same way about you.”

“You’re my person, Tyler. You’re the one I want to tell things to. Good AND bad. You’re the one I want to share things with. Whether it’s horror stories about my ex or stupid jokes that I’ve gathered up over the years, or things I hear or see when I’m out. I don’t feel that comfortable with anyone else. Not like I do with you.”

“Do you think maybe it has something to do with the fact I’m the one you get naked and do filthy fucking things with?”

“That could play a role,” she laughs, and presses a lingering kiss to his cheek.

They settle into a comfortable, companionable silence, Lucy joining them and lying on the floor in front of the couch; watching the football game as they nurse their drinks, enjoying the warmth from the fire. He realizes that they’re in the midst of the ‘honeymoon phase’; everything seems to flow and co-exist so easily. Able to shut themselves away from the outside world; refusing to allow intrusive thoughts to penetrate the bubble they’ve built around themselves. They’re happy and comfortable; immersed in the ‘getting to know you stage’ outside of the intimate moments. Learning about each other’s likes and dislikes, their respective quirks and habits. It won’t always be this way. The charm will wear off; they’ll become easily annoyed and agitated as they both attempt to get used to sharing not only their space but their life, with another person.

When their mugs are empty, she places them on the coffee table and then stretches out on the couch. On her side with both arms wrapped around his thigh and her head in his lap.

“Is your team playing?”

His hand settles on her hip. “Yeah. The Western Bulldogs. They’re the ones with the red and blue shirts.”

“Are they winning?”

“By a pretty big margin, actually.”

“This doesn’t look like regular football. It’s nothing like the NFL. These guys are out there just killing each other. And as much as enjoy senseless violence from time to time…”

“This is Australian rules. Nothing like what you’re used to. This is the real deal. Not that wimpy crap they play where you’re from.”

“If we’re able to get sports from Australia, we might be able to get some hockey games. That would be nice. We could watch them together.”

“I don’t like hockey.”

“Have you ever seen a hockey game?”

“Once. That was enough.”

“Tell you what…” She rolls over onto her back “...if you’ll watch some hockey games and learn a bit about it, I’ll do the same with you and your football. Deal?”

“I suppose I could agree to that.”

“You’re going to have to teach me the rules, though. I know nothing about football. ANY kind of football.”

“Shouldn’t be hard. You’ve already proven to be a pretty fast learner in other areas. I’m impressed with you.”

“Well, you happen to be an excellent teacher. Although I do have one complaint.”

Tyler frowns.

“Things worked so well, I am aching. I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk properly for a couple of days.”

“Just a couple? I’m insulted.”

“Next time, the number will be higher, I promise.”

“I may have been a little….hasty…when it came to going from start to finish.”

“It lasted longer than I thought it would, to be honest.”

“Excuse you?”

“I didn’t mean that as a cheap shot. And I’m already very familiar with your skills and your staying power. But think of everything you just went through; you were clinically dead nine months ago, AND you just spent three quarters of a year in the hospital. I know we’ve gotten up to other things, but we haven’t actually done THAT. Given the circumstances, you not lasting that long is to be expected.”

“I don’t know if any of your little speech made me feel any better. It’s embarrassing. I’m thirty-five years old and…”

“You’re thirty-six now. You had a birthday in the midst of everything.”

“That’s it, just go and make things worse. Add another year onto my life.”

“Listen…” Reaching up, she takes hold of his chin. “...there is nothing to be embarrassed about. Do you realize how close you were? To being six feet under? You shouldn’t even be here. A weaker man? They would have given up. They wouldn’t have fought their way back. And if one of the setbacks to surviving all that is to not last as long as you usually do, I’d say that’s pretty damn good.”

“I’ve lasted longer than since I was fifteen years old.”

“And you’ll go back lasting longer again. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Did I have a problem with it?”

“Not that I could tell. Or that you’re admitting.”

“I have absolutely zero complaints. Except for the whole not being able to walk or sit properly thing. You need to realize that things aren’t going to be like they were. Not for a while, anyway. You’ve come a long way and there’s an even longer way to go. Can’t you just be proud of yourself? For even getting out of that hospital?”

“I only did it for you. You’re the only reason I fought my way back. Why I busted my ass to get back on my feet. If you hadn’t been around…”

“But I WAS. I was there because I wanted to be. Because I knew you had a lot of fight left in you. And I know you’re tired and frustrated, and you think you should be further ahead, but you’re doing way better than anyone ever expected.”

“You expected it. You didn’t give up.”

“I know how strong you are. And I know you in ways all those other people don’t. Even Nik. I wasn’t abandoning you, Tyler. And I would have fought to the bitter end. Until there was some proof you weren’t going to come out of it. So THIS? This whole not lasting as long as normal? It’s actually a huge accomplishment, considering. Think of it that way.”

“Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“How do you always find the silver lining in everything? The glass is always half full to you. How…?”

“Because I know what I’ve survived. Not even my worst days come close to what Mark put me through. So guess I’ve just tried to turn my suffering into something positive. I’ve learned to look at the world in a different way.”

“Personally, I think you’re just some kind of freak.”

Scowling, she flicks the tip of his nose with her thumb and forefinger.

“I love you, though. As weird as you are.”

“Admit it, my weirdness was one of the things you found adorable and appealing.”

“No, actually. It wasn’t. I’ve just learned to accept it and live with it.”

“Well, for what it’s worth? I love YOU. You enormously stubborn pain in my ass.”

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve it, but…”

“Did I say it was up for debate? Did I say you could question things? No. So just…” She places a hand over his mouth. “...shhhh. Stop asking why and stop doubting what you’re worthy of, and just go with it. Can you do that? Just accept it and go with it?”

“I can try.”

“You better,” she warns and then turns her face towards him, her nose pressing into his stomach and her eyes closing. The events of the morning and afternoon quickly catching up to her: the relief that came with finally leaving the hospital, the long flight that had followed, and the drive to the cabin that represented the last leg of their trip to freedom. And then the sex; that effortless transition from hungry, desperate, and impatient to something much more tender and attentive.

Now she’s finally able to relish in the aftermath. Enjoying the hardness of his body and that warmth that radiates from it, his familiar smell and the beat of his heart deep within. Issuing a long, content sigh when one of those enormous, calloused hands is placed upon her cheek; his fingertips softly stroking her forehead while his thumb makes continuous sweeps across her cheek. And just as she begins to feel herself teetering on the edge of sleep, she feels him move against her; the slight shift of his body and the couch cushions as he reaches for the throw on the back of the couch and proceeds to drape it over her. What follows is such a simple, sweet display of care and adoration. A smile playing on her lips as this man -so big and so strong and capable of inflicting so much harm- ever so tenderly tucks and secures the fabric under and around her.

From that moment, she loses all track of time. The stroking of her cheek eventually ceases; his arm becomes limp, and his hand comes to rest upon her hip as sleep finally claims him. His soft snoring and deep rhythmic breathing joining the rattling of the windows as the wind and the snow continue to rage beyond the cabin’s four walls.

*****

When she wakes, it’s to the crackle of the fire and Lucy’s loud snoring, the cattle dog somehow managing to find enough space on the sofa. Rolling onto her back, she gives a loud yawn and a long, languorous stretch. Rapidly blinking her eyes when she’s greeted by the unexpected glow of the couch side lamp.

She watches Tyler in silence. Still in the same spot as when she’d fallen asleep, his eyes narrowed, and his brow furrowed as he devotes his focus and attention to a game on his cell phone. And it isn’t until she lightly tickles his stomach that he acknowledges her, greeting her with a soft smile as he uses gentle fingertips to clear strands away off her forehead and out of her eyes.

“Hey.”

“Sleep alright?”

Esme nods. “Guess I was just way too warm and cozy. Did you?”

“It was an okay nap. I kinda freaked out a bit, though. When I woke up. I didn’t even remember coming here. I thought I was still in the hospital. So when I didn’t recognize anything…”

“You spent three-quarters of a year there. I’d be surprised if you didn’t have moments like that. Eventually, they’ll go away. Once you get used to being here.”

“Once I realized that you, were YOU, I was alright. I knew I was in a safe place. That everything was going to be okay.”

It’s so sincere and genuine….so unexpected… that it causes a lump of emotion to sit square in her throat. She’s never known anyone quite like him, the strong, silent type that usually doesn’t have much to say, but makes an enormous impact when he does speak. He hides nothing from her. Open and transparent from the beginning of those five days in Dhaka, not just with words, but with facial expressions and body language. Both of them -despite their painful pasts and respective, albeit different, losses- somehow finding a level of trust in one another that neither had experienced before.

“Are you alright?”

Nodding, he tosses his phone onto the coffee table. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re feeling okay? You’ve had enough to eat? You don’t have too much pain? You…”

“Are you really going to do this as soon as you get up? Start worrying?”

“I can’t help it. I’m a worrier. It’s who I am. You should be used to it by now.”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m fine. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

Her eyes narrow. “Would you?”

“I’ve already promised I would. About a million times already. I’m fine, Esme. I mean, other than the fact my left leg and my ass are completely asleep.”

“You could have gotten up, you know.” She attempts to sit up, laughing when a broad, strong forearm prevents her. “You didn’t have to stay here. You could have moved me.”

“I didn’t have the heart to do it. You looked way too cute, lying there like that. You snore, by the way.”

“I most certainly do not.”

“You do. You snore AND talk in your sleep.”

“Did I say anything interesting?”

“You didn’t incriminate yourself in any crimes if that’s what you mean. You did make a grocery list, though. Toilet paper, milk, ketchup, and cat litter.”

“Bullshit. You’re making that up.”

“I’m telling the truth. Scouts honour.”

“You were NEVER a scout. Who are you kidding?”

“But you did make a grocery list. And those are the things you mentioned. I have no idea where the cat litter comes into play, but…”

“Maybe that was a hint. That we should get a cat.”

“I don’t like cats.”

“How can you not like cats? They’re cute, and they’re furry, and they purr and make biscuits on you. How can you not be into that sort of thing?”

“They smell funny.”

“This coming from a guy that lets chickens freely roam the house. And sleep in the bed!”

“We are NOT getting a cat.”

“Just one?”

“No.”

“Please? You won’t even know it’s here. I’ll do all the feeding and the cleaning up and…”

“I don’t want a cat. I’m not a cat guy. Do I look like one to you?”

“Please, you like pussy more than anyone I know.”

“Not that kind, I don’t.”

“I’ll break you. I’ll wear you down. I will get my cat.”

“Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged.”

“You’d never go through with. You’d miss me too much.”

“Like a hemorrhoid.” She squeals when he slides a hand between her and the couch and aggressively pinches her ass, then playfully shoves him away and sits up; hands smoothing over her hair and fixing her ponytail. “I have some bad news, by the way.”

“Color me surprised.”

“We have to leave the house sooner than I thought. We need to go into town. Grab a few things.”

“Ketchup, ass tissue, and cat litter?”

“Ice cream. And chocolate. My period is coming soon.”

“I didn’t need to know that.”

“I mean, you wouldn’t wonder why I’m suddenly bitchy and bleeding out of my vagina?”

“You’re always bitchy. And you like things rough. Anything can go wrong when you’re…”

“And firewood. We need firewood. Track down some of the pre-cut, bagged stuff. There’s not enough on the porch to even last even a couple of days. It’s how we heat this place, so…”

“Have you taken a look outside? We are surrounded by trees. Which is where firewood comes from. And I already saw an axe out on the front porch.”

“You have one good arm.”

“Which is more than enough to chop firewood. I mean, it’ll take a lot longer than if I had TWO good arms, but…”

“And you have one good leg. You’re going to hurt yourself. Chop your foot off or something. I could always do it. I know how to use an axe.”

“You can lift an axe?”

“Well, maybe not a normal-size one. But a little one.”

“You mean a hatchet?”

“It’s technically a little axe, right? I mean, it’ll take me a couple of days to make any sort of headway, but…”

“And you worry about me hurting myself? I’m just supposed to be okay with you wielding a hatchet? I mean, if you want to do it that badly, you can just come out and help me. Make sure I don’t fuck things up.”

“Oh, right. And then when I annoy you, you’ll chop me into a million pieces and throw me in the woods!”

“I would never chop you up and throw you in the woods.”

“Aww, you big softy. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself; if I wasn’t around anymore. You’d…”

“I’d chop you up and feed you to the dog.”

At the end of the couch, Lucy briefly raises her head, tilting it from side to side before issuing a heavy sigh and returning to her original position.

“You’re an asshole,” Esme grumbles, laughing when she tries to stand but quickly finds two powerful arms wrapping around her waist and yanking her back down.

“I'll tell you what, because I don’t want you worrying so much, we will go into town and find bagged firewood.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll get enough to last at least a couple of weeks. But once it runs out, you gotta give me a chance, yeah? To try and do things? Because I’m going to go completely fucking nuts doing nothing but sitting on my ass all day.”

“There’s lots of things for you to do. You can go on walks, you can ice fish, you can learn to knit, like Yaz said.”

“Just let me try. That’s all I’m asking. I’m not going to get any better by not testing the limits. You need to trust me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just that I worry about you. I’ve spent nine months taking care of you. In some way or another. And it makes me really nervous; when I think about all the things that could go wrong.”

“Don’t think about those things, then,”

“Believe me, it’s easier said than done. But I WILL try. To not worry so much.”

“Thank you.”

Slipping out of his embrace, she climbs into his lap, wrapping both arms around his neck and placing her head on his shoulder. And her eyes close as she enjoys both his scent and touch, large hands slipping up the back of her shirt, calloused fingertips repeatedly travelling up and down her spine.

“By the way…” His voice rumbles deep within his chest. “...I’d never do anything horrible to you. Not even remotely.”

Smiling, she presses a kiss to the sensitive spot just below his left ear. “I know.”

“Also, I’m ready for my surprise.”

“Jesus…”

“Listen, you said the ‘p word’. That was the trigger.”

Laughing, she pulls back to look at him, fingertips tracing the scar that curves over the bridge of her nose. “You’re like a horny fifteen-year-old stuck in a grown man’s body.”

“I’ve got a lot to make up for. Nine months. That’s…”

“A long ass time.”

“I don’t know old timer,” she teases, and playfully ruffles his hair. “Think you can keep up with a youngin’ like me.”

“I don’t know.” One hand slips between them to gently cup her breast, and he feels her shiver against him when his thumb brushes over her nipple. “But I can’t try.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fanfic #Tyler Rake fanfiction #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Extraction fanfic #Extraction fanfiction #Chris Hemsworth #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme Drummond #Esme Drummond-Rake #Esme Rake

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tylersnecktattoo · 21 days

Text

would anyone want a tyler rake x female reader fic?

#tyler rake #chris hemsworth #tyler rake smut #tyler rake fanfiction #tyler rake drabble #tyler rake x you #tyler rake x female reader #extraction #extraction fanfiction #chris hemsworth fanfiction #tyler rake fic #tyler rake x reader #chris hemsworth smut #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth x reader

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comfortless · 4 months

Text

Deep Water

nix! König x fem! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. no.. intentional harm done to reader but there are sporadic mentions of murder (drowning), König is kind of a creep here do you guys forgive me (say yes), implied sex; dubcon everything. König is wearing a fishing net rather than the usual hood because. it made sense to me sorry.

notes: yet again, i have found that i can not manage to write anything except for silly fantasy nonsense… bear with me this will pass (it will not). if you’re uncertain of what a nix is, i recommend skimming over this (or tl;dr— a shapeshifting water spirit).

You’ve always been told to beware of the river, especially on nights like this. When the singing starts up you were to run, as far and as fast as your feet could carry you. It would be the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, as well as the last. Whatever beast lies in wait along the silt of the riverbed luring people in with its haunting song isn’t kind. The drowned bodies resurfacing bloated and paled are enough for the townsfolk to assume that assuredly, a monster lies in wait someplace within the glassy water.

For all of the fear, town myths were just that— myths.

As always, there’s no singing when you seat yourself on smooth, mossy stones by the river’s bank. The moon hangs low, casting its brilliant reflection on calm, dark water. The air is alive with the buzzing of cicadas clinging to the trees at your back and night birds calling out to the wind. Nothing is amiss; it’s only peaceful, and that’s why despite the warnings, you often find yourself here when the temperature is favorable.

There are nights when the river isn’t calm, and currents are the most reliable reasoning for the deaths from past summers. The water is full of large rocks with sharp corners, teeming with plants that could so easily snare an ankle, and when the water is frothing and cruel it’s no surprise that one could be thrashed to unconsciousness if they weren’t careful.

You didn’t come here to take your chances on swimming, anyhow.

If anything, it’s a mere reprieve from the bustle of the town. No one wanders here any more since the myths gained traction, passed from mouth to listening ears time and time again, leaving this place entirely untouched. Occasionally the obnoxious teenager would cross your path on the walk here, declaring loudly to their friends about how they supposedly saw some slimy beast, eyes like moonbeams and scales like razors lying on the bank.

During your little adventures here, you often carry a snack with you, but not for yourself. Tonight, it’s just a small package of vanilla flavored cookies. In truth, they were awful— dry and near flavorless, but you suspect your friend here wouldn’t mind too terribly much, and if it got them out of your pantry without wasting it was a win for the both of you.

When the large dorsal fin crests over the water mere meters from the bank, you gratuitously crush the treats in a closed fist and toss the crumbs into the water. Time and time again, you’ve fed the large animal, watching as it thrashes about just below the surface before disappearing back into its depths. You’ve never gotten a good look at it, either, but you imagine it must stretch out past your height or further; some sort of gar or sturgeon.

Just as many times before, it glides further in, fin entirely out of sight now. The only evidence of it ever appearing at all were the small waves rippling in its wake. All is quieted once more as you embrace the placid bliss, readying your small flashlight and losing yourself into the book perched in your lap.

The next night, you’re greeted by a large snake basking over the rock you typically sat upon. It lies still, coiled into itself as it regards you, forked tongue flicking out for several moments before it simply slithers off, hiding itself away beneath the moss and stone.

“Best to leave you alone, huh?,” you ask to it’s retreating tail, feeling a bit silly for speaking to the reptile at all. It doesn’t respond, of course, nor does it bother to come out of hiding either.

You opt to seat yourself on the hill overlooking the water instead.

You find that after a day occupied by tedious tasks, there truly was no greater place to abandon your woes than here. Everything was peaceful; wild yet simplistic. Even with all of the death that seemed to haunt this place, you never feared the thought of ghosts. You’ve even entertained your imagination a time or two, that if you ever did meet one, you would only ask it not to disturb the wildlife you have grown so fond.

There’s a freedom and a mystery to places like this, places without the foot traffic of other people. It brings with it a sense of whimsy, especially when you glance towards the water and see the surface reflecting every twinkling star above.

The fish doesn’t appear, even as you listen to the water in wait, your head tilted as you lie back on soft grass to watch for ripples, for the swell of a large fin moving beneath. Nothing. You read your book as the night progresses, nearly completing it entirely before you make your way back home.

Weeks pass by like this— work, river, home and repeat. Occasionally it’s the same large snake that greets you when you wander there, more often it’s the large fish circling about waiting for crumbs of whatever treat you choose to bring. The bank and the small hill overlooking it have become a separate home to you, one where you can be away with the fairies, talking to your animal friends that never seem to stick around for long.

When the weather grows warmer, you even dare to take a swim.

You’re stood on the slick stones of the bank, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. It’s not proper swimming attire, but you reason that you’re not at the beach, not a soul is around, and it doesn’t really matter at all that you might look a bit silly. The prospect of swimming along that behemoth below is a tad terrifying, but you wouldn’t dare to wander too far in. Maybe the fish would even be intelligent enough to not attempt to eat you after you’ve been so kind to it.

It’s hot, and with a sticky layer of sweat glossing your skin, your worries seem minuscule in light of an easy way of cooling off. You toe at the calm water for a moment, testing its temperature before willing yourself to take a step forward, then another before you seat yourself in the vibrant expanse of darkened blue. Here, you realize, is the best place to stargaze, too; they shimmer all around you, within reach as you tap at the surface of water, watching it undulate beneath the pressure of your fingertips.

You could reach the moon, too, if you swam further out. A few meters from the bank and you would be directly beneath its reflection, bathed in that ethereal glow.

You watch for your friend for a time, trying to prioritize your wariness over your whimsy. When the fish doesn’t tread by you, the water remaining calm, you rise to your feet and take slow, metered steps as the water parts and flows against your shins.

Though the river is disturbed no matter how gently you stride forward, nothing slides out from its depths in pursuit of you. Nothing happens at all when you reach out to splay your hand out against the reflection, the water now gently lapping against your stomach rather than your legs.

You hadn’t expected any sort of shift in your reality, that would be ridiculous, but perhaps some sort of clarity; a further calm for a weary mind. It doesn’t come, and with a disheartened splash you wade your way back towards the shore.

This has been your sanctuary for some time. Excusing the snake, there’s not been any sort of threat to you, not here. A safe water world all your own. Though, that peace is shattered the moment that you make it to the bank and hear the water shift some small distance behind you. Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of a man, the bulky muscular silhouette towering in the patch of moonlight you had just stood in. Bright blue eyes catch the light, reflecting like an animal’s as you scramble back to where you’ve left your shorts.

He stands there, silent and unmoving like an obelisk even as you hastily dress yourself with a thundering heart and breaths that sound more or less like gasps, senses heightened by your panic as you turn tail to run.

No one had been there. You were sure of it when you sunk into the water. There was no sound when this person had swam over to take your place. He was just there, as if he had been the entire time and you somehow failed to notice.

You make your way into the woods framing this place, hurried steps and untied shoelaces. You don’t even bother with your flashlight.

Finding your way back home with aches in every muscle, the desperate rampage you had taken to get away finally coming to a close when the door slams shut behind you, you quickly shower and mull over what’s just happened. A ghost, perhaps. It had to of been. Any other person would have made noise in their approach, especially being that big. The mind could play its tricks; what you had seen was likely not even there at all— a terrifying figment of your imagination. That sets you at ease, somewhat, but not enough.

You don’t sleep well that night, tucked beneath your blanket and staring at the filtered moonlight through your curtains. Work isn’t on your mind at all come morning until your phone chimes with a notification from your manager, questioning your tardiness. A languid crawl out of bed follows, another shower, an unsatisfying breakfast, all before you opt to send a text back to let him know you won’t be in today.

It could be excused, you’re reliable and decent enough at the job; not one to boast, but far more eager to please than the rest of your coworkers. You would be entirely useless if you went in on no sleep, you reason.

You don’t want to go back there, not under the veil of night, but you find yourself horribly curious the longer that you bide your time indoors. You had to know if the thing that you saw was really there, had to calm your nerves. What if he had always been watching each time, and you simply hadn’t noticed? The forest bordering the river is terribly dark at night, anyone could crouch behind the shield of a tree and remain undetected until they willed the courage to drag you in, cup a palm over your mouth to silence your cries.

Maybe it was the monster the people in town rumored about.

The thought of some strange, silent thing living beneath the water waiting for an opportune moment to take you by the neck and drag you down to the silty floor to watch you drown horrified you. Yet, that’s the one conclusion that sticks. Those eyes… so lurid and haunting, no human being had eyes like that.

You inhale sharply, steeling your nerves as reach for a pocket knife for defense, toss it into the bag slung over your shoulder, and storm out the door.

The trek there is nothing short of dull.

No matter where you look, what shadows rise up beneath the dim glow of a falling sun, there’s nothing out in the woods. The river is equally tame. The water babbles over rock, cicadas buzz off in the distance, and not a thing seems amiss. Your search for footprints that don’t belong to the soles of your shoes turns up empty. The only thing that suggests just maybe it wasn’t all in your head is the book you had neglected to retrieve in your fear the night before.

The cover, every page within, now warped as though it had been pulled into the water and spit out to dry. You pick it up, peeling through damp pages, running your fingertips over the smeared ink. It’s possible that a particularly aggressive splash could have sullied it, but something tells you that that isn’t the case. Either way, it’s unreadable now. You sulk a bit as you slip the ruined thing into your bag and step towards the smooth stones to watch the water instead.

Night creeps in slowly with you there, and you’re on high alert for a time before you begin to relax as usual. Even giggle to yourself at how silly it was you believed you saw a ghost at all as you entertain yourself by skipping small stones across the water.

No large snake, no massive fish, no titan of a man appears before you, only a calming crescent moon and a few wandering wood ducks, gliding down from the bank to splash about. A thought comes to mind as the calm emboldens you: what would happen if you got in just one more time?

There’s nothing to suggest that you’re playing with fire as you leave your shoes neatly in the dry sand. If the ducks could swim unbothered by fish or men, then surely you could, too. You watch the little creatures a distance away as they dip their heads beneath the surface and chitter away amongst themselves while you take your first step in.

You don’t dare to go as far this time, stopping when the water brushes over your knees. You wait there while time seems to slow to a crawl, expecting the absolute worst, glancing further down the river, dipping your hand below the glassy surface until your fingertips brush the sand beneath.

It’s horribly hot and you’re still exhausted from the sleepless night before. The water feels nice, and you feel as though you have some sort of claim to it as you’ve been here more often than anyone else would dare to. Ghosts and monsters be damned, you seat yourself and let the water lap over your shoulders, tilting your head back to watch the stars.

When the singing begins it takes a moment to register just what it is that you’re hearing. It’s not beautiful, not like the myths have said. It’s hissed, a low whisper, a mockery of what a human song would sound like. The voice is rasped, lilted yet cold. The realization that it sings words from your book of poetry is what terrifies you the most, the warped pages all making sense now.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, forward, before realizing the voice is coming from behind you. Cold spreads through your veins as you try to force yourself to stand, but in your fear you find yourself petrified, rooted in water that would surely become your grave.

You can’t bring yourself to turn around, to inevitably find your eyes locked onto the shadowy frame of a man far too large, his eyes glistening and pale like the moon hanging above.

The voice pauses when it finds you unmoving, and you can hear the rustle of the creature shifting its weight where it’s stood on the rocks lining the bank. You’ve no clue how deep the river gets, where the opposite side leads, but your only chance of escape seems to be swimming through in the hopes that this thing doesn’t choose to chase after you. A part of you knows that he would, that that is exactly what he expects you to do, goading you to flee deeper with his eerie song so that he can drown you just as he did the others.

You do the opposite as you squeeze your eyes shut and crawl back towards the bank, making sure to keep some distance despite your willful blindness. You wouldn’t look at it, wouldn’t talk to it, you would just go home and never come back.

“Best to leave you alone, hm?”

You still as your fingers brush against wet moss, the voice no longer a whisper but loud, loud as it echoes your words from days past just above you. Beating back your own curiosity proves futile, because you look up at the damned thing then, expecting to see an impossible terror before you, sharp fangs wet with blood and appendages too spindly reaching out for you. Instead, you see only a man.

He’s crouched, only a meter or so away, and you immediately recognize his broad figure. The same as the night before. From this distance you can make out the finer details, the length of net covering his face and neck, the webbing between each finger. Still a scary sight, but only in the way it’s unfamiliar and imposing rather than instilling any sort of primordial fear.

“Excuse me?” You pull yourself fully out of the water, rising to your feet and taking a tentative step back. You’re prepared to run, a coil pulled too tight on the verge of snapping.

The man, creature, whatever he may be just tilts his head, lets the silence hang in the air for a moment before he has the audacity to laugh whether to himself or at the strange, bewildered expression on your face.

His stare is assessing as he sucks in a breath, follows suit in rising to his full height. From the size of him alone, you know you’re not getting away. A mere stride for him would be two or more for you, a deliberate tug of your wrist from him could snap it in an instant.

Yet, he doesn’t reach for you, only gestures toward your bag lying on the ground with a subtle flick of a finger. You give him a quizzical glance in turn, not bothering to retrieve it. You could come back during the day with a friend, gather it and never return. Only, your knife sits somewhere inside, the only protection that you’ve got. The realization spurs you to bend over and toss the strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll… I’ll be going now.”

The stare remains fixed upon you as you take another step back, blinking slowly every now and then as you both remain in some strange stasis.

It takes you a moment to put the pieces together. The reciting of words from the book, the mimicking of the words spoken to the snake, the hint at your bag… he’s expecting something and it’s not to steal away your life, only to be fed and have your company. It’s not charming, it’s awfully strange and eerie, but you find yourself giggling at the prospect of taming some murderous, shapeshifting monster with subpar treats and poetry.

You pull open the bag, searching for anything you may have brought along that he could eat, eventually prying out a small package and offering it out to him.

“Is this what you want?,” you ask, voice hushed and trembling.

He shakes his head, rustling the net cloaking him in the process. So, he understands, he’s just been willfully ignoring every other thing you’ve said prior. You store the package away with a perturbed expression crossing over your face.

“Then what?”

Any relief you had felt seems to dwindle when the giant takes a half-step closer. His skin is cool and wet as the river as he brushes his hand over your forearm, curling a set of fingers around it. The touch is gentle, but there’s a promise of violence lurking somewhere in the depths of his eyes.

“Come with me,” he urges in that harsh whisper from before, delicately squeezing as he pulls you towards him, leading you back to the river with a tight grip and a step back over the stones. Though his touch is passive, there’s a frightening strength lurking someplace beneath his flesh, tacked to bone, and as your gaze trails lower to rest to rest at your feet, the space between you two, the evidence of a life prone to violence and strength is laid bare before you.

You don’t fight the hold as he leads you to water so deep it caresses the base of your neck, right below the milky glow of a waning moon. Deeper still, as you’re pulled below, pressed down to the very bottom with his body lain over you. You can only hold your breath so long before an involuntary gasp leaves you, and a wave is funneled straight into your lungs.

Panic is fleeting, but the adrenaline stays ever-present. You claw, push, kick, to no avail. Pinned down by a hand weighing like an anchor you feel your vision flooding and hazy as his head knocks against your jaw, mouth sealing tightly over yours. It’s not a gentle kiss, the net fashioned into a hood digs into your skin, teeth scrape over your lip until you feel the sting of blood drawn.

All at once, your vision darkens and it’s over.

You find yourself lying back on the shore as the morning sun warms your face, causes your dampened shirt to cling to your skin. Disoriented, but alive, brushing your thumb over your lower lip as you sit up to stare at the subtle waves lapping over moss and rock.

Just a dream, you tell yourself, knowing full well you hadn’t fallen asleep.

Just a dream, even though you avoid the river entirely now. Your route home from work changes too, avoiding even a glimpse of the path that leads down to that place. You don’t even replace the book, you toss what remains of it after fishing through your bag, murmuring something about it surely being cursed and entertain yourself with film at night instead.

Sleep remains tentative, you wake with every sound, and your dreaming is filled with visions of a figure pushing you down into deep water, his weight bearing down upon you so heavily that you can not move until you wake with a start, eyes searching your bedroom.

Several weeks, and the fear does eventually fade.

The morning that the rain begins to fall, you realize you haven’t even thought about the river in days. There’s no monster prowling your nightmares anymore. You lived through what may or may not have occurred, and that was the end of it, simple as it may have been.

A late shift at work has you wandering out into the rain, umbrella in hand. You’re grateful that you live close, that you’re not entirely soaked to the bone when you step inside of the mundane building. Your coworkers notice your change in demeanor immediately, chirping about how glad they are that you’re finally feeling better, looking more yourself as the hours pass you by. It brings a smile to your face, a real one that you haven’t had in place since that last night.

Even in the summer, there’s a chill to the air in the late afternoon as you hurry home from work and make your way inside, stripping out of your wet clothes and setting your umbrella aside. It’s darker outside than it should be, even more so indoors. Reaching for the switch to turn on the lights proves useless— the power’s out.

You light your way with your phone, ignoring the way your pulse quickens and your heart flutters with the fear that something just doesn’t feel right. Your skin prickles with the thought of some unseen pair of eyes watching you, blue and cold. You only relax when you slam your bedroom door shut, locking it and pressing your forehead to the wood as you sigh. The puff of breath that escapes your lips is not the only in the room, you find out when the light of your phone illuminated your bed. Crouched beside it, a towering figure with a face veiled by fishing net. Words don’t come when you open your mouth to speak, and your heart stutters in your chest as you stand shaking but otherwise petrified.

“You didn’t come back.”

Of course you hadn’t.

Most people wouldn’t have.

“No. I’ve been… busy,” you choke out the excuse, hoping to pacify whatever emotion you imagine lurked beneath his tone, undetectable through the hiss of his voice. “I’ll visit soon, promise,” you lie, back pressed against the door as your fingers curl over the knob.

Your fear seems almost unwarranted. He doesn’t move toward you, only stands to wander back to the window where he must have broken in.

“Tonight?,” he asks in a voice so soft, the voice he must use as a lure because tugs at your heartstrings immediately, makes you want to follow despite the threat this thing poses merely by existing, despite everything.

“It’s cold— I’ll get sick,” you murmur. “How did you even find me..?”

“I will keep you warm.” The question goes unanswered.

You find yourself stifled again as he lumbers towards you, brushing cold fingers across the side of your face. It’s not a mockery of a kiss you receive next but a firm bite where your neck meets shoulder, not yet hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make you shiver, to grip at the wall of muscle that makes up his chest.

There’s a desperation to his movements as he herds you towards the window, pushes you toward the path leading back to the river. You’re soaked to the bone in seconds, hardly able to keep your eyes open past the weight of dampened eyelashes. The rain is so heavy it feels as though every step is like the first you took into cursed water, your feet sinking into the mud along the path with each tentative stride. The realization that you’re there doesn’t even hit you until you’re chest-deep in the chill, violent waves pushing against you, each carrying the threat of toppling you over entirely.

The palm splayed out against your bare back keeps you upright, leading you to a smooth rock jutting out in the midst of what seems a sea of frothing white and blue. The sea above is just as dark, angry clouds roaring as you’re pressed down onto your back, shivering terribly.

He keeps his promise though, a tight grip on each thigh as he pries your legs apart, sinks in between them and blankets you from the rain. Even with the cold pressed to your back, you feel the warmth of a summer sun above you, scorching from inside, just as blazing as the look in his wild eyes. The last of any resolve slips when you’re pulled beneath the violent waves, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses coaxing oxygen into your lungs. Each roll and pull no less tumultuous than the waves overhead. A placid end when the rain comes to an impromptu halt, just as he stills over you. Hands rush to cup your face with one final, desperate and biting kiss.

When the morning sun pulls you from sleep, cool moss against your back and the weight of his head resting over your middle, the shallow water lapping lazily at your figure, you find that you no longer fear drowning.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #könig x you #konig x you #könig #konig #cod fanfiction #cod fanfic #konig fanfiction #i have been mulling over this for an eternity sorry it needed to be extracted from my brain #he is absolutely more lycanthrope coded to me but whoosh whatever nix König be upon ye #also apologies to everyone for not writing much lately and the fact this is hardly a real fic #cursed by the sleepy i just need a 10yr long nap #<- in my ‘in denial about burnout’ era

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levtavi · 1 year

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vanilla extract can fix ao3

#polls #vanilla extract #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic

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quotidian-oblivion · 4 months

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Want to share an excerpt from one of my wips for no reason Pt 3:

"I thought of you as a friend. Trusted you more than I have anyone else in my life!" His vision blurred with tears and Arthur hurried to rub his eyes to get rid of them. "It is only those years that are holding me back from killing you right this instant. I'm risking everything, everything my father built, everything my kingdom stands on, all the laws, all the people, just for you." He swiped at his eyes again. "So take it. Take the chance and go. Leave. Stay in Ealdor, I won't send anyone after you. Don't come back." Merlin was shaking now, his eyes shining before they released more tears. "I can't," he said again. His voice was quiet, but fearful determination was infused in every word. "I can't leave you."

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strrynigghts · 6 months

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— series

— oneshots

“dinner is served” — könig joins you for dinner | angst + fluff

#the stupid font wouldnt do the ö thing so now its just konig 💀#konig x reader #könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig x y/n #könig x you #könig fanfiction #könig fic #könig fluff #könig angst #könig smut #konig cod #konig x y/n #i was watching extraction and i wasnt interested in the movie and my sister said its cause no one wore masks #MAAM THATS NOT IT #könig is just super tall and is a beefy buff man :(#strry writes

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tathrin · 1 year

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This story is 100% tumblr’s fault so I feel like I ought to post it here, too. It was written in one quick two hour word-deluge, so hopefully it’s not too riddled with typos or other issues. Either way: I feel like it’s what tumblr deserves, because it’s tumblr that made it happen.

A story where Gimli died before they could sail to Valinor, but Legolas refused to accept their being parted. Or: Eurydice looks lovely in a beard, no?

Gimli had no idea how Legolas had managed this. One moment he had been sleeping the slow, stoney dreams of a dwarf awaiting the ending of all things; the next, his Maker had been drawing him up from his stone bed and helping him stumble into legs that had long ago forgotten how to walk across a long stone floor and up a short staircase to a hall of darkness and stars, a hall where his elf was waiting for him.

"Legolas!" Gimli cried. He tried to run but stumbled over stiff, unfamiliar feet and went down to hands and knees. The stone was not cold beneath his hands, but it felt as though it should have been; perhaps it was his hands that were too cold to tell.

"Hush," said a voice that shimmered in Gimli's mind like ithildin. "Enough. The boon is granted; the rules are set. Do not try our patience further."

Legolas stood with his head bowed and his face turned away, but Gimli had known him at once; would have known him at a glance, just from the way he stood (his feet so light upon the ground, slender body never quite still, like a bird poised ever on the edge of flight atop a thin branch); or the curve of his strong and slender arms at his side like a long bow; or the glimmer of his hair in the darkness, so much richer than any gold that mortal hands might forge. Gimli had run those smooth, heavy locks through his hands often enough that he could almost feel them even now, with the whole great hall between them; could almost smell the rain-crisp scent of fresh leaves that those fair locks somehow bore even in the dead of a cold and bitter winter.

"What boon?" Gimli asked. He was ashamed to hear his voice tremble, but he told himself that it was not fear that caused the tremor; his throat was merely dusty with disuse, like his stiff legs and unsteady feet. That was all; it was not fear. "What rules? Legolas?"

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darklydeliciousdesires · 10 months

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Drabble Request - Tyler Rake - Prompt 16 - Preferred Mood: mostly passionate and intimate with just a touch of fluff and male savagery 💗 Thank you so much! 🤗

Hello! Why yes, I think I can manage that for you :)

Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

"Fuck me," he breathes, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before opening again, watching his cock vanishing into your throat as he holds your hair back. "God, you give the best head."

Your eyes find his, winking up at him, releasing his cock with a soft pop, your tongue whirling over the head of his erection. "Hmm, I do, don't I?"

He snickers quietly, shaking his head. "There's that modesty I fell in love with." His hand tightens the grip upon your hair, his hips beginning to sway forward, looking down at you with a devilish grin. "Always look so pretty when I fuck that gorgeous mouth, always take it so fuckin' well."

You feel him begin to twitch against your tongue before long, hands grasping his hips and pushing him back, Tyler grunting with partial annoyance as he frowns at you. "I was enjoying that."

"Yeah," you breathe, kissing the vein that runs over his hip. "A little too much. Not ready for you to come yet. You gotta hold me down and fuck me for a while first."

"Nah," he sniffs, moving to the bed, lying down on his back. “I need you to ride me, babe. Right now.”

"Well," you shrug, moving astride him, sinking down on the most perfect cock you've ever seen. "As long as I get this splitting my pussy, I don't mind."

He pulls you down to his level, kissing you softly, nuzzling your nose with his. "Good."

#tyler rake #tyler rake fanfiction #tyler rake smut #tyler rake x female reader #tyler rake x you #extraction #extraction fanfiction #extraction fan fiction #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth smut #chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth x female reader #chris hemsworth x you

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omtai · 3 months

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got curious and searched up mcr on my uni’s library database and now i’m reading a peer reviewed article on RPF

#girl there’s extracts of fanfiction in here

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chickensarentcheap · 10 months

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Lost and Found -Chapter 16

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. Although you do not need to read the others to understand this one)

Warnings: profanity, mention of child death, some gun violence

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @munstysmind @thesirenrealm @ninjasawakenedmystar @karimac @arrthurpendragon @asirensrage @kmc1989 @timbradfordsboot @ocappreciationtag @residentdormouse @starryeyes2000 @occommunity

My tag list is OPEN. Please let me know if you want to be added :)

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/121817353

*****

Nik is already awake when he emerges from the bedroom; clad in a sleek pair of gray dress pants, a baby blue button-down, and simple black heels as she sits on the couch with her laptop on her thighs. And there’s a bemused smirk playing on her lips as she eyes him from head to toe; taking in the unruly hair and the bare feet and the same clothes from the day before.

“Morning.”

Tyler merely nods and grumbles the same in response.

“Already staying the night, I see. That was fast.”

“Didn’t see a reason to wait. It’s already been five years. Why waste even another five minutes?” Heading for the coffee bar across the room, he briefly eyes the trays of fresh fruit, breakfast pastries, and the carafes of tea and coffee. He chooses the latter; filling one of the available mugs to the brim. The first sip hits perfectly; the brew rich and flavourful. And incredibly strong.

Snapping her laptop closed, Nik places it on the coffee table and reaches for her empty tea cup. “That shouldn’t surprise me. The two of you never did believe in taking your time.”

“If this is some kind of critique about how I handle things in my personal life, I’m not interested.”

“Merely an observation. And some lighthearted teasing. A way to get a conversation going.”

“I’m not into small talk. And I’ve never been a morning person, so…”

“I was hoping you could attempt to be. Just this once. Besides, I’m not interested in small talk.”

Perching upon the arm of the love seat, he stretches his legs out in front of him; one ankle crossed over the other as he lifts the mug of coffee to his lips. “What ARE you interested in?”

“You wanted to talk. Let’s talk. While we have the chance.”

“Not with Esme and Millie close by. They don’t need to hear what I have to say. Millie doesn’t even know yet that I’m her dad. And losing my shit on you isn’t how I want her to find out.”

“They’re both asleep. And they probably will be for a while. I think we’re capable of keeping our voices down, don’t you? Of behaving like rational, civilized adults.”

“Believe me, Nik, when it comes to this? I’m feeling far from rational and civilized.”

She sighs as she stands, then moves to the coffee bar; pouring herself another drink and adding two wedges of lemon before turning to face him. “I don’t want to fight, Tyler.”

“How do you expect me to feel? About everything that’s come to light over the past thirty-six hours. You expect me NOT to be upset? You fucked up, Nik. Big time. And you don’t get a say in how I feel.”

“I know you’re angry. Hurt. I know you feel betrayed. And…”

“I trusted you. I came to you; when Esme took off. You knew it destroyed me. Losing her. You knew what a mess I was; how close I got to going back to the drinking and the pain meds.”

“You have every right to feel the things you do, Tyler. I’m not going to argue with you about that. And I’m NOT going to try and take them away from you. But…”

“I called you. Every time I was close to putting a gun in my mouth and pulling the trigger. And you always talked me down; going on and on about how much you were helping and all the people you had on the ground and how they were turning over every stone looking for her.”

“I was there for you,” she reminds him. “At the drop of a dime. I never turned you away. I never ignored you. I never let you fight your battles alone. How many times did I just show up? On your doorstep? Because I was so worried about what you might do to yourself?”

“Yeah, you’re a regular fucking martyr, Nik.”

“I was a good friend to you. I made sure you were okay. That you were taking care of yourself. That you weren’t drinking and you weren’t back on the meds. I…”

“You were lying to me the entire time. You were never helping. You never had people looking for Esme. You just told me what I wanted to hear. You just kept filling me with all kinds of hope; that you’d find her and you’d let me know where she was and I would go and get her back. And it was nothing but bullshit.”

“I didn’t want you to give up. Not on her. And especially not on yourself. You didn’t give up after Dhaka. You were clinically dead. But you fought your way back. Did you really think I’d let that happen? Because Esme left? After everything you went through after Bangladesh…”

“She was the only reason I fought my way back. She was the first person in a long time that never looked at me like I was some piece of shit. That actually gave a fuck about me. That made me feel like a human being again. She was the ONLY reason I hung in there.”

“She loved you even then. Even that soon after meeting you. And I think…if you’re completely honest with yourself…you loved her too.”

“I don’t know if it was love. If it can even happen that quickly. But it was SOMETHING. That I’d never felt before. She was different. She gave me a chance. Felt I was actually deserving of one. I don’t know what I would have done; if she hadn’t stuck around after the job.”

“You would have gone on with your life. It would have hurt. For a long time. But you would have gone on and…”

Tyler scowls. “Don’t downplay it. The things I felt for her. In Dhaka. Don’t do that. Don’t make light of it. Of HER.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. I’d never…”

“You know how close I was? When she showed up that day? To just ending it all? Or hoping someone would end it for me? I’d reached my limit. I didn’t give a shit. About anything. And then I met her and everything changed. I changed. So don’t stand there and act like she wasn’t…isn’t…the best thing to ever happen to me. She saved me, Nik. In every way a person can be saved.”

“You were lucky. That she came along and gave you all of that. That I…”

“What? You want to be thanked? For bringing her to my doorstep? You think I should be on my hands and knees? Vowing lifelong servitude to you?”

“I never…”

“I don’t know what I would have done; if I’d come out of that coma and found out she was dead. Or that she’d just taken off. But she WAS there. And sometimes I wonder if that pisses you off. Because I didn’t need you as much as you wanted me to.”

“I never expected things to go any further between us, Tyler. We had both agreed on that; it was purely physical and would always be that way. I accepted that. And I’ve said it myself many times; how much she changed you for the better. That I think she’s the best thing that ever happened to you. Before Esme, your entire life fit inside a little cardboard box. You changed that.”

“No. SHE changed that. It was her. And I AM thankful. Because if you hadn’t brought her that day and it had been someone else, I doubt the outcome would have been the same.”

“It was meant to be. Your paths crossing. They may have passed in an unconventional way, but they still passed. I don’t need thanks for that.”

“And I appreciate what you did for her…for ME…after Dhaka. You were there for her. No questions asked. She was scared and she was alone and you stepped up and made sure she was taken care of. When all those doctors were trying to bully her into pulling the plug, you helped her fight back; fought with her to get the care I needed. So thank you. For making sure she was okay. Protecting her. Until I was able to do it again.”

“I didn’t do it for thanks. Or praise. I did it because I care about her. About BOTH of you.”

“Well, you certainly have a hell of a way of showing it. ‘Cause all that good you did? It means shit now. Why, Nik? Why did you lie to me? You knew how desperate I was to find her. All those promises you made, all those times you told me that you were helping me. It was all bullshit. Why? Why did you do it? I would never betray you like that. EVER.”

“It wasn’t an easy decision. Keeping things from you. I didn’t enjoy doing it, Tyler. But I had my reasons.”

“And what were those? What did I ever do to you? What did I do that was so wrong that you’d lie to me like that? It fucking broke me when she left. And you knew where she was all along. You could have ended it; the pain that I was in. If you’d just…”

“Just what? Just told you where she was? I couldn’t do that. I made a promise to her. That I’d make sure she was taken care of. That I’d get her somewhere safe. And that’s what I did.”

“You could have at least told me that she was alive,” he argues. “ That she was okay and I didn’t need to worry. Do you know what it is like? Inside my head? All the horrible things I thought of? About how maybe someone grabbed her and was doing the most vile fucking shit to her? Just to get back at me? Or the times I thought she was dead? If you’d just told me that you had her stashed away and were looking out for her…”

“That wouldn’t have been enough for you. Don’t lie to me and say it would have been. I know you, Tyler. Just knowing she was alive wouldn’t have done a damn thing. You wouldn’t have given me a moment’s rest; you would have pestered and pestered until I finally caved in and told you where she was. And that would have defeated everything she was trying to do.”

Sighing, he looks down at the remains of his coffee; fingertips drumming against the side of the mug. The mental anguish is intense; a mixture of betrayal and heartache and brutal, harsh truth. It wouldn’t have been enough; simply knowing that Esme was alive and well and being kept safe. There was no way he could have simply sat back and kept quiet; instead relentlessly bullying and badgering until Nik finally caved and revealed Esme’s whereabouts. He would have shown up at The Continental and found his way through the front doors and to where she was being kept. And no matter how many men Winston had deployed to stop him, he would have fought and stabbed and shot his way through every single one.

“They would have killed you, Tyler. If I’d told you where she was and you showed up to take her away, The High Table would have made good on their threats. To make you pay for her mistake.”

“A mistake she made years before she ever met me. A mistake she was forgiven for. She was ex-communicated. Told to never come back here again. And she followed every damn rule and warning they gave her. It’s not her fault; that they changed their mind.”

“Unfortunately, when new powers took over, they looked into a lot of files. Found a lot of people that had been let go instead of punished. And Esme was one of them. It’s not fair and I don’t agree with it, but The High Table is beyond reason. They’re dangerous. And they’re not to be crossed. Had you shown up…”

“I would have done whatever I had to. To get her away from here. Away from THEM.”

“You wouldn’t have stood a chance. And Esme knew that. They used you to get to her. They knew if they threatened your life, she’d do what she was told. And that’s where I came in. She called me. I’d never heard her like that before. Not even after Dhaka. She was hysterical. Terrified. She needed a way out of Australia. Before you got back. To spare you.”

“Didn’t exactly spare me, did she. Considering what I went through. Coming home, finding her gone, finding that stupid fucking letter on my table.”

“Better that than dead. Yaz and I went and picked her up. Took her to my place for a week; until I could arrange somewhere safe in New York. I had to call in a lot of favours; for The Continental to even agree to harbour her. But it was the only choice I had. I knew I couldn’t do it all by myself; I didn’t have the manpower to go up against The High Table. And I couldn’t just stash her in a safe house and leave her there and hope for the best. I did what I had to. For her AND you.”

“And what about when she told you she was pregnant? You didn’t stop to think that I deserved to now? That I was going to be a dad? You know all about my past. Nik. About my boy. You didn’t stop to think I’d want to know that I had a baby on the way?”

“I told her to call you. Or to at least let ME call you. Just to tell you about the baby. But she knew you’d track her down; that there was no way you wouldn’t show up. And that would have made everything she’d done completely useless. It would have put that target back on you. And she didn’t want that.”

“What about after? When the smoke cleared? When there was no longer a threat and she was free? You didn’t think of telling me then?”

“She asked me not to. She made me promise. Millie was almost a year old; already walking and starting to talk. Esme was scared; that you’d be so angry and hurt that you’d want nothing to do with her. Or the baby. It wasn’t one of my best decisions; caving in and going along with it.”

He scoffs. “That’s an understatement.”

“Don’t think it was easy for me, Tyler. To keep all of that from you. That it didn’t hurt to lie to you. To keep your child a secret. Because I hated myself for it. Hurting you like that. I still do.”

“I deserved to know. That Esme was alive. And I definitely deserved to know that I had a daughter out there. She’s four, Nik. Look at everything I’ve missed. I wasn’t even there for her. While she was pregnant. I didn’t even get the chance to be.”

“I was there. So was Yaz. She was never alone. We made sure of it; that she and Millie were taken care of. Before AND after.”

“It wasn’t up to you. It wasn’t just some baby. It was MY baby.”

“Can’t you stop and realize that by doing what I did for them, I was also doing it for you? That I had your best interests at heart as well? Tyler…”

“My best interest would have been knowing about my daughter. And being with her mother.”

“Which couldn’t happen. Esme asked me to keep it a secret. And I gave her my word.”

“And you just let four years go by.? How much longer would you have kept Millie’s existence from me? Another year? A couple? A few? Forever?”

“It wasn’t up to me to tell you. And I could only badger Esme so much; when it came to her getting a hold of you. Until she was ready to reach out and let you know, my hands were tied.”

“We’re friends, Nik. Or at least I thought we were. But you keep something like THAT from me? That I was a dad? How do you excuse that? How…?”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell. I gave Esme my word. I promised my silence. And I wasn’t going to betray her trust. Not even for you.”

The hurt and the anger lay simmering on the surface; Nik’s words laced with the harsh and unforgiving truth. He knows it makes sense; both Esme's original decision and the fears she’d harboured about contacting him when the danger had finally passed. But it’s a hard pill to swallow; his pride wounded at the reality that he’d become the protectee instead of being the protector. A fragment of the toxic masculinity that has yet to fully shed; the acknowledgment that he would have met his demise at the hands of The High Table leaving him feeling weak and ‘less than a man’. It’s foolish of course; even the toughest and the strongest need a helping hand from time to time. And while he can forgive Nik for the initial months following Esme’s disappearance, he remains unsure if he can extend it further than that.

******

He opens his mouth to respond but finds himself interrupted; a soft click of one of the doors, followed by Millie stepping out of her room. Messy-haired and blurry-eyed, a pout curving her lips; Posie tucked under an arm and Fredrick dangling from her hand. Initially oblivious to Tyler’s presence and immediately padding towards Nik; giving a sleepy whimper before wrapping both arms around her Aunt’s legs.

“The princess awakes,” Nik greets, and scoops the little one up into her arms; a hand on the back of the four-year-old’s head as she presses a series of kisses to her temple. “My grumpy girl. My grumpy, grumpy girl. Did you sleep well? Is it a right side of the bed morning or a wrong side of the bed one?”

Tyler watches them together; Nik gentle and attentive as she listens to Millie’s whining and grumbling and her long, drawn-out tales of the good dreams she’d managed after falling back asleep. And he notices a softness to his old friend that he’d never witnessed before; different from the care and compassion she’d shown him while in the hospital after Dhaka. Her face and eyes glowing with a mix of tenderness and adoration and her voice much quieter than usual; an even and soothing tone that easily comforts Millie. The latter smiling sleepily as he lays cradled in her aunt’s arms.

“I used to hold you like this all the time,” Nik says. “ Do you remember? It was your favourite way to nap. And every time I would try and put you down, you’d wake up and be so angry with me and I’d have to start all over again. You’re getting too big for it now. Way too long. Soon I won’t be able to do it at all.”

Millie reaches up with one hand to play with the ends of Nik’s hair. “Remember when you used to tuck me in? And you’d snuggle with me and sing me that song? That one in French?

“Au clare de la lune. That was your favourite. And I would stroke your nose like this.” She drags a fingertip down the bridge and then softly traces each nostril. “Over and over again. Until you fell asleep.”

“I miss that song. And snuggling with you.”

“We’ll have to snuggle again very soon. And I’ll sing to you. You know, I used to sing that same song to your Uncle Yaz when he was a little boy. He loved it too. I should teach you the words and then we can surprise him. Sing it for him. Sound good?”

“Sounds good. I miss him. I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“It’s really only been a few weeks. But he’s been away doing work for me in another country. But he’ll be here soon; only a couple more hours to wait. I’m not supposed to spoil things, but he just may be bringing some goodies..”

“For me? Goodies for ME?”

“Just for you.” Smiling down at Millie, Nik runs a hand over her hair and presses a kiss to her brow.. “You are so very loved, little one. By so many people. Don’t you ever forget that, okay?”

The four-year-old giggles when her aunt brushes the tip of her nose against hers. “Okay.”

“But for now, I have to stop being so selfish. And hogging you all for myself. Someone else wants to say good morning to you.”

Tyler approaches as Millie glances his way; little hand shoving her messy hair out of her eyes and the sleepy pout replaced by a broad, brilliant smile. His heart has never felt so full; that beautiful and bright-eyed little girl filling the deepest and darkest of recesses that not even her mother had been able to reach. And now every one of Abuela’s words the day before hit harder than ever; he once again has purpose and reason and people who depend on him outside of the job. It’s his initiative to finally walk away; fully immerse himself in a regular career and a life of being a partner and a father. And it takes all he has not to succumb to the emotions surging through him; managing a shaky smile as he runs a palm over his little girl’s hair and scoops her up into his arms.

“Tyler!” That tiny body moulds against his so perfectly; tiny arms circling his neck and her lips meeting an unshaven cheek. “I missed you!”

“It hasn’t been that long since you last saw me.”

“Long enough! I had a really good sleep. After you tucked me in. You’re really good at it! I couldn’t even move my arms or my legs! Which means the monsters couldn’t get to them! Can you tuck me in again? Tonight?”

“Your momma might be upset. If she doesn’t get to do it. She’s been doing it since you were just a baby.”

“Maybe she can tuck me in first, and then you can do it again. Just in case. We don’t want to hurt her feelings. Wait a sec…” She pulls back to study his attire. “...how come you’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday? Didn’t you pack enough clean stuff?”

“I haven’t been to my room yet. To change.”

“You slept in your clothes?”

“Some of them.”

“Did you sleep with momma? In her bed?”

“Maybe…”

“That means you’re going to have babies. That’s what happens when you sleep in the same bed. That’s how babies are made, you know. You and momma are going to have babies and I’m going to be a big sister.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’re a long way away from stuff like that.”

‘But wait…” Millie chews thoughtfully on her bottom lip. “...WOULD I be a big sister? If you and momma have babies and the babies and I don’t have the same dad…”

Noisily clearing her throat, Nik stares at him pointedly.

“You’d still be a big sister,” he assures her, although it hurts like hell; not being able to tell her the truth. But it isn’t the right time; too much has happened in the past four days and the last thing Millie needs is life-altering news dropped in her lap. “ You’d still have the same mum.”

“I hope you guys have babies. I’d LOVE to be a big sister. Although I don’t know if I wanna share momma with too many people.”

“You’ll share with me, yeah?”

“I already am! I’m cool with that. We can keep sharing her forever if you want. Are we going to go for breakfast? I want to have pancakes again. They’re really good. Maybe you can get pancakes again too and you can try the strawberry jam on them this time.”

‘I will take you for pancakes. And your mum. But first, I really need clean clothes. And a shower. I probably stink.”

Placing her face against his neck, Millie inhales deeply. “You’re not that smelly!”

“Not THAT smelly? So you’re saying I AM smelly? Just a bit?”

She holds her thumb and index finger a half inch apart. “Just a bit.”

“How about you let Tyler go and get cleaned up,” Nik suggests, and reaches for the four-year-old. “And you go and get mom up.”

“I want to go with Tyler. I wanna see his room. I only ever see this one. Can I?” Millie places a hand on his cheek and turns his face towards her. “Go with you? Please? I’ll just hang out and play games on your phone while you get ready. I won’t be any trouble.”

“Something tells me you’re all kinds of trouble,” he chides, and lightly pinches and tickles her stomach. “Like your mum.”

“We’re little but mighty! That’s what mom always says. That we may be small, but we can kick big time ass!”

“Speaking of kicking ass, will your mum kick mine if I take you somewhere without telling her first? Or asking permission?”

“She won’t mind. You’re her boyfriend. She trusts you. And she loves you. She knows you’ll take good care of me. You won’t let anything bad happen.”

“Not in a million years,” he vows, and presses a kiss to her temple.

“I’ll wake Esme,” Nik says, as she follows them to the door. “Let her know where Millie is. And the plans for breakfast.”

“You should come too,” Millie suggests, as she leans sideways and gives her Aunt a farewell kiss. “Have pancakes with us.”

“You know I’m more of a crepes kind of girl.”

“Oh, Auntie Nik…” She heaves a heavy, dramatic sigh. ``....that’s sooo disappointing.”

“You’re just a little monkey, you know that? As tempting as breakfast with my favourite niece sounds…”

“I’m your ONLY niece.”

“...I’ve got things to do. Before Uncle Yaz goes here. But maybe he and I can steal you away at dinnertime. Would that be okay with you?”

“It would be A-okay.”

“You have fun, ma douce fille.” Laying a hand on the top of Millie’s head, Nik kisses one cheek, then the other. “You be good for your…” She abruptly catches herself. “...for Tyler.”

“Always! I’m a delight.”

“Yes, you are. And Tyler…” Nik catches him by the arm before he can step out into the hall.. “I AM sorry. But I did the right thing. For all of you. And I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.”

*****

Millie sits outside the bathroom as he showers; leaning back against the wall with her legs stretched out and one foot crossed over the other. Content with both watching youtube kids on his phone and asking a million questions through the crack in the door.

“Tyler?!”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think is better? Tacos or spaghetti?”

“I’m a carb guy. Spaghetti.”

“I love both. But I’m a taco girl. Like momma. Have you ever had spaghetti tacos?”

“Can’t say I have. And I’m not sure if I ever want to try them.”

“Oh my god, they’re so good! Momma makes them every Saturday night. For dinner. You get the taco shell and you put the spaghetti in it and then you put the smelly feet cheese on it.”

“Stinky feet cheese?”

“The white stuff. You know, that you sprinkle on spaghetti.”

Grinning, he turns off the shower and runs his hands over his face; clearing water from his eyes. “You mean parmesan?”

“Yeah! Stinky feet cheese! Momma taught me that. ‘Cause it might taste good, but it smells like stinky feet.”

“Your mum’s a bit weird.”

“But you love her anyway, right?”

“Always. No matter how weird she might get as she gets older.”

“What about toast?” Millie inquires. “ Do you like toast?”

“I do.”

“What would you rather put on it? Jam or peanut butter?”

“Neither. Vegemite.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s something we have in Australia. That you can put on your toast. You can put it on anything you want, really. Bread, waffles, steak.”

‘What’s it taste like?”

“That’s hard to explain. Kinda strong. Kinda salty. Your mum hates it.”

“When did momma try it? How did she try it? She’s been to Australia?”

“She spent some time there. Before you were even a twinkle in her eye.”

“ She’s been to your house?”

“Not the house I have now, but…”

“Were you her boyfriend? Before I ever came along? I asked momma but…”

“What did she say?”

“I don’t think she was telling me the truth. She said that you weren’t. That you were just a friend. But I could tell she was fibbin’. Were you? Her boyfriend? You can tell me. I won’t tell her you did.”

“Your mum and I…” Tyler chooses his words carefully, knowing full well that despite her promise, Millie will likely go back to her mother with even more questions. And an axe to grind about why she wasn’t told the truth in the first place. “...we were together for a bit.”

“How long is a bit?”

“Almost a year.”

“That’s a long time! You lived together?”

“At my old place, yeah.” He leaves out the rest. No details about her mother sticking by his side through his coma and his months-long hospital stay and the subsequent long and arduous healing process after he was released. And certainly nothing related to their long-term plans; the purchasing of a house and the talk of marriage and children. Coughing up just enough information to satisfy Millie’s rampant curiosity.

“Where was that?”

“A few hours from where I live now.”

“Where though? Like what’s the name of the city?”

“The Kimberley.”

“What city do you live in now? Where are we gonna call home?”

“Broome.”

“Is it near the beach? Momma said Australia has a lot of really nice beaches. And I LOVE the beach. I wanna go to the beach. Do you think we could go? Is it close by?”

“We can go as much as you want. Only about a fifteen-minute walk.” Vigorously scrubbing at his hair with a towel, he wraps another around his waist before opening the door and peeking out into the hallway). “You alright?”

“I’m alright.”

“What’cha doing?”

“Watching Bluey. Do you know who Bluey is?”

“No.”

“I love Bluey! Momma and I watch him together every morning after breakfast. Maybe we can all watch him together today.”

“Maybe. Right now, could you do me a favour? Can you close your eyes? So I can come out there and get some clothes on?”

“What? You don’t want me to see your bare bum? It’s just a bum. We all have them.”

“If you don't want nightmares for the rest of your life, you’d close your eyes.”

“It can’t be that bad! But okay….” Millie gives a dramatic sigh. “...my eyes are closed.”

Stepping out into the hall, he heads to the sleeping area; quickly drying off the last of his body before slipping into boxer briefs and a pair of cargo pants. And when he gives permission for her to open her eyes, she comes bounding into the room; immediately throwing herself into the middle of the king-sized bed. Giggling as she bounces up and down on her rear and then reaching for a pillow; punching and slapping it into its preferred comfort level before placing it against the headboard and leaning back against it.

“You have more tattoos! Lots more! Those are really cool! Did you get ANY of them in jail?”

“No. I had them all before that.”

The four-year-old’s eyes widen. “You’ve been in jail?”

“Briefly.”

“What did you go to jail for?”

“I got caught. Hurting a bad guy.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Just a little.”

“How’d you do it?”

“That you don’t need to know.”

“How’d you get out? Did you escape? Are you on the run?”

“Where do you learn these kinds of things? I know your mum isn’t teaching you.”

“Sometimes I sneak out into the living room when mom is watching Law and Order. I hear things. Don’t tell her? Please? I’m supposed to be asleep when I do it. I don't want to get in trouble.”

“Your secret is safe with me. Besides, snitches get stitches.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means people who rat on others get themselves into big trouble. They get messed up. And need stitches.”

“Ratting is like tattling on someone?”

“Exactly like it.”

“There’s this girl at school that tattles on me. All the time! Because I say bad words. I can’t help it, you know. Sometimes they just slip out. Uncle Yaz says I know two languages; English and profanity.”

“I can’t believe you even know that word. Profanity.”

“I’m a smart cookie. Like momma. I also get tattled on ‘cause I beat up people sometimes. But not good people. Bad people. Just like you hurt bad people.”

‘What makes them bad?”

“They’re bullies. They pick on the younger kids and the ones that are much smaller. And the ones that can’t fight for themselves. Like the kids with special needs. Momma says to always defend them especially. To hit first, talk later, if I have to. So that’s what I do.” Millie shrugs. “I hit. And really hard. I broke two noses, you know. Not the same person. Two different people.”

“What happened?” He slips into a simple black tee. “When you did that?”

“I had to go to the principal’s office. And they called momma. Momma had to pretend to be really disappointed in me and she had to lie when she told them that she’d talk to me and punish me. But then when we left she took me for ice cream and to feed the ducks in Central Park. And she told me she was proud of me. For standing up for people who couldn’t stand up for themselves.”

“Your mum is a pretty amazing lady, you know that?”

“She’s the best mom EVER. If I had to pick my mom out of all the moms in the world, I’d still pick her. We have a lot of fun together. And there’s lots of love in our house. Momma makes sure of it.”

“You’re a lucky girl. Having the mum you do.”

“She is the bestest.” Millie leans back against the pillow and wayward strands of hair out of her eyes. “Tyler, can I ask you a question?”

“Better than anyone I know.”

“Do you have kids? ‘Cause you’re really good with them. You never get annoyed with me; when I ask you tons of things. And you don’t lose your patience and you don’t get angry and yell. You must have kids.”

“I DID have a kid. I had a little boy.”

“What did you mean ‘had’? You don’t have him anymore? Where is he? With his momma?”

“No. He got really sick. When he was a little boy. And unfortunately, he passed away.”

“He got sick? Like cough due to cold?”

“Something very serious. That doctors couldn’t fix.”

“How old was he?”

“Six. Not much older than you are right now.”

“You and his momma must have been really sad. When he died. What was his name?”

“Austin.”

“I like that name. It’s a good name. Maybe I’ll name my next teddy that. And then you can cuddle it when you’re sad and that way, you can feel closer to your little boy.”

“That would be really awesome of you. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry that he died. I’m sorry it makes your heart sad. I’m sorry…”

“Hey…hey…” Hooking a finger under her chin, he tilts her head up towards him. “...don’t cry. There’s no reason to. It’s a good thing; to talk about him. Even if it does make my heart hurt a bit. You got a lot of feelings in that little body, don’t ya. Just like your mumma.”

“Do you think he would have liked me? Do you think we would have been friends?”

“I think he would have loved you. How could he not?” He glances towards his cell phone as it vibrates from its spot on the table by the window; unable to control the smile that spreads from ear to ear at the sight of Esme’s name splashed across the screen. And it scoops it up just as it reaches the third ring. “Hey.”

‘Hey.” Her voice is laced with sleep. And contentment. “How’re things going? She behaving?”

“Always. She’s keeping me entertained.”

“I bet. She’s probably asked you a million and one personal questions by now. By the way, I’ve got a bone to pick with you. You didn’t stick around to say ‘good morning’.”

“I didn’t have the heart to wake you up. But good morning.”

“I don’t mean THAT way. I mean the OTHER way. You know, the one that doesn’t involve words?”

Tyler grins. “You mean your favourite wake-up call. How rude of me; not sticking around for THAT.”

“Nothing like an Australian kiss from my favourite Aussie.”

“Aren’t I the only Aussie you know?”

“Technically. Doesn’t mean you can’t be my favourite.”

“Your logic is…astounding. I’ll make it up to you.”

‘You bet your hot Australian ass, you will. Did you sleep good? I almost checked to see if you were breathing when I got up around four to pee. I don’t think you moved an inch after you drifted off.”

“Best sleep I’ve had in years. You?”

“Same. It was nice. Having you in bed with me again. I missed it.”

“So did I. We’ll get to do more of it. Very soon.”

“I hope so. Well…” She yawns. “... I just thought I’d call and make sure Millie wasn’t driving you up the wall.”

“She never could. We’ll be back in a bit. Give you a chance to shower and…”

He catches it out of the corner of his eye; a brief yet blinding flash as sunlight grabs hold of something metallic in an open window across the street. Both jaw and stomach clenching at the sight of a figure -clad in black- hunched over a rifle; their eye pressed to the scope as the barrel rests upon the weathered sill. And he glances back at Millie; completely oblivious to the danger that’s unfolding around her. Her messy hair perfectly framing her face as she watches another episode of her favourite show; giggling at the main character’s antics as she happily wriggles her toes. And then he sees it; the red dot that glows open the headboard just mere inches from her shoulder

His instincts kick into high gear; years spent in the military and on the job completely taking hold of him. Tossing the phone onto the table, he crosses the room in two long strides; no words spoken as he abruptly scoops his daughter up into his arms just as the first bullet pierces the window and then slams into the headboard. A second round following almost immediately; narrowly missing his head before it embeds itself in the wall. He attempts to make it to the door but the sniper’s rifle is quickly replaced by machine gun fire; shattering every window and destroying items within the room. Struggling to keep hold of Millie as her fight or flight response kicks in; screaming in sheer terror as she kicks and fails with the strength of two grown men.

Amidst the continuous parade of bullets, he clutches her even tighter to his chest, and dropping to his knees behind the half wall that separates the head of the bed from the living area, he aggressively forces her down onto her side. One hand grabbing the back of both her knees and pushing them up into her chest; telling her to stay exactly where and how she is; the fetal position both a source of protection and comfort. And it isn’t until he covers her body with his own that she finally stops fighting; her face bright red and her entire body soaked in sweat as she continues to wail and tears pour down her cheeks.

“Make it stop! Tyler! Make it stop!”

‘It’s alright…” Covering her ears with his palms, he presses his front against her back; pushing her further into the floor. “...it’ll be over soon…it’ll all be over soon…”

“Tell them to leave us alone! Tell them to go away!”

“Just breathe, Millie,” he orders. “ Just breathe.” Pressing his cheek against hers, he offers endless words of comfort and reassurance; mentally counting off the rounds and praying that once finished, the shooter won’t stop to reload. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. You’re safe. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

Her hysterical shrieking and blabbering give way to sobbing, her entire body trembling by the force and power of her fear. And he feels the warmth against him; a spreading puddle of urine that soaks the front of his shirt and the carpet below. And when the gunfire stops and the room falls silent, he’s suddenly aware of his own fear; the thundering of his heart within his chest and the beads of perspiration that have gathered at his temples and the nape of his neck and the burn of bile in the back of his throat. And he waits for several minutes as a precaution; continuing to cover Millie’s tiny frame with his own in case another assault is launched.

Silence.

He initially pushes himself up onto his knees and then falls back onto his ass; feeling exhausted as both pure terror and adrenaline begin to leave his body. Using a forearm to clear sweat off his brow, he picks Millie up; feeling her urine-drenched pyjamas and the quaking of her body as little arms circle his neck as she collapses against him. And his eyes close as he repeatedly smooths a hand over her hair; praising her for being brave and strong while pressing a series of kisses to her cheek and temple.

“It’s okay…you’re okay, Millie. It’s over now. It’s all over.”

“What if they come and find us?” She speaks between breathless sobs. “What if they come for us and kill us?”

“No one is coming for us,” he assures her, a palm cradling the back of her head as he kisses her cheek. “You’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you. It’s done. It’s all done.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. There’s no more bad guys. They’re gone. They’re all gone.”

Taking a deep, quivering breath, she relaxes against him; head on his shoulder as she shoves a thumb into her mouth.

Leaning back against the wall, Tyler once more closes his eyes; fingers continuously moving through her hair in an attempt to further soothe her. “Everything’s alright now. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

For several minutes, they remain motionless and silent. Tears pouring down Millie’s face as she sucks aggressively at her thumb and he attempts to catch his breath.

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fanfic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fanfic #Extraction fanfiction #Extraction 2 #Extraction #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme Drummond #Esme Drummond-Rake #Chris Hemsworth

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tylersnecktattoo · 6 days

Text

With no safety net

CHAPTER 1: “tell me why I get this feeling?”

Warnings: mentions of smut

Word count: 2.1K

——————————————————————

“Come on, we’re already late!” Amara shouted from the hallway as she finished layering her fragrance with some final sprays of her vanilla perfume and put her coat on before grabbing her gift bag.

“Okay, okay! I’m coming, woman, calm down” her best friend replied in a teasing tone as she checked her makeup for the last time.

Amara was invited to her cousin Dylan's get together. Normally, she wouldn’t be in the mood to hang out with him and his friends since the hangouts only consisted of her listening to Dylan and his macho friends talking about stuff she wasn’t even interested in, but she couldn’t let him down when she already had turned him down too many times before. So she brought her friend with her to be able to survive this soon to be, unbearable night.

Amara’s face lights up when she sees her friend finally coming out of the bathroom. “You look absolutely stunning, Court” she says as she hands her friend’s jacket to her

“Yeah as if I don’t have a goddess of a friend standing right next to me” she says back as they exit Amara’s apartment

“You’re still delusional, I see”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’re pretty damn gorgeous but it seems like your dumbass doesn’t want to realize it” she argues back and gets in the passenger's seat once they reach Amara’s car. “And my name isn’t Courtney if you don’t end up getting a guy’s number tonight” she states as she raises her finger at her friend before putting her seatbelt on.

Amara lets out a snort as she begins to drive. “Getting guys at my cousins little get together is the last thing on my mind right now”

“Come on, you're 25 and you don’t have a boyfriend. That’s like, genuinely sad. And alarming. It’s been almost two years since Chris. You gotta move on, Amara”

“Okay, first of all, there’s nothing wrong with being single at 25. Second of all, if I decide to start dating again it will not be with Dylan's mediocre ass friends that can’t even hold a five minute conversation with me without pissing me off” she blurted before turning her puzzled face to her best friend, “And when did you start getting all therapeutic on me? I’m dealing with myself just fine”

Courtney just sighs because she knows that’s a lie by how defensive Amara is acting. “Look, I’m just saying, you’ve been through hell and back but you can’t let that ruin it for you. Not everyone brings bad luck with them, you know” She takes a pause before sarcastically saying, “What, you’re gonna let the severe trauma of losing your parents on the same day and having a cheating ex fiance going to hold you back for popping that pussy?”

Amara tries to contain her laugh that is threatening to come out because she’s supposed to be irritated at her friend, but she gives in with them both feeling comfortable with this level of banter. “I fucking hate you”

“Yeah, yeah whatever helps you sleep at night” she jokingly waves off as they’re looking for a place to park the car and finally find an empty spot. “Are you sure I look okay?” Courtney asks as she checks herself on her phone's camera.

“Tryna look good for the Walmart version of Jacob Elordi again?”

Courtney snorts out a laugh and playfully slaps Amara’s arm. “His name is Sebastian and yes. So last chance, do I look good or not?”

Amara takes a closer look at her face and smudges off some mascara that has moved its way to her eyelid and says her final words of assurance to her friend before they get out of her car and walk up to Dylan’s porch. Amara rings at the door, mentally preparing for a whole night of having to be social. Shortly after, the door opens and she’s met by her cousin and his excited grin.

“Long time no fucking see, cuz” he says and pulls her in for a short embrace before letting them in and giving Courtney a familiar handshake. He takes their jackets and hangs them before turning to Amara again. “Whatcha got there for me?” he says as his gaze is plastered on the gift bag in her hand.

“Just a little something”

“I bet on my whole bank account it’s a perfume set” he says and takes the bag to open it, to see that it in fact, was another perfume set. “I swear, that perfume obsession you got in junior year hasn’t left you for shit” he says as he holds out the Versace set.

“It’s not like you ever complain though?” Amara playfully says

He chuckles, “Touche. Thanks, really” he says and gives her an affectionate squeeze on her arm before leading them to the living room where everyone was sitting and chatting over the background noise of a football game from the TV, including Tyler. He had known that Dylan would bring his cousin and that he spoke very highly of her. But as soon as she walked in with her friend next to her, he was caught up. Dylan didn’t mention that she was so beautiful.

Where had she been all this time and why the hell hadn’t Dylan introduced him to her earlier?

He could tell that he wasn’t the only one being mesmerized by her beauty as practically everyone rushed up from their seats on the couch and went to greet her, but they kept it respectable though, because Dylan had indeed warned them to behave when she and her friend would come over. Many friendly handshakes and shallow hugs towards her and her friend later, he stood up from his seat to greet her too.

God, she was gorgeous. She had these black doe eyes that you just wanted to look at forever and the way her plump lips smiled as she greeted everyone and the way she had freckles scattered across her cheeks that made her face look adorable. And let’s not get started on her hair. It was the most beautiful and unique color he had ever seen, a mixture between copper red and brown that ran down so softly down her back. He was done for. He was down. Real bad. He finally caught her attention as he walked up to her, towering her by his 6 foot 3 height as Dylan introduced her to him .

“Amara, this is Tyler. Remember that Australian guy I talked about last time we met?”

“Yeah, right.” she said in a recognizable tone. “Nice to meet you” she shot him a friendly smile, locking her gaze with his.

Now, she was never a crushy person but she’d be fucking dumb if she said this man wasn’t fine. He was a hunk and he knew it. And he definitely knew what he was doing when he put that button down shirt on, hugging his muscles in all the right ways and revealing a bit more of his neck with a few buttons loose. Fuck, that trimmed beard too. She was a sucker for beards.

He shot her a smile back, with almost a seductive look on his face. “Nice to meet you too. You got a beautiful name”. He tried to stay as cool as possible so it wouldn’t look like he was genuinely going crazy like he was as soon as he got a closer look at her with that whiff of her fragrance too.

Yep, she was definitely interested now. She knew that wasn’t an innocent compliment and that deep, husky voice with his Australian accent was too hot to not be attracted by. But she wasn’t down that bad though, it would take a lot more than his attractive demeanor to get her to really swoon over him, or any man for that matter. And Dylan probably sensed the tension as he cut them off, not wanting to go through the same hassle that happens every time his friends tried to flirt with her as he thought she wasn’t interested.

“Alright so now when everyone’s here, let's sit down” he says as he leads Amara to the couch, not even bothering to include Courtney as she has made herself comfortable with her guy a long time ago, too impatient to wait for Amara. As Amara gets seated between Dylan and the armrest of the couch, she shoots a “I thought you were going to stick by my side?” look to her best friend across the room, who currently had the time of her life flirting with her charming brunette as she shoots back a “There’s no way in hell I’m gonna stick by your side and get in between whatever you and that tall blondie have” look, making Amara hold back her grin as she understood what Courtney was saying just by the look she gave, a result of them knowing each other too damn well for their own good. As she thought things couldn’t get any worse, Tyler just had to take a seat on the couch that was facing her sideways, being completely in her sight at all times. It’s like he was doing it on purpose, choosing the closest seat next to her, the armrests of their couches touching each other.

Oh, this was going to be a night to remember.

The night went on and Amara just sat there and listened to the conversation being spoken, occasionally smiling and laughing with everyone else, not being aware of the glances Tyler stole from her everytime she showed any sign of smiling just to see that dimple pop out every time on her left cheek. She was divine.

And Amara wasn't any better herself, giving him quick looks from time to time when he wouldn’t know she was watching and admiring his neck tattoo every chance she got. She couldn’t quite make out what it was supposed to resemble as she never got a good look on it, but it looked like three stripes running up his neck sideways. Were they arrows, maybe? Well, whatever they were, it undeniably made him look hotter. So extra points for that. He just went from looking kinda fine to fine.

Other than stealing glances from Tyler, Amara’s night continued by just listening to conversations. Courtney had left doing God knows what with the Walmart version of Jacob Elordi and Amara just couldn't wait until she got home and started to regret that she even chose to come. She was never much of a talker anyway, especially not in front of many people and especially not when the whole room was filled with so much testosterone and boring topics that were typically guy talk. It seemed like Tyler wasn’t much of a talker too since he rarely talked. In fact, she hadn’t heard him fully speak since their interaction. Another few points to the hot Australian. She never liked it when a man was overly talkative anyway. Maybe he could get it if he ever decided to shoot his shot at her.

Time went by and people started to leave as she got tired of all the babbling and got up from her seat to go to the kitchen on the other side of the house so she could find some sense of peace and quietness, lying about going to grab a drink and come back despite Dylan stopping her and saying that the kitchen is too warm because some problems with the ductwork. Of course, Tyler saw this as the perfect opportunity to get closer to her so he decided to follow after her, but not right away though. He didn’t want to come off as too desperate even though he lowkey was. But she couldn’t know that.

When the right amount of time had passed he got up from his seat, leaving the living room.

“You’re also going to the kitchen?” Dylan asks him with a teasing grin while pointing his beer bottle at him before swinging it to his mouth, knowing exactly what Tyler’s intentions are. “Look, I’m not gonna stop you or anything but just know that my cousin- she’s no weak flower, and she won’t hesitate to put you into your place if she doesn’t like you or if you make her uncomfortable. She’s not easy”

Why did he find that extremely attractive?

Smirking, he made his way to the kitchen with his desire to have her stronger than ever. Usually, he’d go for the tall and blonde bombshells that he barely had to fight for. But there was just something about her that just drew him in and made him forget about the blondes he’d call beautiful, because their beauty was nothing compared to her. Fuck, she had only spoken four words to him and he was going fucking crazy for her. What the hell have you done to me?

#chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth smut #chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth #tyler rake x female reader #tyler rake drabble #tyler rake x you #tyler rake fic #tyler rake fanfiction #tyler rake smut #tyler rake x reader #tyler rake #extraction fanfiction

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exquisiteagony · 5 months

Text

fuck it here’s what i’ve been working on for the past day or so. it’s 2912 words long

Free periods sucked, regardless of whether there was work to be done or not. They called for extra creativity to alleviate boredom, and they were even worse right after lunch, when they were all full enough they didn’t want to think. Half the time, they’d sit around coming up with stupid dares or bets, especially if the day had been dull, too lazy to come up with anything more interesting and less troublesome.

Joel picked at the vinyl covering the flat surface of the table in the rejectory, yawning and staring longingly at his too-hot coffee. He, Joonas, and Niko always had first class as free periods on Wednesdays, but that didn’t mean their parents let them enjoy lie-ins. Instead, all three of them made their ways to their nearest bus stops, yawning and bleary eyed, and tried not to fall asleep before they could get off and stumble past the school gates. Then it was a short zombie-like shuffle to the rejectory, Joel trying hard not to let he brisk cold wind wake him up properly, and five minutes later he’d be seated at a table with the rest of the gang, tearing apart a blueberry muffin as he waited for his coffee to cool to drinking temperatures. Somehow, he was always the last one to arrive.

Tommi was always first. By the time Joel arrived he was always sipping his drink leisurely - protein shake if he had first period free to go to the gym and coffee when it was regular class - patiently helping Olli with some last-minute homework so his maths teacher didn’t direct him to after school detention again.

Niko was always second to arrive. He was the newest to their little group, and therefore he was still a bit self conscious of his place amongst them, so he’d be chewing on a hash brown like he still thought he might be kicked off their table and pointed in the direction of the music students he’d hung out with only a year ago.

Joonas was third. He was always peppy and cheerful in the mornings, like the sun to Joel’s moon, and Joel never knew how to not be jealous of him for it. Joel didn’t know how to not feel guilty over that, too.

But he did guilt and jealousy well, knew how to wear them like a second skin.

Olli made it just minutes before Joel did, always in a rush to get his beloved coffee and crack open a textbook so he could just skate by the deadline of his various assignments. Joel never knew how he managed to get anything done in the constant drone of voices, but then again it took Joel medication to even have the chance of keeping up, so he chose not to think about it.

Joel was last. He liked it that way. The others had their designated seats they liked on their table facing the little terrace, and they always let him have the same seat, one facing the wall instead of facing the rest of the rejectory, so he wasn’t tempted to glance up at the radio booth looming above them, where Aleksi Fucking Kaunisvesi presided like a bored god as he read out school notices.

Once it became clear that the vinyl on the table wasn’t going to budge despite Joel’s best efforts, he sighed, turning his attention to his blueberry muffin.

There hadn’t been any when he’d come in, too late to get anything sweet and halfway decent, but Joonas had swiped one for him as he usually did and had handed it over with a conspiratorial wink. Guilt stirred itself within Joel, so he’d put off picking at it, stomach clenching and unclenching. Joonas was always going out of his way to do such things for him, and each one stacked up like a debt Joel didn’t know how to repay. But now he was hungry, stomach growling because he hadn’t bothered to eat back home, so he couldn’t ignore the muffin any longer. He picked at the top of it, peeling off the little greasy crust studded with chunks of fruit like he was peeling off the seal of a can of pringles but with less violence. Once it was torn free of the rest of the muffin, still encased in a cheerful yellow cupcake case, he poked the individual blueberry chunks out, letting them fall onto the table so he could devour the plain muffin.

He reached for his coffee, but it was still too hot. Dejectedly, he set it down again and carried on picking away at the muffin, drowning out the conversation around him. Tommi was still explaining algebra to Olli, and Joel was determined to not accidentally learn anything.

Niko caught his eye, his smile a little bit shy. Joel returned it, then started picking the visible blueberry chunks out of the remainder of his muffin. Niko reached across the table to take one, slipping it into his mouth. Joel let him, then reached across to Niko’s plate to swipe a leftover crumb of his hash browns. Then he went back to his methodical muffin demolition.

He was about halfway through his task when Joonas let out the vilest burp from across the table, next to Niko. It was loud enough that a couple of people on the table next to them turned round in disgust, but Joonas looked more proud of himself than anything. Joel screwed his face up and flicked a soggy chunk of blueberry at him.

Once he’d excavated the whole muffin, leaving blueberries in one wet pile and plain muffin in another dryer one, he began to eat the blueberries one by one. It wasn’t a particularly interesting task, but it passed the time amply enough as he waited for his coffee to cool down, and that was about as much as he could hope for.

The school’s PA system crackled to life not a minute later. Joel glanced at the clock on the wall as Olli swore and began to pack his textbooks and pencil case away. 8:55 AM. Olli had five minutes to get to his maths class.

Olli was serenaded by the rush of other students in similar predicaments and the cheesy jingle of Oulu High Radio. Tommi was more leisurely, simply passing Olli the pen he’d forgotten to pack away before he picked up his rucksack, standing. Joel grimaced, but that was more directed at the PA than it was by them.

The new school year had brought many things, but the biggest change had been the announcement that Oulu High School was combining with Oulu College, the high school aimed at setting its students on the high road to world-rated universities so they could be snobby assholes in worldwide leadership positions. Something about structural damage or frailties to the old college building across the city meaning the academy full of chronic overachievers had to find another location, and Oulu High had the space to accommodate them and the excuse they’d been waiting for to upgrade the science department and the sports building. They even had a swimming pool now, though Joel had aged out of mandatory swimming classes so he’d never used it.

Most of the differences were relatively small. Slightly bigger classes, and less empty classrooms. New teachers who were used to bright-eyed nerds, not disinterested class clowns. A phased lunchtime complete with an extra half hour so those on last lunch didn’t have to miss out on a post-lunch break. A better library that Joel avoided like the plague. The renaming of the cafeteria to the refectory, a change that had had Joonas snort and promptly christen it the ‘rejectory’. That sort of thing.

And a radio station.

Thing was, Joel had tried out for it. Since his basketball dreams had gone down the toilet he’d found himself with more free time, and as his mom had told him, it would look good on his university application.

How she hadn’t lost faith in that dream despite his best efforts, he didn’t know. Music and gym class produced the best grades, but even a music course would be unwilling to take anyone with grades like his. They preferred their students to be more rounded.

Still, he’d tried anyway, and found he actually wanted to do it. He could do it, he was sure, and hey, if his music career followed his basketball one then he’d have something to fall back on. So he’d gathered in the principal's office with twenty or so other hopefuls, reading out notices about the various sports teams and the chess club - something else that was new - into an unplugged mic.

He’d wanted it, but in the end, he hadn’t got it. No one had. The whole thing had been the idea of Aleksi Kaunisvesi - the snooty kid from the college whose dad was some kinda bigwig in the music industry. The tryout had been just for show, and now the whole school was forced to listen to Aleksi’s lofty voice every morning and lunchtime, reading out various notices as if he thought he was above it all.

It’s probably to pad out his university application, Joonas had said when Joel announced his loss with gritted teeth.

As if he needs it, Tommi had snorted. He’s the captain of the debate society, and he’s a prefect.

Don’t forget the school council, Niko had added glumly. He’d tried out for that, curious, but Kaunisvesi had snatched the last spot.

Bet his dad bribed the school, Joonas said, unnaturally acerbic for once.

Does he need to? Olli asked. Aleksi is the eldest of six. That’s the promise of a lot of school fees.

Sure enough, Aleksi’s snooty tones began reading out notices. Joel felt his breakfast turn to stone in his stomach.

Niko saw the look on his face and shot him a rueful smile. Joonas pulled a face like he was constipated and echoed Aleksi’s reminder about the importance of punctuality in a near-perfect imitation. It buoyed Joel’s mood a little, and a smile tugged at the corners of his own mouth.

It died with the arrival of two more students at the rejectory’s food station, always under the hawk eye of a dinner lady.

Aleksi, you see, was pretty much untouchable. He had no friends, as far as Joel could tell, and he was the perfect little teacher’s pet, but he was never harassed or picked on. He just skated on with his head firmly lodged up the principal’s ass, and everyone seemed resigned to the fact.

Apart from in Joel’s lit class. Then he was constantly going head to head with Robin Packalen, another former College student who headed the book club. They always seemed to arrive early, sat at the front of the classroom so Joel would always have to squeeze by them as the late bell chimed, trying to ignore whatever topic was the flavour of the week. The arguments were always fraught with underlying tension, and Joel got the feeling like they weren’t really arguing about Milton or Shakespeare or whatever. It made watching the arguments feel painfully voyeuristic, and Joel found himself idly sympathising with their poor teacher as she waited to begin the class.

With a jolt, Joel realised that he’d seen Robin at the radio tryouts. His stomach twisted. Yeah, there was something between him and Aleksi.

Right now, though, Robin was calm and collected as he selected a water bottle from the refrigerated cabinet. With him was his boyfriend, Joonas Parkkonen - or Johnny, to his friends and pretty much everyone apart from Aleksi. Johnny was in Joel’s gym class, and he seemed to live and breathe for the sports department. He was the head of the hockey team and the basketball team, something that made Joel so jealous he felt sick, and he had started a little tennis club.

He was, of course, from the College, not Oulu High.

Not that Oulu High was bad or anything. It was fine. Average. Comfortably so, to the point where Joel hadn’t ever felt especially self conscious about his subpar grades. But then the amalgamation happened, and Joel hated it all.

Niko followed his gaze. “Good luck with that,” he said, clapping Joel across the shoulder. Joel flicked a blueberry at him then went back to sourly ogling Robin and Johnny.

The pair chose a table for two fairly near the food station. Neither of them must have a class first period, which was a weird thought. Robin was the exact sort of nerd Joel thought lived in the library, and Johnny seemed like he should be in the gym, not sipping an apparently expensive protein shake from his water bottle as he waited for Robin to eat his apple.

Something tepid and soggy landed on Joel’s hand, drawing him from his reverie. He turned and scowled at Joonas, then licked up the bit of blueberry. The sweetness exploded on his tongue, and he washed it down with his coffee, finally drinkable.

“Johnny’s in my gym class,” he said eventually. “I don’t want to go against him in track again.” He’d lost, and badly, and it was like all the individual failures of his sports ability had come together to snowball into one big neon sign, blinking failure at him.

“And you’ve got your front row seat to the Aleksi-Robin wars in lit,” Joonas said lightly. Niko shrugged like it didn’t matter. But he only had art class with Robin, and he seemed to outshine him. He wasn’t in Joel’s lost and bewildered shoes.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Joel grumbled. On the PA, Aleksi read out a notice about last night’s rain waterlogging the grass too badly for the evening’s football practice to go ahead. A couple of boos sounded out from the other side of the rejectory, and then Aleksi told them all that that was all. The trite jingle rang out, and then afterwards clanged the school bell. Nine AM, and class was beginning. Joel sighed.

Silence reigned for a few minutes. Joonas was staring out of the window, fiddling with the keyring on his rucksack, and Niko was still trying to skin the surface of the table. Joel sipped his coffee and ate the individual bits of his muffin before he decided that enough was enough and tipped the final remnants into his coffee dregs. He stole Tommi’s abandoned plastic spoon to mix the muffin and coffee into a sludgy mess, fighting the urge to yawn.

“What if we gave it a go?” Joonas said abruptly not long later.

Joel jumped, meeting Niko’s eye. He’d been enjoying the quiet. It felt like the calm before the storm of lit class, where he’d be doodling on his desk and staring glumly ahead as Robin and Aleksi snipped and sniped at each other in the bored tones of know-it-alls. “You what?” he grunted. Opposite him, Niko stopped his peeling.

Joonas gave the room a once over before leaning in, eyes feverish with something that looked horrible like gope. “Give Kaunisvesi a run for his money.”

Niko screwed his face up in confusion to match Joel’s. “You want to start a pirate radio station, even though Järvy’s got such a stick up his ass he’d suspend us on the spot for it?” Principal Järvinen had always been a hardass, like he would much rather run a military operation than a school, but since the amalgamation he’d become fanatical. Joel had spent the semester so far barely avoiding detention, if only to keep up the thinnest veneer of his mother’s hopes for him. Her hope was based on a foundation as fragile as the first hints of winter ice on a lake, and suspension would destroy her wistful thinking like a misplaced football. Joel really didn’t want to do that to her.

Joonas screwed his face up in thought for a few moments. “We can have nicknames and use a voice modulator or something,” he said. “And we can do it from my dad’s old warehouse, so we’re not disturbing our families or whatever.”

Niko caught Joel’s eye for the second time in fifteen minutes, cautious amusement on his face. Joel knew what he was thinking. This is a dumb idea. This is just a fantasy that Joonas will forget by lunchtime. It’s not going to happen.

Except Joel realised he did want it. Oulu High Radio had been a glittering, tantalising thing, even if it had always been empty, and Joel had wanted it, like he never usually wanted any such extracurricular activity. This could be real, and it would be fun, even if it didn’t last. “Let’s speak to Tommi and Olli about it before we do anything,” he said. “But we could give it a go.”

Traitor, Niko mouthed, but there was no heat to it. Joel shrugged. He wasn’t sorry.

Joonas kicked him under the table to get his attention and beamed. “It’ll be fine. It’ll be more than fine,” he said. “Everyone thinks Aleksi’s a twat anyway, so we’ll do so well!”

His enthusiasm proved to be infectious. Niko cracked a smile, and Joel found himself almost giddy at the prospect.

And, he reflected as Joonas changed the subject to the fact that his sister had detention for being caught with her boyfriend in a cleaning supplies closet by an unimpressed janitor, if it all goes to shit, at least it won’t be my fault.

#i speak!#wip #extract #blind channel fanfiction #fun fact! my college (uk college not uni) called the cafeteria the refectory #and one our first day the girl i sat next to in psychology named it the rejectory #there was also a seating area three times bigger next to the theatre called the spotlight. so of course we called it the spotshite

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