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thot-of-khonshu · 9 months

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pierced (dbf!joel miller x reader)

Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Commissions

Summary: When you come back to Austin after a year at school with fresh piercings, your dad's best friend Joel Miller can't help but notice. And the two of you can't help but give in to your built up tension.

Rating: M, 18+ (this is pretty much pwp)

Content: no outbreak timeline, the reader has a pierced tongue and pierced nipples, pwp, age gap (~20 years), dbf! joel, heavy flirtation, dirty talk, massaging, fingering, throat fucking, blowjobs, rough p in v sex, nipple play, missionary, doggy style, creampie

A/N: This is my very first commission coming in hot for @pedropascal-whore!!! Once again, I am now taking writing commissions!! If you would like some information on my commissions please click here for rules and here to order one! Like everyone with this economy, I've been struggling so if you're able to order or send me a ko-fi it would be greatly appreciated. Even if you aren't, I sincerely hope you enjoy this 💕

Je-sus Christ.

If Joel’s momma, rest her soul, could hear him now speaking the Lord’s name in vain she’d slap him upside his head until he quickly gained his manners back. He was also glad his momma wasn’t there to see what caused that name to curse through his lips.

You.

You. Walking into his backyard in that barely there bright yellow sundress for the annual summer barbecue that he held every year with your dad. As if this shit ain’t complicated already, you just had to be the daughter of one of his close friends. You and your dad had moved to Austin a few years back, right after you had turned 18. The way you two looked out for each other reminded him of how he and Sarah take care of each other. But now Sarah is all grown up and pursuing a career in Dallas.

And now you’re all grown up. And walking right towards him. Joel tries to keep his cool, flipping burgers on the grill while you come up to greet him with a hug.

“Howdy kiddo. Missed seein’ ya around.” Joel says over the grill.

“Hey! Have you been talking to my dad lately? I hear you’ve been asking about me since I came home for the summer.” You say to him and god damn, it’s like he gets better looking every time you see him. The gray t-shirt he’s wearing while he grills fills him out perfectly, stretching across his broad chest and clinging to his tight muscles.

“Well...yeah, I have actually, but it’s only…” Joel is flustered, it’s like you were reading his mind and trying to catch him in his own sinful thoughts about you.. “I mean…it’s because I care about ya and what’s been goin’ on in your life.”

“Not exactly much. School’s out and I’m back to annoy you all summer.” You lean over the counter near the grill and Joel is trying his hardest not to peer down your dress.

“I’d hardly call ya annoying.” Joel smirks at you and it’s like your insides have come undone. The sophisticated college girl facade you were coming to try and impress him with is peeling back.

“Those hamburgers look really tasty.” You try to give him a mature smile.

“Oh they’re gonna be. Been marinatin’ those juicy patties all morning and they’re gonna be so tender and tasty.” He winks at you. Fuck it you think. Why not just go for it? Have a little fun.

“I can’t wait to taste them. I’ve been so hungry for it all morning.” You bite your lip, staring into his eyes. You could’ve sworn he stopped for a moment in his tracks, eyeing the plumpness of your lips.

Joel hesitated for a second. Was this actually happening? Was he actually about to test the waters himself?

“I bet you’re anxious for it, kiddo.” Joel smiled at you, looking down at your lips and your chest and making sure not to be shy about it.

“You know I’m 20 now, Joel. You don’t have to keep calling me kiddo.” You say, tightening the grip of your arms under your chest.

“Yeah, I suppose I could get used to callin' you somethin' else. What'dya have in mind, sweetheart?”Joel asks, your smile widening when he says the last word.

“Well, how about that?” You whisper, not wanting your intimate moment in a backyard full of people to be interrupted.

“I like that.” Joel stops grilling for a moment, flipping his towel over his shoulder and leaning towards you. “Why, hello, sweetheart. What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ at a cookout like mine?”

“About to go for a swim, it’s crazy hot out today.” You want to say it’s not just the weather but you decide on playing it cool.

“Well, if you're gonna be swimmin', it'd be a shame if you got all that pretty hair wet.” Joel moves from the grill area to go up behind you, you feel your heart rate intensify. “Better tie that up. I'll help ya tie it up real nice and cute for ya.”

You nod in agreement and he you notice when he’s behind you how much he towers over you. He moves his arms across your shoulders, giving your hair a light tug as he pulls it into a bun.

“Such a gentleman.” You smile at him, he rubs your shoulders when he’s done, his large hands covering both of your shoulders and he turns you to face him.

“There ya go, sweetheart. All nice and cute for ya. No one’s gonna be able to keep their eyes off you, that’s for sure.” Joel’s smirk exposing a dimple.

Without a word, you put your bag on the table next to his that included your sunglasses and sunscreen. You take your items out, putting them on the table while you feel Joel’s eyes clinging to your back.

You put your sunglasses on and turn around, pretending to be aloof as you face towards the pool and strip off your barely there dress, exposing your matching yellow triangle bikini. You look towards him, still and looking at you with a dark look, and give him a saccharine sweet smile as you go into the pool for a dip.

You dove in and you had immediate salvation from the Texas heat but you were still feeling so hot.

—----------------------

When Joel was a teenager, he reran the scene of Phoebe Cates coming out of the water in Fast Times at Ridgemont high so many times, the tape broke in the VCR. An embarrassing story from his childhood but there’s still just something about a girl in a bikini that drives him wild.

So it’s no surprise when you come out of the water, water clinging onto your skin for dear life, he almost short circuits. He eyes your nipples, puckered from the cold chorine and water, but he also notices the outline of small bars around both areas.

Discovering you have your nipples pierced just might be better than any porno or VCR he could break. You saunter up to him, not even making an attempt to be coy about staring at each other anymore. He asks one of your neighbors, chatty and unassuming, to man the grill while he comes up to you.

He towers over you. A friendly look with a hint of darkness on his face.

“Now, sweetheart. You’re drippin’ all over the place. You’re gonna get water all over the concrete and the grass. I should’ve gotten you a towel so I could dry ya off.”

“You don’t like me all wet?” You bat your eyelashes up at him and he licks the bottom of his plush lip.

“I don’t mind it at all. I’m enjoyin’ this more than you know. But…why shouldn’t I be the one to dry you off? It’s only practical, isn’t it? Besides…I’m not gonna let anyone else here get the chance to see a girl as beautiful as you drippin’ wet.” Joel was all in, no more beating around the bush.

“Well, you’re the only one that gets to look at me all wet, Joel. Get me a towel and help me dry off?” You decided it’s your turn to stop beating around the bush too.

“Well…I’m gonna have to find a place all our own first. Don’t want any of these other people watchin’ us. Not with what I have in mind.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Lead the way.”

—----------------------------

The two of you found yourselves in an empty guest room, and you stood waiting for Joel to get out of the bathroom with a towel. He came out with two, one for you to sit on on the soft, plush bed and another one that he started to use, kneeling at your feet. He motioned for you to place your foot on his knee as he started to dry you off.

“So everybody’s been holding up okay while I’m gone?” You asked.

“Everyone’s doin’ good. Sarah’s still in Dallas workin’. I keep your daddy busy with the contracting jobs, but I still find the time to ask him every now and then about ya. He’s always got nice things to say. I guess that means you’re doin’ alright in college too?” Joel kneaded at your legs, looking up at you with his warm brown eyes.

“Yeah, everything’s fine at school. The typical college experience: Books, beer, boys.” He pats your leg to signal for you to alternate to the other.

“Oh, I'm sure you're popular with the guys over there. I bet all kindsa cute guys are just swarmin' around you, ain't they?” Joel asks.

You chuckle a bit, thinking about all the guys that have asked you out over the years. There were some you accepted, some you rejected. None of them even came close to being on Joel's level. “I guess...but nobody really has my attention. I'm just ready to get out of there and graduate y'know?”

Joel stood up, his large hands now massaging the towel around your waist. He motions for you to turn around as he starts to knead your lower back and move towards your ass.

“That feels nice.” You sigh.

“You like me putin’ my hands on you, sweetheart?” Joel whispers in your ear.

You nod as you look at the mirror in front of you, seeing him staring at your ass being rubbed down. You watch him watching you in the mirror. His hands move from your back to your hips and you feel him finger at the strings holding your bottoms up.

“I like everything about this right now.” You whimper. He notices you looking in the mirror and slowly, tantalizingly moves his large hands onto your chest, tracing his fingers over your pebbled nipples, tracing the silver pierced onto them.

“These are new.” He whispered into your ear, his large hands kneaded at your breasts. “They suit you. They’re sexy.”

He kneads at them and gives them a small tug, making you moan with pleasure. He rubs his erection into the curve of your ass, letting you feel him hard and wanting.

“You think so?” You grind yourself into him, moving your ass into his dick and moaning into his touch.

You watch him watch you, your body pressed into his as he grips your breasts and rubs his cock against your ass. You feel his breath on your neck and his breathes down your shoulder and neck, squeezing at your breasts.

“You’re a pretty girl, sweetheart. They just add to the effect.” He whispers to you.

You move one hand to the back of his neck, pressing him harder onto you and bring another to the strings of your bikini top. You're ready to untie them and let them fall to the floor and let Joel have your way with you.

“Sweetie!”

Fuck. Fuck. The fast way the both of you tear away from each other and jump to different sides of the room is impressive. You’d recognize your father’s voice anywhere. “Are you in here?”

“Sorry, daddy!” You say, feeling your voice going high but trying to sound as normal as possible. “I’m in here. Joel was just grabbing me a towel for the pool. I’ll be right back out.”

“Great. I want you two to meet Laurie.” He was chipper. All he wanted was his daughter and his best friend to meet his new girlfriend, completely unaware of what was about to happen.

You stood, shocked, trying to get your heartrate to go back to normal. Joel looked across the room at you apologetically and walked out, meeting your dad, closing the door and your moment. “Sorry for hidin’ her away, Jim. I’m just lettin’ her dry off in the a/c. You know how hot it gets on days like these, right?”

Your dad waved Joel off and told him that it was no big deal, and you could hear them as you quickly dry off and get back into the living room seeing your father, Laurie and Joel laughing.

You quickly slap on a fake smile too.

—--------------------------------

The rest of the barbecue went well without a hitch. You got to know your dad's new girlfriend who was a sweet, friendly woman. You were paraded around by your dad to the rest of your neighbors, talking about your college experience and your plans when you graduate. The only salvation you had during these talks were stolen glances from Joel.

You felt him watching you when he thought no one was looking. Watching the way you stood next to your dad and talked about the people around him with pride. He couldn't keep his eyes off you. It made you move with more confidence, knowing he was watching you and ready to get you alone again.

Towards the end of the night, your dad and Laurie told you they were going to get some drinks at a bar and you offered to help clean up.

“Jim, she is so sweet!” Laurie beamed. “You really don’t have to do this. We tried to get Joel to come out too but he said he had a headache and wanted to stay back and go to sleep.”

Your dad and Laurie hug you goodbye. “Try not to make too much noise and let him rest, okay?”

You see your dad and his new girlfriend off, doing the dishes in Joel's kitchen. You hear footsteps behind you and see Joel, leaning along the doorway.

“Hi there.” You smile, you see him observe you're still in your bikini.

“Hi. I bet you’re wondering why I declined the chance to spend a Friday night with your dad and Laurie out on the town, but well…I had some other plans.” He smirked.

“Helping me dry these dishes?” You hand him a towel, grinning at him. Joel takes the towel from you and positions himself next to you. The two of you do the dishes for a moment.

“Dad’s girlfriend seems really sweet.” You look up at him.

“She’s lovely. And you daddy seems happy with her. I mean, I never see him this happy. You know he also says you can come around any time ya want…or need. I told him you can come around as long as you want to stick around.” He winks at you.

“Is he trying to run me out of his house already or are you trying to get me in your bed?" You stick your tongue out at him and Joel is beside himself when he sees your tongue ring.

"Is that new, too?" Joel drops the towel, moving his hands towards your hips.

"I had it put in a couple of days ago. Do you like it?"

"Oh I love it." Joel looks at you and his eyes dart back and forth between your eyes and your tongue.

"Why, Joel, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were having some impure thoughts about me right now." You whisper to him, leaning into his touch.

"You don't wanna read my mind right now, sweetheart." Joel holds your face in his hands.

"Try me."

"Well..." He moves his hand to the back of your head and pulls you into him. "I was thinkin' about how it'd feel if your tongue was around my cock."

You're both in an empty house and he's still fucking with you. You knew what he meant, but you wanted to hear it from him. You wanted him to spell out for you the filthy, sinful, delicious things he had planned for you.

"Oh really?" You ask. "What if I want to taste your tongue too? Would you be down for that, Joel?"

You're all about fucking with him back. You see him smile a little bit, feeling proud that he made you blush. He's quick to change his tone though, his voice low and sultry.

"Maybe, but that ain't what you really want. You wanna feel me, sweetheart. You wanna feel my cock inside of you. I can tell that you're wantin' it. I can feel you soakin' through that tiny bikini you got on." He starts to move his hand towards your crotch, slowly inching it towards the thin material covering your clit. "See? All wet for me. Soaked right through this tiny thing."

He slowly rubs against the thin material, his fingertips teasing your clit and making you moan.

"Why don't you tell me what you want?" He whispers.

"I want you to make me feel good." You whimper as he starts rubbing more of you.

"Is that it, sweetheart? Is that all you want from me?" He asks, still teasing you.

"Please..." You try to move closer to him but he doesn't let you move.

"Tell me what you want from me. What you really want. I know you're wantin' it, baby. You're wantin' my cock. You're so fucking wet for me, sweetheart."

"Joel..." You start to say but he cuts you off. He lifts you onto the counter, leaning into you and pressing his lips to your neck.

"What is it, baby?" His fingers rub at you and you feel a soft moan escape your lips.

"I want your cock. Please fuck me." You whisper to him, his eyes opening wide at your sudden bluntness.

"Good girl." He bites his bottom lip as he takes a look down at you. You have a newfound confidence in you and he's sure that he's going to be feeling it later on. He presses his lips onto yours and kissing Joel is unlike kissing any other boy you've ever been with. He kisses you like he owns you, like he wants to devour you. You kiss him back, moving your tongue ring against his tongue as your tongue meets his.

He kisses you harder, pulling your hair back as he sucks on your bottom lip. He pulls away for a moment, looking at you, keeling down between your legs.

"Now I have something to take care of, don't I?" Joel looks up at you as you spread your legs without thinking. He palms your inner thighs and pushes your legs back.

Your eyes looking down to Joel as he places a kiss on the inside of your knee. He places more kisses, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your thigh, moving up and kissing the rest of your leg until he gets close to your core. He presses his lips to your mound, making you gasp and arching your back. He licks you through the thin material and you try to move your hand to push the material away from your aching pussy but Joel grabs your wrists.

He pushes your bikini bottom to the side and licks at you. Your hips buck and you cry out, throwing your head back and moaning.

"You taste even better than I ever imagined, sweetheart." His eyes are glued to your pussy as his tongue licks at you. You can hear the lewd noises of his mouth slurping on your clit. "So wet and soft and perfect for me."

Joel holds you in place, eating you out and enjoying every last bit of it. You move your hand to the back of his head, grinding into him and riding his face as you hear Joel moan.

"Fuck, Joel, I'm gonna cum-" Your voice cut short when he moves a thick finger into you.

His voice is low and dark, his eyes staring up at you. "Let go for me, sweetheart. Cum for me."

He looks up at you as he sucks on your clit while he moves his finger in and out of you. You feel your walls contracting around him and he pushes you to the brink of an orgasm, his eyes still staring up at you and your hand still clinging to the back of his head.

"Fuck." You cry out as you ride his face, your legs trembling. He brings you back down to earth as he kisses your inner thighs.

"That's it, sweetheart. That's my girl." His voice is low and dark. "So pretty when you cum."

Joel stands up, looking at you as you're still reeling from the orgasm he just gave you. You kiss him hard on the lips and wrap your legs around him, feeling the outline of his hard cock.

"Take me upstairs." You gasp. "Please fuck me."

He doesn't have to be asked twice, picking you up and moving up the stairs to his room.

When he opens the door, you kiss him, pressing him into the bed. You tug at his belt and move to pull down his pants as he kicks off his shoes. You look at him, a confident look on your face, as you kneel between his legs. You slowly palm the outline of his dick through his boxer briefs, moving your hand to his zipper, slowly pulling it down. He watches you, holding back a smile as you reach for the waistband of his underwear.

You pull them down, releasing his thick cock into the open air. It's everything you imagined it would be. Long, thick and heavy. You take him into your hand and move your hand slowly up and down. His cock jerks in your hand as he groans. You wrap your lips around the head, giving it a small suck, your tongue rubbing against the sensitive underside.

Joel gasps. "That's it, sweetheart." He reaches his hands to the back of your head, moving his hands to your head.

You take him deeper into your mouth, slowly sliding down onto him, until the head of his cock is pressed against your throat. You moan as you move up and down, hollowing out your cheeks as you suck him.

"Fuck." He whispers. "Your mouth is so perfect."

You stare up at him as he looks down at you, his mouth slightly agape. "That's it. Take it. You're takin' my cock so well. So good." He pets the back of your head. "You ready for me to fuck your mouth, baby?"

You whimper at him and nod. "Mmm-hmm." You try to say but all you can do is moan around his dick.

"That's it, sweetheart. Let me use your mouth." He pushes you down onto his cock and starts to thrust.

The sound of his hips slapping against your face is loud. He pushes your head down onto him, fucking your throat and moaning.

"Such a pretty little thing. Your mouth is so fuckin' perfect for me." He pushes his cock down your throat and you can taste the precum dripping from him. You gag as he fucks your face. "Fuckin' take it. You love this don't you?"

"I love it." You gasp when he pulls your head up.

"You love getting my cock?" He moans as he pulls himself out of your mouth.

"I do." You gasp, trying to get your breath back as you look up at him.

"Can I have that tight little pussy, sweetheart?" He whispers. You nod in agreement as he kisses you. You reach up, taking off your bikini top and throwing it to the ground. He presses you into the mattress as he looks at your body.

"So beautiful. All mine." He rubs his thumb across your nipple, pinching and pulling at your piercing, making you squirm under him. "You want my cock, baby?"

"I need it." You mewl.

He pulls back the material covering your pussy, taking your bikini bottoms off. You watch him as he rubs his cock, moving it against your slit and pushing it to your clit. He moves it back and forth, teasing you and getting you wet. He presses it to your entrance.

"Is this what you want, sweetheart?" He teases, pushing his cock in your folds. "You want me to fuck you?"

"I do." You mewl. He moves down, kissing your lips as he presses into you, inch by thick inch.

You feel his thickness inside you, stretching you and filling you up. You let out a moan as he moves his hips.

"You're so fucking tight, baby." He kisses you, moving his hands to your breasts. You arch your back, wrapping your legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts. You push yourself against him, your lips never leaving his as he starts to move faster, the sound of your bodies slapping together filling the room.

He lifts himself from you, his hands gripping your thighs and holding onto your ass, lifting your hips from the bed and slamming into you.

You moan, moving your hips and feeling yourself coming closer and closer to another orgasm. Joel slows down for a moment, pushing himself all the way in before pulling out.

"Turn over." He commands and you do as he says. He rubs your ass and smacks it as you look over your shoulder. He thrusts into you, slowly.

"Look how pretty you are, sweetheart." He growls. "How pretty your ass looks when I fuck you like this. You're mine now, ain't ya?"

"I'm yours." You whimper, his cock moving in and out of you. "I'm all yours."

"That's right, you are." He moves his hand to your hair, pulling on it and making you arch your back.

He smacks your ass and you whimper. "Please don't stop." You moan. "Please Joel."

His voice is low and deep as he moans. You feel his fingers on your clit, rubbing at you and making you shake. You're so close to coming again, your walls contracting around him.

He pushes deep into you and spanks you again. "You gonna cum for me again, sweetheart? Gonna cum all over my cock?"

"Yes. Oh fuck yes. Please." You beg him and he lets out a loud grunt, moving faster, his hips slapping against your ass. The only sounds filling the room is your skin slapping together. You arch onto him as you have your second orgasm on Joel's cock. Your walls clench around him and he lets out another groan.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're gonna make me cum." He grabs your hips and moves you back against him. "I'm gonna fill you up. You're gonna be dripping my cum."

You cry out, feeling his cock twitch and he starts to come inside you. He holds onto you tightly as he fucks his cock into you, filling you up with his hot cum. He stills for a moment, looking at you as you're shaking from another orgasm, your body twitching and writhing on the bed as he moves inside you.

"Fuck," He whispers, slowly pulling himself out of you. You lay down on the bed as he looks at you. He strokes your hair softly. "Sweetheart, are you okay?" He kisses your forehead.

You nod. "I'm more than okay." You reach for him and he kisses you softly, pulling himself close to you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you on the lips.

He lies back on the bed and you're lying against his chest. He kisses you, rubbing his hand through your hair. "You wore me out." He chuckles.

"So you wouldn't want to go another round?" You kiss his neck.

"I didn't say that." He smiles at you. "I think I can manage--"

"Joel?" You both completely still as you hear your dad's voice once again. "You left the door unlocked, man! Have you seen my kid?"

Joel looks at you, a panicked look on his face and you push your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. You look down, seeing his cock still half hard and still wet from the both of you.

He gets dressed quickly, motioning for you to be quiet and heads downstairs. You can't help but eavesdrop by the doorway, door shut where he can't see you but open enough where you can hear their conversation."

“Is she doing okay?”

“Yeah…I think she just got a little too much sun today out in the pool. She’s knocked out in Sarah’s old room.”

“She’s always had it a bit rough in the sun. If you could just give her a ride home in the morning, I’d appreciate it.”

“Not a problem, Jim.”

“Thanks for taking care of her.”

“It’s really no problem. Night Jim."

You scurry back to the bed as Joel comes back upstairs.

"So?" You ask him, a grin on your face.

"What's so funny, huh, sweetheart?" He asks, stripping off his clothes and climbing back into bed with you.

You crawl onto him, leaning onto his soft tummy and kissing his neck. "God, I am so glad he didn't come up here." You giggle and Joel pulls you down into the bed, rolling over and pinning you to the bed.

"You better be." He growls, biting your neck. "I'm intending to give you a nice, long ride home tomorrow morning."

You whimper. "I can't wait."

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noosayog · 3 months

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001 an innocent valentine ft. kita shinsuke

wc: 500

valentine's masterlist, regular masterlist

“Who do you think it’s for?”

“Definitely not Atsumu.”

“Hey! I’m a great catch, for your information-”

“Yeah, right.”

“Shh! They’re coming back!”

“Put it away-”

“Zip it up-”

“What do you think you’re all doing?”

The voice of the Inarizaki manager rings from above the second-year trio, Atsumu, Osamu, and Rintaro, caught red-handed rifling through your bag, a neatly wrapped box of chocolates pinched between their trespassing fingers.

“Nothing!” they all say at once, dropping the box and standing at attention.

You smack each of the three upside the head with the notebook you have in your hand. “Go back to practicing.”

“Awwww, c’mon manager. At least give us something. Who’re those for?” Atsumu asks.

You give him a look before fishing the box out of your bag and calling for Aran.

“Aran! Here!” you call, chucking the box at him. “Happy Valentine’s.”

Aran catches it easily, stuffing it in the pocket of his volleyball sweater. “Thank you.”

“It was for Aran-kun?!”

“Since when did you two start dating?”

“Did ya see the way he was so nonchalant about it?!”

“Big words for ya, ‘Tsumu.”

“Huh?! Ya picking a fight?!”

“Hey!” you yell. “Shut up and hold out your hands.”

They obediently stick their hands out. You drop 3 boxes, identical to the one thrown at Aran moments ago, into their waiting palms.

With one last smack to each of their shoulders, they scurry off back to their drills, satisfied now that they’ve each received their own little prizes. They make it back onto the court just in time for Kita to return from speaking to the club advisor.

–

“Hope they didn’t give ya too much trouble today.”

“Nah,” you say. “They’re troublesome and a bit stupid, but it’s alright.” You look up at your boyfriend, swinging your joined hands and appreciating his thumb rubbing calm patterns along your cold fingers.

“Yer hands are cold,” he says simply, stopping to wrap his scarf around your neck before joining your hands together again.

“Thanks,” you breathe, inhaling deeply.

The rest of the walk home flies by in comfortable silence, the hand held in his staying pleasantly warm even in the late-winter chill. At the entrance of your house, he lets go of your hands, smiling and nodding for you to go in. He stays to watch, making sure you’re in safely before leaving, as he does every day.

When you stare at him, he tilts his head. “What’s wrong?”

You laugh quietly. “You didn’t think I made chocolate for all those chuckleheads and not you, did you?”

He rubs the back of his neck, blushing lightly. “I was looking forward to it, " he admits sheepishly. “But I don’t mind if ya don’t have anything for me. Just being able to be with ya like this makes me plenty happy.”

You dig into your pockets to pull out a box just for him. It’s wrapped much more elaborately than the others are, with his name in curly, hand-written calligraphy. Instead of tossing it to him, as you did for the others, you hold the box out with two hands.

“Will you accept my chocolate, Shin?”

Kita smiles. The warmth rushes all the way through your body.

“Of course. I’d be happy to.”

He takes the box, undoing the ribbon and pops one into his mouth. “It’s good,” he says.

“I’m glad,” you respond. You reach up on your tiptoes to press a lingering kiss into his cheek.

“See you tomorrow, Shin.”

“Tomorrow,” he nods.

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grippingbeskar · 1 year

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coming home - simon ‘ghost’ riley

— simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

— warnings - adult content minors dni (18+) mxf, ghost has a filthy mouth, praise kink (?), pretty soft compared to all the ghost s*** out there tbh, slight description of injury and mentions of death. kinda sad ghost but he fucks it out :)

a/n: i have fallen down the ghost hole. just wanted some domestic shit, also the shower description is just something i want in my dream home so it’s self indulgent as fuck! hope you enjoy. xx (also shout-out to @dinahmadanimybeloved for the lil nudge in the right direction!! i appreciate u. xx)

He’s quiet, and that’s how you know somethings off. Most people think it’s just the way he is, being able to count on one hand the amount of words he’s spoken to them over the years. Ghost doesn’t talk unless he has to, or unless he gives enough of a fuck about whoever’s talking to him, which is rare these days. He could go hours without talking when he was away, a fact that always broke your heart a little.

The truth is, you can never get him to shut up. When he’s home, he’ll talk your ear off about anything. The dog he ran past that morning, the way you should organise your socks, how good you looked wearing his shirt. He was talkative, which is how you knew that something was wrong when he came home this time.

Being the biggest guy you knew, it amazed you how he could walk with such stealth. Even the floorboards seemed scared to creak under his frame as he came through the door. You shot up, nearly flying over the back of the couch. He wasn’t due home for another two weeks— you knew because you were supposed to pick him up from the airport. He was home early, and of course you were ecstatic, but then you saw his face, still covered in that bone white mask, and you knew it wasn’t all good news.

“Simon.” You whisper as you walk towards him. He’d closed the door behind him, locking it, but hadn’t moved from there. Usually you were both bursting with energy when he came home, excitement and adrenaline pumping through your bodies at the long awaited reunion. He was looking down at you, and when you finally stood close enough, one of his hands came up, gingerly cupping your face. “You’re home!”

“Hey, baby.” He says slowly, eyes holding yours. The hand he had behind his back touched your side, and you looked down, seeing about a dozen roses in a bouquet, stalks fisted in his gloved hand. “Got ‘em for you.”

“They’re gorgeous. Here—“ You take them, letting the sweet smell fill your senses and move quickly to put them in a vase on the counter— a spot reserved for whenever Simon brought you flowers. It seemed to be a constant thing, and it never failed to have you feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. “I love them. Thank-you.”

“‘Course.” The tone of his voice only confirms your suspicions about something being off, and it has your heart dropping through the floor.

“You should of told me you were coming home. I would of come picked you up!” You smile up at him, trying to gage where his mood is.

“Finished early. Thought I’d surprise you.” His hands come back to your face, holding your head up at the perfect angle. There was a significant height difference between you, so you were in a constant state of looking up at him.

“Did everything go… good?” You ask tentatively. He’d told you some of the things he’s done over there with the 141, but you always try not to pry. You know it’s brutal, and he sees the worst of the world, so when he trusts you with something, you take it to the grave. When he doesn’t, you don’t ask.

“No. Nothing did.” He says, still holding your face up to his. You bend up on your toes, pressing a soft kiss to the nose of his mask. “I just needed to see you.”

“I’m glad you’re home.” Your arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer. You press your face into his chest, sinking into the feeling of him being home. After so long, it never gets any easier. Watching him leave, never really knowing when he’d be back. If he was safe. “You want something to eat? I can make dinner.”

He shakes his head, gently pulling your face back from his chest. When your hands snake up his front, he just watches you. He hadn’t even changed out of his clothes— still had that black paint smudged across his eyes. He must of gotten straight on a plane after whatever he was doing had come to an abrupt end. Your fingertips brush his jaw, the bottom of his mask, and when you go to pull it up over his mouth and nose, he doesn’t stop you.

“Can I take it off?” You check, feeling how stiff he is under your hands. He nods once, and tilts his head, allowing you to pull it all the way off. “There you are.”

“I missed you.” He says simply, but the words pack such a punch when he looks like this. To an outsider he’s hard at nails, sharp and pointy and dangerous to get close to, but you see him under the paint and the body armour. “Missed you so fucking bad, baby.”

“Prove it.” You see a flash of his teeth, just the smallest hint of a smile, and your stomach does a backflip because it feels like a win. Then, he leans in, kissing you softly, with the care he would hold broken glass— hands guiding you forward and up, thumbs tracing gently along your cheek bones.

You sigh, nearly melting into his body. Your hands wrap around his neck, toying with the short hair that he’d cut while he was away. You always have to fix it for him when he comes home— he just hacks away at any hair hanging out of his mask, mostly getting frustrated and buzzing it off until he can get you to cut it again. When your fingertips scrape lightly along his skull, he groans into your mouth.

“Fuck.” He mutters as you catch his bottom lip between your teeth, careful to only apply a little bit of pressure. You were sure he was covered in enough painful marks as it was— you didn’t want to add to it. He leans down further, chasing your mouth, foreheads pressing together.

“You wanna talk about it?” He shakes his head then dips down, kissing your jaw, nose nudging you to the side to get better access to your neck. Your breathe hitches and you sigh his name, him smiling in response against your skin. You can feel the black smudge of his face paint slowly covering your own, like a trail of all the places he’s touched you.

“I only wanna hear you sayin’ my name like that. Don’t want to think about—“ You say his name again, drowning out the thoughts of whatever happened over there. That wasn’t now— he was here, and safe, and if he needed to be distracted, that’s exactly what you would give him.

“Need you to wash this paint off first.” You murmur, your voice a little lower than normal, making him almost shudder. You drop your hands from his neck, letting them fall slowly between your bodies before you loop your fingers in his belt buckle, walking backwards. “You’ll get me all dirty.”

“I would’a thought you’d like that.” He grabs a handful of your ass, nearly making you trip over as you step back, but he catches you easily and picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. He presses his paint covered face to yours, kissing your nose and face wherever he can reach, and you can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous you must look now, covered in smears of black.

“I do. Just want an excuse to see you naked.” You taunt in his ear as he finally reaches the shower and flicks it on, still fully clothed. “You buzzed your hair again.”

“You know I can’t do it right without you.” He puts you down, quickly ripping off his own shirt before reaching for the hem of yours.

He’s slower with it, the fabric brushing against your sides, giving you goosebumps. It doesn’t matter how many times you take your shirt off in front of him, he always looks just as dazed as he did the first time, and you always get just as nervous.

“You’re so fucking perfect, baby. Come ‘ere.”

He pulls you fully under the stream of the shower. It’s one of your favourite places in your shared house— a giant shower head that let the water fall as fine as rain, with enough space for his giant body not to have to bend at awkward angles to wash his hair (when he had some). It was also well big enough for the both of you, a feature you both utilised every morning and night you spent together.

He works at your shorts next, easily slipping you out of the now wet cotton, leaving you just in a set of underwear. They weren’t particularly cute— like you said, you would normally dress up for him to come home, but he wasn’t due for two weeks. Simon didn’t seem to mind, hands running wildly over your body, eyes on fire. You were starting to see him clearer now, the paint running off his face and down his bare chest in shadowed droplets.

“God, Simon…” You lean back just an inch, seeing the new marks on his chest and shoulder. A new bullet wound in the right arm. A gash that extends all the way up his left side. It still looked like it was healing— the stitches must of only come out a few days ago.

“I’m okay.” He says, kissing your collarbone.

“I don’t like when you get hurt.” You whimper, feeling his strong hands grab your hips, pushing your underwear down. “Are you sure—“

“Let me take your mind off it.” He leans down further, kissing your chest, and then drops completely, landing on his knees in front of you. He was so tall that he still needed to bend lower to kiss his way down, feeling his lips press softly on your hip bones, then your stomach. “Look at you. Such a pretty girl.”

He taps your inner thigh with two fingers, a silent command. You follow, spreading your legs slightly. He’s not satisfied, hooking one leg over his shoulder while the other is pinned between him and the wall. At this point you weren’t even holding yourself up— the display of brute strength making your head feel fuzzy.

“Dreamt about this.” He kisses closer, skin that hasn’t been touched in weeks nearly sparking under his manipulation. “Out on base. Couldn’t keep this pussy out of my head.”

“Simon, please.” You beg shamelessly. You have no pride when it comes to him, not when he’s holding you like this, reducing you to putty in his hands before he’s even really touched you.

“Never leaving this house again.” His words nearly get lost between your thighs. You arch your back to encourage him, but he holds you flat. “Gonna keep you here forever. Right here, just like this.”

“Simon.”

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you? You’d say my name all pretty like that and let me do whatever I wanted.” You were nodding furiously, hands finding little purchase in his short hair but it was all you could do to get him closer— “Want you to ride my face. Give me everything you’ve got.”

“Okay, please… please just—“

“What, baby?”

“Fucking touch me, Simon. Please.” You know he doesn’t respond to bad manners, so you throw as many around as you can. He smiles between your legs, kissing your thigh once more before you lose sight of his now clean face, burying himself in your pussy. “Fuck!”

He’s no stranger to eating you out— he always tells you how much he loves it, like it’s a reward for him. He always makes you see stars, too, but right now, the way he’s practically taking you apart from the middle out, it wasn’t like anything you’ve felt before. He keeps one hand on your hip, pinning you under him, the other slipping a finger inside of you, working in perfect tandem with his mouth.

You can’t decide what it is, but fuck— maybe it’s the water, how soft it falls on the both of you, combined with the overwhelming feeling of having Simon back early and safe— it was having a physical affect on you. Weak knees that were taking none of your weight in them, choked gasps of his name— your eyes roll back in your head before long, hips bucking wildly against his hold as your whole body shudders with pleasure.

“God— so fucking good for me, princess.” He says, taking a second to pull back and admire how strung out you look before diving back into you. His gaze never leaves you then, watching as your face contorts with every glide of his tongue over your clit, or how every time he moves his hand just right your whole body jolts. He seeks it out again and again, and you can feel him smiling underneath you, watching you writhe as liquid heat spreads all the way through your veins, carrying pleasure to every nerve ending you had.

It was an entire body experience, and you couldn’t even keep your eyes open anymore. You let him get rougher, at some point hooking your other leg over his shoulder, so you were completely suspended in the air. Your thighs clamped around his head, trapping him in position as you neared your high, and Simon only gripped you tighter, his hands kneading the flesh of your ass. He held you hard, in a way that you knew would leave the good kind of bruise, and the image only sky rocketed your state.

“Don’t stop, Si. Fuck— you’re so good, so fucking good, I… ah—“ You cut yourself off when he groans— really groans into you, and you feel him switch gears at the praise. He must like hearing it, how good he is at this. How good he makes you feel. While you still have the ability to talk, you keep going— anything to get him not to stop. “You feel so good, Simon. Gonna make me c— oh fuck, right there.”

You feel the stretch of two of his thick fingers, easing you open, and you know it’s out of your control. There’s an electric feeling in your stomach you don’t recognise, bordering on too much of a good thing. You almost don’t want to fall into it, but Simon, with his talented hands and mouth that’s never satiated, you wouldn’t get much of a choice. Your brain couldn’t move your legs anymore, only able to blank out and take it— take all of what Simon was so desperate to give you, and who were you not to indulge your man?

“C’mon, princess. Let me see you… just let go. Want it so bad, pretty girl.” The pet names, his tongue lapping at your sensitive nerves, his fingers curling inside of you— there was no way to avoid the plummet into overwhelming pleasure, Simons hands being the only thing holding you to the real world.

You cum with a choke of his name, and a string of indiscernible words babble out of your mouth. You hear Simon saying something, but it sounds so far off, your only focus on that feeling. He doesn’t stop, still buried inside of you as close as he can, and he doesn’t let up until your physically clawing at him, flinching away from the lap of his tongue.

You feel wrung out— like you’d just been suffocated and were slowly coming back to consciousness. It was possible you really did pass out, if you were honest. Simon was still holding you up easily, hands now holding your thighs to his shoulders, eyes wide and staring at you in fascination.

“Holy fuck, baby. That was fucking… you are so hot.” Out of breath and energy you manage to burst out laughing at his compliment, feeling yourself slowly sliding down the wall of the shower. Everything felt like jelly, but as Simon bent down to kiss you, your hand brushed against his boxers, and you tugged at them. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you now, baby?”

“Mmm.” You hum, body still twitching from the aftershocks of the biggest orgasm of your life. You tug harder at the seam of his boxers, and he kisses your forehead.

“Shh. Take a minute.” Your eyebrows furrow together, feeling a little juvenile in your fuzzy state.

“Please, Si. I’ve waited so long for this. Please, just…” You slip the fabric over his cock, already hard and waiting, and duck your hand under to stroke him gently. He swears, shuddering under your soft touch. “Don’t make me wait.”

“Turn around, princess.” He breathes, and you smile victoriously, getting another laugh out of him. “Fuckin’ insatiable.”

“Only for you.” He helps you get onto all fours, rough palms of his hands smoothing over your ass and lower back.

“Mhmm. Mine, aren’t you?” You nod, feeling him lean down to kiss your shoulder blades before you feel his cock, sliding between your legs and settling at your entrance. He gives you a second or two— it always takes you a while to adjust to the pure size of him when he gets home. You’d never say it, but you hope you never get used to it. A bit of pain with the pleasure he rings from you seems a fair trade for all the dirty things he says when he finally enters you.

You push back against him, making him hiss as a little more of his length disappears into you. He lightly smacks your ass just once and you arch into the touch. He’s never been one to throw you around, not wanting to even think about the possibility of hurting the one good thing he has in this life— but he can’t help but be memorised by the way you react when he treats you a little tougher. He does it again, and hearing your moan is apparently the last thing he needs to bottom out behind you.

You both sigh— finally feeling each other this way. There was something to be said about the first fuck when he came home. It was so much more than that. It was like something from a movie, how they called it making ‘love’. You’d always thought it one and the same— until you met Simon. He starts slow, purposeful as he drove his hips back and forth in a pace that had you feeling dizzy after just a few thrusts. He was so strong without even knowing, you had to smack your hand to the wall to keep from sliding away every-time his hips collided with yours. He hit spots inside of you you never knew you had until you met him, and it was borderline embarrassing how quickly you felt that ball of pleasure in your stomach tighten— preparing for release.

“So tight. Always t-take me so fuckin’ good. Jesus Christ.” Hearing Simon Riley stumble over his words was the ego boost of the century.

“Just like that, Si. Fuck.” You feel one of his hands sliding up higher, touching any part of you he could reach— hands brushing over your side, your tits, reaching up to tangle in your hair. When he pulls slightly it has you squeezing your eyes shut, the combination of his touch all over you making you dizzy.

He starts to come back to himself, talking constantly as he drives his hips harder and faster. Constant praises come out in a low, raspy voice, only interrupted by you chorusing them back to him. It had always been like this with him, the filter between his brain and mouth broken as soon as he got inside you, leading to a string of compliments too dirty to repeat anywhere else— but it was the hottest fucking thing in the world to you.

“C-can’t last much longer, princess. S’feels too good.” He slurs, and you look over your shoulder. His shoulders are completely relaxed, jaw slack and eyes half open, and there’s none of that stiffness from before when he came home. Now, he was in his element, not thinking about whatever went wrong on the outside— he was just here with you.

“Fuck, gonna cum, Simon— just a little m-fuck.” You didn’t have to tell him, he knows your body better than you do, and when his hand slips under your hips so that he can circle your clit in soft, quick movements, your arms drop out from under you as pleasure overwhelms you. This time, you’re pretty sure you do pass out, the only thing you can hold onto in that in-between is Simons voice.

“There it is. Fuck—yes… yes. Fuck!” He swears the whole way through as he cums, and you feel him pull out at the last second, warmth spreading over your ass and lower back. You try to pick yourself up, giving him a pretty picture, but your body is so weak that you just stay right where he puts you. His free hand grips your waist, keeping the backs of your thighs pressed to the front of his.

The water was still running a warm stream over the both of you, and when Simon’s orgasm wrings out the last few jolts of pleasure, he’s just as fucked out as you are. All but collapsing over the top of you, he keeps himself up with one arm, the other wrapping underneath both your bodies. He kisses along the back of your shoulder blades, murmuring praise into your skin.

“Baby… baby. Missed you.” He repeats, and you turn your head, finding the strength to hold yourself up a little to kiss him. Once he knows your starting to come back, he switches positions, using the arm underneath you to hold you to him as he leans himself against the wall of the shower, your back tucked to his chest.

“Missed you more.” You look up, finding him staring down at you. He smiles then, and your still a little dazed but he just looks so good when he smiles— “I love you.”

“I love you.” He repeats.

It might just be the heat of what you just did mixed with the warm stream of water above you, but you swear he blushes. No matter how many times you say it to each other, he still reacts like that. You both sit in silence for a little, your body now tired and slumping against him, held up by his arms wrapped around your middle, holding you tightly.

“You scared me a little, when you came home.” You say softly, your hands tracing along his forearm. “I never know how to make it all okay— I can’t make it okay.”

“You just gotta be here. That’s all I need.” His head dips to lean down, leaning on your shoulder.

“I will be. Always.” You say, never meaning anything more. It’s been years of you knowing Simon, just a little less than that being his, but you know this is it for you. Even when you first met him, you knew you’d always be there when he came home— waiting for him.

“We… we lost some good people this time. Just makes me think.” He hugs you closer, feeling his hands splay out in your sides. “This guy got caught in the crossfire, I don’t know what happened, but I watched them tell his girlfriend. She just lost it.”

You swallow hard, hearing his voice crack.

“The boys said they found her photo in his wallet. A ring, too. Was gonna propose.”

“Jesus.” He nods, head still firmly tucked into the crook of your neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“I had to get out, come home for a bit after this one. I don’t want… there’s so much stuff I need to do, stuff I want to tell you about, and if I didn’t make it back—“

“Don’t think like that. You’ll always come home. You promised me you would.” Your throat tightens, trying your best not to cry at a time like this. You couldn’t help it when he spoke like that.

“I know, baby. I just mean…” He takes in a long breath, then looks up, tilting your head so he could look you in the eye. “I don’t wanna leave here without you knowing how much I— that I…”

“I know.” You let your fingertips drag softly along his jaw, but he shakes his head.

“No, I… fuck— I’m sorry.” You sit up, a little worried about where this is going. His hands leave your waist, holding your face in the same gentle way he did when he came home. “It just… you deserve so much, and I want to give it to you. The whole flight over— longer than that, I’ve been thinking about asking you something. I just don’t know how.”

“You can ask me anything.” Kneeling between his legs, your hands press to his chest, feeling the racing of his heart. You lean forward, kissing him, telling him all the words you can’t fit into the moment. Whatever he takes from it seems to be enough— because as well as he knew you, you knew him too. He pulls away, and when he does, you don’t see any traces of the man people seem to fear, or hate.

You just see him.

You nearly hold your breath in anticipation, watching as his eyes flit between your mouth and your eyes.

“Simon.” You say again, and his eyes flutter closed. Then he pulls you forward, and utters two words that shift your entire world on its axis.

“Marry me.”

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #ghost mw2 #mw2 fic #cod fic #call of duty fanfic

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sturniozo · 3 months

Text

Our Lips Are Sealed I

masterlist

For as long as I can remember, my older brother Nate has been best friends with the Sturniolo triplets that live down the street from us.

I was always a little jealous of the triplets. They’re so outgoing and have loving parents and just seem to happy all the time. Things are different with me and Nate.

While Nate and I are siblings, it’s only half-siblings. We have different fathers, and we live with our mother. Every other weekend I go see my father, but Nate’s old enough to decide he didn’t want to go visit his dad anymore.

I don’t blame him. I’m going to do the same thing next year, when I’m able to. What can I say, our mother has a type. Douchebags that don’t care about anyone but themselves.

I don’t need a father anyways, I have Nate, my big brother. He’s better than anything I could ask for. He’s always been there for me, always looked out for me, always cheered me on.

Of course, he’s my brother and we argue. A lot. Lately about his friends, the Sturniolo triplets. Nate has noticed how I feel about Chris, and warned me against it. But what can I do about it, Chris is over all the time.

I pack my clothes into my bag. Today’s Sunday so I’m going back to my moms after spending the weekend with my father. The weekend was as it usually is. I was locked away in my room while my dad was out doing whatever. He didn’t trust me to be in the house myself. He thinks I might break something.

I’m glad to be going back home. My mother might have the worst taste in men but she’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever known. She takes care of my brother and me all on her own.

I shut off the light to my room and walk downstairs, bag in arm. “Come on, i don’t have all day. There’s a game in tonight, I want to get back before it starts.” My dad says.

“I’m coming.” I mumble as I walk down the stairs. This will be the last time I’m here. I turn 18 next week, then I’ll be old enough to decide whether or not I come here, just like Nate.

My dad ushers me out the front door, and I walk to his truck in the drive way. I get in the back seat, since his passenger seat is covered in trash from take out.

My dad gents into the truck, pushing some trash to the side. He mumbles to himself “mother can’t even get her own kid.”

I just roll my eyes and lean back in the seat. My phone buzzes with a text from my brother.

Nate 💩 :

You on your way home?

I smile at the text and send a reply.

Me :

Yeah, I’ll be there soon

Nate 💩:

Good moms making supper she wanted to know if you’ll be here

Me:

I’ll be home in 20

I shut my phone off and stare out the window as we back out of the driveway. It’s a silent drive, if you don’t include my dad bitching about my mom.

I don’t understand how someone could talk so crudely about someone so sweet. I ignore his voice and just stare out the window during the drive home.

My dad pulls into the driveway of my home. I quickly get out of the truck and run to the door, only waving goodbye. He pulls out of the driveway as soon as I have the back side door closed.

I set my bag down on the couch and walk into the kitchen where Nate sits at the island counter on his phone while our mother cooks. My mom looks up and smiles “Sweetie! You’re home!” She says.

I smile back at her. Nate turns around and sees me. “You look like you need a shower.” He says

I stick my tongue out at him and he just smiles at me. “I do, I’m scared of dad’s shower.”

“What’s wrong with his shower?” Mom asks.

“I think it’s infested.” I reply.

“Infested? With what?” Mom laughs as she cuts vegetables.

“Cockroaches, ants, centipedes.” I shiver.

“Oh, you’re just being dramatic.” My mom says.

“I’m serious, it’s disgusting. And his shower is yellow, too. Like stained yellow.”

My mom rolls her eyes and sighs. “Go shower, be down for supper.” She says with a slight smile.

I run up the stairs to my bedroom to grab some clothes and take a quick shower. After I run back downstairs and to the kitchen. I sit down next to Nate at the island counter.

I peak over his shoulder and see a message with my name, and see him texting Chris. I blush slightly and bite my lip as I try to read his messages, only for Nate to catch me.

“Hey!” He says as he turns his phone to the side so I can’t see.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” I say as I hold my hands up in surrender.

“You were snooping on me!”

“I was not!” I lie blatantly.

“Mom, she’s snooping on me!” Nate tells mom.

“Snitch!” I yell back at him.

“Will you two get along?” Mom says to us.

“When she stops looking over my shoulder and reading my texts, yeah.” Nate mumbles.

“Y/n respect his privacy.” Mom says.

“He’s talking about me, I saw my name in one of the messages!” I say back.

“Don’t talk about your sister behind her back, Nathan.” Mom says sternly.

“Chris just wanted to know when the camping trip for Y/n’s birthday was.” Nate says.

I blush slightly. “Why does he want to know that?” I ask.

“Because him and Nick and Matt are coming, dumbass.” Nate reply’s.

“Watch your mouth.” Our mom says.

My blush gets deeper. “Chris is coming on the camping trip?”

“Yeah, mom said they could yesterday.”

“They’ve never come before.”

“Chris asked me about it.” Nate shrugs.

I look down, trying to hide my blushing face. Chris wanted to come to my birthday?

TAGS: @urfavpouge @savageking3 @tastesousweet @jko3005 @sturniolo0ntop @dwalk41202 @stvrnise @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer @meg-sturniolo @sturnioloenthusiast

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hollyhomburg · 3 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.66)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

Tags: Blood, Guns, violence, near death experiences, everyone lives nobody dies...but someone does die this chapter, horror, non-lethal injury, talks of death and dying, a bit of body horror, Trans! tae, Tae is briefly dead named in this, implied/referenced intimate partner violence, flashbacks, brief suicidality.

W/c: 8.3k

A/N: ahhhhhh <3 we're finally ready for this part of the story <3 i wonder what your guys reactions will be, i'm really glad i decided to split this chapter into two peices! it's much cleaner this way. don't be 🥲 too mad at me.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

(Four years prior, Hoseok)

Today is the day that Hoseok will meet his future pack, he just doesn’t know it yet.

It always feels like a bit of betrayal but the worst and best days of your life often come close together. Maybe just for contrast. A bit of good in the bad. A slice of cake in a feast of raw meat.

This starts as just another bad day in a long stretch of shitty days. The kind of days were anxiety bubbles up and how afraid you are is all you can think about. Taking one breath and then another like just staying alive means you're guaranteed to get better.

The only place to go from rock bottom is up, and hoseok's sneakers are firmly on the concrete, standing outside of the record store in the rain with no place to go.

Hoseok has been afraid for a long time. He can't really remember even if he thinks hard, the last morning he woke up not afraid.

What hoseok really needs is a day off, but he really can't fucking afford it. He can't afford anything- certainly not a one-bedroom apartment on his own. If he's really really lucky maybe he'll be able to find a closet room somewhere that will cost almost his whole paycheck. Because after today-

After today, Jung Hoseok will be homeless, packless, and alone. His pack dropped the news on him last night…or well ex-pack.

He doesn’t expect that he’ll be moving into the pack's house on this rainy day, he doesn't expect that by the end of the week, he won't be worrying about where his next meal will come from because Jin will be there with it ready. Jimin sometimes too.

He won't be worrying about where he'll sleep because the bed in their spare room that smells like tae tae tae will be his. He'll roll around in it when the door is closed, shy about it because Hoseok has never liked other alpha's scents so much before. And when he comes home and Jungkook has made a nest in it, it will feel like a bit of an impossible silver lining, a bit too much- to have an omega making him a nest, making something special just for him

It takes three weeks for Namjoon to make him a house key for himself. After he gets left outside in a very similar storm to this. The doctor will touch his cheek, thumbing at the dimples that they share. how special is it that each smile gets cradled like a crescent moon? the heavens have left imprints on both of their skin. Freckles for stars and dimples for moon's.

"I don't want you to get sick pup."

"People don't get sick from wet heads anymore hyung."

"They don't. But I want to keep you dry and comfortable in my den. i know you still want to look for apartments but...what if you didn't?"

But neither the weather nor Hoseok knows to prepare for good news. Right now the heavens open up and release its deluge, thick rain the way that only happens at the start of summer. Worms and other wriggly things crawl their way out of their holes to find a good spot to die next to Hoseok's shoes. Worn fancy sneakers that his pack-omega had gotten him a few months ago for their anniversary. They're the nicest thing he's ever owned.

His ex-pack omega.

It's hard to rewire your brain, especially for alpha's. Hoseok is a lone wolf. He hasn't been without a pack in so long, it feels weird to not have someone to call, someone he needs to trail after and cling to. He checks his phone but he doesn't have a single notification from them.

He doesn't have a single notification from anyone.

Hoseok is glad he doesn't feel his instincts as keenly as other alphas do. Otherwise, he might be inclined to gnash his teeth at the people who pass by him on their way to work, umbrellas almost bumping him, perceiving even closeness as a threat. So vulnerable without a pack (lone alphas are always the first to starve in winter).

Hoseok shivers even though its summer, he's soaked to the bone after a few minutes.

He has a key to the record store. He could go inside. Granted- he should be inside already. Opening up shop, making coffee, and letting the place warm up. But standing out in the rain feels too much like penance.

Hoseok likes the rain. The smell of it. The way it makes the whole world ache and go still. He feels every drop on his dark hair, soaking through his thin hoodie. It's cleansing almost, letting the rain soak him through.

(The end of relationships is always hard, let alone the end of abusive relationships, they’re downright terrible).

Hoseok keeps replaying their words in his head, with every slosh of a nearby car, every honk of a taxi. The stoplight red and green bleeding onto the wet concrete. Yellow flashing in contrast with hoseok's dark memories.

“You’re welcome to stay here until the lease runs out, but the four of us need to move back home. You understand Hobi don’t you? We’re just omega’s- we’re just girls- and we think this could be a clean break for all of us. We just don't want to lead you on any longer.”

The worst part is that Hobi had sort of known, had sort of already realized what was happening. he’d seen it in their looks; distant and despondent. Their touches that did not linger longer than necessary, cheeks turned as he comes in for a kiss. The phone calls hushed in the other room that cut off abruptly when he entered.

The lease on their apartment ends today. The place has already been professionally deep cleaned and Hoseok's things are packed in his car in plastic bins. He has 6 of them to his name.

He doesn’t have a place to go yet, he might just sneak into the back room at the record store and sleep there until he figures something out. Hoseok drove to work early because he didn't have another place to go.

This version of Hoseok is not the one you know, this version of Hobi is 23 and hopeless, can’t think about moving back in with his parents a city away, with nothing but a rusted-out Corolla that barely gets him to work let alone through the 200-mile trip. It will die on him in about 6 months and Namjoon will be thankful that Hoseok no longer is driving around in a deathtrap.

He hadn’t even gotten this job by himself, his pack omega- his ex-girlfriend had gotten him this job almost 4 months ago after his last one didn’t pan out. Temporary work for temporary people.

Nothing feels like his. Not his body and certainly not this job.

Hoseok hasn’t smoked in months, but something that feels an awful lot like self-disgust worms under his skin and he can’t resist. Not today of all days. Smoking is something that he doesn’t indulge in often, and hasn’t indulged in since… becoming an alpha to someone. But he guesses it doesn’t matter now without anyone to complain that they don’t like the smell.

The cigarette mixes with the smell of petrichor and Hoseok’s own acidic scent. The smell of a terrified alpha draws him more than a few looks but he pays them no mind. He's thankful for his soaking face, at least the rain keeps out the tears. Cool and soothing against his face.

Hoseok just wants- Hoseok just wants to call them. To talk to someone.

Ending relationships is always like this. You want to keep being good, keep being what they want, but that’s impossible. You can’t act or behave right and dupe someone into loving you. Sometimes the love just isn’t there. (A smaller shyer voice says it was never love at all, you can't possess love, only be given it and Hoseok feels like a cast aside possession. Love and abuse cannot coexist).

Hoseok should have known. He keeps replaying the moments in his head. He’d seen them exchanging knowing looks when they thought he wasn’t looking.He thought he was just being paranoid, until yesterday morning when they’d taken him aside.

“You knew this had to end one day Hoseok" "You knew one day we'd move on." "As much as we appreciate what you’ve done for us, we think it’s time for us to move on.”

“What do you mean? I thought we were leaving next week, you really left me with only a day to find a place to go?”

“We’re sorry Hoseok, your last rut was just too much to deal with. We think it's best if we just stay on our own. It's a clean break this way.”

"Wait, please- I love you."

"We know. We're sorry."

Hoseok is too much for anyone to deal with. He doesn’t call his friends (he hasn’t met up with any of them or returned their texts in months thanks to several pointed words from his pack omega). He doesn’t go inside yet because he deserves the rain. He sits out front of the record store, smoking a cigarette that will probably end up killing him down the line, and thinks Good.

He tells himself the irritation in his eyes is just because of the cigarette smoke blowing in his face, even though he knows it's not. He's not even inhaling right because his breaths come all hitched and pathetic. Anyone would be sad if their relationship of several years had ended. Anyone would be devastated.

Hoseok checks his phone again. Nothing.

Most people on the crowded street ignore him. Though the thick throng of people going about their business, probably going to work at their 9 to 5 jobs that pay enough to afford apartments and packmates. Hoseok is the one soul that stands stationary.

Until one, someone a few feet back stops, tipping their face through their hood to look at him. The only other person without an umbrella.

Hoseok knows his face and his name. It’s just Min Yoongi- his coworker and sort of friend who's coming in for his shift. Hoseok doesn't love Yoongi yet but they're sort of friends already. They might be better friends if Hoseok could get over his admiration and jealousy.

Yoongi has this way of quietly taking care of the people around him. He picks up Hoseok's jacket when it slides off the hook at work, asks him if he wants coffee and even pays for it when he goes to the coffee shop next door. He compliments Hoseok's music tastes when it's his turn to play something, he gives Hoseok the aux frequently in a way that feels a little bit like flirting.

The only two good things about Hoseok's job are the music and Min Yoongi.

He even laughs at Hoseok's shitty jokes when they're stacking new inventory saying cryptic things like "they can't be worse than my omega's jokes."

That's why Hoseok's jealous. Yoongi gets packmates, five of them who make him lunch even when he's only got a four-hour shift. that often linger outside to walk him home or pick him up in their shiney not new not old cars.

(Yoongi's packmates certainly have better things to do than send Yoongi to work with a second packed lunch. "Jin-hyung caught a glimpse of you through the doorway, the only thing that he hates more than Namjoon's snoring is skinny Alpha's.")

Min Yoongi has that look that people do when they're well-loved by packmates. Hair ruffled and neck dotted with bruises that might as well be mating bites for a beta. Beta's don't mate, but these ones certainly keep him close. He wears their scents like a shield. Sometimes so thick that Hoseok can't even smell any of his chocolate scent.

Right now, staring at Yoongi a few paces into the street, all Hoseok can smell is the rain.

When Hoseok had been introduced to him it had felt strange just by virtue of Yoongi's sub gender. A beta? Working somewhere so normal? Weren’t beta's supposed to be like- financial advisors or assistants to the president or something? Betas are supposed to have more important jobs than pushing vinyl and bumping Hoseok's shoulder playfully.

(Hoseok hasn’t seen it yet, the way that the owner hands over little white baggies to people who come in looking hungry for a high that cigarettes or alcohol can’t fix. Hoseok hasn’t yet realized that the record store isn't just a record store. This is just one front business of many that the family has organized across this city and the country for distribution of some of his most precious inventory). Yoongi has worked her for the last year, takes calls in the back for the family. The owner only bows to him when Hoseok's not around.

They only hired hoseok for tax purposes. Having three employees looks less suspicious than just two.

The beta looks concerned, and Hoseok knows he can’t hide the fact that he’s been crying as the beta steps up and pushes Hoseok back under the awning. Out of the rain and into the warmth of the doorway. This kind of movement would make any alpha snap, but not Hoseok. Hoseok just tucks his chin down and starts to cry.

“Oh Hoseok.” Hobi sniffles, and wipes his runny nose on his sleeve. Yoongi's hand curls against his throat, chocolate scent spiking to soothe. “You’re soaking wet."

Yoongi grabs his wrist and Hoseok almost keens at the gentle touch. Whole body shaking, shoulders curling in Yoongi's direction. Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line and then tugs him inside.

~-~

(Now, You)

You hold your breath. Still peering around the corner, watching and waiting for the man to spot you.

But he doesn't, after a breath where his soft footsteps echo, you wait, but nothing happens. You peak back around the corner.

You absorb and catalog the details as fast as you can; the black ski mask, covered by one of those traditional Korean masks, wooden with red lacquer. This one is a little different than the one that Jimin had; not twisted with thick eyebrows in a snarl. This one is white with red splotches on the cheeks, like a ghost sent down from above to rob you of your humanity.

The bulletproof vest stops at the collarbones. The gun itself is a black generic model. The long end is extra bulbous with something that might be an attached silencer. His hands covered in black nitrile gloves, leathery at first glance. There is a knife at his waist along with a barrage of other small things; rope and a knife, duct tape and handcuffs. His heavy boots look steel toed and reinforced.

The man (because it is a man you realize; tall, maybe taller than Namjoon) trains his gun at the landing on the top of the stairs. Pointing it in the direction of Hobi, Tae, and Jin’s hushed voices.

Hobi giggles and it sounds so bright. Echoing off the walls and filling the house with his musical laughter.

There is a phone cord tangled in your hands, long and white. You grip it tight.

This man might be silent but you’re quieter as you slide your bare feet across the smooth floors. Your strides are so quiet. You take one step and then another until you're behind the man, mirroring him.

You remember when Yoongi redid the floors, it was one of the few things that he did right away; before the pack came to live here (to love here). It took him weeks and weeks of sanding before he got them to his liking. Days more of brown dark stain that colored his hands ruddy until the soft matte finish stuck. Every pass with the belt sander and dirty rag a movement of love, a meditation for it.

Yoongi made every inch of this house with the same loving intent; to make it a home for all of you. a place to be safe and nurse your wounds and hearts. You won’t let it become a grave. You won’t let this person stay here and ruin it.

Most people get it wrong; In order to kill it is not a matter of elegance or effort. There is no such thing as a perfect kill either. Emotionless and analytic isn't enough and being justified only gets you halfway. There is no way to do it cleanly. People die just as they live, messy and hopeful and dirty.

Murder isn't a matter or wanting or wishing, It’s a matter of rage.

It’s always been this way. Rage has been chewing a hole through you from the moment that you pulled the trigger with Geumjae. From the moment you said ‘I do’. Rage that these violent things have been done to you, that they continue to happen, that you can’t just get away from all the hurt and trauma.

Rage has eaten you clean through to the bone. Rage has made you skinny and starving, rage has made you timid and fragile. But now you're the hungry one. Right now, only three words run through your head;

How dare she.

How dare she send this man into your house. How dare she point a gun at the upstairs, in the general direction of your nest and your packmates. The altar at which you so desperately cling to, for sweet dreams and sweeter worship (There is no deity above the god of love, not even death. Death cannot take the love from your chest, someone dying does not make you stop loving them).

How dare she even think about hurting the people you love.

There is no courage, no bravery, no thought in your head about how stupid it might be as you step closer behind the man. You are not a trained assassin. You’re just an omega.

The adrenaline rush is an old friend, a thrall both intoxicating and unnerving. Your heart beats loud in your ears. You grip the phone cord in your hands and take a quiet steadying breath. He doesn't see you, he doesn't hear you, he doesn't know that you're behind him.

Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

The assassin’s foot ascends the bottom step. You don’t let him get to the second before you’re moving, hurtling forward. Footsteps no longer light. Your hands go over the man’s shoulders. The cord no more than a white flash across his vision before you draw it tight across his neck.

The pain and panic are instant as you’re suddenly tethered to a six-foot-four assassin and struggling to stay on your feet as he stumbles back. You’re pulled off your feet and down the stairs, but you keep it as tight as you can and you don’t let go. Fighting to keep your makeshift garrote tight as he scrambles to get his fingers around where it digs into his skin. Spluttering loud.

The hard wire digs, cutting easily through plastic and then your skin as he tries to pull you off. You don’t let go until he backs you into the entryway wall and slams you against it with a dizzying clang of bone and body hitting something solid. Your head narrowly avoids one of the hooks that the pack hangs their coats on. An inch to the left and he'd have impaled your skull on it. An inch to the left and you'd be dead.

A single inch.

His head slams into your face, and you feel something in your nose pop, flooding your mouth with blood so thick you choke.

He slams you against the wall once, twice, and then a third time until your grip goes slack and slippery with blood. It knocks the breath out of you, and he finally throws you off. You both fall to the ground like stones. Both of you gasp and struggle for breath. At least one of your ribs it broken, but because of the adrenaline you can't even feel it.

When the man lifts his black gloves to his throat, they come away glossy with blood.

(It’s crazy how you never notice the change from the day to day, one day you are begging for a reason to hold on, a reason to live, and the next you’re fighting tooth and nail to keep going. Just about gnawing your own arm off to get out. To survive and live to see another day. Another sunrise.)

By that time the air has returned to your lungs it’s enough for you to scream. “Jin! Jin! There’s someone in the house there’s-”

You try and inhale through your nose and blood makes you choke. You push at the floor with your hands, struggling to stand, fingers slippery and tacky with your blood.

The man tries to scramble up the stairs but you latch onto his legs and make him drop. Doing everything in your power to keep him from going up to them, to your packmates. Hugging his ankle to your chest to slow him down (the same way you’ve hugged Namjoon’s arm and Yoongi’s, the way you held Hobi in the nest on the couch just a few shattered days ago).

The man turns the gun on you, pointing it to your head, you flinch, waiting for the shot-

and open them as He heaves a frustrated roar before he wheels away and turns, aiming at the top of the stairs instead of right in your face.

You could have died right then. could have and should have, but you didn’t. Your brain is too messy with adrenaline right now to make sense of it.

Why didn't he shoot?

The gun goes off, a bullet whizzing by Jin’s head. His face, scared, on the stairs flashes ever briefly. Ducking for cover just in time. The doorframe explodes in a cacophony of dark wood splitters. The doorknob sparks and bursts into a million pieces with another shot. metal clanking against the ceiling, the walls, down the stairs.

One second, you’re holding onto his heavy leather boot, and the next it’s colliding with your face and you’re out like a light.

Getting hit in your face is always such a disorientating experience. You’d never gotten used to it, even with Geumjae. Granted it’s hard to get used to the stomach-churning low vision feeling of weightlessness, like vertigo only worse.

"Hobi! don't- jesus fucking christ-"

You’re not quite sure what happens next only that you can’t see for a moment after the boot hits your face, and you take big breaths through your mouth. Blood, you taste blood. And then your vision comes back. Black spots and all and there’s Hobi’s face in front of you. No assassin, just him, helping you up from the floor. You're not on the steps anymore but at the bottom of them.

“The kitchen, the kitchen," Blood rushes over your bottom lip. Hoseok wipes it away, inhaling a jagged breath. "He’s-”

He pushes at your shoulders. “The car- get to the car.” It feels impossible. This can be happening in your house. Are you about to have a shoot-out in the street? On your quiet cul-de-sac? But then, in the corner of your vision dark movement.

You tug Hobi’s head down the second that the gun goes off- probably saving his life, definitely saving it as the bullet tears through the banister and ends in a hollow thump in the wall. he may not have shot you but he has no quams shooting at Jin and Hobi. The bullets hit the wall- Maybe 6 inches above your bent heads. Too close, close enough that Hobi trembles in your hold. And he rips something- a piece of the doorway, out of his arm with a wince before he covers your body with his own.

The volley of gunshots are so loud, so vicious as they blow things apart, tearing holes through Yoongi’s coat, the doorway, the banister, and the narrow stairway rungs. Pieces of wood hit your curled forms. Hobi shoves your head down when you try to look.

There is wetness, hot, something hot on your hands, your neck, you know it’s blood before you look. You think it’s from you until the Gunsmoke clears and you realize- fingers skimming across hoseok's forehead, a gash above his eyebrow.

A bullet graze by his hairline thats bleeding profusely. head wounds always bleed a ridiculous amount.

There are more bullets behind you but it’s just Jin returning fire.

Jin’s got Tae behind him. Her face ashy and pink from the shower and panic, her mid-length dark hair such a tangle, cowering behind his back. Jin's gun is so much louder without the silencer. Did he bring one upstairs? Or did he get it from Jimin’s stash?

Jin nearly drags Tae to the three of you, and she clings to you. Your hand finds her face. Fingers are red and bloody smudging against her cheek, blink and you're back there a million moments in the past; dotting red blush across her cheeks with a brush- your fingers- kissing it into place with your lips- painting a line of maroon across her eyelids to bring out the lighter flecks in her eyes- Watching her twirl in a red dress. Pressing your red lips against hers in a quiet dark moment in the library room. With her in Hobi's red car- Everything red.

If it starts with red, maybe it's fitting that it ends in red too.

Jin doesn’t give you time to reminisce. Pushing her shoulder down hard. His bare chest splattered with splinters from the door. Covered in wood fragments that stick to his black sweatpants and damp feet. Shouting, “All of you get down!”

You follow your pack omega’s words. Hobi and Tae With their damn alpha instincts blanket you as Jin fires again. The shots are so much louder in the small space. Another shot, another thunder strike. tae grips your wrist tight, your hands.

When you look down, they look mutilated. you can see bone in one place, deep gashes across the centre of your palms.

Your ears ring and you can't make sense of anything over the noise. Jin returns every bang with a boom of his own, bright flashes lighting up the dark staircase. Casing after casing tinkling down to the floor, rolling across the floorboards

But then, for a second- the gunfire goes quiet.

The house creeks and the three of you hold your breath. Jin's still half-concealed. The air heavy and clouded with gunsmoke and the smell of blood.

Hobi tentatively gets onto his knees and then stands when he doesn't immediately get shot at. You make a small noise in your throat, the loudest that you dare, but he’s looking after Jin, standing in the darkness, hackles raising his angry scent of burning sugar acrid in your nose. His hand slides out of yours, your blood on his palms.

And then you hear the rush of boots, echoing in the living room, near your nest- you’d never unmade it after you and Hobi fucked there. You'd been too busy taking care of Jimin. Hoseok bears his teeth.

Hobi turns, sliding out of your hands quicker than you can grab him. Quicker than you can tell him that he’s being dumb, that he’s being suicidal.

“Not my girlfriend! You asshole!”

The world is a dizzying cacophony of gunpowder, pain, bullets, and shouting. Jin yells Hoseok’s name. But the alpha heads after the assassin regardless of your cries. Jin narrowly keeps him from running headlong into no mans land. the open area by the door that would leave Hoseok a sitting duck.

Tae’s standing up on unsteady legs as you all spill out of the stairs into the narrow hall. Out from her hiding place cowering behind the banister. Your attention isn’t on her it’s on Hobi. Neither you nor Jin are looking at her. You’re running after him on shaky legs. Jin holds you both back, trying to corrall you. The air is cloudy with Gunsmoke, hazy and heavy. Her eyes are wide and pretty like dark marbles as she watches Hobi.

They’re just as pretty when the gun presses to the back of her head.

Everyone turns and goes still. The man has Tae in his arms, hand in her hair making her neck arch. The gun pressed to her jaw. Finger on the trigger.

Her body trembles and she doesn’t turn, frozen still in fear a shallow whine building in her throat.Jin has the gun trained on the man faster than you can make to step in Tae’s direction. But it’s no use.

He must have gone around, run through the livingroom through your pantry. A similar path that you took to surprise him. He must know the floor plan of the house, must have studied it to prevent situations like this. You have no upper hand here with tae in his arms.

Tae’s mouth is buttony and parted, but it settles into a resigned line.

Jin’s never been a good enough shot- not for one like this, even barely 10 feet away. He might hit Tae. Shaky, Jin takes his finger off the trigger and stoops down to put the gun on the floor. His other hand is up, already surrendering when the man jerks Tae's head back by her hair. Rougher than he needs to be.

“Don’t shoot her, please don’t shoot- please.”

The man juts his chin at the gun on the floor. “Kick it away now, be a good omega.” Jin grits his teeth but does as he says.

The man’s voice is rough as gravel. Dignified, but with no obvious accent. Not the quiet cadence that you’ve come to expect from the family. Neither posh nor lowbrow. Something in between. Flat and monotone. You're sure that you've never heard his voice before.

“I have to admit, your file said you’d be resistant, but it said nothing about you being dumb as fuck and a poor shot to boot.”

Jin licks his lips and bares his teeth, “Put that gun back in my hand and then say it again.” The masked man cocks his head to the side and then shrugs as if Jin's fury doesn't mean anything to him.

But He’s bleeding, it trails down to the floor so the words can't be genuine. It's a small wound, a graze on his right thigh. Red bright and hot that drips in onto the floor from his pant leg.

His hand tightens in Tae’s hair. “Line up against the wall. Now. Or I’ll blow her brains out in front of you."

You move first, eyes trained on Tae. But he snaps, eyes unreadable behind that mask, “No- not you. I’m not here to kill you.”

He tosses something to Jin and he catches it. Handcuffs that jingle and clink. Your foot hits an errant bullet with a similar tinkle. “Handcuff Jin to the stairs Hoseok.”

Your names, he knows your names. Your mind races over every detail, every moment trying to piece together a way to get out of this. a way to save them.

“Why are you doing this?” Hobi’s trembling, shaking. “Did Jimin-”

“Jiminie did nothing.” The man croons dragging the barrel of the gun down Tae’s cheek leaving a dark smudge in its wake. It's red on her face, the barrel must still be hot, your blood crusty around her lips.

“Honestly though, you should know he was a shit assassin. Truly piss poor even by industry standards. They always threw him the easiest kills."

The three of you are quiet, if he was hoping to elicit a reaction or more of a fight You don’t give him the satisfaction. Although jin grits his teeth, gnashing anger and an omega's feral instinct to protect their pups.

You step forward hands open, barely two steps from Tae. If you can just get to her maybe you can-

“Please- please don’t kill them."

He cocks his head at you, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Oh no, you misunderstand me I’m not going to do any of it.”

He taps Tae’s head once again with the gun and Tae starts to truly struggle. You tremble in fury and horror as you realize what he means with a sickening lurch in your stomach.

“This is how it’s going to work Y/n” You still at the sound of your name. “Taehyung here is going to shoot Jin and Hoseok. And then once we’re sure they’re good and dead, I’ll kill her.” He tosses you another pair of handcuffs, these ones are meant for you.

You take one step closer; Jin's gun is between your feet now. But you couldn't pick it up or else he'd shoot Tae. Time, you just need a minute to figure out what to do. How to get them out of this.

Yourself now, that's a different story. If you where in Tae's position you'd turn your face to the side and bite the mans hand.

“And what about me then? If they're all dead what’s to stop me from fighting?” he seems to consider it only briefly, the gun in his hand tilting so that you can see the dark oval where the bullet will come out, where it will rocket through Tae's skull and take all the little worlds she dreams of, all her poems and words and make them nothing.

“You think you're so precious? I’ll just kill you.” he says it like it's nothing. like you're nothing. He nods to the others, appealing to them and not you. “What do you want? All four of you to die? Or just three? What will hurt Namjoon the least? Do you think Yoongi will survive loosing his mate? What do you think Jinnie?”

You think of Yoongi's mating mark, the spot on his hip where your small curved semi-circles sit. You think of them turning black- a brand of a dead mate. You think of Hobi's eyes opening and never closing again. You think of Jungkook nesting without Jin and you. Of Namjoon holding out his hand and having no one to take it without Jin there.

You won't let any of this happen.

The others shoot each other unsure glances but you shake your head. you shake your head because earlier on the step, the man didn't take the easy shot, the easy kill.

If he really had orders to kill you, he would have done it then.

you step forward and shake your head. “I don’t believe you. I know your orders are to take me. That’s what all of this is about isn’t it?” The man doesn’t drop his weapon. Just presses it tighter to Tae’s jaw.

“Handcuff Jin now Hobi. Or else I’ll-”

You see the darkness settle in Jin’s eyes and before you know it he's turning to you, eyes flat. Endless in their darkness, the way they might if-

You don't let yourself consider it. You won't let it get to that point.

“Pup-”

You guess it does make sense, having you kill each other as opposed to the assassin doing the dirty work and implicating Moonbyul. If you really are on that ‘no kill list’ like Yoongi said at the hospital, having you take out each other is the only logical course of action. Once Tae kills Jin and Hobi, she'll be free game. This is the only way retribution won’t fall back on her. This is so similar to what she tried and failed to do with Jimin and Jin. This is a second attempt.

Only-

Only this time, you have a bargaining chip.

You step forward, in front of Hobi and Jin, blocking them from his line of sight. Barely a pace in front of Tae, but from the way he tightens his grip on her you know that you can go no further.

“You can take me; I’ll go with you. Willingly.”

Jin makes a noise in his throat and tries to move, but dares not when the man tightens his grip on Tae’s hair hard enough to rip a bit of it out.

“That’s what she wants, isn’t it? If you just let them live I’ll go with you.”

The man is silent for a second. Hobi trembles and so does Jin. For a second, you truly think that he’s going to take the bait.

But the mask is directed towards the floor, then back up at you. “Those aren’t my orders.” His finger is on the trigger so close to Tae’s head. “Now cuff him, I don’t want Jinnie getting any ideas.”

Hobi’s hands are shaking as he unwillingly shackles Jin to the steps as slowly as he can. He's buying time too. Every second and every heartbeat is precious. Both ends loop around a single rung and click closed. The rung itself is a little loose from a bullet that blew it apart near the bottom, it’s got to be the loosest one. Hobi turns, and you see the pre-meditation in his eyes; he chose that one so that Jin could still get free if he tried hard enough.

Everyone is trying. Everyone is defiant. The quirk of Jin's eyes as he settles, staring with rage at the man, his voice a quiet croon when he says what might very well be the last words he ever speaks.

“Tae you can close your eyes honey, it’s okay.”

"No I can't" She struggles harder against his hold, but it only gets her part of her hair pulled out with how rough the man jerks her, tears clouding her vision. "I can't- don't- please-"

Tae's soul has always been butterfly soft and flower tender. She's not made for this. She's not made for murder or pain or anything that lacks softness. She's never been a killer; Jimin was always that side of their coin. Saint and sinner.

Your body goes cold and for a second, you think you just might pass out, especially when Hoseok grips your wrist. One final squeeze in what can only be goodbye before he steps away and in front of jin. Hair puffed up. Jin is lowering his eyes and no no no.

No.

Tae is staring at you, eyes wide and scared, but you watch in total powerlessness as her eyebrows lower. You see the moment Tae thinks it. Eyes meeting yours, lips mouthing something that you can’t read. Maybe I’m sorry no.

I love you. Sorry.

The truth is that Jimin drilled this with her years ago before she left for college and he couldn’t follow. When Jimin first realized that for the first time in their lives she’d be without him as a constant protector. Delicate delicate Tae with her delicate pink soul. So vulnerable to the world and all its wickedness.

Tae didn't confront him about it until the nightmares were waking him up regularly. They were simple nightmares back then; images of Tae hurt and mugged. Tae beaten and left in an alleyway. Tae stalked through the night. Simple, but enough to keep him awake. Enough to torture him in his wakon hours as well as the nighttime.

If Jimin saw her now he'd pull the heavens down and demand something truly awful in exchange. He'd take one of the knives from the kitchen and gut him from belly button to addams apple. He'd eviscerate him- and Namjoon might help.

Hut there is no one here to do any of that, there is only Tae in the man's hold.

“What are you so scared of?” She’d asked one morning, trailing endless patterns on his chest in an effort to soothe him back to sleep.

“Something happening to you while I’m not there, mostly.”

“Would it make you feel better? If you taught me the basics?”

Jimin's pause is telling, more telling are his eyes, hopeful when he looks up at Tae. “Yes, it would.”

It’s been years and years since Jimin Tae have bothered to drill any self-defense sequences it at all. Since he stopped asking her to refresh the basics with him once a year just to make sure. Jimin never thought that Tae would have to use those skills. Like with most things, you just sort of hope you don't have to fight.

But Tae knows you did fight. It's written all over your bloody face and your bloody hands, tightened to fists by your side. If you fought tooth and nail to save them she should fight too.

Tae has written fight scenes like this before. If she survives the press of the gun to the back of her head, she’s gonna have one hell of a personal experience to pull from for her book. The content will be endless.

She seems to swell in the space, alpha shoulders settling back. Her mouth is moving, mouthing words her eyes on you. Just in case this is the last thing she ever does.

I’m sorry, I love you.

“Be a good boy and pick up the gun Tae.” Tae bends down, syrupy slow. Intentional with her every movement. One heartbeat. Another. Tae's fingers are maybe an inch from the gun when everything goes haywire.

When she's about halfway bent she uses her momentum to hurl her body back, slamming her head into the gun and then into the man’s face. Cracking the mask and from the sound of it, the man’s nose. Tae's almost knocks herself out with the force of her own head colliding with the man’s face.

She turns, she’s not finished, not even close. She might be a woman but she’s an alpha too. Alphas always always fight to protect their pack. She turns and swings.

And drives her elbow as hard as she can between the alpha’s legs.

Hobi can’t stop his flinch. That has to hurt.

The assassin’s gun goes flying, skittering across the dark floor and under the bookcase and Hobi ends up lunging for it. You go after it too but you end up holding Tae instead, crumpling to the floor without anything to hold her up. She’s holding the back of her head, eyes watering.

The traditional mask lyes in pieces around you, shatered by the force of tae's headbut. The man clutches his nose, features still covered by the ski mast. Growling out- "Bitch- fucking bitch! I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill all of you-"

Jin struggles yanking his cuffed hands down as hard as he can- in another minute he might get loose, but not quick enough as Hobi finds the gun and raises it. The bullet hits the molding beside your pantry, missing the man by inches as he dives away to safety. A lucky shot by any standard, let alone for a beginner. Hobi shoots off after him. knocking into the wall before he's up and chasing it.

“Are you okay, Tae, Tae- look up at me.” Tae is clutching the back of her head. Blinking rabidly. That fucking hurt even if it was worth it.

“I’m fine just-” She leans over your legs and vomits, retching loud and horrible. Concussion- she must have given herself a concussion. Namjoon told you months ago how to read the signs of them shortly after the first time Jungkook ever had a seizure in front of you.

You hold her shoulders, watching Jin try and break himself free, yanking his wrists hard enough that it has to hurt. Moving to try and help him.

And then Hobi makes a noise in the other room, a pained ghasp, A thump and then-

Tae is already up and running, stumbling into the wall. You glance at Jin. "Go- just go" Jin grinds out. But Tae has longer legs than you do even concussed.

By the kitchen, Hobi slips on a fallen tangerine. (You remember then, Yoongi clearing the table with a brush of his hands for Jimin, tossing a whole bowl of them onto the floor. Where they've stayed since then) they're fighting, the man must have managed to disarm Hobi somehow because the gun sits under one of the chairs. Both of them are fighting just beside the dining room table. Part of it splintered and broken where someone broke it.

They're grappling on the floor now. Pushing against each other trying to gain the upper hand. you've watched the alpha's wrestle before- small disputes to settle and reaffirm the hierarchy, but you've never seen hobi move like this. You watch the man grasp at his waist reaching for the knife. His hands so slick with his own blood that it clatters to the floor. Hobi may not be trained but he's a fighter too. Gnashing his teeth and growling. Reaching up into the shallow gash at the mans throat and digging in his fingers.

And then he’s got Hobi on the ground and his hands around your alpha's throat. Tae tries to get him off but he backhands her, sending her sprawling to the ground and clutching her cheek. Too dizzy to stand. Big hands that squeeze and squeeze and squeeze Hobi's narrow throat. Spit at the corner of his lips turning frothy as hoseok tries to breathe and can't.

“I didn’t come this far to get killed by a bunch of family rejects; 11 years and 1458 kills later and I will not die. Just give up already- I didn’t come this far to-”

Hobi’s face is turning purple, hands scrabbling, pushing against his face trying to get him off unsuccessfully. Dying there on the floor. Hobi is going to die right there if you don't do anything.

Jin is shouting from the other room and there is a frying pan in the kitchen. On the countertop that you snatch on your way past, winding up for it before you swing it with all your might at the man's head and-

At the end of the day, it’s hard to say exactly what kills him. Whether it's you or Tae who wields the killing blow. It’s more of a group effort between you and her.

Tae has read countless books that described love as some gentle force, but this love has not made her gentle. Tae cannot sit there on the floor and watch Hobi die. She'd do anything to protect him and the pack. She’d kill people like Minnie did, would lie just as Jin had, would have sacrificed anything- even herself just like Yoongi.

Love had always been giving in Tae's mind, and she would give countless sins and untold violence, to have this not be the last day with you and the pack.

The gun is just sitting there under the chair. tae hardly has to lean over to get it. (If she makes it out of this alive, she swears to himself that she'll finally start taking those kickboxing classes that Jungkook teaches.) Tae lifts the gun at the same moment that your hand descends with the frying pan.

Tae turns, points, aims, and fires. She doesn’t even think twice about it. The trigger goes down as easily as breathing.

Getting shot in the throat definitely distracts him enough, definitely makes him let go of Hobi, clutching at his own throat instead of his. blood rushing over his hand and down onto hobi's face. So much that it almost splashes.

And then the frying pan hits his head with a hollow final thud.

There is a placid terror in things like this, a quiet as things go and come. The thumping, the sobbing breaths you let out, the descent of your hand, beating out your terror on the body below, a vessel for all of your fear.

The handle of the frying pan is thick and heavy in your hands. You bring it down on the man’s head, the curved edge of the cast iron connects with the plate of his skull with a hollow thud. One second, he's clutching at his blown-apart throat, and the next he goes limp, blood and brain matter splatters loud and heavy along the floor. Falling on top of Hobi like a lead weight.

Hobi's brown eyes are bloodshot and red in his mouth, heaving one big breath that sends the room spinning. Sends vertigo into his veins and panic-running adrenaline. You lift your arms up again and hit him, descending again and again.

His body is still, so still. His chest gives one open shudder and then goes truly quiet. Frozen in time. You are covered in blood, in your mouth, on your hair, on the ceiling. More and more splatters as your hand goes up and then down in an endless loop.

Dark cotton soaks, matted with blood and brain matter, blurry from your tears. A bit of it hits your face, wet and stinky. People never tell you how horrible it smells when people die.

You don’t stop hitting the man, even when it's clear he's dead. Even when you glare down at him through the tears in your eyes and see half a face staring up at you. An eyeball rolls across the floor.

There are arms around you pulling you off of him eventually. Dry warm arms, big and heavenly. One wrist dangles with a pair of handcuffs as Jin yanks you back from the man. The body.

“Pup- It’s done, pup- he's gone- Stop.”

There is blood all over you. On your face, on your hands, around the frying pan. Tae too, sitting just beside you. Half of her body splattered. Hobi's soaked with it and still struggling to breathe. But both of them, the three of them are alive.

“It’s over pup.” Jin sounds like he might be crying. Tae definitely is.

Hobi puts his head between his knees, gasping for every breath but still breathing. Tae's got him in his lap. Holding on to him as he splutters. face so soaked with blood he can't open his eyes without blinking rapidly.

It’s anything but over you think as you let go of the handle of the frying pan.

It clatters to the ground with a bloody and final thunk.

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog! Every bit of encouragement helps me write the next chapter!

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Notes:

if the beginning of the chapter feels weird/different in terms of narration that is because it was mostly written 3+ years ago and my writing style has changed alot! kinda crazy! hopefully people will just attribute it to hoseok's internal monologue. it might be meandering but i kept reminding myself that this is hoseok at his lowest you know?

One thing i want you guys to realize is that the m/c may not be smart, but holy fuck can she take a beating and still get up.

Gun shoot outs are uniquely hard to write because like, just bang and it's done right? idk why part of this writing just felt so tedious usually i love writing stuff like this :(

hobi calls the m/c his girlfriend 🥺 did you guys notice???? he's such a cute pup charecter.

i have more notes for this chapter BUT i can't share them until the next one is out because it involves hobi's secret.

i hope you guys see like- how good the m/c actually is at the crime and thinking on her feet shit- i think that this chapter above all others shows her street smarts. she knows to keep the guy talking and distracted- i think it compliments her similarities to jimin and jin like. the trio of them are very capable people you know? vs hobi who just headlong rushes the assassin and fucks shit up. i'm not saying it's his fault- he does the best that he can in this chapter.

I'm trying to pull from my actual knowledge of how guns work but fun fact, silencers are still fucking loud, like still so loud that you need ear protection. and even blank bullets can still cause serious injury at close range.

I'm again at the stage where i can't tell if the gun shooting scene is clunky and too predictable or if it's actually as creepy as i've made it out to be.

This is one of those situations- the bargaining for each others lives, that i've actually never had to handle. it's actually pretty unusual for me to write about things that i haven't experienced in some way shape or form.

i've only written a few scenes in my life that have made me wonder like "huh- i wonder if people might actually think that i've seen a dead body, been around a dead body, or killed someone before?" and ngl, the scene with the assassin dying is one that makes me wonder that... i promise i just have a scarily vivid imagination.

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mythunderstorm · 7 months

Text

We‘ll be okay | DR3

Daniel Ricciardo x reader

summary: It’s normal to argue. You know that. But that doesn’t mean it hurts any less, even tho you know you and Daniel will work it out in the end.

warnings: bit angsty, actually not sure what else to say. Soft ending tho

a/n: i‘m so sorry for not posting a lot atm. I have so many drafts but I can’t seem to finish them. Whenever I try to write it’s like my brain shuts off completely. Not even sure if this is any good but it’s the only thing I was able to complete, so enjoy ig haha

masterlist

Arguments. They‘re normal, every couple has to face them at one point. Some argue more, some less. But it’s normal. They happen, you talk it out, you make up. Normal.

You and Daniel argue. Normal. It doesn’t happen often, but it happens. Normal. What wasn’t normal, is that you had to leave the apartment. It wasn’t normal for him to yell at you like this, both of you throwing words at each other you didn’t actually mean. Not normal.

You had to get out, leave for a bit. Before anyone of you says something you can’t take back at the end.

You wander around, aimlessly. It‘s raining, hard. You didn’t bring an umbrella with you, but you didn’t care. The water droplets on your skin felt kind of refreshing.

Your phone beeped, your boyfriend worries about you being alone, out in this weather at night. He sent multiple messages, telling you to come home.

The feeling of relieve fills your chest, glad that he’s still caring about you, even after the fight. But you ignore his messages, at least for now, needing some space to clear your head a bit. He was really mean tonight, something that basically never happened, not like this. You understand that he’s frustrated, not being able to race this season, but that’s not your fault.

Just because you said that you’re glad to spend some more time with him now, happy to have him to yourself for a while, doesn’t mean you don’t support his dreams and career. You’re proud of him, always have been, always will. But being away from him so much is hard and you really really missed him over the last year.

After a while you stop at a little café that was open late. Exactly what you needed right now. You sat by the window, ordering a cup of tea while watching the rain pour.

Your phone beeps once again.

„I'm really worried about you, the weather forecast said that there will be thunder too, you should really come back home.“

Your thoughts and emotions whirle around your head as you stare out the window.

With a sign, you type back a quick message to let him know you’re safe and not outside in this horrible weather. You may be mad at him but you’re not so cruel to let him suffer and worry about your well-being for the rest of the night.

But a part of you still doesn’t want go back home.

You look around the café, noticing that it is completely empty except for you and the barista. It is quiet, calm, peaceful. No one would be yelling at you here. No one would be blaming you for everything.

At first you just needed a break, now... now you needed an escape.

You look out of the window again, watching the raindrops sliding down the glass. It’s like they’re racing against each other. Even something small like rain on a window reminds you of him. It keeps your mind occupied for a while, watching the water glide around the surface but you’re still thinking about him. You’re always thinking about him.

It’s like the weather mirrors your exact feelings at the moment, like it’s trying to tell you that you’re not alone.

You put your phone aside, not responding to the rest of Daniel‘s texts. His mind was always full with thoughts about racing, training and other things related to his profession. And you understand, he loves his job. And you don’t blame him for that.

But you have feelings too, you have feelings that you want him to acknowledge sometimes. You need him to realize that. To recognize how upset you are and how hurt you feel.

Your thoughts spiraled down deeper and deeper as you watch the rain outside. The water droplets, they look like tears.

You sign again, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. You know you and Daniel will work it out, like you always do. You love him and you know he loves you. Arguments happen and you understand he’s frustrated, even though it’s not okay for him to put the blame on you. You both need some space, time to calm down before you can face each other to actually talk about it. But you‘ll be okay. Everything will be okay in the end.

The rain starts hitting the window harder than before, making it difficult to see the world outside.

Taking a sip of your tea, you look at the clock. It’s already 1 in the morning. You feel a bit guilty. It's late, really late.

You pick up your phone, hesitating as you look at Daniel's last message. He was panicking about the storm and kept telling you that he was worried. You know him, he's usually not the hysterical kind.

„I‘m inside a Café, don’t worry. I‘ll wait a bit until the storm calms before I come home.“

You think for a moment, not sure if you should send the next text. You want to but.. fuck it.

„I love you.“ you type and hit send quickly, before you can change your mind. But you mean it, because you do. You love him.

A notification appears instantly on your phone. It's a message from Daniel. It reads „I love you too."

Your heart skips a beat. Of course, your love still means the world to him.

You close your eyes and picture his face. When Daniel smiles at you, his eyes sparkle in a way that no one else's eyes could. He's so good at showing his emotions through his eyes…

Ding. Another message.

„Please come home honey, I can't take it another second."

You smile softly at the nickname. You look out of the window again, the storm seems to get only worse. You want to go home, right now. But you know it wouldn’t be the best idea, not in this weather. But you don’t care. You pay your tea, tipping the barista generously, before making an exit to finally get home. To the person you love most.

As soon as you enter your apartment you see Daniel standing there, waiting for you. You lock eyes for a moment, neither of you saying anything... It's quiet. The only sound you hear, is from the rain outside.

Daniel is smiling at you, and he starts walking towards you. He softly puts his arms around your drenched body, pulling you close and kissing your forehead gently. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your face is turning red.

„Sorry“ you whisper into his chest, hiding your face in his sweater. You’re tearing up again, breathing in his scent.

"I should be the one to say sorry." You hear Daniel's voice whispering into your hair as he holds you tight. "I was cruel, I should never speak to you like that. Never." His words are soothing to your ears.

Even though you were fighting badly only hours prior, you felt safe. It has been a long time since you felt this safe. Since you felt this protected.

Just then Daniel takes a step back to look at you, as if he was admiring your face. Then he leans in to kiss you, needing to feel that you’re real. That you’re here, that you came home. The kiss only last a few seconds but it’s soft, gentle and full of love.

Yes. You‘ll be okay.

Daniel's lips on your face feel like heaven and you close your eyes, not wanting to let the situation end just yet... but before you could do anything, his hands reach for your face, gently moving you away. For a second, you were scared to look at him but he's just fixing your wet hair.

"Let's get you warm," he smiles as he guides you into the kitchen, the warm light from the lit oven illuminating your face. You enjoy the warmth for a moment while Daniel was already boiling water for some tea.

„I- I‘ll go change into some dry clothes real quick“ you whisper into the quiet kitchen, watching him move around the room to prepare the tea.

Your boyfriend nods and smiles at you, putting his hand on your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Go ahead, let me make you some tea" he smiles as he pushes your hair away from your face again.

The kettle whistles, it's boiling. Daniel picks it up and pours the hot water into two cups, putting lemon in both of them. The scent of lemon fills the room, mixed with Daniel's cologne.

You disappear into your shared bedroom, quickly getting rid of your wet clothes, throwing them into the hamper. Grabbing one of Daniels Hoodies, you pull it over your head and instantly hold the collar up to your nose, taking in his scent. Wiping your tear stained face with the sleeves, you take a deep breath before returning back to the kitchen where Daniel‘s waiting for you.

He is leaning against the kitchen counter, watching you slowly while the tea waits for you on the table. Two hot cups of tea, steaming up the kitchen.

Looking at his face, you find him smiling at you when he notices you’re wearing his hoodie. He wraps his free arm around you, pulling you close.

He kisses your head softly and whispers in your ear. "Drink it, it will warm you up."

Daniel's arms encircle you, squeezing you like he never wants to let you go.

You didn’t want to ruin the mood but you had to ask. You and Daniel were always good at communicating in the past and you didn’t want to stop now by pushing this argument away, you had to talk about it for the problem to be completely solved.

„We still need to talk. Not now, but.. we need to talk.“ You whisper, leaning closer into Daniels arms, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

„You're right, we will talk." His voice is soft. „Not now though. For now, let's enjoy this tea. And... let's just be together." Daniel said as he kisses you again on the cheek and your still damp hair brushes against his face.

He was right. You need some rest. It's late, after all. And what happened shouldn't be discussed when you're both tired. Let alone now, when you're so peaceful.

„We‘ll be okay“ you whisper, a short promise. To him and yourself, that your love is stronger than an argument like that. You‘ll work it out. And it‘ll be okay. Like always.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #danny ric #dr3 #dr3 x reader #daniel ricciardo angst #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 angst #f1 fic

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pandorxxx · 1 year

Text

Just alittle taste

Lo’ak (20) x omatikayan fem reader (21)

Warnings: SMUT THE HOUSE, spitting, cursing, p in v, oral, intense orgasms, multiple orgasms, praise kink (HEAVYYYY), reader in heat, creampie.

🔞Minors, do not interact🔞

“How’s my mother and father?” Neteyam asked over the earpiece he gave to you.

“They’re doing well, I just left their hut. We all miss you, my love.” You spoke softly, as you paced back and forth by the pond.

“Enough about us, how is the hunters retreat going for you.” You smiled, looking out into the water.

“Oh, it’s great y/n! I’m glad that they chose me to be a teacher this year. I love working with the kids. They’re all so eager to learn.” Neteyam expressed excitedly. You were so happy for him. All he’s ever wanted to do was help people, and now he was finally able to do it.

“I’m glad, baby! I’m so proud of you!” You chuckled, grinning ear to ear. He sighed before speaking.

“How are you? Do you have symptoms yet?” Neteyam asked hesitantly. Your smile immediately dropped as the anxiety flooded in. Your heat was arriving any day now, and you could feel it. Neteyam had been tracking it ever since he left, praying to eywa that it wouldn’t come until he got back.

“Neteyam, I-I can feel it getting closer.” You muttered over the earpiece. He sighed again.

“I’ll be home in 2 days. Hopefully it doesn’t come until then. I would hate for you to be alone.” Neteyam muttered in defeat. You sighed, thinking about the possibility that you could spend this heat alone. You had gotten so used to Neteyam handling you that you never really had much to worry about.

“Yes, hopefully. Listen, get back to the children, I’ll be fine here.” You smiled, reassuring him not to worry about you. Silence consumed the conversation as he thought long and hard about the current situation that you two were in.

“o-ok. I will page you in the morning. Hopefully everything is still fine.” He sighed, and you could hear his nervousness over the ear piece.

“Don’t worry Neteyam, I will be ok.” You reassured him, now walking towards your hut.

“I love you, y/n. I’m coming back for you soon.” He said calmly, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I love you too. I will be here waiting.” You bit your lip, grinning as you turned the earpiece off. You finally made it to your hut, throwing the earpiece on the table as you plopped down on the cot. You ran your hands through your hair in frustration as you laid your elbows on your thighs.

You didn’t want to worry Neteyam because this was his time to have fun, and do what he loved. But you couldn’t deny how you were feeling, so you suffered in silence for him. The truth is, you knew your heat was very near, and you were frightened by that. You hadn’t been alone during your heat since your were 18.

“Hey y/n, have you seen my b- woah.” Lo’ak rushed in, but was quickly distracted by your scent. He held his hand infront of his nose, squinting his eyes before walking closer to you. You looked up at him anxiously.

“Is it that strong already?” You asked, throwing your head into your hands in embarrassment. Lo’ak noticed your discouragement, and he plastered a fake smile across his face.

“No! I was joking.” He chuckled nervously, as you lifted your head slowly to glare at him.

“When is Neteyam coming back, I think you need his help.” He laughed, sitting on the cot next to you. You snapped your head at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Uhhh is it really that obvious?” You shifted to face him, crossing your legs on the cot as you waited for an answer. He scanned your body, almost hypnotized by your scent.

“I-um.” He sighed before starting again. “I can smell it on you. Your heat is coming, right?” He asked calmly, moving alittle closer. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was making his move. And if you were in your right mind, you would have smacked him back into reality, but you weren’t.

“It’ll be here any day now, but Neteyam will be back soon.” You spoke softly, eyeing him up and down, as he did the same.

“Mhm, how soon?” He replied, placing his hand on your knee as he looked you in your desperate eyes. You looked at his hand, and trailed back up to his eyes. You tilted your head at him as you watched his hand slide up to your thigh, massaging it gently. You hated to say it but you were enjoying this, but you convinced yourself it was only because of your current state.

You shook your head, quickly snapping out of your trance before gently pushing lo’aks hand away.

“Really soon.” You smiled sarcastically, dropping his hand in his lap. He chuckled, looking at his hand and then back at you.

“Yeah, we’ll see. Hopefully he makes it in time.” He glared at you before trailing down to your loincloth. He stood up swiftly, walking out of the door, closing it behind him. You let out a sigh of relief, shutting your eyes tightly as you fell back onto your cot.

“FUCK!” You shouted in frustration as you realized your heat was making you feel things for lo’ak. You had to stay away from him for the next couple of days, or you two would end up doing something that you would regret later. You sighed, closing your eyes as you drifted off to sleep.

Your eyes shot opened, and your blurry vision set in. You felt sweat pouring off of your body, making your hair, and cloths soaked. You sat up quickly, looking at the lines of sunlight coming through the cracks of your hut.

“Shit!” You shouted, realizing that you overslept. You heard the earpiece going off, meaning that Neteyam was trying to reach you.

“Y/N?? Y/N!” Neteyam yelled through the earpiece. You got off of the cot slowly, immediately falling to the ground, and that’s when you realized that your heat started. You crawl over to the table, whimpering in agony. You grabbed the earpiece, placing it around your neck before pressing the button.

“h-hello, my love.” You spoke breathlessly, leaning against the leg of the table. You could hear him silently cursing over the speaker.

“Shit Y/n! Did it come?” He asked, all-knowingly. You shook your head as if he could see you before perking your voice up.

“No! What? I’m completely fine!” He chuckled, wiping the sweat out of your eyes.

“Do you forget how well I know you? Stop lying to me!” He growled, making you jump. You felt your face grow hot, as tears started to well in your eyes.

“It is here, Neteyam. I-I’m sorry! Can you come back? Please! I need you.” You cried through a cracked voice. He was silent as he listened to you weep in his ear.

“Y/n, I am so sorry. I-I can’t come back right now. I should’ve never left you!” He muttered through tears. You shook your head again, wiping your tears away.

“No, no. I will be strong neteyam. I just need some help.” You replied breathlessly.

“I will talk to my grandmother. She will treat you, ok? No need to worry. Just hold on, y/n!” He spoke urgently, before you didn’t hear him anymore. You cried silently, crawling back over to the cot as you used it to pull you up. You grunted the whole way, until you finally got back into the cot.

“Y/N! baby?” You heard through the earpiece. You lazily pushed the button. “Mhmm” was all you could get out, as you shook violently in a pool of your own sweat.

“Mo’at and kiri are busy with other warriors, so they are sending lo’ak to take care of you.” Neteyam spoke urgently. The last part of his sentence echoed through your mind.

Sending lo’ak to take care of you…

Your whole world came crashing down because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself.

“NO! No I’ll be fine. I don’t need him to come! He probably has other things to do, I don’t want to be a burden.” You chuckled breathlessly as you tossed and turned in pain.

“What is the matter with you? YOU NEED HELP Y/N!” Neteyam replied sternly.

“I hate that I can’t be there to help you. But lo’ak promised that he would take good care of you today.” Neteyam explained. You rolled your eyes, almost hearing lo’ak saying that to Neteyam.

Oh don’t worry bro! I’ll take really good care of her!

“Just let him help you…please.” Neteyam whispered in defeat, pleading with you to listen to him. You clenched your jaw, shutting your eyes tightly before answering.

“Yes, Neteyam.” You muttered, balling up Into a fetal position. He sighed in relief.

“I need you to be strong, baby. I’ve gotta go but I’ll check in as soon as I can. I love you, y/n.” Were the last words he spoke, leaving you completely empty. You took the earpiece off of your neck, laying it next to you as you moaned in agony. The sadness you felt turned into anger.

How could he just send lo’ak to come take care of you? Did he not know that this was a recipe for disaster? His mate in heat with his horny younger brother? Nothing could possibly go wrong.

You were becoming delirious, uttering gibberish as you tossed and turned on the cot. You began to get really hot, to the point you felt like you couldn’t breath in the stuffy hut of yours. You could’nt take it anymore as you tried to stand, being semi successful. You wobbled to the door just so you could get some fresh air. As soon as you opened the door, you were met with lo’aks chest, as he glared down at your trembling body.

“Hey, mama. You look…..wet.” He said sarcastically, scanning your sweaty body. Your jaw was trembling, causing your teeth to click rapidly as you looked up at him with teary eyes.

“I-I wanted to get some f-fresh air.”You stuttered, shaking violently as you desperately tried to keep your balance. He smiled down at you, opening the door further as he stepped in to put the supplies down. He came behind you, placing his strong hands on your shoulders as you stood in the doorway, letting the air cool you off.

“Better?” He asked in your ear. His voice scratched your eardrum just right, making your knees buckle under you. He quickly grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder as he slammed the door shut. He walked over to your cot, placing you down gently before examining your current state. He hovered over you, placing his fists on either sides of your head. He watched you moan and whimper in agony as sweat poured off of your body.

“Neteyam told me to come help you. Do you want my help, y/n?” He asked, searching for your eye contact as he caressed your waist gently.

“Neteyam doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” You strained, wiggling from the pain you were feeling. Lo’ak raised his eyebrow, grinning at you. You rolled your eyes, growling at him before speaking.

“I do NOT need your help. Thank you for the supplies, but you can go now.” You said shakily, lightly pushing his hand away from your waist.

He scanned your soaking wet loincloth, trailing up to your now red eyes. “You’re telling me one thing, but this body of yours…” he started, trailing his hand down your stomach to your loincloth, gripping your cunt, making you moan out loud.

“Is telling me something completely different.” He tilted his head at you, slowly sliding his hand into your loincloth. He watched your face contort in pleasure, as you tried your best to resist.

“Just a little taste. Neteyam doesn’t have to know, mama.” He nodded his head to reassure you that this was a secret between you and him. You nodded too, locking eyes with him as he played with your clit.

“Mmm j-just alittle taste?” You asked, throwing your head back in pleasure. “Just a little taste, I promise.” He smiled, pulling your loincloth off of your hips, throwing it to the side. He immediately bent down, French kissing your cunt, before sucking your clit.

“Mmm fuck!” You cried, trembling more than ever. He rubbed your thighs to calm you down as he devoured you. He lifted up alittle, spitting on your cunt, letting it cascade down your sore clit. He went back to work, sloppily eating you again as he glared at you. The scene beneath you was too much for you to handle as you tried to scoot back.

He yanked you back down by your thighs, engulfing both of your hands with just one of his. “I’m not done yet.” He growled into your cunt, sending overwhelming waves of pleasure through your body.

“Lo’aaak I-I!” you whimpered, twitching with every flick of his tongue. He looked up at you, showing his fangs before nibbling at your clit.

“Wassup, mama?” He muttered, gripping your hands tighter as he knew you were about to lose it. His husky voice sent you over the edge. You shook uncontrollably, squirting all over his face as you screamed in pleasure.

“Yeeessss!” Your voice trailed as you released all over him. He sat up on his knees, face dripping in your essence as he caught his breath. You panted loudly, looking to the roof of the hut. You were afraid to look at him, afraid that you might do the unthinkable, and he knew.

“Y/n, look at the mess you made.” He grinned, wiping his face with his hands before bending down to lick your thighs clean. You inhaled sharply, feeling his fangs graze your flesh.

“J-Just a little taste r-remember?” You asked, still trembling from your heat. Still wanting more. Still needing more.

“I don’t know, y/n. You’re not looking too good.” He replied sarcastically, untying his loincloth slowly, throwing it to the side. You knew what was happening but you refused to look at him.

“Oooohhh, y/nnnn!” he sung, tapping his cock on your sensitive clit as he grinned at you. Your back arched slightly, letting out a soft moan.

“Just the tip.” He spoke softly, rubbing his cock in between your soaked folds. You bucked your hips, rolling them for the right amount of friction against his hard cock.

“Mmm j-just the tip?” You whimpered, finally looking into his eyes. He bit his lip, glaring at you with nothing but lust.

“Just the tip, mama.” He smiled before slowly sliding the tip of his cock inside of you. Your body disobeyed you, pushing yourself down onto him until your pelvises touched.

“Shitttt!” You muttered, shaking violently as your eyes rolled back. He felt you clenching around him already, smirking at your attempts to use him as your own personal fuck toy.

“Beg for it.” Lo’ak growled, gripping your waist as he thrusted into you at a painfully slow pace. You shook your head from side to side frantically. He chuckled at your stubbornnesses, stopping his movement all together. You gripped his arm, begging him with your eyes. He rolled his eyes, thrusting into you at a steady pace.

“That’s good enough, baby.” He grunted, speeding up his pace, angling his hips upward to hit your sweetspot every time.

“Yesss!!! Right there! Don’t stop!” You cried, tears streaming down your face as he massaged your sweetspot with his swollen tip.

He slid his hand up to your neck, gripping it tightly before pulling you up to his face. He kissed your lips passionately as he feed you hard, deep strokes. With every thrust, your body shook from the sensitivity.

“Mmm lo’aaaak!” You whined into the kiss, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

“Yes, mama?” He asked breathlessly, shifting the position to you straddling him as he held your waist. He laid his head on your chest, as you held onto him tightly. Moans filling the room as you got closer and closer to your breaking point.

“I-I caaannt!” You cried, inhaling sharply as you buried your head into his neck. He rubbed your back, bouncing you down onto him at a steady pace.

“Yes you can, it’s ok. It’s just a little taste, remember? He won’t find out.” Lo’ak grunted, kissing your shoulder. It felt so good, yet so wrong. You held onto him tighter as you got closer.

“Fuck I’m cumming!!!” You screamed, shaking in his arms as he held you to keep you calm.

“Let it out, mama. It’s ok, you’re ok!” He moaned , licking your neck as he thrusted into you slowly, helping you ride out your high.

You fell limp in his arms. You felt some relief, but you just needed alittle more. Just alittle taste.

“Lo’ak i need m-“ he cut you off with a kiss to the lips. He pulled back, pushing your wet hair out of your face.

“I know what you need. Just alittle more right?” He ask, grabbing your chin gently. You pouted, nodding at him as tears threatened to fall from your eyes.

“Hey, no need to cry, I got you. I’m going to take the pain away.” He reassured you, wiping your tears. He went to pull out of you to change positions, but you clenched around him, crying loudly. You hugged him again, gripping his neck tightly as you trembled in his arms.

“Please…” you whispered, shutting your eyes tightly. He smirked, patting your back gently.

“So needy, mama.” He chuckled, walking over to the wall, pinning you against it.

“How do you want it?” He asked in a low, husky voice. You looked at his lips, trailing your eyes back up to meet his gaze.

“From the back…” you replied trailing your dainty hands down his abs. He bit his lip, placing his hand above you head as he held you up with his other arm.

“Are you gonna be a good girl, and let me pull out? Huh?” He asked, thrusting into you gently as he planted kisses all over your neck.

“Mhmm!” You nodded frantically, holding onto his shoulders. He pulled out, quickly turning you towards the wall.

“Pleaseee!” You plead, grabbing his arm from behind, pulling his body closer to you. He bent down to your ear, kissing it before speaking.

“That’s what I like to hear, mama.” He whispered, slamming back into you. Your knees buckled, and he quickly grabbed you, pinning you in between him and the wall. He rolled his hips into you, massaging your sweetspot with every thrust. You held the wall as tight as you possibly could, as you felt him speed up the pace.

“mmm f-feels so good!” You moaned deliriously as you rested your head on the wall. The pleasure was so intense that you couldn’t feel your legs anymore. You slowly slid down the wall spazzing in his arms, as he tried to keep you up.

“I thought this was what you wanted y/n?” He asked sarcastically, flipping you back around, pulling your legs around his waist as he slid back into you. He thrusted into you fast, deep, and hard as he watched you squirm in his arms.

“too much, too much!” You screamed, climbing up the wall to get away from him as the overwhelming amount of pleasure was consuming you. He pulled you back down, holding your hands above your head as he thrusted into you with no remorse. Each stroke sending you an overload of pleasure.

“Ahh! You’re gonna make me cum again!” You whined, arching your back off of the wall. He kissed your exposed neck again, holding your hands tighter.

“I know i know! Just let it out, I’m right behind you.” He moaned, licking the hickeys that he left on your neck. He thrusted into you one good time, leaving it there for a moment as he rolled his hips again. Your mouth flew opened, as a single tear fell down your face. He nodded, biting his lip as he watched you lose it.

“Its ok, you’re doing so fucking good!” He moaned, kissing your bottom lip. Your eyes crossed, as you twitched with each thrust. Your juices were flowing down his legs, hitting the ground beneath him. You gasped for air, but nothing was happening. He quite literally, took your breath away.

“Come on, mama! You can do it, wake up!” He slapped your cheek lightly before shaking your entire face. In an instant, you gasped loudly, falling into his chest as he chased his own orgasm. You held onto him tightly, whimpering in his arms.

“You’re being such a good girl. I’m almost done!” He grunted kissing your shoulder again as he felt the knot in his stomach tightening. To your surprise, you felt the familiar knot in your stomach for the 4th time today.

“Lo’ak, I’m gonna cum again!” You cried, tears streaming down your face as you clang to his neck .

“It’s ok, mama! Cum as many times as you need to!” He groaned in your ear, nibbling on it as his thrusts became sloppier. You started shaking again, whining loudly as you came undone for the 4th time.

“Mmm Fuck!!” He growled painting your walls with a few quick thrusts. You held him closer, rolling your hips into his so you could receive every drop of him. Immediately, the fog of your heat was lifted for the time being. You and lo’ak panted loudly, looking into each others eyes.

“t-this can never happen again.” You said breathlessly in between panting. He glared at you, trailing his hand up to your neck, gripping it tightly. He kissed your lips sloppily, swapping spit with you before pulling away to speak.

“Maybe just a little taste…”

One thing imma make sure I do is write lo’ak gooooodddd. Please expect some eye rolling, toe curling, eye crossing, leg shaking orgasms everytime I write a lo’ak fanfic🤭. As always, I love y’all to death, and I’ll talk to y’all later❤️

Outtie❤️🖖🏾,

Pandorxx

Taglist:

@number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @viajaeger @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @pullandhug @ameliestsblog @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @st-cass @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @thecutieyahia

#avatar #avatar smut #avatar the way of water #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam headcanons #avatar loak #loak headcanons #loak x reader #avatar headcanons #loak smut #loak sully #loak x y/n

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justagalwhowrites · 3 months

Text

Yearling - Ch. 27: Found

You try to figure out what you want. Joel and Ellie go on patrol.A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-26 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst. CLEARLY. It's me. Homophobia. Smut-adjacent. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 11.3k (THIS IS GETTING TO BE A PROBLEM I'M SO SORRY)

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Late August, 2027

“You’re making this hard on purpose,” Ellie’s nose scrunched as she held her guitar.

You laughed.

“Promise, Kiddo, I’m not.”

“Sometimes I really don’t like you, you know,” she grumbled. You snorted. “I’m serious! Swear you make me do shit the hard way because you fucking enjoy watching me struggle…”

“You learn better when you do it yourself and do it the hard way,” you shrugged, leaning back against a post of your porch. You stretched a leg out onto the step below and picked a little at your guitar. “You’ll never learn if I just give you all the answers.”

“Yeah yeah,” she muttered, leaning to the side to add more of her disorganized scrawl to her notebook. “Swear you didn’t have to work this hard at shit…”

“I started a lot younger than you,” you replied, picking up the pace on your guitar and adding slaps and pops, no real rhyme or reason to it, just what your fingers felt like doing. “Everything is easier when you start young. And hey, you’ve got a leg up on any asshole who tries to learn when they’re my age.”

“Because you’re a dinosaur?” She looked up at you from her notebook, a small smirk on her face.

“Nah,” you replied. “They’d been dead like three years when I was born, I’m not THAT old.”

She laughed and went back to her notes as you kept playing, looking out down the path from your yard to the road beyond.

It was sweltering hot and you’d never been more thankful for a breeze or the fact that it was your day off from the stables. The hair that had pulled loose from your braids stuck to your skin and you’d been sweating all day, waking up with your sheets balled up at the foot of your bed and your tank top damp even with the ceiling fan on. You hadn’t even put on jeans that day, throwing on one of the few dresses that had made their way into your closet in the almost two years you’d been in Jackson. The first you’d taken when Maria mentioned seeing one she thought would fit you, not long before things fell apart with Joel. You’d intended to wear it to the Tipsy Bison on a night there was dancing once it was warmer, opening the door to Joel when you were dressed like what your mother would call “a proper lady.” You’d pictured dancing with him, his hand sliding up the inside of your thigh when you sat down to have a drink until you couldn’t take it anymore and you practically dragged him home, riding him with the skirt bunched up around your waist the second you were in the door.

That had never happened. That dress stayed tucked safely away at the back of your closet, not able to bring yourself to part with it and the image of that night with him.

The other dress was perfect for days like today, long and loose and thin cotton that made the oppressive heat of late summer tolerable. Even if Ellie had looked at you like you had two heads when she saw you in the damn thing.

You didn’t mind, though. You were just glad that you had gotten to the point that you liked spending time with Ellie again. That you’d started feeling much of anything at all.

The first month you got back was hazy. You didn’t really leave your house at first, not able to contribute much at the stable and not seeing a reason to move otherwise.

You weren’t entirely sure how many days passed before there was the first knock at your door.

It wasn’t an Ellie knock. The sound didn’t carry her chaotic energy or almost audacious nature. Instead, it was hesitant but sturdy and firm without being forceful or insistent. You stayed flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling of the closet for a minute to see if the knock would come again. It didn’t. You stared at the ceiling a while longer but, eventually, you had to pee. You forced yourself to move and, on your way back from the bathroom, passed your front door. You hesitated for a moment before you went and opened it, to see if whoever knocked had left a note.

On your porch was a box filled with crackers and jerky and fruit and carrots and celery. All things you could eat without needing to cook or, really, do anything at all. You knew it was from Joel, even though it hadn’t sounded like his knock, either. There was no one else who would have brought it because no one else knew why you were locked inside your home. But he was no where to be seen. He didn’t leave a note.

A few days later, you forced yourself to go to the stable to check on the horses. The fillies and the colt weren’t making much progress without you - you’d have to probably start nearly from scratch with them once your arm healed - but you were able to feel somewhat useful, brushing horses down, checking on their hooves to see when they’d need to be shoed, just giving them some love and attention. That helped you feel a little more like yourself.

Ellie started coming by again a few days after that. She showed up one afternoon with a CD and a sandwich from the mess hall, marching into your living room like nothing had happened, complaining about another kid in town and how Joel wasn’t going to let her patrol with anyone but him for a while.

“I could get partnered with Dina but no,” she drew the last word out, sprawled on your couch, rolling her eyes as she did. “The old man is convinced I’m going to drop dead if he’s not looking out for me for five minutes…”

“I’m sure he’ll ease up once he sees how capable you are,” you said, sitting on the loveseat and picking up the CD case she’d brought with her. The Clash this time. “Mick Jones and Joe Strummer, nice choice. Why do you want to go out with Dina, anyway? I thought not everything was about girls…”

“Shut up.”

“Nah.”

You were’t sure if you were really doing better or if you’d just found a way to push the hurt down inside yourself again. You weren’t sure there was a way to recover from this, from the idea that you’d probably never see your child again. Clinging to the possibility felt so necessary but so foolish. You weren’t sure if it was reason or denial but it didn’t really matter. You weren’t sure you could live without that possibility dulling the jagged edges of your grief and pain.

The boxes of food made regular appearances on your porch. You never saw Joel.

When you were close to getting your cast off, Ellie came by your house but didn’t shove her way inside the way she usually did. Instead, she hovered on your porch.

“OK don’t be mad,” she said, a serious look on her face.

“Off to a great start,” you replied.

She glared at you for a second before pressing on.

“Joel sent me with a message,” she said. “He wanted me to tell you that the movie tonight was something called Ever After and that he thought you would like it and that he wasn’t going to be there so you should go. And to not be mad. I think you shouldn’t be mad, too, by the way.”

“Not mad,” you smiled a little. “I just… I don’t know…”

“Come on, Bambi,” Ellie said, dropping some of her pretense now. “Dina’s going with Jesse and I’ve never seen it and I really don’t want to be stuck sitting by them while they suck face.”

You sighed, looking back over your shoulder in the direction of Joel’s house. You found yourself looking that way a lot.

“Alright,” you said after a moment, looking back at Ellie. “I’ll go. But only to save you from your crush…”

“I’m going to ignore that last part and just be happy you’re going,” she said, a little smug. “Even though you’re annoying about it.”

“So annoying,” you agreed, stepping into your boots, turning on the lamp and following her out the door.

It was strangely easy to adjust to being around the people of Jackson again. Ellie gave you something to focus on, busy trying to distract her from the Dina and Jesse acting exactly like you remembered some of your friends in high school acted with their boyfriends.

“What’s this movie about, anyway?” Ellie asked as the two of you settled in toward the back of the room.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it,” you said. “But I think it was like Cinderella.”

Ellie looked at you and made a face.

“Like the fairy tale.”

“Yup,” you replied. She stared at you and you laughed a little. “What?”

“I’m just trying to picture you liking a fucking fairy tale.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms as best you could with one in a cast.

“What?” She teased. “Don’t tell me you like some stupid story where love solves everyone’s problems…”

“What’s wrong with that?” Julie, the woman you’d seen a few times at the Tipsy Bison and when she went out on patrol, appeared alongside Ellie, a large bowl of popcorn in her hands.

“It’s bullshit,” Ellie said. “There’s a reason they’re stories for little kids.”

“Maybe you just haven’t loved that way yet,” she smiled a little before nodding to the chair on the other side of you. “Seat taken?”

You hoped you didn’t just stare at her for too long. People didn’t just talk to you in Jackson, not without a reason, let alone try to sit by you. You weren’t entirely sure what to do with it.

“All yours,” you said, tugging your legs in close so she could pass you and sit down. She settled in beside you and smiled, holding out the bowl.

“Thanks,” she said. “Popcorn?”

“Sure,” you said after a moment, taking some with your good hand. “Thank you.”

“Course,” she smiled a little bigger in a lopsided, almost cocky way. “What’s the point of popcorn if you don’t share it?”

The movie was good. You’d only seen it once or twice before the outbreak but you’d liked it then, too. Cinderella was smart and capable, the prince was handsome and kind and you liked to imagine the way life was in that period of time.

“OK so that wasn’t terrible,” Ellie said as you headed out with her and Julie.

“Told you,” you teased a little.

“No one told me that sometimes the girls in fairy tales got to be badasses,” she replied. “I might have liked the stories more then!”

“The girls are always badasses,” Julie said. “They just try to hide it, scares the men otherwise.”

Ellie snorted.

“Sounds right.”

You reached Joel’s. There was a light on in his living room and you felt the familiar tug in you to go inside and join him. Just let yourself in the front door and settle in like it was yours.

“I’m gonna go tell the old man that his taste in movies isn’t totally awful,” Ellie said, heading up the front walk. “Still want help tomorrow at the stable?”

“Stalls ain’t gonna muck themselves,” you replied and held up your still healing arm. “And this isn’t much help.”

“Ugh,” she groaned good naturedly. “Night!”

You watched until she made it to the front door - not that the precaution was really necessary here but it made you feel better - and you turned to Julie, your good hand stuffed in your pocket.

“I’m that way and to the left,” you said. “So…”

“Mind if I join you?” She asked. “Nice night, figure I’ll take the scenic route.”

You looked at her for a moment.

“Sure,” you shrugged. “Not much to see though.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” she smiled one of those lopsided smiles and fell into step beside you, walking a little slower than you and you slowed down to match her pace. You looked ahead. “So, how’ve you been doing? Don’t see you at the Bison much anymore.”

“Fine,” you shrugged. “Just haven’t felt like going out.” You looked over at her and had the passing thought that she was pretty. Young, with long, dark hair and bright eyes and full lips.“How about you?”

“Oh you know,” she waved you off. “Same old, same old. The berries are coming into season though, have you been to check out the orchards and stuff?”

“I’ve ridden past them,” you said. “Haven’t exactly spent time there, though.”

“You should!” She brightened at that, even more than she already was. The two of you came to a stop at your front walk. “Think you’d like it. You should come with me sometime, it’d be fun.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you smiled a little tightly. “This is me, so…”

“Nice place,” she smiled back, looking more genuine than yours felt. “Well, whenever you want to check it out, let me know. Hope to see you around.”

“You too,” you said, standing there awkwardly for a moment before turning and heading up the walk and into your house.

You went to the mess hall the next morning for breakfast. Dinner, too. And soon, your cast was off and you were going there for most meals, even if it was just to grab something to bring home or go to the stables. The food boxes stopped showing up on your porch.

Instead, you’d come back from the stables and find new guitar strings waiting for you there or a CD that you didn’t have or a copy of Titanic on VHS, the one that took two tapes and you had to get up halfway through to change it.

You’d told Joel he should move on. You weren’t sure if you really wanted him to - you doubted you’d be able to stomach seeing him with someone else - but you didn’t want him to be alone, either. You didn’t want to drag him down with you just because you couldn’t separate his past from your own.

“OK so I think I have it,” Ellie said, pulling you out of your head and making your fingers still. “Can you look?”

She shoved the notebook your way and you leaned over your guitar to look at it, fingering the chords but not playing them.

“Yeah,” you said after a minute. “I think that’s probably closer to what you’re looking for, give it a go.”

You pushed the notebook back towards her and she set her guitar on her lap, adjusting it for a second before playing it. You nodded along, watching as she scrunched her face, getting more and more frustrated before she groaned.

“That’s not right either,” she leaned her head back on the post at her back. “Song writing shouldn’t be this hard. This is bullshit.”

“The shit that’s worth doing is hard, kid,” you shrugged. “Why don’t you try thinking about it again for a minute. Do you want it to feel urgent or slow and confident? Both are strong but they’re going to have different vibes.”

She sighed and closed her eyes.

“I don’t know.”

“Well,” you shrugged, settling back with your guitar. “Figure out how you’re feeling and what you want the song to say about it. It’ll come to you.”

You went back to playing as Ellie picked her notebook back up, gnawing on the end of her pen.

“I didn’t know you played!”

You stopped and your head shot up from its place on the post to see Julie standing at the end of your walk, her hands in the pockets of her shorts, her thick hair piled on top of her head, her arms looking sculpted and strong in her tank top.

“Sorry,” she laughed. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Can I come up?”

“Um…”

“Sure!” Ellie said before you had a chance to really think about it. Julie reached over the short fence and unlatched the gate before opening it and coming up to your porch, sitting on the bottom step so she was looking up at you and Ellie.

“Didn’t know there was a guitar club in town,” she said, folding one leg into her chest and looping her arms around her shin. “Don’t stop on my account! What song was that?”

“Oh, that wasn’t anything,” you said, running your fingers up and down the neck of the guitar. “Just… fidgeting, really.”

“Yeah, Bambi is fucking awesome,” Ellie said. “Best guitar player in town, easy.”

“Ellie,” you gave her a look but she ignored you.

“Seriously, you name it and she can probably play it,” she said. “She knows so much about music it’s insane.”

“Not really,” you cut her off. “I just like music so I learned about what I liked, that’s all…”

“Oh bullshit,” Ellie rolled her eyes. “She’s a human juke box, try her.”

“Do you mind?” Julie asked, looking at you with her brows raised. Her eyes were bright green and almost sharp.

“As long as you’re prepared to be disappointed,” you shrugged. “I can try.”

Ellie scoffed and Julie ignored her.

“I remember this song from when I was a kid, just before the outbreak,” she said. “It actually took me a while to track down the name of it after and you might think it’s silly but… I’m With You? Know that one?”

You smiled a little.

“I know that one,” you said, settling the guitar on your lap. “Haven’t tried to play it before, though. Avril’s not really my wheelhouse, so… go easy on me.”

You couldn’t remember exactly how the song started but you remembered the chorus and you remembered a verse from there. The music just trailed off at the end, not really remembering how the song ended either, and you awkwardly drummed your fingers on the body of the guitar when you stopped playing, Ellie and Julie both watching you.

“Right, well,” you said. “Like I said, not really my wheelhouse and…”

“That was fantastic!” Julie cut you off, her broad smile making the freckles on her cheeks rise.

“Told you,” Ellie said. “She’s the best.”

“Well I figured that much,” Julie rolled her eyes a little dramatically but smiled that cocky smile as she did before looking back to you again. “Thanks for letting me put you on the spot.”

“Any time,” you said before you really had a chance to think about it. She smiled a little bigger.

“Hey, so, I hadn’t meant to break up the jam session,” she said. “I was actually coming by to see if you wanted to come with me tomorrow afternoon, I was going to head out to the orchards for a bit. You’re welcome to join, get outside for a bit. It’s nice, promise.”

“Um,” you said for what felt like the millionth time that day, trying to picture the stable schedule. “I think that would work, I have some patrols leaving that morning but should be able to step away for a bit in the afternoon…”

“Perfect,” she said, getting up. “I need to get down to the Bison but I’ll meet you at the stables tomorrow?”

“That’s where I’ll be,” you smiled in a way you hoped was genuine. “Looking forward to it.”

“It’ll be fun,” she said. “I’ll see you then. Bye, Ellie!”

“Bye Julie,” she dragged her name out and gave you a look. You seriously considered kicking her. Julie laughed and started down your walk, only making it halfway to the gate before turning around and walking backwards, looking back at you with her hands in her back pockets.

“Nice dress, by the way,” she said. “It works for you. See you tomorrow!”

You went back to messing with your guitar as you tried to not watch her walk up the lane. Ellie was far less delicate, craning her neck until Julie turned the corner.

She spun to face you and swatted your leg.

“Oh my GOD,” she half whispered, half yelled at you.

“What?” You asked, fingers stilling on the strings.

“That!” She said. “All that fucking flirting!”

“Ellie…”

“Oh come ON,” she cut you off. “You may as well have fucked right on your porch, Jesus Christ…”

“OK I will say this again,” you said, setting your guitar down beside you. “Who is and isn’t between my legs? Not your business.”

“Well that’s just not true,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who fucked Joel and made it my business.” You sighed and went to reply but she held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather you two work your shit out and get back together. But if you’re not going to figure it out then you shouldn’t just be miserable and lonely forever and Julie is hot as fuck.”

“Ellie!” You hissed.

“What!” She replied, her brows raised. “She is!”

“Jesus…”

“Just saying!” She said, her hands up in mock surrender. “Julie’s cool. And hot. I think you’d have fun. And you should at least try to have some fun sometimes instead of just being miserable all the time.”

“What if I like being miserable.”

“Just don’t chicken out,” Ellie said, ignoring you and picking up her guitar before getting to her feet. “But I’m getting hungry. Think I’ll go see what the old man is doing for dinner. You’re welcome to come along if you’d rather not be miserable with us…”

“Ellie.”

“Right, right,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean it, fucking go tomorrow. You big chicken.”

“Go home, you little brat,” you replied. She cheerfully flipped you off before heading back toward Joel’s.

You sat on your porch for a while longer, absently playing and watching as the color of the sky slowly shifted from blue to pink to deep, inky black. The darkness seemed to swallow everything, like there wasn’t anything beyond what was right in front of you. But you knew that if you walked far enough, followed the light of the north star, you’d find things beyond what consumed here and now.

It was late when you finally went inside, scrounging in your kitchen for the last of some of what Joel had brought you even though you weren’t particularly hungry. You turned on the stereo and just let whatever CD you’d put in last play, not really paying attention

You found yourself thinking about Julie. About what Ellie said about Julie.

It had been a long time since you’d had a woman flirt with you. You’d been with your fair share of women since the outbreak but flirting hadn’t really been part of it. Marisa was the first woman you’d slept with and, after Savvy came along, you stopped seeking out that kind of connection with men and kept it to strictly women. It just seemed safer. After Marisa, it had always been casual - you didn’t think you could bear another heartbreak like that - and it had always been fairly blunt. You could generally tell if they were interested in letting off some physical steam and, if they were, you had fun for a few days before they moved on.

But things with Julie reminded you of one of your first crushes, a girl who did trick riding on the same circuit as you when you were a girl. You’d first noticed Courtney when you were both 13. She was so beautiful you couldn’t help but stare at her. At first, you’d almost resented her. She was good, damn good, and she was full of charismatic smiles and she dusted glitter across her collarbones that peeked out from the top of her costume. She was exactly who your mother wished you were and, as much as you loved bronc and bull and roping, part of you wanted to be who your mother wanted you to be. You wanted to be satisfied with what she wanted for you and you wanted to be happy being who Courtney was so effortlessly. Life would be simpler and happier if you were content with that and Courtney was proof that life existed. And you wanted it.

You settled for beating her, for a while. Narrowing your eyes at her when you passed her between rounds at competitions, looking her way when you saw your scores narrowly eclipse hers on the board. You loved it. The only thing you wanted more than beating her was her.

Hell if you knew what to do with that.

In hindsight, you weren’t sure she knew, either.

The first time she’d said more than two words to you was when you’d smirked at her as you held the first place trophy. You went to the locker room after the awards ceremony and you had the place almost to yourself, most of the other girls already cleaned out. The third place winner - a girl who’s name you didn’t remember - left and it was just a few seconds later that you heard the door slam into the wall. You looked up to see Courtney stalking over to you. You could see the glitter on her collarbones and her cheeks, her eyes hot and her lips full.

“Want to tell me what the hell your problem is?” She demanded, getting so close to you that you could smell her body spray. It was almost sickly sweet and floral but on her it smelled good. “What did I ever do to you? Why do you hate me so much!”

“I don’t hate you…” you said.

“Could’ve fooled me!” She cut you off.

“Why do you care?” You snapped. “We compete, we’re not friends, who cares if I hate you?”

“I care!” She snapped back.

“Why!”

“Because I like you!” She yelled, breathless. You just blinked at her for a moment as she caught her breath, her eyes drifting to your lips. “I like you and sometimes…”

She didn’t get a chance to finish. Instead, you kissed her.

It was clumsy and deeply uncertain. You’d never kissed anyone before and you had no idea what you were doing, your hands locked tight at your sides as though touching her anywhere at all was against the rules but you were risking it, anyway. Her mouth was warm and soft and it seemed oddly wet even though that made sense when you thought about it.

After a moment you pulled back from her slightly, your eyes wide, not really believing what you’d just done.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your turn to be breathless now. “I… I don’t know…”

“Shut up,” she kissed you that time, pressing you back against the lockers, stretching up to better reach your lips, her body hot on your own. You kissed her back, trying to focus and take in everything. How she tasted, how she smelled, how her costume hugged the slight curve of her waist.

“Courtney!” Her mother’s shrill voice from the hall made her jump away from you and wipe her mouth on the back of her hand. “You about ready honey?”

“One minute!” She called back before turning to you. “Do you have a some paper?”

You just nodded and fumbled in your bag for a notebook. She turned to a random page that happened to have some history notes on it and wrote her name and number at the top. Her handwriting was soft and curved and feminine and you envied that, too. She drew a little heart next to it.

“Call me,” she said, pressing the notebook into your chest. “OK?”

“Yeah,” you said, staring at her. You couldn’t help but stare at her. “Yeah, I will.”

“Good,” she smiled. “See you next time, superstar. Maybe I’ll finish on top then.”

“Courtney!”

“Coming!” She grabbed her bag out of a nearby locker and gave you an almost sly smile before she ran out to meet her mother.

From then on, most of your time with her was flirting. In between rounds at competitions or on the phone when you were far apart, carefully crafting your words so you’d have plausible deniability with your parents but know what the other meant. You wrote each other letters when you were apart, counted the days until you got to see each other again. When you found an empty spot when you were in the same place, you ended up tangled up together, kissing and fumbling against each other, figuring out what seemed to stoke the fires deep inside yourselves in the small moments you could find for just the two of you.

That continued for just over a year when Courtney came to a tournament with a somber expression on her face. You frowned but she gave you a subtle shake of her head as she passed you and you kept quiet. It took a few hours before you were able to get her alone and she told you the truth of it. That her mom had found your letters to her - thankfully not signed so she had no idea who had written them but still obviously from another girl - and had told her daughter that she, unequivocally, would end it.

“But…” you protested, trying not to cry.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick. “But… she threatened to send me to one of those camps if I don’t and… I can’t go to that, OK? I can’t, I don’t think I could make it and…”

You held onto her as she cried, her tears making little rivers in the glitter on her skin.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I really… I think I…”

You kissed her before she said it.

“Me too,” you said quietly when you pulled away.

She sniffed and smiled a small smile.

“Maybe in another life, right?”

“Right,” you smiled a little back.

She dried her eyes as best she could and you watched from the stands as she gave the best performance you’d ever seen. You did the opposite. Your routine ended with a full Stroud Layout but your top foot slipped when you were getting into position and you fell off your horse, tumbling over and over yourself in the sand of the arena, the feel of it gritty in your mouth as your head spun when your body finally came to a stop.

You didn’t make the podium and your mother didn’t push you to compete again for a while. You never saw Courtney again.

You weren’t sure how to navigate things with Julie. You weren’t sure what you wanted to navigate with Julie. She was beautiful, yes. And she seemed kind and funny and smart. She seemed like someone you could have fun with and could care about.

But she wasn’t Joel. You weren’t sure you could feel like you felt for him for anyone else. It seemed silly to even try. And if you couldn’t feel like that, what was the point?

You tried to sleep but gave up eventually. After a while, you found the moose carving you’d started when you were out with Joel, looking for Savvy. It was getting closer to being done, though it was still a rough hewn thing. You weren’t sure anyone who didn’t know what it was supposed to be would realize what it was without help. But still, it felt good to make something. You let yourself be absorbed by carving it for a bit, until it felt like you’d shut your mind down enough to sleep. You set the moose down on the nightstand, arranging him so it was like he was watching you sleep, the red splotch from your blood still staining his chest.

You brought him with you to the stables the next day for something to work on when you needed the distraction. Just sitting there with your thoughts when you had downtime seemed like a bad idea.

“You’re gonna tell me all about it, right?” Ellie asked as you gave Shimmer and Ares a final once over that morning.

“I don’t need to tell you every time I hang out with someone,” you replied.

“Whatever,” she said. “Just don’t chicken out. Actually go, you need a social life…”

“What, getting sick of keeping me company all the time?” You teased, handing her the reins.

“Yeah, you’re pretty fucking boring,” she smirked a little. You snorted. “I’m serious though. Promise you’ll go.”

“I’m going,” you said, giving her a gentle shove toward the door. “Get out of here. Be safe on patrol, see you back tonight.”

“Not if you’re at Julie’s you won’t,” she waggled her eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes as you watched her lead her and Joel’s horses out of the stables.

Time dragged until that afternoon and you found yourself feeling oddly nervous, waiting for Julie to come by. You weren’t sure what time she was supposed to get there and, you realized, you didn’t know what to actually expect with any of this.

Yeah, it had felt like flirting. And Ellie seemed sure that it was. But Ellie was a kid and your recent experience in that department was so limited you really knew fuck all about it. What if you’d read the situation completely wrong? What if Julie was just a nice woman who wanted to be friends?

“Hey you,” Julie’s voice surprised you enough that it made you jump, water sloshing over the side of the bucket you were carrying to top off one of the horses. “Shit, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you…”

“You’re fine,” you said quickly, refilling a waterer and setting the bucket down.

“Now still good?” She asked. “Because I’m not in a rush, today is my day off…”

“Now’s good,” you said quickly, trying not to think too hard about what she was wearing. Her long, lush hair was softly braided and hung over her shoulder, loose strands framing her face. Her shorts were short and her legs were long and sculpted and she wore a few long necklaces that settled into the curve between her breasts. She smiled.

“Great!” She held up a bag you hadn’t noticed before. “Brought snacks. Not that we’ll need much, it’s peak berry season out there. We could eat ourselves sick and not make a dent.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you smiled a little.

“Oh, I intend to,” she smiled back.

Julie led the way out of town, smiling and chatting with the guards at the gate for a moment before heading toward the orchards just east of town.

“So why are you heading out here on your day off?” You asked, looking over at her.

“Well as I think you know, one of my main contributions to the good people of Jackson is tending bar at the Bison,” she smiled. “But that’s because I just really like drinks. I found this old cocktail book when I was a teenager and I just kind of became obsessed, I guess? There was that and these books and magazines that showed what it was like before and I wanted to do that. Have the experience of going to a bar when life was different, you know? And yeah, we make some pretty decent booze here in town - or I think we do, anyway, didn’t really get to try any before - but that’s not all it takes to make a good cocktail. I can’t make a Coke or anything but I can make the syrups and infusions and things. I like to experiment in my spare time so I come out here, pick the supplies I need, and give things a try at home before I bring my ideas into the Bison.”

“Do I get to know what you’re working on?” You asked, brows raised.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” she smirked. “But I will need a guinea pig before too long if you’re game…”

“Far be it from me to turn down a free drink,” you replied and she smiled bigger.

The orchards were, indeed, beautiful. You followed her to a particularly dense spot and she pulled a blanket out of the bag, spreading it on the ground in the shade of an apple tree.

“I won’t lie,” she said, sitting back on her hands and closing her eyes, taking a deep breath. “This is probably my favorite spot.”

“I can see why,” you nodded, drawing your knees into your chest and looking around. “It’s gorgeous here.”

“It’s quiet here,” she laughed a little. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Jackson. Way better than the QZ we were in when I was a kid. It’s a good place with good people. I love the people, truly, I do. But everyone knows everyone and knows everything about everyone and it’s so hard to have anything for yourself, you know?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s a great place but… it’s definitely a lot.”

You talked a little about your pasts. You told her - vaguely, lightly - about your time before Mitchum. She told you about her time in the Denver QZ and you almost fainted when she said she was only 31 years old.

“How old were you when the world ended?” You gaped at her. “Do you even remember?”

“I was seven,” she laughed. “I remember a bit. How old were you?”

“Older than that,” you replied. “Jesus…”

“Not that old, clearly,” she said, picking a blackberry off a bush and holding it out to you. “This is a good one, you should have it.”

“Old enough,” you replied. “And if it’s good, you should have it.”

“I have them all the time,” she said, stepping close to you. You were suddenly acutely aware of the fact that you were wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing when working with the horses all day and you hoped you didn’t smell. She pressed the berry to your lips. “Try it.”

You obeyed, taking the fruit into your mouth and biting into it, the juice bursting on your tongue.

“See?” She smiled. “Told you.”

The two of you ended up back on the blanket and you stretched out on it, looking up at the clouds drifting lazily past overhead, arms bare - too hot to wear anything more than a tank top - but not feeling overly exposed. Julie lay next to you, her arm brushing your own.

“Is it weird that I sometimes don’t feel like I missed out?” She asked. You felt her adjust next to you and you glanced her way to see her lying on her side, facing you. “I mean I know there was a lot before that we don’t have now but… I dunno, I guess I still wanted to be a ballerina when the world ended. It doesn’t feel like I really gave up all that much, you know?”

“Think that has as much to do with Jackson as anything else,” you replied, adjusting so that you were facing her. “But I get that, in a way. If I’d found Jackson when I was younger, I think I’d feel the same. Shit, what I’m doing now is exactly what I grew up wanting to do. If it wasn’t for all the time in between, the end of the world would have just turned into me getting just what I wanted. Besides all the death anyway.”

“Think you’re right about the Jackson thing,” she smiled a little. “It’s a special place with good people. Like a few better than the others, though.”

“Yeah?”

She reached out and brushed some of the hair that had fallen from your braid back from your face and trailed her fingers down your cheek and your chin.

“Yup.”

She leaned in then, moving slow and holding your gaze, giving you all the time in the world to stop her if you wanted.

You didn’t.

Her kiss was soft and gentle, her lips smooth on yours. She tasted and smelled sweet and her hand went to your hip, tugging you against her.

Julie’s body was softer than you expected as she pressed against you and, in so many ways, she felt safe and comfortable there. But she felt foreign, too. You’d become accustomed to a different form on yours, one that was larger and broader and firmer.

You tried not to think about him as her kiss deepened, as your hand went to her waist and trailed over her side but stopped short of cupping her breast.

She nudged you onto your back and she settled on top of you, her chest pressed tight to yours, her hips starting to rock gently against you. You ran your hands over her back to the top of her ass but didn’t go lower, not able to shake the subtle wrongness of kissing someone and feeling someone who wasn’t Joel.

After a minute, she pulled away from you.

“I get the feeling you’re not as into this as I am,” she said, panting a little. You opened your mouth to argue but she silenced you with a look. “If I misread things, I’m really sorry. But you should know that you don’t have to fuck me just because I’m trying to fuck you.”

“You didn’t misread anything,” you said quickly.

“Good,” she smiled a little. “But… It doesn’t seem like you’re feeling this.”

You winced.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling,” you said. “But… I don’t think I’m feeling what you are.”

“Well shit,” she laughed a little and rolled off you, lying flat on her back beside you. “I really am sorry if I came on too strong or did something you didn’t want…”

You laughed a little.

“Definitely not that,” you said. “Just have… other things on my mind. And you deserve someone’s full attention.”

She turned her head to look at you and you turned yours, too.

“It’s Joel, isn’t it?” She asked. You winced a little. “Sorry, I’m not trying to dig into anything that’s not my business, it just… seemed like you guys split up a while ago so I thought it would be OK. I’m sorry.”

“No, it probably should be,” you said. “It’s got nothing to do with you, trust me.”

“Well,” she said. “At the risk of this being the most awkward hang out ever… want to help me get some raspberries?”

“Sure,” you laughed a little. “I’d like that.”

She smiled.

“Good. Me too.”

It was awkward for a bit, but by the time the two of you started back to Jackson, it was lighter. Easier. Like you’d never kissed at all.

Julie walked with you back to the stables, not too long before you were expecting patrols that weren’t out overnight to return.

“Even with everything today, I hope we can be friends,” she said. “I do actually like you. Not just because I’d like to fuck you.”

You laughed a little.

“Yeah, I’d like that, too,” you said. “I’m sorry I’m not… in the same place on the fucking front…”

“I’d rather pretend we never found that out,” she laughed a little. “Maintain some of the mystery. But, you know. If anything changes, it’s a small town. You know where to find me.”

“That I do,” you said.

She turned to leave but seemed to think better of it and turned back.

“If he’s it for you?” She said. “I think you should figure out a way to make it work. No point in wanting something and acting like you can’t have it when it’s right there, you know? And yeah, it’s not really my business and yeah, I don’t know you all that well but… something tells me you’re not going to be feeling any different anytime soon. And I don’t think he is either. Just… my two cents.”

She smiled and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Thanks, Julie,” you said quietly. She gave your arm a squeeze.

“See you around, Bambi.”

You watched the door she left through for a few minutes after she was gone before you went back to work.

The patrols all made it back without incident, Ellie returning her and Joel’s horses. She asked how things went but you just waved her off and she deflated a bit.

“I keep trying to get some excitement around here,” she said. “You are no fucking help, you know that?”

“I am so sorry my romantic life isn’t more entertaining,” you said wryly. “I’ll work on that. Entirely for your benefit, of course.”

“Well you’re clearly not going to do it for your own.”

You just rolled your eyes as she headed back home. You stayed late at the stables. Not for any real reason, you just didn’t want to be at home alone and going to the mess hall didn’t sound like what you wanted, either. You worked on the moose carving, pleasantly surprised at the progress you’d made on him.

You ended up working on him until, almost suddenly, you realized he was done. Fully formed - or as close to it as you could get him - with four legs and jagged shapes for the antlers. But he looked like a moose, broad and steady and strong. You turned him over in your hand a few times, running your finger over the arch of his back and the curve of his neck.

“What am I going to do with you?” You said quietly, holding it up in front of you, looking where his eyes would be if he had them. The bloodstain was still crimson on his chest.

After a few minutes, you got up off the floor of the stable and did your final check for the evening before locking up behind you and heading home.

You took the long way.

It was dark but not so late that the Tipsy Bison had closed for the night, a warm glow coming from the windows. With the sun down, you were a little cold with bare arms but you didn’t mind. You walked slowly, watching the stars as you went.

You stopped at the end of Joel’s walk. The lights were out. You thought he probably went to bed early - he got tired after a patrol - but he could be at the Bison, too. Either way…

You all but crept up his walk, holding the moose tightly in your fingers. You stopped at the base of his stairs and held the rough-hewn animal in front of your face again.

“Keep an eye on him for me?” You said quietly to the wood. It didn’t say anything back. You stepped as lightly as you could up the stairs but the same step as always squeaked below you. You set the moose on Joel’s doormat before turning to go, making the step squeak again. You made it almost all the way back up the walk when the lights inside turned on and you picked up the pace.

It didn’t matter. You heard the front door open just as you turned onto the street and your eyes darted over toward him before you could help it.

“Bambi?” He called, not too loud. He was in his blue cotton plaid sleep pants and a black t-shirt that hugged his body just right, tight across his shoulders and upper arms, highlighting the soft curve of his stomach. You stopped for a moment and just gave him a tight smile before continuing on home.

When you went to bed, you found yourself looking at the spot on your nightstand where the moose had been before, part of you wishing he was still beside you.

***

“Hey. Hey Joel.”

Joel smiled a little to himself. He recognized Ellie’s tone.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“Wanna hear a joke about pizza?”

He sighed, trying to sound annoyed. He wasn’t sure if it worked.

“Get the feeling you’re gonna tell me either way.”

“Eh, never mind,” Ellie said, sounding a little put out. Joel looked back at her, frowning slightly. And then she smirked. “It’s too cheesy.”

Joel groaned.

“That one’s bad, baby girl.”

“No it’s not!” She rode up alongside him even though the trail wasn’t really wide enough for that. “That was a good one!”

“Nope,” he shook his head. “It was terrible, three out of 10.”

“Bullshit!”

“What would you give it?” He asked, brows raised. “Because I’m questioning your judgement here…”

“At least a six.”

“No.”

“Yes!” She laughed. “You’ve just got shitty taste, old man.”

“Uh huh,” he laughed. “And what’s that say about you then, hm?”

“Broken clock is right twice a day,” she replied. “You were bound to accidentally do OK every now and then. Will Livingston, however, is right every time.”

“You got that entire book memorized?” He teased lightly. “If not, you gotta be close…”

“I’m getting there,” she said. “Saving the best for last.”

Joel just shook his head a little.

He loved patrolling with Ellie. Even more than he thought he would. It was so much like when he’d first come to know her and care for her. It was a time, he realized now, that made him understand that he could still love. That he had it within himself to care for another person, that he could cope with the fear of loss that came with attachment because Ellie was worth it. He liked spending the time just the two of them and getting to know her better as the young woman she was becoming instead of the little girl he’d come to know years earlier. She’d grown so much, come into her own in a way that was only possible in a place like Jackson. She had friends and hobbies and had become part of the community there. Every day with her was reassurance that he’d done the right thing. That every life he’d taken that day in the hospital was a worthy price to pay.

Joel had left Jackson with Ellie plenty before patrolling with her, back when she was still speaking to him. Before she found out the truth of everything. He’d loved it then, too. But this was different. She was still his baby girl but they were out here as partners, working together to protect the community they both loved. It was a glimpse of the future they had, one where their lives moved along side by side and he got to watch her find her place and fall in love and have a family of her own and just be happy as herself.

They were only a day out from Jackson now, heading in from a three day long patrol. It was Ellie’s first overnight patrol and she’d been so excited for it, even as she tried to pretend like she wasn’t. The days before they left town, Ellie was over at his house every night, going over the list of what she should bring and looking over the map. She’d lit up when he said they could bring a guitar, something else that made Joel smile.

It had been more than a month since she’d gotten him back into playing, showing up at his house with a guitar and saying she wanted his opinion on something. She played American Girl, one of his favorites, and set the guitar down when she was done.

“That was amazing, baby girl,” he’d said, more than a little in awe of her. “Where did you learn that?”

“Bambi,” she replied. “But do you think it’d sound better with two? I feel like it would. But you’re the musician so…”

It was an obvious ploy but it made him smile a little. The idea that Ellie would do that much to make him play again. That you’d help her.

“It might,” he said, getting up to get his instrument. “Let’s give it a try.”

Joel tried to not think of you too much. He usually failed. But he was getting better at not drowning in the memories of you, of not letting the loss of you consume him.

It helped that he’d found a way to care for you while respecting the distance you wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to just abandon you, not when he had a sense of how much you were hurting. So he brought you food. Selfishly, it served two purposes. It meant you were, hopefully, eating something. But it also meant he knew that you were still alive. That he could leave a box on your porch, walk by a few hours later, and see that it was gone. He could check on you without forcing you to talk to him and that eased the steady drumbeat of worry inside him.

When he heard you were back at the stables, he shifted from things you needed to things you would want. He brought you the things he found that made him think of you, things he’d have given you when he came home to you in another life.

It also helped that he knew you thought of him, too. At least occasionally, enough that you’d left the carving you’d made on his porch a few weeks before. He thought he was hearing things when the first squeak woke him up from his place on the couch, but then the step squeaked a second time and he was sure he heard it. He’d thought it might be Ellie, needing something but not necessarily wanting to say it. He hadn’t expected to see you heading down the street, the first glimpse of you he’d had in so long. Your arm was out of the cast and you looked good. A bit thinner than you’d been the last time he’d seen you but still good. Still beautiful, still soft with sharp edges. Still what he wanted to sink into and wrap himself up in every chance he got. He picked the moose up and brought it inside, tracing the outline of its frame for a moment. You’d finished it. It was rough, you were clearly a beginner, but you’d finished it and given it to him. His thumb brushed the wound on its heart, where you’d bled. Before he really thought better of it, he brought the figure to his lips and kissed it gently before setting it on the side table and turning out the lights.

The two of you were set to leave Jackson again in just a week, another gap in the patrol schedule that you could leverage to search for Savvy now that you were healed. He hoped this search led somewhere. He couldn’t imagine what it was like, living like that, not knowing what happened to your child. The closest he’d come was the torturous time that Ellie was with the monsters who’d taken her in Silver Lake. He was so frantic, so terrified of what he’d find but even more terrified of never finding it to begin with. He needed to save her, protect her. But if he couldn’t do that, he needed to know what happened to her. He needed to know who to destroy before he destroyed himself for letting it happen. Living in that for years would be unbearable.

“Hey Joel?”

He could hear the frown in her voice.

“Yeah Baby Girl?” He looked over his shoulder, Ellie and Shimmer falling behind him again now that the trail had narrowed further. She stopped and so did he.

“That’s something we should be watching for, right?” She nodded toward something off the trail, a small frown on her face. Joel followed where she was looking and he froze in his saddle.

It took an eagle eye to spot it, just brush amongst brush, but it shocked him when he saw it. The gentle arch of a sapling, stretching down toward the ground, held there with rope.

“Yeah,” he said. “It is. Stay with the horses.”

“But…”

“Just one second,” he said, dismounting and going for the trap, trying desperately not to get his hopes up but his heart was racing. It was a common set up for a trap. It could be anyone’s.

This trap was far fresher than the one he’d found with you, the dirt where the pin and been put in the ground still disturbed. The trap itself was still baited and the pins were smooth, almost artistically carved. It hadn’t been here long. He looked around quickly, looking for some indication of where the person who set this trap might have gone. It took some doing - whoever it was covered their tracks well - but he found it, the edge of a boot print.

He went back to his horse and mounted up.

“Ellie,” he said, voice serious. “Need you to listen to me, OK?”

“OK,” she frowned. “Joel, you’re acting weird…”

“We’re gonna track someone,” he said. “But when we find them, need you to not shoot them until we talk to them, OK? And… and if its a teenaged girl, need you to not shoot them even if she pulls a gun on me, OK?”

“A teenaged… Joel, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Just trust me,” he said. “Please.”

He started with the boot print and found little hints of someone moving through the brush from there. Disturbed leaves, a splotch of dirt that looked misplaced, a small branch that had snagged on another when something about human height passed below it.

“Joel,” Ellie said after they’d been tracking for about 20 minutes.

“Still looking,” he said gently. “It’s OK…”

He heard something rustle down low up ahead and he adjusted Ares’ path to check on it. He didn’t need to go far, the source of the sound only about 100 feet away and next to a large rock. Standing there, beside to a large horse and a large dog, was a girl. She was a little taller than Ellie, with gangly arms and legs, a rifle held high in her hands.

“Stop right there!” She said, her voice sharp with a familiar southern twang. The dog moved in front of her, getting down low and bearing its teeth. “Don’t wanna shoot you but I will. You can move right along, this spot’s taken.”

Joel lifted his hands and caught a glimpse of Ellie raising a gun next to him.

“Ellie!” He said sharply. She looked at him, eyes wide. “Gun down. Now.”

“But…”

“Now.”

She huffed but lowered the gun slowly, her eyes back on the girl in front of her.

“Won’t shoot you in the back,” the girl said. “Just turn around and go.”

Joel fought to focus. The girl in front of him… she looked like Sarah, so so much like Sarah. The same shock of curly hair, same brown skin, same bright eyes. If he didn’t know better, he’d think they were sisters. He fought to stay here, in the forest with Ellie, not getting swallowed by his own memories. He’d found her. He was all but certain of that now, he’d found her and he was going to bring her back to you.

“You out here on your own?” He asked gently, his hands said up.

“Don’t see how that’s any business of yours,” she said sharply. “All that matters to you is that I will kill you, don’t try me.”

“I understand,” he said. “Not going to hurt you…”

“Bullshit.”

“We’re not,” Ellie snapped.

“Ellie.”

“What!” She said. “Joel, I swear, if she shoots you…”

“Remember what I said,” he replied.

“But…”

“I mean it,” he cut her off. “Don’t, OK?”

He turned back to the girl.

“Not going to hurt you,” he said again. “Just… just hear me out for just a second, OK? We’re from a settlement, about a day’s ride from here…”

“Good for you,” she said. “Better head that way then.”

“It’s a good place,” he said, ignoring her. “With good people. Including… including your mama, I think.”

Her eyes went a little wide and she lowered the gun ever so slightly. He caught a glimpse of Ellie’s head whipping around to look at him but he kept his eyes on the girl.

“Your name’s Savannah, right?” He pressed on. “Your mom, she calls you Savvy, right?”

She raised the gun again.

“How’d you know that,” snapped. “You one of the assholes that took her? That it? What, you kill her? Get her to tell you about me first? That what happened?”

“No honey,” Joel said, his throat tight. He’d found her, he’d found your daughter. “No, she… she escaped them, few years back. She got hurt real bad doin’ it, we brought her in, got her fixed up and she stayed. She’s been looking for you but she’s still there…”

“Why should I trust you?” She snapped. “Why should I believe a damn thing you say?”

“Because I know her,” he said. “Been helping her look for you. She’s… I know her. She trains horses, guessin’ she trained the one you’ve got? She trained the one I’m on, too. She runs our stable for us, she…”

“Bambi?” Ellie gaped at him. “Bambi’s her mom? Bambi has…”

“Ellie,” Joel said again, cutting her off and looking back at Savvy.

“She’s there,” he said. “She misses you, she misses you so much. Told me how you liked to read to the horses when you were little. How the dogs liked you better than her. How you’re real good at carving… Recognized your trap, found another one of yours a few months back. She told me how your pins are always smooth and even… Let us take you back with us. Won’t take your guns, just… just come back with us. Please. She misses you so much, she’s been so worried…”

“We’re not people to be afraid of,” Ellie said and Joel glanced her way. She was looking at Savvy now, her face serious. “Well, as long as you’re not an asshole. I know Joel seems scary but he’s not. Promise. He’s safe.”

She lowered the gun slowly, looking between the two of them before looking down at the dog.

“Gattling,” she said. “Heel.”

The dog dropped its defensive stance and went alongside her, looking up and waiting for a command. She looked back at Joel and Ellie.

“You really know my mom?” She asked quietly. “She’s… she’s really alive?”

“She is,” Joel nodded, lowering his hands to the saddle horn. There was a knot in his throat. “And we can take you to her. Please.”

She hesitated for a moment.

“She teaches me stuff about music,” Ellie said quickly. “How to play some stuff on guitar, too, but more about music in general. She’s cool. Really. I’m… I’m sure she wants to see you again. And Jackson’s nice. And so are we. Just come along, OK?”

She took a deep breath, looking down at the dog for a moment, adjusting her grip on the rifle.

“OK.”

***

“She’s in rare fucking form this week,” Olivia said, watching as you steadied Persephone, one of the fillies you were working with.

“She’s just got an independent streak,” you said, the horse’s feet stomping impatiently in the dirt. “That’s OK. I get that. So do the best of us, right?”

She huffed and jerked her large head. You smiled a little.

“You’re sure she’s not gonna throw you?” Olivia asked, sounding a little worried.

“No,” you shrugged. “But I’ve gotten thrown off horses before, nothin’ new. Only way to break her is to break her, no point in stalling. You in a good spot?”

“Think so,” she said, stepping a little further back from the horse as you got ready to mount her.

“Then let’s go,” you said, all but jumping onto Persephone’s back. You barely got your foot in the stirrups before she started really bucking, Olivia moving even further away. You clutched the reins in one hand and let your hips go loose, digging your heels down toward the earth to stay seated. You let your body move with her as she hurled herself through the air, desperate to dislodge you. But you weren’t going anywhere. She gave you a good shake that made you grab the back of the saddle but otherwise, she didn’t get anywhere close to throwing you. After a while, she started to calm, her movements still sharp and harsh but closer to the earth, her hooves staying on the ground more often than not. Eventually, she mostly stilled, just tossing her head and huffing indignantly.

“See?” You said soothingly, reaching forward to pat her neck. “That’s my good girl, you did so well…”

“Bambi,” Olivia said, catching your eye. She nodded toward the gate to the paddock and you frowned a little before you followed her gaze.

Standing there was Joel and Ellie, their reins in their hands. But between them was a girl. She was young, a teenager, with springy curls and brown skin and wide, soft eyes.

You knew those eyes. You knew those eyes and that hair and that skin. For a moment, the world shrank to a small point centered on her and you wondered if, maybe, you’d finally lost your mind. If something had finally broken so thoroughly that you were seeing things.

But you weren’t. She was here. Your daughter was alive and she was here, in Jackson.

“Savvy,” you breathed and Persephone bucked below you. You weren’t paying attention to the horse and you flew off her back and into the dirt, landing with a brain rattling thud. You didn’t care.

You scrambled to your feet, throwing a glance back at Olivia to make sure she had Persephone so Savvy wouldn’t get hurt, and ran for her.

“Mom,” she said, her voice thick as you reached her and pulled her into yourself. You clutched her to your chest until you thought you could feel her heartbeat alongside yours, clinging to her too close to even kiss her or look at her but you needed to feel the life in her first, soak up the vitality of her before someone took it away.

“You’re alive,” you managed, voice thick. You buried your nose and mouth in her hair, breathing her in. “You’re alive, you’re here, you’re OK, you’re…”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said wetly and you pulled back from her just enough to look at her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she sniffed as you took her face in your hands. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, I thought you were gone, I…”

“I’m so sorry baby,” you kissed her forehead before pulling her against you again and clinging to her. “I’m so sorry I let you go, I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s OK Mom,” she said, her hands holding your elbows. “I’m OK, it’s OK, I promise…”

You just held on to her, trying to memorize everything about her that you could. That she was taller now, that her shape had changed, that it seemed like she hadn’t had a chance to really grow into her limbs yet.

You looked up at Joel who was still there, his eyes wet, watching you hold your daughter.

“You found her,” you said softly.

He just nodded.

“Found her,” he said. “Couldn’t have without you, though. With everything you told me about her, was able to find her.”

You just nodded, running your hand down the back of her head as you held her.

“Thank you, Joel,” you whispered, holding her so tight that you were worried you might hurt her but too afraid that she’d slip away to stop. “Thank you.”

Next Chapter

A/N: AHHHH SAVVY'S HERE!!!!

And Joel found her. I'm so happy that Bambi has her baby back, for real. Things are getting there. I promise.

Thanks so much for reading and sticking with this story! Don't forget that you can get updates on my updates blog here.

Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123@ashleyfilm

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc

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backwzzds · 9 months

Text

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you look so good, ichigo kurosaki (nsfw)

ichigo always made sure to show you how good you looked.

you were sat alone at the bar, chin in the palm of your hand as you mindlessly swirled the olive around in your martini. you didn’t even drink martinis, but the flirty bartender insisted you tried his own speciality. you sighed for probably the millionth time that night, feeling your social battery finally die out.

countless men had hit on you tonight, all of which you hardly showed any mind. you were beginning to entertain the idea of engaging in mindless flirtation in response, but you knew the strawberry blonde waiting for you back at home would attest to that idea.

ichigo was of course working late on some soul reaper business. the even you attended was a couple’s banquet your job had hosted, a sort of offering for your co-workers to get to know you and your domestic life outside of work. you didn’t want to go at first; you preferred keeping your private life and work life completely separate. but ichigo managed to convince you to get out and have some fun anyway.

“c’mon, mama,” the strawberry blonde looked at you with encouraging eyes. “all you do is work, why not take the free night off and go? i know they’re gonna have some expensive ass shit there for drinks. you’ll look hot in that dress.”

you rolled your eyes. “you do know it’s a couple’s banquet, right? you gonna take the night off to go with me?” your eyebrows raised with crossed arms, already knowing the answer that was to come. you continue at ichigo’s silence. “thought so. i’m not sure if i even wanna go.”

well, here you were.

“sorry i’m late,” a voice as smooth as cashews filled your ears. “i’m here with y/n y/l/n, junior associate.” you look over and see ichigo at the entrance, skin clad in a suit that complimented his paler skin perfectly. he exchanges a few more casual words with the bailor at the front door before confidently striding his way on over to you. “hey there beautiful, his voice is silky as he stands in front of your sitting figure. stuffing his hands in his pockets, he starts the game you two have notoriously played for the years you’ve been together. “come here alone?”

you can’t help but roll your eyes in attempt to hide your smile, gladly playing along. “i sure did.”

ichigo catches on and continues. he blows out a surprised whistle as he steps closer to your thick figure. “damn. you don’t got a man?”

you can’t help but play along as you feel the alcohol of your drinks flood your bloodstream. “nope.”

ichigo stares into your eyes and squints his own. “you’re drunk.” his lips can’t help but form into a happy smile. the thing ichigo loved about you was that no one could ever tell you were drunk. you were able to keep your composure and behavior so well, only he was able to tell when you were intoxicated just by looking in those pretty eyes of yours. and he was shocked at the fact that you were actually drunk around hundreds of your coworkers.

a shrug erupts from your shoulders as you down the last of your drink. “i thought you weren’t coming?” though your voice proved otherwise in it’s naturally colder tone, you really were glad that ichigo came to support you, even if it was last minute.

“couldn’t miss something so important to my girl,” ichigo gives you his charming smile. his eyes can’t help but look you up and down as he took in your outfit. the little black dress was hugging your curvy body so tight, he almost wish you went a size up in the risky clothing so he wouldn’t have to resist himself against your full tits begging to be let out from the confinements of the ribbed fabric. he could see the outlines of your nipples through the thicker material, and it was turning him on the longer he stared at you.

the next words to leave his mouth are barely above a whisper. but from the sensual look of lust in his eyes, you already know what he’s trying to say. “come here.”

you drop your head back as ichigo grabs your cheek and presses his lips against yours. you can’t help but moan into the kiss as you feel his tall, slender body press against your short and pudgy one. the fabric of his own suit was blocking his body from yours, but he swore he could feel the areoles of your nipples pebble up and your nipples stand at attention through your dress in response to his touch.

it was no secret the effect he had on your body. he was so sure that if he pulled away right now and admired your figure, he’d see just how much his touch sent shocks through you. and that thought sent another devious one in his mind. you instantly feel the soul reaper’s hands discreetly slip its way between your legs and run its middle finger across the slit of your underwear.

ichigo smiled into the kiss, already knowing you were sporting a thong. lace at that too. he pecks your lips three more times amid the makeout session before pulling away and staring down at you with low-lid lovestruck eyes. “you look so good t’night, mama.”

your hardened personality shatters at his compliment. only he could bring out the softer side of you as you inevitably blushed and looked away from his gaze, muttering a small thank you. ichigo chuckled at your sudden shyness before pulling you up. “lets go dance before i get even more rock hard on this floor.”

#lora’s fics! ೄྀ࿐#ichigo x black!reader #ichigo x black reader #ichigo kurosaki x reader #ichigo kurosaki x black reader #bleach ichigo #ichigo smut #ichigo kurosaki #kurosaki ichigo #bleach x black reader #bleach #bleach x reader #bleach x female reader

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pilot-boi · 3 months

Note

god now i’m just imagining Blake suddenly realizing and saying “you knew you had to drink the poison”

And Jaune just isn’t able to meet anyone’s eyes

The five sit around a campfire scrounged together from dead brush in an alcove protected from the desert wind. Their conversation is slow, comforting, filled with hushed reassurances and rueful laughter.

With the benefit of distance, of being free, talk eventually turns to Jaune’s missing years. Simple curiousity, simple questions.

He doesn’t answer everything, but every word he says seems to draw some invisible hurt from a wound left festering for too long.

It’s Blake that brings it up.

Of course she is. She was the one to realize they were in a fairytale, the one who reminded them all how to play along with the fantasy while keeping their sanity. Their resident bookworm.

Of course she’s the one who realizes that their friend knew going in that he was probably going to die before the end of “the story.”

“Jaune?” Blake’s voice is quiet, but calm as a pool of water. “You knew, didn’t you?” Weiss can see how her amber eyes narrow, the agitated flick of her ears, but none of her distress is betrayed in her voice.

Which is just as well, because Jaune doesn’t meet any of their eyes, he just watches the fire. The white locks in his hair are stark against the rest, and not for the first time Weiss wonders if they’re a result of age or stress or something worse.

“Not right away,” he replies. And is that better or worse? That it took a little while for him to realize that he’d die before the story’s end, and he still kept to the script? “Before we reached the Red King.”

“Were you… Did you…” Weiss isn’t sure what she wants to ask, or if she even wants an answer. Were you scared? Did you know when it would happen? Were you ready? Did you want it to happen?

“I had to follow the story,” he says eventually, his voice breaking with emotion. Aged beyond his years, and yet still as young as any of them. “I had… It was my role. I couldn’t- I had to-”

“The Rusted Knight drank the poison in her stead,” Ruby says hollowly. “Would you have done it for me?” Jaune’s head shoots up, fast as a bullet, his face a mask as hard as the metal of his helmet.

Blue eyes aged beyond the years of the face they rest in meet silver eyes haunted by death and rebirth. The tension in the air is taut as a bow string, as the two leaders seem to communicate something only they understand.

A chunk of ice the size of her fallen home drops into Weiss’s stomach. The poison. The tea.

If Jaune had been there in time, would he have even hesitated to drink the tea for Ruby? Finally fulfilling his fairytale role? Finally doing something “right?”

Weiss is quite sure that would’ve only ended with BOTH leaders on the verge of ascension, instead of one. Because if Ruby had lost another friend, Weiss is certain that it would’ve pushed her over an edge she would never have returned from.

The desert wind fills the silence.

Jaune’s gaze falls back to the fire. “After the Herbalist, I was desperate to get the story back on track. I would’ve done anything to fix what I broke.”

“Even die?” Yang’s voice is steady as stone, but her hand is shaking in Blake’s grasp.

There are tears dripping down his face. He never processed this, Weiss realizes. He never processed anything, stuck as he was as the only thing changing in a world where everything stayed the same.

“I just wanted to do something right.” His voice sounds like he dropped it on the floor, it shattered, and he kept using it anyway. Cracky in that way it used to in Beacon. Too old and too young.

“I was the Rusted Knight, a paragon of virtue and glory, but I was messing it all up.” As he speaks, his voice gets more frantic, more hitched with tears. “We were at the end, there was no more story left. There was only one thing I could do to make sure they got their happy ending. And- And I-”

“I’m glad you didn’t have to,” Ruby interrupts, her voice choking with tears. I hate that it happened, that she poisoned you, but I’m glad you didn’t have to.” And again, it’s his fellow leader’s voice that draws Jaune out of himself.

But this time he looks like Jaune, all wide eyes and soft edges, not the metal of the Rusted Knight he was protecting himself with before. And Ruby looks like Ruby, older and wiser but with a spark of hope in her teary eyes that Weiss didn’t realize has been missing until they all almost lost it forever.

Ruby stands and walks around the fire, her boots making furrows in the sand, and pulls him into a hug. Jaune blinks, half afraid, half confused.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Weiss barely hears Ruby murmur this over the crackle of the flames, and whether she’s talking about Penny or Alyx or Pyrrha or Atlas or any number of things that both leaders have blamed themselves for over the years, Weiss doesn’t know.

But what she does know is that when Jaune chokes out a sob and buries his face in Ruby’s hair, and Ruby drops to her knees clings to her best friend like he’s the only thing anchoring her to Remnant, something slots back into place in the universe. Something that fractured almost beyond repair on the shore of a razed village of paper stars.

Jaune’s hair is streaked with white, Ruby’s whole body is shaking with sobs, and Jaune is whispering apologies that Ruby is meeting with her own. But they’re both still here. It feels like healing, or the very start of it.

And maybe Jaune would have drunk the poison for Alyx, but he didn’t get to. And maybe Jaune would have drink the tea for Ruby, but he didn’t get to. The world was full of what-ifs, gods the Ever After probably used as them as damn building blocks.

But what matters is that he didn’t, and that he would never have to.

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #mine #asks #my writing #ethans express

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puppietooth · 3 months

Text

hi these are some of my sydcarmy headcanons:

* i love reading fics where they both realize they like each other and then start furiously making out but. also. what if carmy asks syd out and she’s a little skeptical about it at first? but she agrees to go on the date anyway — and carmy takes her out to a little fancy joint by the river and is so nervous about messing up that his hands are so so so shaky and he can’t even pour the wine into their glasses right. so he fumbles through some half apology half speech about how he’s just really happy she’s here and how he really really really likes her and how he’s honestly glad that she was willing to give him a chance and how he’s very anxious because she looks so pretty in that dress she’s wearing. and syd realizes that, holy shit, he really does like her — and she thinks she really likes him too. so they wine and they dine and when the night is over he takes her home, walks her up to her door, and doesn’t kiss her because he says that’s something he’d like to do on the third date, if she’ll have him. and of course, she says yes, she would like to go on more dates with him — she says yes like he just proposed to her, because they’re so intense about everything they do.

* i think that syd and carmy, carmy especially, are the type of people to be vaguely private about their relationship. like, it’s very obvious that they are together, they won’t hide it — if you see them in person, if you see the way they look at each other, move with each other, the way they talk to each other, you will know that they’re together. they will casually mention each other in interviews and articles, refer to the other as their partner. but they will not post a million pictures of each other on social media, they are not that couple. there will be the occasional, slightly vague post — a picture of carmy in his chef whites, back turned to the camera, posted to syd’s instagram account to congratulate him on The Bear’s fifth year of service. A congratulations to chef sydney adamu on her james beard nomination tweeted to carmy’s twitter account. and if they ever do attain that level of fame, there will be the occasional pap shot of them walking back from a deli, or a farmer’s market (in true JAW fashion). but unless you’re close to them you’ll only see that surface level to their relationship

* i know that they’re roughly the same height but in my head sydney is just slightly taller than carmy, just by a few inches, nothing too big. carmy is not the type of person that cares about height, it’s not a big insecurity of his, and deep down, he finds the similarity in height between him and syd to be quite grounding and comforting. he likes being able to hug her and comfortably put his chin on her shoulder. he likes how it doesn’t feel awkward when they put their arms around each other, and how neither of them have to bend down or get on their toes to kiss each other.

* another thing i absolutely love in fics — when syd just gets the opportunity to talk about her hair. i don’t think carmy is ignorant, but realistically, he does not know about, for instance, the difference between 2b and 4c hair (as in, the labels) and how to care for 4c hair, which (i’m pretty sure) syd has. like, i think hair care would be such an important aspect of their relationship — syd teaches him about protective styles, tells him why she sleeps with a satin scarf wrapped around her braids, what silk presses are and why she has to spend a good twenty minutes wrapping it up each night before she goes to bed. and carmy helps her take her braids out, because four hands are faster than two, he helps her put twists in, helps her blow dry and comb it out the night before her next appointment. and sixth months into their relationship, he becomes a walking glossary — he will tell you what leave-in conditioner is, what edge control is for, why you shouldn’t buy cantu products, the textural difference between synthetic and human hair. and secretly, he thinks to himself, this will also be useful information for him to know if he and syd ever have kids one day because yes — carmy doesn’t do things halfway and he is already thinking that far ahead.

#the bear #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #the brainrot is real #pj rambles

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jungshookz · 11 months

Text

apparently y/n's really good with toddlers and jimin thinks it's adorable

➺ pairing; balletteacher!jimin x ballerina!y/n

➺ genre; alright balletteacher!jimin stans since the last update was.,,. uh,., anyway here’s some pre-breakupfluff!! actually idk if this is going to make u guys more sad knowing how that last drabble ended but this one is super cute so at least you have that <3 i’m FINALLY appeasing u with balletteacher!jimin content

➺ wordcount; 2.3k

➺ summary; all the teeny ballerinas seem to gravitate towards y/n for some reason and it’s taking everything within jimin to not spend the entire class just watching her fondly.

➺ what to expect; “oops, i dropt my swipper again.”

»»————- 🧸 ————-««

when jimin first got the email from saying that he had to take over the toddler’s ballet class for a day because the teacher for that class called in sick at the very last minute and he was the only one whose schedule lined up perfectly with the toddler’s class, needless to say, he wasn’t very happy

it’s not that he hates children or anything horrible like that (he really doesn’t understand people who say that they hate children) — don’t get him wrong, he loves when random babies wave at him on the street and he’ll even go as far as to make a face at them if their parents aren’t watching — it’s just that he’s literally never taught a toddler ballet class before so he doesn’t even know where to start… and he also doesn’t know how far he can push them before he’s being accused of being a horrible, mean teacher

though it would be fairly impressive on his end if they were able to do grand jetés by the end of class

“i’m so happy we get to play with toddlers all day!” lisa squeals, plopping herself down next to you as you continue your morning stretches in front of the mirror, “aren’t you excited??”

“i think it’ll be fun!” you smile, nodding in agreement before shrugging, “i’m a little nervous because i literally have never interacted with a child other than my little cousins, and they’re like eight to nine years old now, so i’m out of practice…”

“it’s okay, y/n,” you feel a harsh pat on your shoulder and you look up to see seulgi smiling sweetly at you, “not all of us can be good at everything. you keep the class humble.”

“very funny, seulgi.” you grumble, rolling your eyes before turning to look back at lisa, “i’m just glad we kinda get a day off because we have to help mr. park teach the toddlers. i don’t know about you but i am not in the mood to do any pirouettes this morning.” you huff, adjusting your leg warmers before checking out your reflection in the mirror to make sure you look okay

you also feel a little groggy because you didn’t get much sleep last night

you spent the night at jimin’s and then he drove you back to your place early (because lisa texted and said she’d come over in the morning to have breakfast with you before the two of you zipped over to the studio so you had to go home otherwise she’d be wondering where the hell else you’d be)

“do you think i should’ve worn the sheep-patterned leg warmers instead? i feel like toddlers would be more receptive to sheeps-“ for some reason you feel like you’re trying to impress the toddlers even though they probably don’t even know what leg warmers are and even if they did they couldn’t care less about them

you were going to wear your sweatpants but you got a new pair of leg warmers and you wanted to show them off (they’re baby pink with little black bows on the back of them), so you decided to pair them with your black leotard, a matching black wrap cardigan, and your stockings of course

“ah, i just love kids,” lisa sighs, getting up from the ground as you get up as well before looping her arm with yours, “and i don’t know about you, but seeing mr. park interact with kids is also something that i’m very much looking forward to.”

you feel a wide grin growing on your face at the reminder that yes, you’re finally going to see jimin interacting with cute little kids and you remind yourself to keep it cool

you and jimin only started dating a few weeks ago and you don’t want to scare him off by getting all baby crazy

you don’t even know if jimin wants kids

…

does he want kids?

and if he does, would he want to have them with you? because you certainly wouldn’t mind carrying his beautiful children and-

“oh my god, they’re so cute!”

the room erupts into high pitched coos and squeals when the toddlers, well, toddle into the room, all of them dressed in matching baby pink cardigans and leotards and chiffon skirts with stockings on their little legs and neat little slicked back buns on their little heads and it doesn’t take long for you to fall in love with all of them because oh my god they’re so cute and you just want to eat their chubby little cheekies and gobble them up and rRRaAWOOF-

“ladies, here are our little guests for the day,” jimin laughs lightly, shutting the door behind him quietly as he gently nudges the little ones towards the group like a herd of little baby sheep, “there are twenty-four of them and twelve of you, so if you could each take two for the day, that would be wonderful- oh!” jimin pauses when he accidentally bumps into one of the girls and he reaches down to pat her head, “sorry honey, mr. park is a little clumsy today and you’re just so small-“

“oh god, i can’t take it-“ lisa groans quietly, holding a hand over her mouth as she muffles a squeal and starts to bounce on the balls of her feet excitedly, “i can’t take it i can’t take it i can’t take it that is so stinking cute-“

“what are we supposed to do, do we just grab two random ones and go?” seulgi asks with a frown and you can’t help but snort because that is such a seulgi thing to ask

“don’t grab two of them and go, this isn’t a drive through-“ you chuckle, watching as the other girls disperse into the crowd of teeny ballereenies to collect their two for the day, “you just have to go and see which ones vibe with you, i think. which might be hard for you.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“well, all children know that they need to stay away from the wicked witch of the west- OW-“ you yelp when seulgi delivers a hard punch to your arm before taking off

it’s only in that moment you notice one of the little girls in the back, wide-eyed and holding onto both her slippers, looking as lost as ever

she stumbles forward as the other girls start shuffling forwards slightly, all the toddlers clearly a little intimidated by all of you

you make your way over to her and she immediately looks up at you, her lips parting slightly

“hi! do you need some help with your slippers?” you crouch down so that you’re eye-level with her and she nods shyly before averting her gaze, “okay, i can help you. i’m y/n. what’s your name?” you stand back up before holding your hand out for her and she wraps her hand around two of your fingers, trailing behind you as you lead her to a free corner in the room

“mia.”

“mia’s a very pretty name,” you smile, looking down at her (from your angle, you can see her little cheeks protruding out slightly and it’s just so cute)

“i dropt my swipper.” mia suddenly stops in her tracks and you stop as well, letting her bend down to pick up her slipper only for the other one to fall onto the ground, “oops, i dropt my swipper again.”

you and lisa make eye contact from across the room and she pushes her bottom lip out in a pout before scrunching her face and putting a hand over her chest and you make the same expression in return to tell her that oh my god, i know, right?!

“alright, miss mia, do you wanna sit down for me?” you hum, sitting down cross-legged before patting your lap, “it’ll be easier for me to put your slippers on if you’re sitting.”

mia nods before plopping herself down on your lap and you nearly let out a coo when you notice how teeny weeny her slippers are

they’re just so cute! and they’re basically the size of your hand!!!!!!

“how old are you, mia?” you ask, taking her slippers from her before lifting one of her chubby little legs up so you can put a slipper on

“thwee.” she holds four fingers up and you giggle, reaching over to put one of them down for her, “i’m thwee.” she kicks her legs slightly, sticking the one with the slipper up into the air before wiggling her toes

»»————- 🧸 ————-««

jimin smiles to himself as he looks around the room, feeling weirdly proud at how well all of you are looking after the little ones even though his teaching has nothing to do with how good you guys are with kids

he started the class off with a few warm-up exercises and was very impressed at how well the little girls followed his lead (to be honest he’s already picked out the ones that would survive in his class when they’re older, and it’s definitely not the one that started twirling around in ditzy, uncoordinated circles when he asked everyone to get into third position), and it’s only been about twenty minutes but according to the schedule given to him, they take ten minute breaks every twenty minutes which seems a little too lax for his liking, but then again — he’s not a teacher for toddlers, so who is he to say what’s right and what’s wrong?

and he has to admit that it was hard to not watch you the entire time you were guiding your girls and showing them how to do everything properly (“demi-plie, mia! keep your back straight just like me…”)

at first he was going to tell you off because you were kneeled on the ground while he was teaching up front but then he realized you were only doing it so you could help the little ones with positioning their feet, and not to mention, you weren’t just helping your own two ballereenies, you were helping whichever ones were around you which was just… so nice to see

and perhaps the others will suspect him of favouritism because he’s pretty sure lisa caught him staring fondly at you at one point but it’s not like anyone would ever confront him about it so he’s really not too worried

“and at home, i- i do- um, i do, um, dance evewywhere and my favouwite- favouwite song is wet it go from fwozen because anna and elsa-“

“speaking of let it go- emma, you better let go of my bun before you yank my hair off my head!”

jimin’s ears perk up in interest when he hears your voice among the many voices and squeals and giggles in the room and he turns around, eyes scanning the room until he finally lands on you to see you surrounded by six of the baby ballerinas

you’ve got one of them sitting on your lap with her hand buried in a pack of animal crackers (none of them brought snacks with them so he’s assuming those came from you), one of them with their arms slung over you from behind and her cheek pressed to your shoulder, three of them sitting cross-legged around you, and the last one prancing around you chatting away excitedly

you wrap your arm securely around the one sitting on your lap, reaching down to smooth some of her hair back before leaning over a little to look at her and ask if she’s alright, and she nods in response before holding a cracker up for you to take

jimin feels his heart skip a beat at the adorable sight because he was certainly not aware of how good you are with children

he can’t help but chuckle when he notices you showing off your leg warmers off

so cute

so, so cute

his eyes widen when you look up and immediately lock gazes with him only for you to wave at him shyly before returning your attention to the girls after jimin returns a smile and a wave of his own

you and y/n would make a really cute baby, the intrusive voice in his head tells him as his arm drops back to his side, and jimin finds his cheeks flushing slightly at the thought of a teeny little y/n trailing behind him like a little duckling

he could dress her up in her ballet clothes and put bows in her hair and train her to become the best ballerina the world has ever seen and she’d have your hair and eyes and his nose and mouth and she’d be so sweet and kind like you but strong and tenacious like him

and not to sound like a hormonal boy or anything but the process of baby-making seems like it’d be very fun

…

“mr. park, y/n’s stealing all the kids!” jimin looks over when he hears seulgi whining and he resists the urge to snort at how huffy she’s being, “i took two of them like you told us to but all of them are like, gravitating towards y/n for some reason-“

“well, i guess there’s just something about y/n that they like, seulgi.” jimin responds with a shrug, keeping his eyes glued on you with a fond smile twitching at the corner of his mouth

🎙️ ask y/n where she gets her leg warmers (talk to my characters!)

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (full fics!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

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its-time-to-write · 11 months

Text

This is NOT Jamie Tartt slander. This is two sleep-deprived people making dumb choices because they’re tired. Also, this is so. Freakin. Long. Apologies in advance. Warnings include swearing, fighting, pregnancy? Is that a warning? Basically reader is pregnant and it goes through the first pregnancy test to like when the baby is a month old. Anyway. I never know how to write these intros.

you’re losing me

You and Jamie are young. You are not old. Sure, you’re married after only dating for a year and being engaged for another half a year, but it’s not like much changed from how it was. That band on your left hands gives you both a sense of security, and it’s fun to be the hot young married couple around Richmond. It’s nice to be able to walk around openly and to be called “Mrs. Tarrt,” and to know that this himbo dumbass is going to be making you laugh till you’re old and gray. (Said himbo dumbass told you that’s his favorite nickname). You both excel in your various workplaces and because of that, when you moved into Jamie’s house you were able to keep your flat. It turned out to be a blessing when your younger sister moved to England from another country, so she can be close by without actually being in the same house as you.

All that to say, you were not ready for the little pink stick you were holding at 4pm on a Wednesday.

“Babe?” Jamie calls from the front door, “I’m home! You here?”

Your eyes are glued to those two little lines. “In the bathroom!” you shout. You hear Jamie’s footsteps coming up the stairs into your room.

“Oi listen, Ted told this joke today that went over me head, so I remembered it to ask you and…” he trails off. “Why are you sitting on the floor?”

You turn to look at him, the same shock from five minutes ago still on your face. In an instant, Jamie is kneeling on the floor next to you cupping your face. “Are you alright? Do you need to go to the hospital? Do I need to call someone? Did something happen at work?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m fine, I just- look.” You halfheartedly lift the pregnancy test. Jamie looks down and his face shifts from concern to one of shock then back to concern.

“Are you sure?” he asks softly.

Wordlessly, you point to the sink where there are five pregnancy tests of different brands. All positive.

“Shit,” he whispers. Then: “Wait. Why aren’t you happy bout this? I thought you wanted kids?”

“I do!” you reply a little miserably, “I do, it’s just, we talked about it and I know you really don’t at least not till you’re in your mid-thirties, and I know I told you that I wanted to have them young that one time, but that was before we were dating and I didn’t want to pressure you and I don’t want you to think I did this on purpose because I didn’t but I’m actually really scared about what you’re going to think because I’m so excited, especially because I didn’t even think this was possible.”

You’re not looking at him anymore, but hugging your knees to your chest. You are excited for this baby. You didn’t think you were going to be able to have kids, based on personal issues and family medical history. Or at least, that it would take a lot of time and a lot of doctor’s appointments. The fact that you have a total of six positive pregnancy tests is a miracle in and of itself, but it’s not what you and Jamie planned. And sure, you’re married, but does that really mean you won’t split up? This is pretty big.

All these thoughts are swirling around in your head until-

“Hey.”

Jamie softly tilts your chin up. “Look at me.”

Against your will, tears have started to leak out of your eyes.

“Darling, I ain’t mad. I think mostly I’m just glad you ain’t dyin. This is amazing! We’re going to have a little baby Tartt, and I couldn’t be happier. As long as you’re alright, I’m happy.”

You grab his bicep. “Are you absolutely sure, Jamie?” You need to know.

He laughs. “Babe, yes. Yes I am. For better or for worse, yeah? Though this really is for better.”

You crack a smile. “Ok. Ok. Yeah, ok.”

Jamie twirls a strand of your hair. “We’ll be ok, yeah? Now let’s get off this floor and go get ice cream. Heard that’s a pregnancy staple. And, on the way, can you explain this joke Ted said? Everyone laughed except me and Will, so I was thinking it’s gotta be...” his voice trails down the hall as you head out the door.

—

Jamie is funny. Once he decides to do something, he’s all in. He wanted to start telling people the moment you stepped out the door for ice cream. You had to physically put your hand over his mouth to stop him from telling Mae, whom you bumped into on your way. To be honest, you’re sure she knows anyway because Jamie got out a few words and she gave you a knowing look, but she’ll keep it to herself. She’s a good one.

It was only a matter of time before Jamie insisted you start telling the team. He’d say, mid-breakfast, “Babe. You know who would be a great babysitter? Sam. Sam’s one of me best mates. Haven’t kept a secret from him in forever,” with a puppy dog face.

Or during MarioKart, “What do you think about having Isaac and Colin help with the baby’s room? Isaac’s good at all that construction shit and both you and Colin like to paint. You probably shouldn’t be painting anyway, what with all the fumes.”

Or your personal favorite, during a shower, “Babe. What about Roy and Keeley?”

You: “What about Roy and Keeley?”

Jamie: “They should know. We should tell them. Keeley would flip her shit and I want to see if Roy will cry.”

You: “That’s what you’re thinking about? Here? Now? Good lord, man, I thought you were debating which conditioner to use.”

To be entirely fair, it was about the time to start telling people. You had started stealing Jamie’s shirts claiming that they were more comfortable. They were baggier on you, so they hid the beginnings of your baby bump, and you explained away any questions by reminding people that you wore a lot of layers because you were perpetually cold. However, you were at the point where you were going to have to start telling people, which is how Roy and Keeley ended up at your house for your bi-weekly dinner that you had been delaying for two months.

You had taken approximately two bites of food before Jamie clattered down his fork and said, “We have something to tell you.”

Roy and Keeley looked at you expectantly. You reach under your chair for two bags and place them in front of their plates.

Roy’s face is saying what the fuck as he and Keeley remove the tissue paper and hold up two onesies. A black one that says, newest addition to uncle’s day and a light pink one that says, if you think I’m cute, you should see my aunt.

They look from the onesies in their hands and then back to you and Jamie. “Surprise!” you say in unison. There is a beat of silence and then Roy says, “That’s fucking great!” at the same time Keeley squeals, “Ohmygod, congratulations!” and then you’re all on your feet hugging.

“I fucking knew it,” says Keeley. She nudges Roy, “Didn’t I tell you Roy-o? I fucking called it weeks ago! You owe me ten quid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Roy grumbles as he reaches into his pocket, but that’s as close to a smile he’ll get. “Can’t believe you’re having a kid with this prick,” he says to you, but it’s prick (affectionate) as opposed to prick (derogatory).

You smile. “You’re the first people we’ve told, other than Jamie’s mum and Simon. You’re the closest thing we have to family here.”

Keeley goes, “Aw, babe,” and Roy just squints at you and lets out a grunt.

“She’s gonna have the coolest family,” Jamie says.

“She?” Keeley asks, “Are you having a girl?”

You roll your eyes. “We don’t know. We’re going to find out tomorrow, and Jamie has been insisting that it’s a girl. He says it’s his ‘dad sense,’ or something like that. I’ve given up telling him that’s not a real thing.”

Jamie shrugs, “I know what I know. Don’t get why we have to go to some bloke with that slimy gel to be told something I’ve been saying for weeks.”

“That bloke with slimy gel is my doctor and an ultrasound, you absolute himbo!” you laugh.

Roy finally cracks a smile, and you spend a comfortable evening together, thinking about how much things are going to change.

—

A week later, you’re at the Richmond pitch. You walked over from Mae’s, because you were thinking about her chips all afternoon. You ate at least three baskets and she made a sly comment about eating for two. She pinched your cheek as she walked away and then smacked Baz, who was trying to eavesdrop.

You walk into the locker room, coat still on and reach up to kiss Jamie. He’s still a sweaty from practice because none of them have gone to the showers yet, but you don’t mind.

“You ready?” he asks.

You give your arms a shake. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

You walk into Ted and Beard’s office, where you asked Rebecca and Higgins to meet. Trent is in there as well, and he looks up in surprise as you walk in.

“Good to see, Mrs. Tartt,” Ted says as he gets up to hug you.

“Hey Ted,” you smile back, going over to hug Rebecca. “How are you all doing?” “Oh you know, biting our nails for whatever it is you guys have to tell us,” Ted replies.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Rebecca interjects. “I simply cannot handle any more change around here.”

You shake my head. “No, no we’re not leaving. But this is about a change.”

Back in the locker room, the Richmond boys hear a big “WHAT,” from Ted and look over to see you and Jamie getting swarmed by him, Beard, Rebecca, Higgins, and Trent. Isaac looks at Sam and shrugs, bemused. You and Jamie open the door and walk out right under where the “Believe” sign used to be.

You smile and take off your coat, revealing a shirt that says “Tartt in the oven,” and an obvious baby bump.

There is silence as jaws drop and then Isaac says-

“I’m going to be an uncle?”

The locker room erupts in pandemonium with the boys slapping each other on the back firing rapid-fire questions at you and Jamie.

“How long have you been keeping this a secret?”

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Are you going to name it after me?”

“Can I be the favorite uncle?”

“Can we help decorate its room?”

Jamie is smiling as big as you’ve ever seen him.

“OI!” Isaac roars. “QUIET. Are we men or are we beasts? One at a time!”

Isaac looks at you two. “Boy or girl?”

Jamie’s eyes glow. “Girl!”

The room erupts once again as Jamie kisses you on the top of your head and pulls you close to him.

—

Labor was… not fun. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great. There weren’t really complications except for the fact that Jamie was almost not there. See, it’s because your water broke when you were in the shower right before leaving to watch one of Jamie’s games. You looked down at the shower drain and felt your mind race through a million scenarios. Do you text Jamie and make him miss the game? Do you push through as long as you can? Do you have Keeley and Rebecca take you to the hospital? Do you go by yourself?

As you’re considering, you think of laying in bed the night before. The baby was kicking and Jamie was tracing patterns on your stomach whispering, “Baby Tartt doo doo doo-doo doo-doo.”

He would hate to miss this.

You make a choice and call Keeley.

Thirty minutes later you’re in Rebecca’s box waiting for the game to start. You have contractions, sure, but you’ve been having them for a while. The doctor said it was nothing to worry about, so you didn’t worry.

That means that Keeley and Rebecca don’t worry as you grip the arm of your seat and blow out a long breath.

Keeley absentmindedly pats your arm and Rebecca slings hers around your shoulders.

“Don’t go having this baby now,” she jokes, “Wait till after we’ve won.”

You force out a laugh. If only she knew.

You have to get up and walk after the first half because the contractions are starting to get closer together. Rebecca notices and gets up to come inside and see you.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

You look at her without saying anything and her eyes widen.

“Shit,” she says. “How long has this been happening?”

“Since right before I left,” you gasp out, “My water broke in the shower and I didn’t want- shit.” You bend over from a contraction before continuing, “I didn’t want to miss Jamie’s game and it’s fine, right? It’s not until they’re three minutes apart that it really matters.”

“And how long are yours?” Rebecca asks.

You don’t want to look at her. “Six,” you whisper.

“SIX?” she yells. “Darling, you need to go. I’ll call Ted, he’ll pull Jamie, and then you’ll go.”

Keeley has come in by this point and fully assessed the situation. “Babes, you can’t stick around till the game ends. You have to go.”

You hold up a hand. “I’m fine. Richmond needs Jamie. It can wait.”

Rebecca clicks her tongue. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re up by two and also it’s just a football game. It doesn’t matter. You are about to have a child so let me get your husband for you.”

“Ok,” you say meekly. “Can I come with you?”

Rebecca calls Ted and you wait by the entrance to the pitch. Ted has barely put out the call to switch out number nine when Jamie is sprinting across the field to you. You’re at the hospital in record time, and that’s how Beatrice Georgie Tartt is born.

—

You and Jamie had a lot of conversations about what it’s like to be parents. You had the standard “What if I turn out like my dad,” chat (easily dispelled by the fact that he takes after his mum) and the “Baby comes before football,” chat which you needed to hear but definitely did not retain. That one was difficult for both of you, because you didn’t mind pausing your career for motherhood. You knew it would be waiting for you when you were ready to go back, but that isn’t really the case for Jamie. He’s in his prime right now, and it takes a lot of work. You had worked things out on paper, but life is never that easy. Newborns require a lot of attention, and neither of you were sleeping well. Jamie had taken two weeks off training but was back by the third. The only problem was, he was back to his regular 4am training. It’s easy to get enough sleep when you can pick when you go to bed, but not so much when your daughter needs to be fed, changed, burped, whatever every single hour.

In other words, you both were tired and snippy.

Bea was four and a half weeks old when the last straw came.

It was 2:30 am, and you was so, so tired. She needed a diaper change and you felt like you physically couldn’t get out of bed so you poked Jamie.

“Babe,” you say.

“Hm,” he groans, voice gravelly.

“Can you please change her? I can’t move,”

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed babe, but I have training with Roy in an hour. I can’t get up every time she needs something. That’s your job.”

Instantly, you are wide awake.

You’ve never heard Jamie take that tone of voice with you before. Never heard it be that intentionally cutting.

You sit up. “Excuse me?”

He rolls over to face you. “You heard me. I don’t have time for this right now. It’s your job, you take care of it. This is not what I signed up for and anyway, you’re the one who wanted a baby, not me. You go deal with it.” He rolls back over to go to sleep and you just stare at him. You're too tired to fight but then Bea cries again and you say, “Jamie what the fuck.”

“Look, babe, I can always go stay in a hotel and get some sleep. You’re the one who wants me to be here with you,” he replies, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Don’t ‘look, babe’ me, Jamie Tartt,” you say, voice icy. “I’m not sure if you recall, but you were the one who told me that Bea would always come before football and you are the one who decided you wanted to get married and you were the one who made all those speeches convincing me that you’d be with me for better or for worse. Well I’ve got news for you: it’s worse.” You get out of bed. “I’m going to change our daughter, and I hope next time I see you, you’ve had an attitude adjustment.”

That must get to him because he sits up and goes, “Babe-” but you’re already out the door.

You end up sitting with Bea on her rocker until 5am, which means you hear Jamie get up to leave with Roy. It also means you notice that he doesn’t come in to say goodbye, just leaves. You stare down at Bea in your arms. She has his eyes and the beginnings of your nose. By 6am you’ve made another choice, and you call your sister to ask her to help move some of your things into your old flat.

—

You leave a note on the counter that says: Jamie. Bea and I are giving you space, and you’re gone by 1. You spend all evening looking at your phone, waiting for a text from Jamie, or a call, or something. Nothing. Your sister doesn’t need much of an explanation and it’s your flat anyway, so she was alright with you and Bea moving in. She made dinner and held Bea, then forcibly made you go to sleep. Her work is flexible, so she said she’d take care of Bea until she had to leave on a trip in two days.

Yet, although you finally had the chance to sleep, you couldn’t. You tossed and turned all night, periodically checking your phone for a text that never came.

—

A week and a half has gone by. Your sister is gone still, so it’s just you and Bea. She’s been crying so much recently, and the thought comes to you unbidden of every time Jamie has held her. She quiets down the moment she’s in his arms like clockwork. You’re running on no sleep and you need to go get groceries so that morning you pack up a diaper bag, put Bea in the car, and force yourself not to care that you look like absolute shit.

You’re almost done shopping when you hear a voice call your name. You turn, and there’s Sam.

“I thought that was you,” he says. “I’ve been meaning to check up on you so I went by your house yesterday, but Jamie said you and Bea were out and he didn’t know when you’d be back. How are you?”

You let out a snort. “Oh he did, did he? That’s rich.”

Sam’s face shifts to concern. “Is everything alright? I don’t mean to pry, but part of the reason I wanted to see how you are is that Jamie has been terrible. He’s been an absolute prick for almost two weeks now and we all just assumed it was lack of sleep.”

You smile, because right now your options are that or cry.

“I’m living in my flat right now. My sister’s on vacation, so it’s just me and Bea. It’s kind of a lot, which is why I look like garbage. I don’t have time to clean or anything either, otherwise I’d invite you around. Anyway. Thanks for asking. Good to see you, Sam.”

You walk away before you either overshare more or start crying, and in your haste you don’t see Sam watching you leave, concern written all over his face.

—

It’s the late afternoon when you hear a knock on your door. It’s Jamie your heart says, but when you open it, Sam, Dani, and Richard are standing on the step laden down with grocery bags, huge smiles on their face.

Before you can say anything, Sam says, “I hope this is not overstepping, but I noticed you had frozen meals in your cart this morning. I was thinking that we could cook you some meals to keep in the freezer, that way you do not have to worry about it.” You open your mouth to protest when Dani interjects. “Besides, we’re a family. Bea is my favorite niece and you are my second favorite sister. We should have seen if you needed help earlier.”

They look so sincere that you smile for the first time in a while and move to let them in. Richard goes to work clearing space in the kitchen while Sam and Dani organize their groceries. It looks like they’ve all gotten ingredients from their native countries, and Dani holds up a bag of chiles and says, “I brought these to make your favorite!”

You’re not sure how he knows of your love for chile rellenos, but he does and as you go to sit on the couch to feed Bea, you feel something close to relief.

Bea is done eating and the kitchen is filled with light conversation and music when there is another knock on your door.

You open it to see Isaac, Colin, Zoreaux, Bumbercatch, and Jan Maas all decked out in cleaning gear and rubber gloves, holding various cleaning sprays, brooms, and mops.

To say you are speechless is an understatement.

“Sam texted us,” Isaac says. “Said something about needing a cleaning service and a babysitter.”

You let them in without a word.

The flat is filled with chatter as they stand around the living room.

“Alright!” Isaac calls. “We’re going to divide and conquer! Colin, you’re on laundry. Zoreaux, you’re sweeping and mopping. Bumbercatch and Jan Maas, you’re on bathroom duty. Alright lads, let’s go!”

“Isaac,” Colin says, “what’s your job?”

Isaac looks at him. “I’m the captain, mate. I’m watching Bea.”

Groans go up from the boys and a chorus of “We want to hold her, why do you get to, I’m her favorite!” when Isaac silences them with an “Oi!”

“When you’ve finished your job and Bea and I have thoroughly inspected them, then maybe you can hold her after you’ve disinfected your hands and arms. Now get to it!”

“Isaac,” you say, pulling on his arm, “you don’t have to do this. Especially not the laundry or the bathrooms.”

He looks down at you, serious look on his face. “Is that for privacy reasons, or are you trying not to impose?”

You hesitate and debate lying. In the end, you tell the truth: “I don’t care about like privacy or whatever, it’s just gross. I don’t want you guys to have to do that.”

Isaac doesn’t respond, just says, “Can I wear the wrap?” so you go to get it and watch as he expertly puts it on and slides Bea in. She lets out a sigh and falls asleep on his chest.

“Right then. Now for your job,” he says to you.

You let out a singular laugh. “What do you have for me, captain?”

“I want you to go to your room, clear off the bed, close the door, and go to sleep. I’ll send Sam or Colin up to wake you if we need you. If you end up sleeping through then night, a few of us will stick around to make sure Bea’s alright. You still have Netflix, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. You start to head down the hall then turn and say, “Isaac?”

“Hm?” he replies.

“Thanks. This means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Isaac waves that away then points to your bedroom door.

You walk in and shut the door, then are lulled to sleep by the white noise of having half of the Richmond team in your house cleaning, cooking, and reminding you that you are not alone.

—

You’re woken up by Sam shaking your shoulder. It’s golden hour, so soft light streams through the room. The first thing you notice is how quiet it is. You sit up.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Sam says, but he’s not smiling. “We just need you downstairs for a minute.”

You follow him to the living room where the boys are standing behind a couch, arms crossed and backs to you, staring down something on the opposite couch.

Sam clears his throat and they turn to look at you. Bea is still passed out on Isaac in her wrap. They part slightly and you see what they’re looking at.

Jamie Tartt gives you a halfhearted wave from where he sits on your couch.

“Got a minute?” he asks.

Shit.

You sit across from him and just look.

He has the grace to look sheepish. “Look, d’you mind if we talk- like just you and me? Without-” he gestures to the boys.

“No,” Dani, Colin, and Jan Maas chorus, arms crossed, and Jamie nods once in a that’s fair type of way.

Jamie takes a deep breath. “Look, I- I was out with Roy today and we were training, and he called me a prick and he meant it, and maybe I was being a prick, but I shoved him and then he knocked me down and was all ‘what the fuck is wrong with you,’ and I said ‘none of your fucking business,’ and then he said something about a text from Sam and made me tell him what was going on. So I told him that you left and he said,” here Jamie does his best Roy Kent impression, “‘Did she leave or did you fucking kick her out because you were acting like a little bitch prima donna who can’t handle being a grown fucking man?’”

Jamie pauses for a moment. “So I thought about it, and I did fuckin kick you out like I was a little bitch prima donna. And the reason I didn’t text ya or call ya is because I thought you’d come back when you were ready, or maybe you left for good and I fucked something else up. And I didn’t want to be like me dad who was always showing up when my mum didn’t want him to, so I just stayed away. And I said that to Roy and he told me I needed to man the fuck up because I was acting like a whiny brat.” Jamie scratches the back of his neck. “I brought you flowers and came to apologize and tell you that I’m done acting like a kid.”

You squint at him and say, “Apologize for what, exactly?” because you want to know that he knows what he did.

Without hesitation Jamie says, “For telling you that Bea was your job and not mine, and for saying that I didn’t sign up for any of this and making it seem like I didn’t care and saying that I was going to sleep in a hotel by meself.”

Oh. So he does know.

There’s a ripple of whispered oh fucks and you realize that the lads don’t actually know what happened between you and Jamie, and this is the first time they’re hearing about it.

Before you can say anything, Jan Maas says, “How do we know you’ve changed?” followed by a chorus of “Yeah, that’s right,” from the boys.

“Eh, well,” Jamie begins before he is interrupted by a piercing cry from Bea. Isaac tries to hush her, but she just keeps going.

“There’s no way she’s hungry,” he says, “She just had a bottle fifteen minutes ago and I changed her five minutes after that.”

Jamie looks questioningly at you. “Can I-”

The whole team turns to look at you. You nod, and Isaac removes a still crying Bea and gently hands her to Jamie. She’s barely settled into his arms when she has gone completely silent, lets out a sigh, and falls asleep.

“I suppose that is that,” says Richard, and the rest of AFC Richmond shrugs.

“Jamie Tartt,” you say. Everyone looks at you again. “If you ever, and I mean ever pull shit like this again, I will fucking sic this entire room on you and I will call Roy and I will not care how long you end up in the hospital. I can’t raise Bea on my own, but it turns out that I don’t need you.”

Jamie looks like he’s about to cry a little and you soften.

“I don’t need you, but I want you. And- I do miss you.”

Jamie smiles at that and you get up to sit next to him.

The boys murmur amongst themselves, and Isaac salutes you as he herds them out. You mouth thank you to him, and he waves it away yet again, leaving the three of you on the couch in comfortable silence for the first time in weeks.

—

Marriage is not easy, neither is raising a kid. Things didn’t automatically go back to how they were, but you and Jamie did get better. You got better at talking about your struggles, decided 2:30am is not a good time to fight, and began working out a healthy football-life balance. He trains with Roy three times a week instead of six, and Isaac and Colin babysit Bea once a month so you can go out. They’re the only ones besides Rebecca who are allowed to be with her unsupervised. (Not because the others are untrustworthy, but because they don’t know what to do with a baby) so by the time Theodore Dani Tartt comes around, you’ve got this thing nailed.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

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Bad News First, Eddie

Part One 🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇FInal Part

Whew! I don’t think I’ve written this much in such a short amount of time ever in my life. The boys deserve a soft ending, I think. Enjoy!

It goes like this. While Eddie's been lost in his own mind, his body was living. Sort of.

Top secret government assisted living, kinda living. For a secret government hospital one would think the place would be fancier or something but it's just a regular looking hospital.

Eddie's in therapy, both for his body and mind.

He learns that the voice he heard when Eleven helped pull him from the depths of his mind was Mike Wheeler of all people, and he sounds different because he's nineteen and in college. Mike mocks him on graduating before Eddie. He regrets it when Eddie gets him into a headlock.

He gets to meet Eleven, outside of his mind. And he starts calling her El. Part of him can't stop thinking about Eleven as the entity he thought was going to lead him to the great beyond.

She is just a person. Sorta.

Dustin had told him there was a girl with superpowers and Eddie is glad she's real. Not that he thought Dustin would lie about this (actually, he might have thought Dustin was lying just to give him some weird version of a pep talk. Everything said before going through Watergate was suspect if he's honest).

When he's finally well enough to be able to leave, Doctor Owens tells him their plan.

They're gonna convince Wayne to fly to Tennessee. Eddie, El, and Mike Wheeler are gonna be flown there, too. There's a place for them to stay, to meet up with his uncle in private.

They'll stay there a month. Doctor Owens knows a doctor who can do Eddie's final evaluations before he can really go home.

That's the real kicker.

Hawkins fucking sucks. Small town, narrow views, non-conformity gets you called a Freak in the same way his Dad used to call him a fag. Like he said, fucking sucks.

But it's also the sanctuary he escaped to when he was eleven years old. It's the place where his uncle built a home for him.

So, back to Hawkins first. He can always go somewhere else later. Maybe a coastal city. See the ocean.

Eddie hasn't been afraid of a reaction from his uncle since that day in the hospital parking lot after he caught Eddie making out with another guy. He's got that same fear inside now, though, knowing that when El opens that door, he'll see the family he feels like he abandoned. It's not fair to himself to think that, his therapist would say, but he's allowed to have crazy thoughts right now. He's come back from being (not)dead and gets to see Wayne again for the first time. Knowing his feelings are justified doesn't make them fade, though, so he's not surprised his voice shakes when the door finally opens. “Hey Uncle Wayne.”

Wayne takes less than two seconds to reach Eddie, pulling him into a bone crushing hug. “I love you so much, you little bastard. Don’t you ever, ever do this to me again.”

It's all Eddie can do to remain upright and hug him back, clinging to his shirt like he's eleven years old again.

Wayne gives him an overview of what he's missed after the Upside Down came into their world (he heard that part from El and Mike, against the better wishes of Doctor Owens). Learns that Wayne and Steve live in Steve's childhood home because his parents just gifted it to him, apparently. That Wayne is only part time at the plant now due to an accident he had, and how that sparked his current living conditions.

Learns that Steve and Wayne became close because, unbelievably, Steve Harrington goes to his grave in the cemetery and cleans off graffiti on the regular.

Eddie feels a little hot under the collar because his brain reminds him of a fact he’d heard once; that the author of Frankenstein lost her virginity on her mother’s grave and a little voice in the back of his head whispers that it'd be hot for him to do the same thing with Steve on his own grave.

He has to scamper to the bathroom to scold himself in the mirror because he cannot be having these kinds of thoughts about Steve while talking to his uncle!

Wayne asks him, the night before their flight, “what’s something you want to do, once everything is settled and life starts to feel normal again?”

“I wanna go on a vacation. Like, a real, bona fide, family vacation.”

“Where you wanna go?”

“Think I’d like to see the ocean.”

Wayne smiles softly. “Alright. When you feel ready for it, we’ll go.”

“Just give him a chance, Eddie,” Wayne says randomly, as they wait to board their flight to Indianapolis.

“Give him a chance? As if I’d waste it,” Eddie feels breathless at just the thought. It's certainly not helping that stupid crush he's been harboring for years, knowing how Steve’s been treating his uncle. It was one thing to watch Steve defend Jeff that one time in high school; it's an entirely different ball game knowing he's watched over his uncle with care and devotion for years. “He took care of you when I couldn’t. He cares. I don’t think there’s a chance I wouldn’t give him.”

“How long have you had a thing for Steve?”

Eddie's brain screeches to a halt because he was didn't think anything he'd just said would give him away. He can't even think of a reply good enough to throw his uncle off his trail. “That’s not- why would you think- when have I ever!?”

“You think I wouldn’t know this about you?” Wayne chuckles.

No. No, Eddie thinks, of course you could take one look at me and know. His uncle had been able to know everything about him so effortlessly. But Eddie doesn't have to answer, so he won't. “So, we’ll be living with Steve Harrington? Will he… be okay with me being there?”

“Yeah. Steve and I had each other when we needed it. Now I need you, so Steve won’t mind at all," Wayne sounds so sure, so convinced, that Eddie is too.

Eddie smiles, pulling a strand of his hair to hide his face behind as he imagines getting to eat at the same dinner table as Steve fucking Harrington. He doesn't even mind that Wayne gives him a look at says 'you are being so obvious right now' because he is. He knows he is. He's allowed to be. Wayne's not going to mock him for his crush.

On the drive from Indianapolis to Hawkins, Wayne tells him the lie he told Steve. Apparently, Steve thinks Eddie's dad is coming to stay for a while. The mere thought of that sets Eddie on edge, even though he knows Wyatt Munson's still in prison. Will be for a long time, with the list of shit they got him for.

They roll into Hawkins shortly after, and while Eddie may have not been in Hawkins the last five years, and he's willing to admit that things might have changed things up since they did have to rebuild a lot of the town, he's certain that Steve's house is on the other side of it. “This isn’t the way to the Harrington house."

“Steve won’t be there. He comes here when he’s overwhelmed," Wayne says. It's still pretty jarring to hear Wayne talk about Steve like this. Like he knows him. Which, he does, obviously, because they've gotten to know each other.

Still mind blowing to think about.

“The cemetery?” is what comes out of his mouth, though.

Wayne knows what's he's really meaning to ask, though, because he shrugs and says, “we both come talk to you. Steve always starts with the bad news, you know. I think you should start with good news. Just this once." The car is slowing down, and Wayne is pointing out the front windshield, to a figure crouched down near a lone headstone. "Ah. See, there he is.”

Steve. He's too far away for Eddie to be sure sure but if anyone is still wearing bright polo shirts tucked into light wash jeans this far after leaving high school, it'd be Steve Harrington. Eddie's not even sure the car is fully stopped when he all but falls out of it.

He doesn't run to greet Steve, because that's a bit dramatic, but he's not too proud to admit he might be power walking. He slows down when he gets closer, coming to a full stop just close enough to hear Steve talking to his grave. Talking to him.

"Bad news, Eds. I'm too much of a coward to meet your old man. Afraid of what he'll sound like. Because I want him to sound like you so fucking bad it hurts. So instead of being home, I'm hiding here."

"Well, I've some bad news for you, too, Stevie. I got my voice from my mom," Eddie says, and almost instantly cringes because Wayne literally just told him to start with good news and he didn't. Eddie doesn't have much time to soak in his embarrassment, though, because Steve whips around so fast that Eddie's dizzy from the movement.

Steve looks older but it's in the way people who have seen more than their fair share of Hell look older, and less about actual aging. His eyes are wide and stunned. Eddie watches as his jaw moves but no words come out. He looks like he's seen a ghost which... ok, that's fair.

"Umm," Eddie says, a little worried he's broken him when Steve doesn't even seem to be blinking as he stares at Eddie. "Good news, Steve. I, uh, I lived. Kinda. El kinda pulled me back to the surface of my mind, or whatever, and Owens did a good job at patchin' up the goods here," he gestures to his whole body with a sweeping motion of his hand and wishes that a gate to the Upside Down would open beneath his feet and suck him back to Hell because could he be any more embarrassing?

"A-are you," he watches as Steve swallows and takes a deep breath. He's still not sure Steve has blinked yet. "real?"

"Yeah," Eddie nods, taking a few steps closer, "yeah, I'm real. I'm here and alive and real."

Steve launches himself forward then, meeting him halfway. It's so goddamn surreal be witness to how tenderly Steve actually reaches out to him, though, such a contrast to the flurry of movement he'd been just a second ago. Eddie stays still as Steve lifts shaking hands to cup his face with, pushing against his cheeks as if to test whether or not Eddie is solid. Those hands slide down, along his neck, across his shoulders, down his arms where Steve seems to need to pause and collect himself again, hands wrapped loosely around his arms just below his elbows while Steve shuts his eyes and a low, broken sound pulls itself from his throat before his eyes open again, wet with tears, and he releases Eddie just long enough to throw his arms around his neck and pull him into a hug almost as crushing as the one he shared with his uncle.

It's overwhelming in this moment. To see how much he means to Steve and not fully understand how he came to mean anything to him at all.

Doesn't stop him from wrapping his own arms around Steve's waist, though.

It goes like this.

He gets his own room at Harrington's house. Wayne has his own room, too. How strange it is, to not have his uncle sleeping the day away on the couch because the trailer had one room and he'd given it to Eddie.

They adjust to living together so seamlessly. Like they were always meant to be family.

They have dinner together. Real homecooked meals. Which isn't a novelty for Wayne and Steve anymore, but Eddie's memory ends five years ago, when his dinners consisted of microwavable meals or left over snacks from lunch. Wayne cooks on the days when Steve works, and Eddie helps. Gets to be taught how to cook.

For a while, Eddie is afraid to leave the house. Even knowing that Jason Carver bit the dust the same day he was supposed to also doesn’t help. He only goes places with Wayne and Steve, and even then, the double takes people send his way are enough to make him want to shrink into himself.

However, no one says anything to him. He's vaguely aware that everyone here lived through some sort of miniature apocalypse and maybe that's the kind of thing that has to happen to make a small town in Indiana change.

He and Steve dance around each other. He can feel it. There is something here, between them, that neither fully acknowledges.

He tries to talk to Wayne about it, but he won't give him much to go on.

"I won't be the one to say anything about what Steve thinks of you. That's gotta come from Steve. I will say this. He's waiting for you to bring it up first."

"Why does it have to be me?"

"He's had five years to gather his thoughts and emotions," Wayne levels him with a Look, "you gotta have the time to figure yourself out, too."

Well, fuck.

Steve waits until it's almost summer break for the kids (they’re not really kids anymore, though, but Eddie’s adjusting to that still) to ask if he's ready to face them. "It'll be a lot to handle," Steve says as he sits next to Eddie on their couch (their couch. He can't believe that's a truth in his life right now). "Eleven and Mike haven't told anyone yet, but they want to. It wasn't just Wayne and I that grieved for you."

"I know," Eddie says, "I know. I'm good. I'm alive and here and I want them to know about it."

Steve nods slowly, not fully focused on Eddie. Eddie's come to know that means he's thinking, so Eddie waits for him to speak. "Would you prefer to meet with everyone... one at a time?"

"What's the other option?"

"Well, I always host a barbeque when they all come back. Could tell everyone all at once. Like ripping off a Band-Aid."

Eddie crooks a smile because he's a bit mischievous and his mind instantly plays a scene where he walks into a backyard full of all the people he's come to care for, and who care for him, and he's trying to best to be casual about it in this fantasy. "Yeah. Let's do the barbeque thing."

"Bad news, Stevie," Eddie whispers as he leans against the wall next his closed door, trying not to hyperventilate. "I don't know if I can do this."

Steve reaches out and takes one of Eddie's hands in his own, linking their fingers like it's a casual thing they do all the time when it's most certainly not. "Good news, Eds. You don't have to. We didn't tell anyone you're here. You can stay in your room until they're gone, and we'll figure out another way to tell them."

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and thinks he might be crushing all the bones in Steve's hand with how hard he's clenching it. "What if they're mad at me?"

Steve understands the real question Eddie is asking, the one he doesn't know how to phrase. "You were dead, Eds, and no one out in that yard is going to be 'mad' about any time they'd spent grieving over you. There's gonna be a lot of tears, man, like a lot. Maybe even some shouting. None of it done in anger."

"How're you sure?"

Steve lifts his unoccupied hand and cups Eddie's check. Steve’s eyes are watery and his voice is a bit choked, but he says, "because I was there. I saw them through their grief. Everyone in the backyard either loves you already, or they will."

It's so fucking intimate, how close they are, how tenderly Steve touches him. Wayne had said he'd need to take the first step, so he blames Wayne when he blurts out, "what about everyone in this room? They love me, too?"

Steve's eyes go wide in surprise before his whole face lights up in a way Eddie has never seen before. It makes Steve look younger, less haunted, and then Steve whispers, "of course I love you," like there is no other answer Steve could have given.

Eddie grabs a handful as Steve's polo shirt and pulls him close enough to kiss.

Butterflies and fireworks erupt within Eddie. Kissing Steve is so much better than he's ever let himself imagine. They're still holding hands and Steve's still got his other hand resting so softly on his cheek and Steve's lips are kinda chapped but fuck does the briefest touch of their lips together make Eddie lose all his breath.

It's not deep, or all consuming. There's not even an exchange of tongue. Steve kisses him softly, gently, pulls back to pepper little kisses all over Eddie's face that has him blushing more than he's ever done in his life, and Steve places one, two, three more kisses to his lips before pulling back to look at Eddie like he's the answer to every prayer Steve's ever had. It makes his knees weak.

"I think," Eddie pauses to lick his lips, "I think I'll be brave enough to do it if you're holding my hand."

"Just try and pry yourself away, Munson," Steve teases. "Whenever you're ready."

Steve was right about the tears and shouting. He was also right that no one is mad at him.

Dustin hugs him so hard they fall over in the yard and Eddie finds himself part of a dog pile that starts with crying that turns into laughter that leads back into crying, everyone grabbing at him and him grabbing back.

It's emotional. It's overwhelming. It's the best fucking day of Eddie Munson's life.

Doctor Owens reaches out towards the end of summer to let him know they're issuing him a new social security card. Eddie asks if he's allowed to change him name. Owens says yes.

"Bad news first, Eddie," Eddie says to himself as he kneels in front of his own headstone. "You've become so boring and normal, no one vandalizes your grave anymore. Good news, though. Means I can do it myself."

Before him is his headstone, a thick red line painted through his death date. Another more carefully applied line is struck through his middle name. Above it he's painted in block letters 'Wayne'.

"Eddie, come on! This road trip's gonna start without you," Steve calls from where he's leaning against the side of Wayne's pickup.

Eddie is satisfied with his work, so he abandons the paint and returns to the pickup. He slides across the bench seat, one leg pretzeled under himself to be out of the way of the gear shift. Steve follows in after, shutting the door and reaching for Eddie's hand automatically.

He's got Wayne to his left, Steve to his right, and the first family vacation he's ever taken in his life ahead of him.

Good news, Eddie Wayne Munson. Maybe everyday going forward can be the best fucking day of your life.

#steddie #my fic #bad news first eddie #its complete!!!#thank you for all the wonderful comments #i tried to tag everone so im sorry if i missed you!

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envy-of-the-apple · 5 months

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Heart Infection (Part One)

(I usually only post dark content here but im lowkey proud of this one. The rest of the fic is here

In a world where society has gotten used to zombie outbreaks, your domestic life is turned into chaos and a race for survival when an outbreak occurs in your city. In the middle of it all, you stumble upon a giant, speaking in a foreign language. He won’t show you his face. He’s ruthless. He’s a force to be reckoned with. But, despite the fact you can’t understand him, you know without a doubt this man would die to protect you.

Pairing: König x reader

They always say it happens fast.

They never clarified how fast.

It was just one report. One incident of someone behaving strangely. Just a couple of minor incidents. You hadn't thought much of it. You existed as you had always: going to work, lazing around your home, talking with your friends. One week you carried life as normal, the next you were getting bombarded by alerts to stay inside.

Lock your doors. Stay silent. Stay undetectable. It was the last message you got before your internet went out, and you descended into a microscopic dark age.

You’ve never really thought about outbreaks all that much. It’s a tragedy, but it’s a rarity. The probability of it happening to you or anyone else you knew was 0.0005%. Maybe even less. It was never supposed to happen to you.

The screaming ended days ago. You still didn’t move from your spot, huddled in a small corner of your apartment, too scared to do anything else.

You could hear them every so often. The groaning. The horrific footsteps of something not human. At least, something not human anymore. They’re so loud. You didn’t think anything could be this loud. Their screams ricochet off the walls, into your apartment. Sometimes it’s upstairs. Sometimes it’s right by your door.

A morbid part of you wondered if you’d be able to recognize them. Your neighbors, something that used to be your neighbors. You couldn’t, something which you were grateful for. All the moans, the garbles, the shrieks, they were all incoherent, unrecognizable. Inhuman.

Protocol had been drilled into your head ever since you were a kid. In schools, you had outbreak drills, where you and your classmates sat in a room for five minutes until the lights came back on and class resumed as normal. If an outbreak happened when you were at home stay put. Stay silent. Stay unnoticed.

Only now are you realizing the parallelisms between now and the drills practiced by schoolchildren during the Cold War. Teachers would tell their students to hide under tables. They'd board up the windows. It was all useless. Just a half-hearted attempt to quell the nerves of the people. To give them a false sense of security.

You check your phone, tapping on the screening, telling yourself you’d put it on silent already. You can’t charge it. The power in your apartment went out two weeks ago. You’re pretty sure the water went with it too. You can’t connect to the internet. The phone lines are down. At this point, your phone is only good for its flashlight.

(You don’t even think about turning it on even in the darkness of your apartment. They’re attracted to light.)

It’s useless, but you’re still pulling up your mom’s contact. You send her a message. The 438th one.

‘Still alive. I love you.’

Message unable to deliver responds your phone. You turn it off, closing your eyes.

Your mother, God what was she thinking right now? She wasn’t in the city. She lives miles away in your hometown. You knew she was already aware, probably sick with worry. The last outbreak happened two years ago in a small town all the way on the other side of the country. You were home from college, cuddled up with her on the couch as you two watched the news in horror. Her co-worker’s daughter had been in the infected city. She hadn’t made it. Your mom attended the funeral.

She later admitted to you that she was glad it wasn’t you she was watching on the TV.

You wonder if she remembers these words right now. If they haunt her.

Outside, the siren flicks off. It had been blaring static music for the past hour. They’re attracted to noise. The woman’s voice is too cheery for the current situation. Her voice was too clinical, and measured. It was obvious that it was pre-recorded. She always repeated the same thing: We apologize for the delay of Aide. Please remain in your homes. We thank you for your patience.

You’d be annoyed if you weren’t so terrified.

It had only been three weeks since your world went to shit, but you’d already lost hope of help ever arriving. Maybe the tanks, the guns, the arsenal were already on their way but they hadn’t gotten to you yet, too preoccupied by the swarms of monsters. You’d already boarded up your windows, too afraid to see something you didn’t want to see, but through the tiny cracks, the barren streets were lifeless. No one had come. Not yet, at least.

The barren streets were lifeless. Lifeless, not empty.

During the first two days, there were many of them. Now, you could sometimes see a couple, if any at all.

Their skin had lost the brightness of a human’s. Each one was a dull shade of grayish green. Some decayed faster than others, revealing rotting flesh right underneath their sagging skin. You’d seen a couple missing arms, and legs, mindlessly limping, crawling away to some unknown destination. When they weren’t hunting, they were slow. Truly dead.

The worst were the children. Small, bodies stumbling here and there. Tiny bones jutting out from rotting skin. Sickly eyes that had been gone for days. You couldn’t bear to look outside after that.

You'd seen them hunt before. It was during the first couple of hours when everything went to shit. The man was running, dragging his clearly broken leg as fast as he could. He wasn't fast enough. They had caught up to him in minutes. You had to turn away when his screaming turned to painful shrieks. You could still hear them every so often, even after you boarded up your windows. You don't think you'll ever be able to forget his begs for help. Ever the coward, you prayed he didn't see you. You prayed it wasn't you he was begging to.

The guilt kept you up at night sometimes. Every so often, you'd hear another scream, another tearing of flesh. You just lay there, covering your ears with your hands, hoping you'd wake up from this nightmare.

Had your friends ended up like that? You hadn't been able to get into contact with any of them. Hopefully, they had evacuated. You couldn't even think of them huddled up like you, stuck to listening to the terror outside. Or perhaps a fate even worse turned into a rotting corpse still living.

Your pantry was full of canned food. Beans, corn, tomatoes. You knew you wouldn’t have to worry about food running out, that is if you could ever have an appetite big enough for a full meal. You had water bottles too, all piled into the back of your closets.

The real issue wasn’t food. The real issue wasn’t water. It was the wait. The terrifying suspense every time you moved a bit too fast, terrified that something above or below you would hear. You were always warned about how strong these things were. Devoid of the human limitations, they will do everything they can to claw past wood, concrete, steel. It doesn’t matter how mangled they get. They can’t feel pain.

Your pantry was overflowing with food. Now, all you had to do was play the waiting game.

You've noticed they're more active in the night rather than the day. It made sense, to a degree. The cooler air slowed down the rate of decay. The sun was harsh, especially during the summer months. Why would a rotting piece of meat ever want to stay underneath the burning sun?

But it made the nights tenser. You could hardly sleep when the sun went down and the light in your apartment faded to pitch black. They were louder. Hungrier. It was as though they took their anger on the sun out on the darkness, letting their fury consume everything in their path.

You flinch when another bang ricochets across your apartment. Tonight seemed to be the worst. The shuffling. The growling. It seemed to all get desperate. Impatient.

It was starting to seem more and more as though they were looking for something.

You don't even want to entertain that thought, but you could hear scratching through the walls. The sound of human fingers raking their claws against cement. Tonight, you had barricaded yourself in your closet, nestled between your clothes. You could hear the muffled echoes of things crawling upstairs, knocking things over.

It almost distracts you from the thudding at the front door. Like a body is being rammed against your door over and over and over and over and over and over and-

Your door has to give eventually. You want to curse yourself for it because you once remembered your mom berating you for not installing better security and tougher doors. You'd laughed her concerns off. You thought it was paranoia.

The door caves in, something inhuman is crawling into your apartment. All that you can think about is your mom's knowing I told you so.

Haggard footsteps made their way into your abandoned living room. It was loud, messily bumping into tables and walls. There didn't seem to be a set direction. It didn't know where exactly you were. It didn't matter.

You were going to die.

It was a startling thought, but not something you could deny. You were only able to survive for five days, that alone was a miracle. That’s all this was. Luck. A roll of the dice. You weren’t a survivor. You were weak, with zero combat experience. This was all just a one-in-a-million chance. You still have no clue how you managed to survive this long. Maybe the monsters thought you were already dead? Maybe they thought you were too weak to even bother? You didn't know why you were still thinking about this. It wasn't like it mattered. You were living on borrowed time. Your front door was no match for it. What about your room? What will the numerous barricades even do against these things?

You were out of time.

You can feel the sting of tears in your eyes. You suck in your breath, huddling into a tighter ball.

This thing was going to find you. This thing was going to kill you. And there was nothing you could do about it.

You check your phone. Still, no signal. You sent her your last message, anyway.

'I love you'

A part of you hopes your messages never get through to her. So she wouldn't have to know her child died with fear. With pain. You pray to any god still listening to you that she will assume you died within the first day, unaware, oblivious. You prayed she would know that you died a merciful death.

But the gods hate you. They laugh at you, leering as the thing drags its body closer and closer to your room, towards your closet with a trembling hulk of flesh locked inside, ripe for the taking.

And then it stops. You wait, bracing yourself. When there's still no movement, you realize that it's listening for something.

Soon, you hear it too.

Gunshots.

You clasp a hand over your mouth, stifling your gasp. Had help arrived? Had you just narrowly avoided being eaten?

The thing just outside your room door growls. You can hear it hustle out of your apartment on unsteady legs, as it fights to go where the gunshots are coming from. It doesn't have to go far.

It doesn't sound like a struggle. It's more like a one-sided fight. Decaying flesh doesn't do well against steel guns and bullets. There are a couple of rapid shots, and then something heavy collapses outside of the apartment.

And then, it's all over.

You almost can't believe it, still huddled in your corner of the closet. It's all over. You can't hear any more dull groans and screeches. Whoever was out there, had gotten rid of them all.

You're crying again, for an entirely different reason now. Relief. Utter joy. Hope.

But now, you have an entirely new problem. How do you get out to meet your saviors, without getting shot?

Their boots were heavy, roughly stomping around without a care in the world. From what you could hear, there was only one of them. The rest must be outside, scanning other apartments, looking for more survivors. Military. Or maybe a crudely put-together army of minute men. You didn't care which.

There was only one person in your apartment, and they seemed to be a sort of shoot-first-ask-questions-later type of person. You had to get their attention in a way that wouldn't spook them. You had no trust in your voice, it was going to be scratchy from the unuse, maybe even rivaling the monsters' groans.

You take too long to come up with a plan because the intruder in your apartment seems to still, seemingly realizing they aren't alone.

His voice is deep, almost rattling the apartment, as he calls out. You can't understand him. It takes you a moment to realize he's speaking a different language than you.

Shit. This was going to be harder than you initially anticipated.

His footsteps seem heavier as if he is intentionally trying to intimidate you. It's working, because your heartbeat quickens when your room door is blown open. You can hear him rifle through your bed. He calls out something again. Closer. It sounds European. Dutch, or perhaps it was German? Russian? You still can't make out what he's saying.

The man says something. Despite your lack of understanding, it's crystal clear that he's making a threat. He sounds right in front of your closet. The soft click of a gun makes your shyness whittle away far enough that you can actually say something.

"Don't shoot. " You try to scream, but it comes out with a choked cry. "I'm human. I'm human."

That seems to stop him, and he pauses long enough for you to prove your innocence. Slowly, as if he's the one you're trying not to scare, you creak the door open, gently giving away your hiding spot.

The flashlight makes you wince, and you try to shy away from the light. He seems to be assessing as to whether you're a threat or not. As uncomfortable as it was, you let him, lowering your eyes so you're not blinded.

He says something, obviously asking a question. When you don't respond quickly, his voice grows harder, more impatient.

You bite your lip, nerves rising.

"I don't-I don't understand," You finally manage to say, "I'm sorry."

There's a moment, and then he's clicking off his flashlight. He gives a ragged sigh like this is above his pay grade.

"I'm sorry," You say again into the darkness.

You can tell that he's still watching you. What else is there to inspect? The rest of your rundown apartment? He tries speaking again. It's clear that he's trying to sound softer. He's lost the harsh growl in his voice. It makes him sound younger, at least, to your ears.

The change of tone doesn't change the fact that you still don't know his language. You shake your head, hoping you can get your point across once more. He reaches for you, and you can't help it.

You flinch, pressing yourself against the wall, watching his shadow warily.

It's funny how the one thing you wished for was to be saved, and now that you are, you still cower. It's not intentional. It's uncontrollable. You're still wary of the stranger. He's unreadable.

He seems to get the point, raising his hands up, and leaving the gun at his side. You doubt being weaponless makes him any less dangerous.

You can't make out most of him, but in the dim light you got, you were able to tell he was big. Even now, as he crouched before you, in a clear attempt to make himself less hostile. You can't seem to find his face. There's some kind of darkened mask on him, obscuring his features. For some reason, you suddenly realize you can't really hear his breathing.

He tilts his head as if to say See? I'm harmless! You don't think you agree with that statement. Even then.

He's safe. You know he's safe.

You don't exactly relax, but you ease back into your space. He seems to get the point, standing back up to his full height, easily towering over you.

He gestures to his hands. It takes you a while to realize he's asking if you're injured.

"No." You shake your head. "No injuries."

He seems satisfied with that, backing away to look at your room. Apart from the numerous barricades you put across the windows, your bedroom is pretty sparse. You wonder if he's thinking how you managed to survive this long. You wonder if he's impressed by it. You wonder if he pities you for it.

He moves around more, scuttling throughout your apartment. It's becoming clear that he's checking for other survivors. As expected, he returns with no one else. It's just you and him. Alone.

There's a silence now. You hadn't realized it until just now, everything around you seems gone. Dead. You peek out the window. You can't see much, just more barren streets. There's nothing.

Did he and his team get rid of all of the monsters in the area? How?

There's a thud and when you turn back you notice something has been thrown at your feet. It's an old backpack you owned. You look up at him. His meaning is clear.

Start packing.

Right. You can't stay here. Not anymore. Despite your home being your sanctuary, with your door broken into, you're vulnerable here. Easy prey. You know all this, and yet you find yourself hesitating for a bit.

You had to go out there? Where danger lurks in every corner? It sounds like a daunting task. Your heart is telling you to stay put, where it's always felt safe. Home.

Your brain knows the truth. If you stay here, you are dead. For right now, this man was the only hope you had.

You do as he says, running around your apartment, eager to stuff as many items as you can. It's mostly food, water, and any nonperishables. You don't have any weapons, the only thing that even counts as one is your small can of mace. You don't know how well it will fare against the undead, but you take it with you, hoping something is better than nothing.

He doesn't comment on anything you took, merely turning back to face the front of your apartment the moment you look ready. You follow him obediently, only giving one last look at your home. It's a bleak end. You wonder if you'll ever be able to return.

He gives a grunt. When you look forward, you see that he's quite a ways ahead of you. He jerks his head in the universal gesture of 'you coming?'.

Your shoes pitter-patter to catch up to his boots, abandoning the remnants of your apartment. His strides are long, almost twice the length of yours. You almost have to run to keep up with him, jostling your bag. Dawn was coming. The windows gave way to the sun slowly rising from the horizon. It causes you to see more fragments of him.

Looking back, it was probably a good thing you couldn't see him all that well before. Otherwise, your first encounter might have ended with you assuming that he was planning on eating you. He easily towered over you, having to duck under the ceiling at times. His hooded mask rivaled the death that had been crawling around your home, creating a terrifying parallel. His vest was covered in assorted knives, guns, and other weapons you could barely name. The gun he'd used on the monster was slung on his back. You can't see his eyes, you don't know why that bothers you.

It's intimidating. And you're suddenly glad you aren't on his ire.

You're confused. You're scared. Those are never a good combination. You decide to momentarily forget your burning questions. You'd come back to them when you were safe.

At least, you hoped that's where this man was taking you. To safety.

He hadn't even bothered saying another word to you, just casually trekking on, letting you follow a couple of steps behind. Every so often, you'd catch a glimpse of his mask as he glanced behind him, as though he were trying to assure himself that you were still there. Where was he going? Where were you following him? It's not like you could just ask him.

You didn't even know his name.

You were half-afraid the small tap on his shoulder wouldn't register to him. He turns, to your relief, peering down at you.

"Who are you?" You softly ask. It's the first sentence you've managed to say to him that wasn't a stuttered apology.

He tilts his head, clearly not understanding. In response, you point at his chest. He takes a moment, it's why you get worried he still doesn't get it.

"König." His voice is rough against the word.

"König?" You repeat, the word alien in your mouth. He gives a barely visible nod.

You give a tentative smile. When he keeps staring, you give out your own name. He takes a second, mulling it over.

And then König is walking again. You follow one step in front of the other.

#reader inserts #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig x reader #zombie apocalypse #dark content #cw: gore #cw: violence #x reader

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