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roses-for-rosalyn · 2 months

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Cowboys

Ellie x reader (for now)

Part 2

summary: A stranger comes to your door- it turns out it's not one of your usual encounters cw: guns, cowboy lingo, fem! reader, cowboy crossdresser Ellie, eventual smut, blood, injuries, your average confusing lesbianism, eventual smut, no use of y/n wc: 3.6k

for those who prefer ao3 <3 gotchu minors DNI (I will steal all you pillowcases)

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Nothing could beat the beauty of the sunset in the desert. Purples, blues, oranges, and yellows swirled together to paint a new masterpiece every night. And every night you would sit on your small, wooden porch with a cup of tea and watch as the sun slowly sinks into the horizon. Tonight was no exception.

The sky becomes darker and darker until the moon and the stars come out, bathing the desert in a silver light. You struggle with the stubborn, old front door for a moment before you step into your little ranch house.

A chill runs through you as the temperature outside rapidly declines. You kneel in front of the fireplace and use the little kindling you have for a fire. It was enough to keep you warm for a few hours while you read yourself to sleep. Sometimes you felt lucky that it was a small enough house that the small fire would warm up the whole place. Your bed was just a few paces away from the mantle.

You stand up and dust off your hands before starting to undress for bed. As you begin to unbutton your bodice a knock sounds from the front door.

You scramble for your rifle by your bedside and check to make sure it’s loaded. You peek through one of your front windows to catch a glimpse of the mysterious stranger. At this hour and on the edge of town, your visitors weren’t usually friendly.

It seems a cowboy has paid you a visit this evening. Haven’t seen one of those in a damn long time. A gun is proudly holstered on his hip next to a lasso, and his black large-brimmed hat keeps his face dark enough that you can’t quite make it out.

He knocks again, louder. You creep up to the front door and slowly open it. Before he can process who opened the door you aim your rifle right at his chest.

“Hands up.” You demand, your voice is surprisingly steady.

“Woah there, I just stopped to ask for some directions.” A deep, yet feminine voice replies. It sounds like she was all too sure you weren’t going to be using that weapon on her, she didn’t even bother to move. You cock the gun, trying like hell to keep your expression blank, unphased while your entire body fills with adrenaline. She takes a step back and puts her hands up. Her hat still covers her face in shadow, it’s like confronting a ghost.

“You should have stopped somewhere else.” You take a step towards her, closing the door behind you while keeping your vision trained on the woman.

“You’re much different than the other women I’ve run into out here.” She looks up slightly, the moonlight illuminating pink, slightly chapped lips forming a smug smirk. “Where’s your husband, miss?”

“I swear if you don’t get back on your goddamn horse I’ll put a hole right through your chest.” she steps towards you, the muzzle of the gun pokes right under her collarbone.

She finally looks at you, silver light exposes a sharp, feminine face dotted with freckles darkened by days in the sun. The sight of her face catches you off guard for just enough time, allowing her to grab the barrel of the rifle and pull it right out of your hands. She drops the gun and it clatters loudly to the ground, echoing through the empty desert landscape. She grabs your wrists before you can start fighting back and pins them above your head against the door with one hand.

“There,” she grunts as you struggle against her grip, she’s surprisingly strong, “now we can have a conversation.”

“Go to Hell.” You say, seething with rage and frustration because she was able to overpower you so easily. She shakes her head and laughs for a moment, saying something under her breath like all this trouble.

You were just about to spit in her face when she said, “Where’s the nearest hotel darlin’?” Your eyes widen at the innocent question, slightly embarrassed. This was a first, she really just needed directions. She uses your stunned silence to talk some more, “I’ve been savin’ up so I could have a bed for the night. And I could really really use a bed tonight, miss.” You stop struggling against her grip and she lets go. She still has that stupid smirk on her face. “So if you could point me in the right direction it would be much appreciated.”

“Head southwest, you’ll hit a trail that will lead you right into town.” You dust off your dress and straighten it out.

“Much appreciated, darlin’.” She tips her hat and walks off toward her horse. You watch in shock as she mounts her horse and before riding away she says just loud enough, “I’ll be seein’ you.” And with a nod, she was off.

You slowly bend down to pick up the Winchester, cradling it against your chest as you watch the stranger disappear into the night. As you head inside you wonder if you ever will see that strange woman again, and fall asleep debating whether or not you would want to.

** **

The next morning you head to the school house. The steady feeling and sound of your horse trotting along the dirt path always forced your mind to wander elsewhere. Right now you couldn’t stop thinking about the woman from last night. The schoolhouse was right in the middle of town, would you see her again? Would she even recognize you? If she did, would she even try to talk to you?

The interaction was a bit embarrassing for you, but to be fair you had your fair share of vile men looking for trouble and hostile groups of Apache knocking on your front door. Your father had taught you how to use his Winchester rifle, the very same rifle you use now, and you mentally thanked him for it every night. You had only used it to kill one man, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and you gave him plenty of warnings. He didn’t believe your threats so now he was buried about 500 feet from the house in an unmarked grave, you were sure no one would miss a man like that. Most of the time the Apache would just come to ask questions about men passing through the area, they never tried to attack you, thankfully, but they would always come at the most ungodly hours and were quite impatient.

Last night was a first, you had never had a cowboy knock at your door, and then she ended up being a woman. The idea of her was so intriguing and you couldn’t figure out why. For some reason, she shook you more than anyone else had since you lived out here. And you’d seen quite a lot.

Your thoughts are interrupted as you reach town, the sound of rickety carriages, hooves against the packed dirt road, and the chatter of men in front of the Sheriff’s Office make it hard to focus.

“Hello there, sunshine!” you hear a male voice call out. You turn towards the voice to see Jesse making his way past you on horseback, lugging today's newspapers to the apothecary. He made the trip from Sante Fe every morning. He was nice enough, you liked talking to him, but not as much as you felt like you should. The ladies at the apothecary, Dina, and Maria, would always encourage you to talk to him. They desperately wanted you to move on from your husband. He was long gone and you knew that, you were even thankful for it, which is why you were nervous to start again. You didn’t want to have to go through anything like that again.

You wave back and smile, “Hi there, Jesse.” You decide to be polite, “Hear anything good today?” He tightens the reins of his horse and stops right next to you.

“They struck gold in Elizabethtown, and there’s gonna be a shortage of tobacco ‘round these parts within the week because of a dust storm over in Tennessee.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ll have a panic on their hands pretty soon then. I don’t know a man here who can live without their cigars.” You smile and Jesse laughs politely at your attempt at a joke.

“Alright, don’t want the kids to show up before I do, I'd best be headin’ to the school.” You yearned to leave this awkward conversation through any means possible. Today was not the day for small talk.

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then, miss.” Your head snaps towards Jesse. You’re suddenly transported to last night and listening to the way the cowboy’s words would drip from her lips, smooth as honey “Miss”. Calm and sure even with a gun pointed right to her heart.

You quickly snap out of it and nod politely at Jesse as you begin to part ways. You head to the schoolhouse in a hurry, the kids gave you hell if you were late.

** **

You’re beginning to lock up the schoolhouse when you hear footsteps approaching. “Well hello there, miss.” You recognize the voice all too quickly, you don’t even need to turn around. “Was really hopin’ I’d find you here.”

As you fish into your pocket for the key you respond, “And how exactly did you find me here?” you turn around and begin to walk past her toward your horse. She follows you. From a brief glance at her, you can see she wears a bandana to cover her face, you could only see her eyes. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I just asked those nice ladies at the apothecary if they knew the women who lived just outside of town, they were more than happy a “nice gentleman” took interest in you. They told me just about everything they knew, your name, some snippets of gossip. I’m sure if I stayed they would’ve told me your life story” You finally turn to face her, your expression unamused. She took her hat off at some point when she was talking to you, her eyes are green, radiant in the unrelenting desert sunlight. You were almost jealous. She wore a dark blue button-down that sat surprisingly flat against her chest and suspenders. She could pass for a man if she wanted to. “So, I take it you don’t have a husband then?”

“What’s it to you?” you cross your arms, defensively.

“I was just curious, I asked last night, but you weren’t exactly in a talking mood.” You swear you can make out her smirk under the bandana.

“No, I haven’t had a husband for quite a while. Is that what you came all the way here to ask me?” She lowers her bandana and steps towards you, backing you into your horse.

“No, I came to ask a favor.” She hesitates for a moment, “No one here can know that I’m, um, well you know..”

“A woman?” pretty easy to piece together after seeing the bandana.

“Yea,” She backs away from you a little. Seems like someone is embarrassed to ask a favor. “It’s just easier for me to get things this way and it’s lookin’ like I’ll be staying later than I planned so..”

“Alright, I won’t say anything.” She opens her mouth to begin to thank you, but you weren’t about to let an opportunity like this pass you by. “But, you owe me a favor then.”

Her excited expression disappeared as quickly as it came, if you weren’t looking you could have missed it, “Um, alright, what do ya need?”

“You know your little visit last night?” You had been cooking this proposition up all day, hoping she would run into you again.

“Yes.”

“Well, that happens to me about every other day. I don’t want a husband, but I do need a guard dog of some kind.” You didn’t want a man in your home, but you did want the protection of one, this was the perfect opportunity, almost too perfect.

“A guard dog?” She seems mildly offended by you comparing her to a dog.

“I’m tired of not being able to sleep because of surprise visitors. And I’ll pay you in two square meals a day, tea, and my homemade moonshine.” She does not look amused. “And I won’t tell anyone you’re a lady.”

“I don’t know-”

“I know you’re almost out of money, I’m sure Tommy is bleeding you dry as an outside visitor. I won’t charge you anything.” Something in her loosens, you can see it.

“So do I sleep on your floor?”

“Or outside if you’d like, makes no difference to me. There’s a fire pit out there for ya” You turn around and mount your horse, eager to get home. “We got a deal?” You reach your hand down towards her. She hesitates before shaking it.

“I’m Ellie by the way.” You nod

“Alright Ellie, I’ll see you at my house then. I trust you’re familiar with the address” She just nods, slightly shocked. You smile and then head off, the comforting sound of hoofbeats clearing the thoughts in your head. On the way home you tend to just listen to the sounds of the desert. After a day of loud, squealing children it was healing. You’re sure you’d go crazy if you lived in town.

** **

You had just finished making your evening tea when you heard a knock on your door. For the first time in a long time, you don’t go into fight or flight mode. You open the door with a smile, part of you is surprised she even showed up. Your proposition was a little ridiculous, but that truly shows how desperate you are.

“Hello there stranger.” You are really pushing it with this attitude, you can tell, but something in you likes it when she gets annoyed.

“Hi.” She takes off her hat and lowers her bandana, something you’ve observed as a habit of hers, one of respect possibly. “So am I sleepin’ with the rattlesnakes or on your floor?”

“You get bit by a rattlesnake come to me and I’ll suck the venom out myself. Until then you best set up camp before dark darlin’.” You smile at her sweetly.

“Figured as much.” She smirks and walks away to set up camp.

“Dinner’ll be ready in 20 minutes. I hope ya like stew.” You call out to her. “Oh, and there’s a spring out back if you need any water!”

** **

The stew finally thickens up to the way you like it, you pour it into two bowls and quickly slurp up your serving. Didn’t taste amazing, but it was food.

You open your front door to bring Ellie her food and see that she’s already started a fire, she’s sipping from a silver flask just staring at the flames.

You approach and wordlessly hand her a bowl of stew and a spoon. She looks up at you “You gonna eat?”

“No, I- uh already ate.” More like inhaled but she didn’t need to know that. You point at her flask. “What’s in there?”

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t know what’s in here?” She raises her eyebrows.

“I know it’s liquor, Ellie, I’m just askin’ what kind.” Her confused expression drops.

“Whiskey.” She looks at the flask in her hand, then at you. “Want some?” She clearly did not want to offer it to you. But you sit down next to her and reach your hand out for it.

“Hand it over.” She hands you the flask. The metal was cool to the touch, almost shocking after the desert heat all day. You take a sip and the liquor burns its way down your throat, and your face scrunches a little. You were used to shooting whiskey, but this was particularly terrible, even worse than your moonshine. “Wow, that’s pretty awful.”

Ellie laughs between bites of stew, “You’re stew isn’t the greatest thing I’ve tasted either.”

“Hey!” You lightly punch her shoulder. She giggles even more. “You’re welcome for the food by the way.” You take another swig of whiskey and then hand the flask back to the cowgirl.

“Thank you,” she takes the flask, “for the meal.” she hands you her empty bowl. “And a place to stay, even if it’s outside.”

“We’ll see, maybe you’ll earn your way inside.” You take her bowl and turn to head inside.

“Is that a challenge?” She calls after you.

“Maybe.” You call back.

You step inside and immediately undress for bed, the whiskey making your eyes droop closed. You can barely get your buttons undone before you fall into bed, for the first time in a while, not having to worry about dangerous strangers knocking down your door.

** **

You wake up to a hasty knock coming from the front door. It’s still dark outside. You weren’t supposed to have to deal with this anymore. You grab your rifle and don’t even bother checking who is at the door simply out of annoyance. Would have bit you in the ass later if it was a surprise visitor. You open the door and cock the rifle. To your astonishment, you open the door to Ellie, holding her side. There’s a dark stain forming under her hands, her face is bloody and bruised. And yet she’s got a smug yet pained smile on her face. “This how you’re always gonna greet me?”

“Jesus Ellie,” you usher her inside quickly. “What happened?”

“You got some visitors, a group of Apache men.” She sits down in one of your wooden dining room chairs. You rush over to grab the small medical kit you had managed to fashion over the years. “They wanted to see you in particular, when I told them you weren’t accepting visitors they sort of attacked me. It was one versus six”

“They don’t trust many people.” You undo Ellie’s suspenders and begin unbuttoning her shirt without even thinking. “Most folks round here shoot first and ask questions later, they don’t have any respect or patience for a stubborn cowboy.” You walk over, grab a candle and some matches, and light it so you can see. “Can’t say I blame them. I am sorry though I’d thought they’d see your gun and back off”

“That is real optimistic of ya.” You remove her right arm from the sleeve of her shirt. She is wearing some sort of binding around her chest- so that’s how she’s managed to pass for a man.

“Wow, that’s a big word for you.” You smirk at her as you clean your hands with some moonshine.

“Really? I’m bleedin’ out and you’re making fun of me?” You press gauze to her wound, she hisses through her teeth.

“Please, you’re not bleeding out. Shouldn’t even need stitches, just some cleaning and dressing.” You look up at her, you’re not quite sure, but even in the dim candlelight, you could swear she was blushing. You wouldn’t dare mention it when she’s already made herself so vulnerable.

“Now for the hard part.” You take out a small bottle of vinegar.

“Alright.” Ellie leans back in the chair, ready for the sting of the vinegar.

“Here.” You take her left hand and place it on your shoulder. “Squeeze if you need to.” She nods and you take that as your cue to begin. You pour the vinegar on the wound and you watch as her abs contract, her hand squeezes your shoulder, pretty hard, but you know she was trying not to hurt you, even in pain.

You stand up and gently wrap a few layers of gauze around her mid-section, just in case it starts bleeding again during the night. You were so, so close to her, you could feel the heat radiating from her skin. “You always wear that?”

“Wear what?”

“The-the bandages, round your chest.” She looks down at them like she almost forgot they were there. Suddenly you realize how personal that question must be. “Sorry, I shouldn’t said anything. You don’t have to answer”

“No, It’s alright. I don’t mind. Yes, I’ve worn this for a while now, easier to get around when you look like a man.” You nod and finish wrapping the gauze around her and pin it in place. You put a bit of vinegar on a piece of gauze and begin cleaning the cuts on her face. “Oh, you don’t need to do that, miss.”

“Please just let me clean off your face. Were you planning on walkin’ around town tomorrow with dried blood on your cheeks?” She opens her mouth to say something but closes it. She’s quiet as you gently clean her face, you can see every freckle, every scar, her eyes shining in the candlelight. It was odd being this close to her. You had never felt comfortable being this physically close to someone. Her warmth almost invited you in, made you want to press your nose to her neck, run your hands across her skin, feeling along all the freckles and scars, memorizing the spot of each one. you wanted to know her in a way you have never wanted to know anybody else.

“Hey,” a gentle voice grounds you back into reality. “I think my face is clean.” She smiles softly. She was right, at some point, you had gotten her face completely clean, you’re not sure how long she let you drag the cloth across her freckled cheeks before she said something.

“Yeah, sorry.” You back away and put the blood-soaked gauze in the burn pile. “You should sleep in here. Don’t think anyone else will be coming tonight. I’ll go get your bedroll.” Ellie just nods and you go out to grab her things.

You hurry back and set up her bedroll on the floor right next to your bed. She makes her way to it and sits down on the floor with a thud, careful to not contort her body in a way that could re-open the wound. She collapses onto the wool blankets. When you’re sure she’s settled you place your rifle back next to your bed and fall into your mattress, knowing you’ll be exhausted tomorrow.

lmk what you think! Likes, comments and reblogs always appreciated!

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Part 2 >>

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #tlou 2 ellie #tlou2 #cowboy!au #western! au #cowboy!Ellie #cleaning wounds trope hehe

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romanarose · 3 months

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Please Stay, Mr. Miller...

DBF!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Join my taglist : Masterlist

Previous part here: Valentines Day

Summary: Damn, mattress stores have good deals of presidents day- oh fuck

Warnings: PIV sex, unsafe cream pie, fighting. Mild man handling. some pushing/ smacking from reader but it's pretty soft on Joel's chest. Feeling (ew) big old age gap (2X age)

Immersivity: Reader is fem, dresses very feminine. Major age gap. Big girthy age gap. Joel can pick up reader and is taller than her.

AN/this is the most ridiculous concept lol but I thought it was funny to do Presidents’ Day after all these actual holidays lololololol anyway fuck all the us Presidents

*********

Of course. Of course you couldn’t fucking escape him.

Less than a week after the humiliating Valentine’s Day ordeal, you would find him at the same goddamn furniture store. Goddamn President’s Day mattress sales. You were trying to get out of the store, but Joel kept almost cornering you. You didn’t think he’d seen you yet, and you wanted to keep it that way. Unfortunately, you had walked yourself into a corner, and you when you saw him wondering over you scrambled to hide under a bed display. It did not work.

“Hey.”

“AH!” You jump at the sound of his voice, bonking your head on the frame.

“Shit, you okay?”

You turn and see him knelt down on the floor, bent over with one hand braced on the bed.

“I’m fine.” You mutter, but he doesn’t leave.

“Can we talk?”

The last thing you wanted to do.

“No.”

Joel said your name sternly, and despite the tight squeeze under the bed, you cross your arms.

“Fine.”

“You gonna make me do this down here?” He speaks in a fatherly tone like he was speaking to a petulant child. He definitely had a daughter. “Fine.” He huffed and puffed but laid down beside the bed. After a moment of silence, he spoke first when you refused to look at him. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“I’m fine!” You said, not finely.

His voice was slightly sharper. “Look, if you wanna be a fucking brat-”

You didn’t hear the rest, rolling out the other side of the display. Joel tried to catch you, reaching out but he was too big to fit.

Unlucky for you, you really needed a mattress and this was the last day of the deal.

“ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS FOR DELIVERY?” They should advertise that along with the deal. WTF.

“Sorry miss, I don’t make the rules.”

You sigh, then apologize to the worker. He does not make the rules. “Fine, fine… it’s still a deal… fine.”

A broad body was behind you. “We’ll take it home, thank you.”

Joel. “No, Joel-”

“I’ll pull my truck up. Behave.”

He knew behave would get you, and you didn’t argue.

You watched Joel carry the mattress in your apartment, setting it down against a wall in your bedroom.

He stares at your bed for the first time, pink frilly blankets and bed skirt, stuffies and soft pillows littering the bed. “You didn’t get your bed ready for a new mattress?”

You huff, picking up your stuffed animals and placing them on the windowsill. Joel tries to help, but you rip your elephant out of his hands. “Don’t! You’ll get your man germs on her!”

Joel scoffs at that, crossing his arms. “You didn’t care about my man germs when I fucking you.”

You throw your pillows on the floor. They were not as precious as your stuffies and dolls. “Your gross, Joel. You’d probably fuck my teddy if you had the chance!”

Joel catches your arm, holding it up and forcing you to look at him. “You’re throwing a fucking tantrum! Stop acting like a child!”

You immediately break down sobbing. Joel’s heart breaks to see you like that and drops your wrist. “Hey, hey sweetheart…” he’s tender now. “Hey, baby girl” He takes your chin in his hand, gently guiding it to look at him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He didn’t think so, he barely had any grip but he wanted to make sure. He never ever wanted to hurt you in a way you didn’t like.

“No.” You sob, standing there in a pink shirt and white skirt, looking so goddamn.

Joel is not immune to a crying girl. “Oh god, princess, c’mere” Joel scooped you up in his arms and you wrapped your legs around him as he sat on the bed.

“C’mon, princess, why are you crying?”

You sniffle. “You don’t want me.”

“I- what? Baby who told you that?”

“You did!” You shove at his shirt. “You invited me over on a day for romance just for sex, wearing sweats, Joel. SWEATS! I was in a fancy dress looking like an IDIOT”

Frustrated, you try to push away, but Joel grabs your hands, turning you over until he’s pinning you on the bed. “Princess.” His voice was low and dark. “Your my friend’s kid, I am twice your age-”

Your lip quivers. “I know. I know I’m just a silly girl and there’s no reason you should want me for anything other than sex-”

Joel pressed kiss into your mouth, shutting you up. “You hush now, let me speak.” He waited until you nodded. “I ain’t mean it like that. I mean. I don’t know what you would want with a man my age.”

You look up from him where you are still pressed down on the bed, his eyes dark on yours and hardening cock pressed against your pelvis. “A lot, actually.”

His eyebrow raised at you. “Oh? Like?”

You nod. “I wanna… I wanna go one dates. Real dates. Because I like spending time with you. Not just when we fuck but I mean… when you come over to my dads and we all have fun together. I wanna play connect four with you… and I wanna rub your back when it hurts… I W- I wanna” tears pool in your eyes again. “I wanna sleep with you, actually sleep. Like over night… that's what I want with you…”

Searching your eyes, Joel blinked as he watched you. “You want that? What about your dad?”

“I don’t care. I just want you.”

With that, Joel kissed you. It was deep and hard and desperate for touch. You hadn’t even been apart a week but he felt the hole in his heart. You didn’t answer his texts or his calls, and he missed your tight little pussy but he missed talking to you more.

“Fuck me” You pant breathless, undoing the buttons of his jeans and yanking them down. “I’m fucking wet, just fuck me”

“Don’t wanna-”

“You won’t hurt me.”

Entering you again was like coming home, sliding his shaft into your wetness had Joel’s eyes rolling back, groaning out your name. His shutters at the heat, your own breath gasping in. when he fucks you, you can feel it in your stomach, hell, you can feel it in your throat the wy your heart leaps up with every thrust. It’s dizzying, his presence; the stretch inside and your body making room for him was all consuming.

“J-Joel” You whimper, shaky and gasping for breath already.

“Give it to me, babygirl. Fuck’n give it to me…” He grunts, shirt still on as are most of your clothes, having only taken off your panties.

You cum as he fills you, continue to pump inside you through his own high, a load moan from his lip as his full weight collapses into you.

Instinctively, you wrap your arms and legs around him again.

“Please stay, Mr. Miller…”

********

Man is the next holiday Easter? Maybe we should ruin Easter 🐣 👀👀

@fandxmslxt69 @runa-falls @k-ra@ahookedheroespureheart @mikaelak @littlenosoul @stevenandmarcslove @pikapuff-316 @del-ightfulling @faretheeoscar @harriedandharassed @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @campingwiththecharmings @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @milly-louise @casa-boiardi @joeldjarin @mrs-oharaxx @pedge-page @readingiskeepingmegoing @survivingandenduring

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shadowlali · 28 days

Note

Heyy I've been struggling to find some good enemies to lovers with Graves, can we get some good old sassy reader x agitated easily Graves?

ransom

COD - Phillip Graves x fem!reader

[18+] wc: ~2.5k summary: You take Phillip's target. masterlist | AO3

warnings: NSFW, no specific timeline, some proofreading, no use of Y/N nor too many details on reader’s appearance, enemies to lovers, inaccurate military references, some minor OC characters, pet names (sugar, doll, brat), unprotected sex, squirting, creampie

a/n: the car is fine. it is sturdy. lol

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Phillip roars into his microphone.

Private Anderson sighs before speaking, “Gonzalez saw him get into a car with a woman.”

“Well what are y’all waiting for? Get back in the fucking Jeep and follow them!”

It’s not common for Phillip to lose sight of targets. Fucking newbies. All of their extensive training and they let a target walk away? It only takes a few minutes for Graves’ men in the helo to catch sight of a few suspicious cars that are driving away from the location.

Before Graves can tell his men to scan the inhabitants of each car, his phone begins to ring. Phillip takes a look at the screen and raises his eyebrow at the “Unknown Caller” flashing across.

“Graves,” he answers.

“Hi, handsome.”

Phillip grunts your name into the receiver, the blood in his veins running hot at the sound of your voice. Infuriating.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Is that anyway to talk to a friend, Phillip?”

He grips the phone tighter in his hand, quickly giving orders to his men to scan the cars. Phillip walks to a more secluded corner of the helo, not wanting anyone else to hear his conversation.

“That’s Commander Graves to you, young lady. And friends? Did we become friends before or after you stole millions of dollars worth of my weapons?”

“Millions of dollars worth? Please, Phillip,” you scoff, “I barely got two million for them. And that’s only because General Adair thought the dress I was wearing was pretty.”

Phillip stifles the groan in his throat. He knows first hand what you look like in dresses. Silky, little things that do almost nothing to hide your soft skin and gorgeous thighs–the beep of the scanning software immediately snaps him out of his daze. He doesn’t have time for this.

“You just admitted to selling weapons to an enemy nation. Once I’m done with my work, I’ll make sure to hunt you down–”

“Your work, huh?” you interrupt him. “A little birdie told me you lost your target.”

“The fuck did you just say?”

“Such harsh language, Phillip. That’s no way to speak to a young lady.”

“Saw him get into a car with a woman,” Phillip repeats the words he heard earlier, “it was you, wasn’t it? You took my goddamn target,” he spits out, “I have my best men scanning every corner of this town. We’ll find you before you hit the highway.”

“Oh no, handsome. We’re gone. I clocked your helo the moment I left his house.”

Phillip’s body begins to vibrate with anger. He can’t let you take his target.

“How much do you want?”

You throw out your price, asking for half now and the rest later. “I’ll send you the coordinates for the pick-up and my bank account information. Come alone, and wear something cute for me.”

Before he can respond to your aggravating comment, he hears the click of the call ending. He runs a hand through his hair. Always bleeding me dry, sugar.

Phillip leans against his truck, keeping his eyes on a swivel. There’s really no reason to. The lot is abandoned and he’ll be able to spot a car before it comes close. There is only one dim light illuminating the entire lot. Other than that, the sky is slowly fading into dark blues and purples.

“Heads up, Commander. A car is pulling up. Two inhabitants inside. A woman at the wheel and a man in the passenger seat,” his sergeant's voice comes through the earpiece.

Phillip sees the headlights of your car before he hears it approaching. His pulse flutters a little faster as your red sports car pulls up close to his truck. He sees the man slumped over in the seat, a black bag covering his head and his hands bound with rope.

You park the car and make your way out, the evening wind ruffling the bottom of your dress and exposing more of your thighs. It takes everything in him to not glance down the deep V-neckline of your dress as you stand in front of him.

“I love it when you do as I say,” you whisper, gently tugging on the collar of his polo.

“So this is what you used from the sale of my weapons? A fancy sports car?” Phillips grunts.

You have the gall to wink at him. “No, actually. This was a gift. Oh,” you gasp, “I remember this!”

You expose his neck and thumb the thin pink scar that spans from his ear to his collarbone. It’s healed now since the incident in Monaco. The day when he first met you and fully understood just how dangerous you can be.

Phillip quickly grips your hand before you can touch him further, feeling himself harden. “I don’t have time for this, doll. Did you kill my target? If I lift up the bag will I find a bullet between his eyes?”

You roll your eyes. “It depends. Do you have the rest of my money?”

With your hand tightly gripped in his, he leads you a few steps to his back seat. Graves opens the door to show you a large briefcase. You slip your hand out of his to open it and check to make sure it's all there. Large stacks of green paper practically make your eyes sparkle.

“You know what I love the most in this world, Phillip?” you ask.

“Money?”

“Yeah,” you sigh dreamily, “I love money. And I love it even more when I take it from men like you.”

He has the sudden urge to bend you over and spank your ass for your insolence. Disrespectful brat.

“Alright, it’s all here. Call your men, Phillip. I know they’re around here somewhere.”

He can’t help but laugh. “Am I that predictable?”

You give him a pointed look as he speaks into his mic, calling his men down. A minute later, his helo approaches from the sky. They park far away enough that neither of you are too affected by the wind from the blades and two soldiers hop down to take the target. Phillip waves them off and the helo pushes up, leaving you two alone as it heads back to their base.

“I let the weapons slide and I paid you the money you asked for,” Phillip starts, “but this is the last time, doll. I won’t respond so nicely the next time.”

He told himself he would be firm when he saw you again. Phillip can’t have you fucking up his mission and making him look weak in front of his soldiers.

“It wouldn’t happen so often if your soldiers were better,” you bite back. “I mean, now you have an upgraded security system for your warehouse and I’m sure you pulled the other soldiers out of the field for more training, right? If anything you should thank me.”

Phillip stares back at you with suspicion coloring his face. “How do you know all those things?”

You ignore him and walk back to your car, dumping the briefcase full of cash in the now empty passenger seat. Before Phillip knows what he’s doing, he follows you, catching you by surprise as he wraps his hand around your arm. Your back is pushed onto the hood of the car and he situates himself right between your spread thighs.

“Answer my question, doll,” he whispers in anger. “How do you know these things?”

You let out a teasing laugh, “does the Commander fear there’s a mole in his company? One that’s giving intel to a thief like me?”

He never feels this agitated when he’s around other women. Something about you makes him so frustrated and–and intrigued. Phillip rips his earpiece out and throws it far. He grabs both of your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head.

“How?” he spits out.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper, “it’s all me.” You take the opportunity to grind down, closing that space between your bodies and rubbing your warm cunt over the bulge in his jeans.

He moans before he can stop himself. A glance down to your joined bodies and he can see your dress ridden up on your hips, your panties fully exposed to his eyes.

“Every time you think you’ve improved your security or that you’ve chosen the best soldiers in the world, I’m there,” you moan, “Taking it apart. Piece. By. Piece.”

“Why?” he groans, angry at himself for not noticing earlier.

“Because it’s fun.”

He lets go of your hands, fully intending to walk away and leave you once and for all. But he’s not sure who attacks first. Your fingers sink into his hair and tug hard enough to sting at the same time his hand yanks down the top of your dress. His mouth fuses to yours in a kiss that’s mostly teeth and tongue.

He moves his head down, dragging his teeth over your collarbones and chest until they nip at the soft skin of your tits. A pained little moan escapes your mouth as he bites down on your swollen nipple.

“For fun, huh?” Phillip asks.

Phillip drags his teeth to the other, doing the same thing. You moan again, twisting your fingers in his hair and rubbing your cunt over the crotch of his jeans. He’ll finish before he even touches you if you keep doing that.

He stands up to his full height and pushes his hips away. With a hard tug your panties are ripped off your body, eliciting a yelp from you, and stuffed into his jeans pocket. There’s not much light now, the sun has fully set and the street lamp flickers in the distance.

But it’s enough light to see your swollen tits and the glisten of your pussy. His cock feels trapped in his jeans and his mouth waters at the sight of your cunt. Graves knows there isn’t time, there isn’t enough privacy even if this lot is abandoned. It doesn’t stop him from kneeling to swipe his tongue through your folds. Your back arches at the sudden contact.

“Phillip,” you whimper.

Even the taste of you is perfect. It’s sticky sweet in his mouth and he wishes he could spend his time on you, no matter how much you infuriate him.

“No, you didn’t do it for fun,” he mutters, “you did it to get my attention. Didn’t you, sugar?”

Phillip unzips his jeans and takes out his thick cock, wrapping a hand around it to give it a few tugs and relieve the pressure. You haven’t responded to his question, too preoccupied with the sight of his cock. He slaps the inside of your thigh and brings your eyes back to him.

“And if I say yes?” you tease in a shaky voice, spreading your thighs wider and dragging a hand down to spread open your cunt.

He rubs the plush head over your folds and up to your clit, the both of you moaning at the contact.

“Expensive way of trying to get my attention, baby.”

Phillip moves your hand away and wraps your thigh around his waist, giving him the perfect angle to plunge into your cunt. You throw your head back onto the hood of the car, any words you were going to say now trapped in your throat.

Graves can feel every pulse of your hot cunt. You grip him in such a tight heat that he goes blind for a second. Monaco, the arguments, the times you’ve stolen from him or taken his money–all of it has boiled down to this moment.

“Fuck–,” he moans, “perfect little pussy.”

This is part punishment for all the times you’ve robbed him blind and part pleasure for all the times he’s wanted to sink into your pussy. The scent of your perfume and your warmth makes him dizzy.

You claw at his arms, dig your nails into his skin, mark him after every rough plunge of his hips. He’ll have scratches tomorrow, but none of it matters at this moment.

“So needy,” Phillip says, “aren’t you, doll?”

You barely manage to whimper out a yes, sir.

Graves hikes your knee up to your chest and pounds faster. His tip reaches the end of you with each thrust and he revels in the fucked-out look on your face. The car shakes slightly at the force of his hips but you don’t seem to mind, probably haven’t even noticed.

“Sir, huh? Only when I fuck you, do you show me respect?”

“More, sir–please, oh God,” you cry out, twisting your hips in small circles.

Sweat gathers on his hairline and underneath his polo. He can feel the familiar twinge in his lower stomach and the heaviness in his balls. He’s close and Phillip wants you there with him. He pushes his thumb into your mouth, shivering slightly as you begin to suck and lick with your wet tongue.

He takes it out of your mouth and shushes you once you try to grab onto his hand, immediately rubbing your clit in harsh circles that have you squeezing his thick length. It doesn’t take long for him to feel the sudden tightness and gush of your pussy. You flood your joined, lower bodies, making it easier for him to fuck you faster. What a sight the both of you are. A pretty girl like you being fucked silly on the hood of your car.

“Fucking brat,” Phillip groans.

His fingers sink into your thigh and he uses your body as leverage to fuck you. You’ve gone soft and moldable in his arms, letting him fuck you at the rough pace he chooses. There’s only the wet squelch of your cunt and the whimpers of pleasure that are heard throughout the abandoned lot.

His body goes numb and he’s finishing inside of you, holding onto your hips and forcing you down on his cock. Graves fills you up, letting his cum paint your insides. You moan and twitch underneath him as you feel him cum.

“Take it, doll. Ta–take it, f’me,” he stutters.

It takes all his strength not to collapse on top of you. Phillip staggers slightly from the force of his orgasm but he rights himself. He runs his hands over your thighs as to slow his heart rate, moving a hand to wipe the drool from the corner of your lips.

“Okay, doll?” he asks after a few moments.

“Mhmm,” you answer in a tired voice.

“Can you stand f’me?”

You laugh and slowly sit up. Phillip fixes your dress and helps you stand, holding onto your arms as you teeter on your high heels.

“You okay to drive, sugar?”

“Look at you,” you slur your words slightly, “who knew the Commander was so sweet after sex.”

Phillip rolls his eyes and helps you into the driver’s seat, slapping your ass hard before you can enter the car.

“Quit stealing from me. I hope you learned your lesson, doll.”

“You just gave me a shitload of money and fucked me hard enough that my legs are still shaking,” you say, “I think I like this, actually.”

You drive off and leave Phillip standing by his truck, his heart still beating fast and a stupid smile on his face.

#phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x female reader #phillip graves smut #cod x reader #cod mw2 #phillip graves #cod mw2 smut #graves x reader #graves x you #shadowlali

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simpjaes · 3 months

Note

I saw this tweet and thought: WHAT IF, instead he’s watching you scurry off to change out of your wedding dress after getting married to his best friend(your choice…) into your outfit for the celebration/dinner, and he’s had a few drinks, feeling emotional after watching the girl of his dreams tie the knot with the luckiest man in the world. he follows after you and sneaks inside of your dressing room surprising you right as you’re unzipping your wedding dress, and he’s like “let me help you.”

even better if *cough* you don’t want his help, because he’s always been a little too touchy with you, stares too long, says inappropriate things whenever his best friend steps away….

😁🤔👀

first of all, fuck you.

obv my choice will be jay in regards to his best friend. we knew this though, didn't we? warning: dub con, reader is a cheating whore with no excuses so don't come at me. wc: 1.5k "let me help you-"

you know jake though, with his obliviousness to how obvious he has been over the years of your relationship to your new husband. The marriage is a mere hour old by this point, and it makes you roll your eyes.

After all, you knew he wouldn't give up on you, despite the sheer amount of rejections you threw his way. Jake is a go-getter, it's one of the things you loved about him.

Unfortunately, he is also a never-give-upper. Which is endearing at any other time, you know, when you're not at the other end of it. With a goddamn ring on your finger that spells his best friend's name and money.

"I'm ok, Jake. You shouldn't be in here." You say, concentrated on contorting your arms in a way to reach the zipper right at the middle of your back.

"Relax, I'm not going to do anything." He counters you, covering your hand with his own over the zipper, overtaking your hands and helping you to grip that tiny piece of metal, running it down below your ass, due to the style of dress. "Unless you want me to." He adds, holding the zipper in place and pressing himself against you with little to no hesitation.

"Jake, I'm married." You argue, trying to shimmy out of his grasp but offering him a nod as a form of appreciation for his help.

"And?" He ticks his tongue, stepping back and stuffing his hands in his pocket as he leans against the vanity in the bride's dressing room. Pretty, extravagant, far too expensive for his taste. "Nothing has really changed, you've just got a ring now."

You roll your eyes, laughing at his audacity.

"You really have to stop with the flirting at this point, if Jay finds out that after all these years, you're still-"

"He won't find out." Jake smiles, cutting you off and tilting his head at you, allowing his pretty hair to ruffle itself against his forehead. "Not unless you decide to tell him and fuck it up."

"Fuck what up?" You ask, still in awe at the fact that he's literally Jay's best man, yet still not laying off of you, even on your fucking wedding day.

"This thing, that I want from you." He smiles wider, pushing off of the vanity and walking up to you and your slouched wedding dress. "And that you want from me."

You give him a sort of "what the fuck?" look before feeling his hands slouch the dress more, down your shoulders to the point you have to hold it up at your chest to keep it from sliding off of you.

"And just what gave you the idea that I want it from you?" You ask, stumbling back and away from him, trying to ignore the taste of his scent on your lips, the heavy cologne musky and very similar to your new husband's.

"Are you wearing Jay's fucking cologne?"

"Technically, Jay is wearing my cologne." Jake laughs, closing any distance you create with him. "Why? You like it?"

Unfortunately, yeah. You do. "Jake. Stop." You warn, stepping back yet again, knowing that the wall is a mere foot away, and there's not much space left to run from him. He's being far more persistent than usual too, which is...dangerous. "Stop what?" He laughs, giving you the same "what the fuck?" face you previously gave to him. "Talking to you? My best friend's wife? My favorite person for making him so happy?" Jake scoffs now, not letting you respond. "Just let me help you get the fucking dress off, god. I said I wasn't going to do anything." And, well, you relent. Choosing to trust him at this moment given his serious and spiteful tone. The last thing you want is anyone being annoying at you on your wedding day. The issue is that, he helps a little too much. Sliding the dress down with concentration in his eyes, a flicker of arousal perhaps at seeing the lingerie you have under it from the waist down. The invisible, skin toned pasties covering your nipples to avoid any type of malfunction if some child were to rip your dress down. "Unless you ask me to." Jake now says again, gripping your hips and holding you in place in front of him. "And if it's the last thing I'll ask you before your wedding night is over, it's this." You stare at him in both shock and amazement, unable to respond to his audacity at this point. "After tonight, you'll be-" He stutters his words only for a moment, stopping himself from speaking too much from the heart. "Just.. let me see what I'm missing." He groans as he speaks, leaning forward and dropping his forehead to yours, hands dropping dangerously low to the lingerie you put on for your fucking husband. If you had the energy to fight him off, you're not sure if you would, in all honesty, and there's no excuse for it. "I want to know why he married you." Jake continues trailing his hands, especially when you only shift your face away from him, but not your body. "wanna see why he suddenly stopped sharing." You're a little shocked by that statement, learning on your wedding night that apparently your husband and his best friend seemed to have shared girls in the past. "Jake-" You breathe, feeling his palm reach a space that only Jay should be able to touch. "We really can't. Not on my wedding night, not in the fucking venue. They'll wonder where I am." "No they won't." He smiles, pressing his palm harder against your center, cupping you firmly to the point of almost lifting you from the ground entirely. "They trust you." Arguably, he's right. But do they trust him? Probably not, and honestly? They shouldn't. "Just this once, let me show you what you're missing." He comments now, speaking out to the room more than to you at this point, pressing you flush against the wall and dropping to his knees.

And you know, maybe it's the love in the air, or maybe it's the lust or overall rush of emotions of tying the knot with a man you love, surrounded by faces you love equally if not more on a level further than romance. Then again, maybe not.

What would ever allow you to not push away? When Jake falls to his knees, pressing you against the wall with his lips already against the front of your panties, easily lifting your legs over his shoulders and forcing you to fucking balance on him or else you'll fall.

Forcing you to fist his hair into your hands for balance, really. You can feel the way he laps away against the panties Jay was supposed to pull off of you tonight. Soaking them to the point that you soak them further.

Just, right there through the pretty white lace, now semi-transparent against your freshly waxed pussy. All for the fucking wedding night, not for Jake.

Still, you can't deny the feeling. The arousal. The pining you previously had for Jake all throughout your relationship with Jay. You always ignored it with ease, but now? With him being so forward despite the warnings? Despite the rejections?

It's a one thing and done.

"Jake," You sigh out, gripping his hair so tightly you fear you'll lose the feeling of his tongue against you. "Don't tell anyone-"

You felt his chuckle before you heard it, his head pulling back with glassy and glistening eyes staring up at you as you balance with your legs wrapped around his neck.

"Baby, the only way you'll keep my mouth shut is by sitting on it." He whispers fondly, still blinking at you innocently.

And well, for the sake of your relationship, surely not because you want it, of course not. You do just that, with his hands holding your legs more tightly than Jay ever has, burying his tongue into every nook and crease your heat could ever offer to him. It's insane really, that it doesn't end there. And it feels like hours pass by the time you manage to stumble out of the room in the proper attire, with Jake's flushed cheeks and crooked bow tie....and his, um, emptied balls....

And you. Fucking filled to the brim with another man's cum, feeling it drip down your legs under this long and pretty maxi-dress as you approach your new husband with a warm smile.

Do you feel guilty? Yes.

Will you always feel guilty? No.

Why?

Because missing out on that? The way Jake panted and moaned into your mouth? The way his hands squeezed? The way his cock pulsed? It's something you think you deserved to feel before you were forever barred from anyone else ever again.

Despite already being barred. You feel satisfied, now knowing what it could have been, but still accepting the fact that Jay is the man you love. Even if he'll never see the bridal panties you intended for him to take off of you.

#jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #hardthots #drunkhazed #youre my favorite person thank you

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queers-gambit · 1 month

Text

Talk Shit, Get Hit

prompt: ( requested ) your high school bully picks the wrong day to taunt you and it's up to an equally hotheaded Billy to calm you down. call it irony.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader characters are ALL aged 18 years old

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 5.4k+

note: the reader is aggressive. the reader is violent. the reader’s hands are rated ‘E’ for Everyone.

warnings: you know the drill: author projects instead of going to therapy and uses personal experience as details. there's physical violence, aggressive reader, depiction of shitty home life / toxic family, (somewhat severe) abusive alcoholic parent, parental abandonment, cursing, bullying, Jason Carver's sister is the bully, injury and blood. cursing, threats, brief cigarette and illicit material use (marijuana / weed), i guess this is hurt and comfort, angst, we talk about Billy's abuse with Neil, too, and kinda abrupt ending.

PLEASE NOTE -

this fic will depict parental abuse, both emotional and physical. this fic will discuss an alcoholic parent. this fic will detail physical violence BY the reader.

DO NOT engage if any of these topics potentially trigger you. you will miss nothing if you decide to skip. author implores readers to value and prioritize their own comfort and mental health.

Of all the days Brittany Carver could've chosen, she picked the worst day imaginable to bully you - being akin to a ticking time bomb. To your immense surprise, she'd laid off that entire week, focused on the "big" cheerleading competition she was leading Hawkins High to victory in. It left her no energy to engage in her favorite past time of tormenting you; figuring that after 6 years of her brutal behavior, she had grown up and lost interest. You weren't someone who people bullied easily, but this thing with Brittany, it was some kind of twisted pissing contest; competition brewing in elementary school that boiled over during middle school and now lasted into high school.

However, God seemed to have a sick sense of humor because on the week your bully had temporarily forgotten your existence, things at home had escalated to a new height not previously known. It was true what they said: if it wasn't one thing, it was another.

The entire week, your mother had only been sober for - well - none of it. She was found morning, noon, and night slumped over in various locations around your home with different bottles of liquor in her grip. The house grew messier each day, a direct result of a checked-out parent refusing to do any chore and destructive little monsters that took form as your twin little brothers. You couldn't keep up, playing mother, sister, housewife, personal maid, and full-time student all at once; pushing your stress levels higher, making you bitter and short tempered. The times your mother was conscious, which was typically to find a new bottle of alcohol, she was a right nasty fuck.

Her bark matched her bite; not only yelling at you, belittling you, and gaslighting you - but also using physical aggression to "teach you a lesson" for being "disorderly" or "a waste of semen" - and yes, that is a direct quote. Her hands were dainty from malnourishment, bulging veins prominent, and despite your father abandoning the family ages go, she still wore her diamond wedding ring that left small cuts wherever she struck you. The times she wasn't sober enough to really "get" you, she put out cigarettes on your arms and thighs; leaving tiny, circular burn scars you coated in Neosporin. She’s been known to break a few wooden cooking spoons over your head, steal the money made from babysitting, even cashed-in your inheritance - pawning all of your dead grandmother’s jewelry. There were plenty of other examples, but dwelling on those instances wouldn't change the past or alter your future, so you stuffed them way deep down in your soul.

Naturally, you didn't say a Goddamn thing; under the impression that everyone had shitty family members they tolerated and that your home life was normal enough to not report to the police. You didn't know any better, you didn't know that your mother downing fifths of alcohol daily was cause for concern. You didn't know that abuse wasn't the standard - emotional or physical. It took years for you to learn that love wasn't supposed to hurt, that love wasn't supposed to scare you, that love wasn't selfish, that your mother didn't actually love you. It took years to convince yourself that you were worthy of love and acceptance, never receiving it from your mother - not knowing you could get it from anyone else.

And then, William fucking Hargrove - or Billy - breezed into your small hometown with a sweet denim-clad ass, golden, curly mullet, and a bad fucking attitude that rivaled your own.

It was a match made in heaven. Or hell.

You both suffered at the hands of your parental figures, turning abrasive and foul-mouthed as defense mechanisms. You and Billy developed hardened exteriors in an effort to protect your soft insides, and when you met officially, it was as if you two could see past that hard shell - straight through the bullshit. You recognized much of the same in one another - like looking in a mirror - and grew impossibly close in an incredibly short amount of time; grateful to have a second half who understood without ever needing explanation.

He just got you. Able to identify common threads between you. Billy understood you, having more empathy than you thought he could muster. He protected you. He loved you. He took care of you - and you did the exact same, considering you two were cut from the same cloth; wanting to assure him he was just as worthy of love as you.

Billy was known around Hawkins for being a womanizing jock with anger issues, and yet, when you finally agreed to go on a date with him, he never even looked at another girl twice. He felt as if dating his best friend, understanding that nobody else would truly understand him the way you do - so he did what he could to keep you.

He did his best to defend you, but there was only so many tangible things the star basketball player could protect you from. Gossip and petty cheerleaders, prime examples. Yet Billy still tried, even taking the liberty to confront Brittany's brother, Jason Carver, about leaving you alone. Unfortunately, it was as if Billy's concern spurred on the cheerleader's bullying, calling you pathetic for hiding behind a man and sending him to fight your battles. You told Billy to stay out of it, that you could handle the situation by yourself, that he would just make the situation much more sticky.

So he did. Billy backed off, letting you deal with the situation as best you deemed; offering his support in return, being a shoulder to cry on for the days your frustration peaked.

That entire week Brittany didn't bully you had been extraordinarily tiresome due to your mother's abuse, wanting to confide in Billy but refraining when you rationalized not bringing him into your bullshit. He had enough of his own. So, while, yes, it was a comfort to have him on your side, you never indulged Billy on the woes of your life. He was meant to be your escape, not your savior; the burden of shouldering your abuse while enduring his own feeling terribly unfair.

You kept quiet, even though you were silently begging for someone to save you. Yet you weren't a damsel, there was no Prince Charming, brave knight, chosen champion to slay the dragons terrorizing you.

However, your boyfriend was much more intuitive than you realized. You always prided yourself on your acting skills, convincing everyone around you that you were indifferent to your mother's temperament, even when showing up at school with a casted wrist, black eye, and split bottom lip. Turns out, parents in Hawkins gossiped much more than the kids, and soon, it felt like the entire town knew about your abusive alcoholic mother and runaway father. Nobody did anything to help you, they just tiptoed around the knowledge and stared at your injuries. Brittany Carver was the only person stupid enough to make the mistake of weaponizing your home situation.

It was a tepid spring afternoon, the sun peaking through the clouds and the first flowers sprouting from the thawing ground. The bell rang to dismiss for lunch, the hallways filled with mingling and milling students all grateful for the midday break. Some gathered in gaggles of friends, some headed directly for the cafeteria, and others, like you, utilized the time to exchange morning class books for afternoon materials. Your fractured wrist had long since healed, but there was a long, straight scar present as a result from the surgery you required; currently, a scabbing cut over your eyebrow, lips stinging from where the flesh split, with a collection of bruises turning different colors to represent various healing stages.

Today simply hadn't been your day.

After a week of constant alcohol-fueled battery, you felt your frustrations finally crescendo after being assigned 3 separate essays; doubling your stress, shortening your fuse, and creating heavy leaded dread as the minutes ticked by. Everyone else felt giddy for the spring-tastic weekend, wanting time to go faster so they could go home - but not you. You might've been the one teenager in the city - no, no, the county - no, wait! The state - WAIT, NO... The country, who didn't want to leave school. You didn't want the day to end and be forced out of your safety zone; anxiety twisting your stomach and prickling your skin at the thought of returning home.

Truthfully, you spent several nights a week at Billy's, being snuck in through his window; feeling unsafe in your own home and wanting to remain close without voicing your need for his proximity. You felt stronger with Billy, as if you could take on the world; as if your safety and wellbeing were (finally) a real priority. He took great pride in being that safe haven for you, thinking it a nice change of pace as he often never seized opportunities to prove himself compassionate and caring. Billy was known for being a brute, someone aggressive and commandeering; nobody associating "safety" with him - except you.

However, this wasn't one of those weekends you'd be able to sneak out, being forced into caring for your two wee brothers; them needing you, dependent on you, relying on the care and love you provide them.

As a result of your shitty week, you had been a right, foul bitch to those unfortunate enough to engage you. Being well aware of your attitude, you tried to avoid everyone, not wanting to lash out at innocent peers - labeling yourself a bitch because of your impeccable self-awareness. Though, no matter the labels you assigned, you simply couldn't rein your emotions into check given your anxiety over returning home overpowered your brain.

Knowing you'd be forced to defend yourself against your own mother set your teeth on edge, projecting your horrible mood onto anyone in your vicinity - making most keep their distance.

Keyword: most.

Much like her brother, captain of the basketball team, Jason Carver, Brittany Carver wasn't the brightest bulb of the bunch. She never picked up hints, she didn't bother reading the room or in-between any lines; she held little to no regard for those around her or their emotional state. Brittany just wanted to assert herself as Queen Bee and thought the best way to achieve that was by bullying those she deemed lesser then she. It gave her a power trip, made her feel swollen with importance, boosting her ego because in her mind, she'd rather be feared than loved.

Brittany was dressed in her pretty, pressed, and bright cheer uniform; her obnoxiously blonde hair tied in a high ponytail that swished dramatically with each step. She wore cherry flavored lip gloss, her make-up caked, skirt hiked higher than school regulation permitted because she suckled at the teat for attention - good or bad.

You heard the second bell ring and finished shoving books in your locker, trying to stuff notebooks in your bag when your locker was suddenly violently slammed shut. Flinching at the quick movement and aggressive bang, you glared at whoever dared interrupt you; a manicured hand flat on the metal to keep the locker closed.

"The fuck you want, Brittany?"

"Awh, someone's already got their panties in a twist," she mocked, two of her cronies giggling their support. "C'mon, babe, I was just stopping by to say hello - missed you this week!"

"Oh, for sure," you sneered in a sickly-sweet tone, "of course you missed me, your life is so much more boring without me in it, huh? Wow, seriously, Brittany, I'm flattered to be the main character in your life, too."

Her eyes rolled and one of the other cheerleaders at her flank, Jennifer, popped flavorless gum. "I'm surprised you still have this level of spunk and cheek to talk like that, would've thought Mommy Dearest beat it out of you by now - she hits you often enough, right? Doesn't she? Hmm, well, maybe she needs to hit you a little harder."

"Excuse me?" You snapped.

"You heard me!" She laughed. "Obviously your mom isn't teaching you any lessons since you still have this whole emo-attitude going on. But I can't say I blame her, you're such a bitch - I'd smack the shit outta you, too."

You nodded slowly, not realizing several students had paused themselves to watch the exchange; knowing this was a longtime coming and didn't want to miss the inevitable drama. Dropping your backpack, you asked, "You sure? You really wanna hit me?"

"Is it that hard to believe? I mean," she smirked, "your own mother does - of course, I do, too. Like, seriously, it's not a secret why she hits you - just look at you! No wonder she hates you, you're just a waste of space, resources, and money. Damn shame Billy doesn't see it yet, but don't worry, he will." She laughed again, "He'll get tired of reopening your lip every time you kiss. It's so pathetic and ugly, he'll start to crave what you can't offer. I mean, seriously, what guy with any self-respect wants to date a girl as broken as you?"

"Know what, Brittany?" You growled, balling your fists at your side. "I'll give you one free hit."

"Excuse me, what?"

"Yeah," your head nodded, "go ahead. One free, clean shot. Hit me if you want to so bad, but you'll only get just this one shot."

Her eyes rolled, "I don't need to, your mom's got that covered."

"Free hit, Brit," you taunted, gesturing, "c'mon, go 'head, lemme have it. Since I'm so insufferable, go right ahead - get your clean hit."

Jennifer and Jasmine shared strange looks, the latter nudging, "Just do it, Brittany, shut this stupid bitch the hell up."

"Yeah, Brittany, shut me the hell up."

She looked to her little goons with a smirk, shrugged and handing over her backpack. When Brittany turned again, she dramatically wound her arm back and used her full strength to swing her fist into your cheek; only making your head turn a fraction from impact. You hummed and nodded, the cheerleader laughing with her girls as if she had "shown you" - but her amusement died when she noticed you barely reacted.

You smirked, cracking your neck, "My turn!"

Your knuckle cracked the bridge of the cheerleader's nose - sick sound of a snap ringing in your ears and jolting the girl's head backwards; momentum forcing her to stumble. Brittany shrieked in pain, holding her nose, unable to defend herself as you launched your attack; first slamming her back into the lockers before jabbing your fist into any vulnerable spot you could.

Similar to the movies, you held Brittany by her hair to keep her in place; wailing your punches repeatedly, each hit making Britt bang into the lockers. Jennifer and Jasmine tried to pull you away but both earned their own punches or elbows to the face for the interference. You focused on Brittany, instantly curating a flock of students all eager to watch.

"FIIIIIIGHT!"

"GIRL FIGHT!"

"BEAT HER ASS, Y/N!"

Brittany sobbed as blood dribbled down her front, staining her pretty uniform, but you were just getting started. The hallway turned noisy, a circle forming around you four as all three cheerleaders were staved off; you running on pure anger, adrenaline, and overflowing frustration that encouraged your foot to kick Britt's gut. You'd never admit it, but Brittany's mocking had hurt you past words, made you feel vulnerable, disarmed, as if you were damaged, undeserving goods. With each punch or kick or stomp, you remembered a different instance of your mother's abuse, seeing her face instead of Brittany's; spurring you on with unrestrained force.

In the parking lot, Billy was leaning on his car with a few teammates from the basketball team and enjoying a hearty nicotine-filled break. Though they'd never label it as such, the boys exchanged idle gossip; listening to Conrad Jones detail his latest conquest, sneering about how "easy" Kennedy Stephens was. They were interrupted when Kyle Lambert sprinted up to them, sneakers skidding over asphalt, panting dramatically, "Billy! Billy! Y-You gotta come see this, man! You gotta help!"

"What?" He asked, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"I-It's your girl - it's Y/N!"

He pushed off his car that was supporting his weight, demanding, "What about her?"

"You gotta come quick, man, you gotta see this! It's fucking wild! Brittany, Jennifer, and Jasmine tried jumping her - "

Billy was surging across the carpark instantly, tossing his cigarette away before yanking the school doors open. He was instantly greeted by the chaotic sight and sounds of a fight, peers gathered in a large circle; screaming their support and hollering encouragement.

"Billy! Oh, thank God!!" Chrissy Cunningham cried, waving him closer. "You have to help! You have to do something, it's 3-on-1!"

He didn't acknowledge the strawberry blonde, just started instantly shoving through the crowd to reach the edge of the fight. It wasn't the sight he was anticipating - fearing the worst, now pleasantly surprised (and a little turned on).

Blood was splattered on the linoleum floors, a single streak smeared on the lockers. Jennifer was left on the ground with her back against the metal, sporting a busted lip as Jasmine was trying to coax her to her feet - sporting a ruddy face and disheveled look. Left in the center, to the entertainment of the crowd, was you on top of Brittany Carver, heaving your fist time and again into her face.

"Shit," he breathed, intending to step forward to stop the fight but needing to shove Tommy H. out of his way when he stepped forward.

"C'mon, man! It's a girl fight! Don't break it up!" Tommy begged, but Billy bullied through.

"All right, that's enough," he grunted, wrapping his arms around your middle and heaving you up and back a step - needing to engage his core and arms when you wriggled in an effort to free yourself. "Hey, hey, hey - "

"Lemme go! This bitch needs put in the ground!"

"Jesus Christ, when did you get this strong?" He grunted, your feet slipping on blood but still being restrained by your boyfriend's impressive strength.

"Talk your shit again, bitch!" You barked at Brittany, who was sobbing in pain and curling into herself. "Lemme hear you say another Goddamn word, you'll need more than another nose job! Fake ass, plastic bitch!"

Jason joined the center and knelt at his sister's side, helping her sit up, glaring at you and Billy. Your boyfriend grit his teeth when Jason snarled, "You need to muzzle your bitch, Billy!"

"I'll fuck you up for talkin' about her like that, Carver, don't provoke me. Watch yourself," Billy snapped in warning, successfully managing to get you behind him.

However, you dodged around him with only enough time to spit hatefully on Brittany, warning, "You wanna talk shit, you'll get hit! Don't let me hear you again - don't you ever dare say another word about my mama! I'll put you in the ground, bitch, fucking try me! I dare you! Try me again, say shit about my mama, and see what the fuck I do!"

"All right, all right, you made your point," Billy stiffly told you, pulling you away by force to avoid you actually killing Brittany. He got a look at her injuries, thinking there must've been more than a broken nose from the way her uniform was stained and her entire face bloodied. "C'mon, we gotta get outta here, come with me - c'mon, baby, you can't touch her anymore, you made your point, you'll end up killin' her or some shit," he panted, shoving through the crowd and effectively ending the fight.

Billy didn't let go of your form until finally outside - letting you rip yourself away as your blood boiled, adrenaline making you much stronger. He watched you pace; huffing, puffing, seething, all but gnashing your teeth hatefully. "That fucking bitch had it coming, Bee, it was self defense!" You finally explained.

"Oh, yeah, princess, totally looked like it," he scoffed, blocking the doors in case you tried to go back. He lit another cigarette.

"It was, you condescending asshole!" You snapped, eyes ablaze and anger tangible. "She approached me, she ran her mouth, and she hit me first!"

"Well," he sighed, "whatever the reason, it's not worth jail time for beating her to death."

"Might be."

"Ain't nothing worth throwing your life away," he offered you the cigarette, but you refused. "Why don't you just tell me what happened? What'd she say?"

"It doesn't matter, Billy."

"I think it matters when she looks like she's gonna need a blood transfusion to replenish what she's lost."

"Whatever - let it be a lesson that you shouldn't throw stones if you're scared of a boulder."

Billy sighed, smoke blown from his mouth, "C'mon, doll, tell me what happened?"

"Doesn't matter, it's done, it's over, it's in the past."

"Baby, I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"You can't help, period, Billy! There's nothing you can do!"

"Well, you're not even letting me try!"

"'Cause it's redundant!"

"Obviously not when you look like a raging bull!"

Your eyes rolled, head shaking, "I handled it."

"I saw," he scoffed. "So, 3-on-1? How'd that happen?"

"I told you, they approached me."

"Well, I'm gonna need a little more to go on. C'mon, pretty girl, the fuck just happened? You know you can get suspended!" This made you freeze, muscles clamming up, looking purely petrified as if the thought hadn't occurred to you. "I know you don't want that, but if you talk to me, maybe I can help lessen whatever punishment."

"Oh, whatever, like I care about being punished," you snipped, hands twisting together - telling Billy you were beginning to get anxious.

"I think you do, it'd put you in the house with your mom alone," he trailed, pushing away from the doors to approach you like a baby deer. "C'mon, I know you don't wanna get suspended, so just tell me what happened."

"I'm sure you'll hear all about it from your little basketball buddies."

"I don't fucking care!" He snapped with the cigarette trapped and bobbing between his lips, making you look at him in mild shock. "There's gonna be a hundred different rumors, whole fuckin' school watched you beat the shit outta those girls - but I only care about what you have to say."

"There's no point - "

"Oh, Jesus Christ," he growled, snatching the cig between his knuckles, "I just saw three bitches on the ground, all injured, beaten up, bleeding - so stop being so Goddamn stubborn and just tell me! I'm tryna help you!"

"You pulled me off of her, you've helped plenty."

"I'd like to understand how this happened."

"It won't change anything."

"No, it won't, but you have a side to the story. Tell me what went wrong? What happened?"

You sighed, no longer pacing, planting both hands on your hips. Your head shook as Billy tossed the filtered cigarette butt aside, muttering when he exhaled the last of the smoke, "It seems so stupid now."

"Hey," he soothed, crowding into your space and taking one of your hands in his. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it wasn't stupid. You're forgetting, I know well enough to understand you wouldn't throw a punch unless absolutely necessary. Whatever got you riled up like that ain't stupid, sweetheart."

Like a glazed donut, your eyes turned glassy. Billy frowned and took your other hand off your hip, forcing your attention on him. "I swear, I didn't start it," you whispered.

"Only matters that you finished it," he smirked. "Tell me, what the fuck was all that?"

You sighed deeply, offering meekly, "Guess they had it comin'..."

"I know they did," Billy chuckled. "Nobody's that stupid to provoke you, except Brittany."

"I was at my locker... They approached and slammed it shut."

"Right, okay..."

"There were words exchanged, but Brittany, she - " You paused, swallowing thickly, "she started talkin' shit about my mom, about, you know, what she does..."

Billy understood instantly. "You fuckin' serious?" He growled, seeing you nod and fill him in on what was said - unable to look him in the eye as you relived your anger. By the end, you were trembling in emotion and adrenaline loss, Billy sighing deeply and yanking you into his chest for a tight embrace. "All right, yeah," he mumbled, "should've put them bitches in the ground."

"And now," you sniffled, "I'm gonna get suspended, forced to stay home with Ma all next week."

"We'll get you outta it."

"Can't, the school doesn't tolerate fighting on school grounds."

"You said she swung first?"

"Technically, yes. I might've - allegedly - prompted her into it."

"It's still selfdefense, toots, no matter what you or anyone said - if she swung first and hit you, you were only defending yourself."

You shrugged, resting on his chest, "You see the damage? Admin won't care who swung first - not when they're beat to shit."

"Yeah, there's my li'l hothead," he smirked, chuckling slightly before pecking the top of your head. "But you gotta admit, it's impressive how you took on all three."

"I guess, doesn't exactly feel like an accomplishment."

"Nah, princess, seriously," he pulled you back to look at him again, "that's fuckin' hot. I mean, they approached you and still got their asses handed to 'em. That's straight skill."

"Or just a lot of anger with nowhere to go," you frowned. "Think I should go find admin?"

"Nah, they'll probably find you - "

The doors opened and your name was called, the principal's secretary waving you to her. "Fuck," you whispered, releasing Billy.

"I'll come with you," he promised, lacing your fingers together when he took your hand. Billy had to admit, it was a little weird being in the principal's office but not being the one in trouble; waiting without patience in a fraying chair, picking at the exposed stuffing with his leg bouncing. He'd been there 45 minutes, skipping the last half of classes, just waiting as you were behind a closed door with the principal, vice principal, and the disciplinary officer.

He looked up when the school nurse lead Brittany, Jennifer, and Jasmine inside - glaring at them but admiring the scattering of cuts and bruises with dried blood on their precious uniforms. A few minutes later, you were exiting the office with a passive and neutral expression settled on your face. Your lip curled only slightly when you clocked the cheerleaders - hating how smug they all looked - approaching Billy instantly.

"You all right?" He checked, standing and adjusting his jeans.

"Mhm," you nodded, keeping your voice low as the principal called the three cheerleaders into his office. You waited until the door was closed, then informed with a smirk, "I'm not suspended."

"No?"

"Nope," you confirmed. "Apparently, they asked a couple other kids what happened and my story matches theirs. I was minding my business, they came up to me, they started mouthing off, and Brittany was the one who hit me first. So," you shrugged, "guess your idea of selfdefense held strong."

"See? That's good, huh?"

"Yeah," you sighed, nodding absently, "but he said the girls were gonna lose their spot on the cheer squad for this. Listen, I don't think I feel like goin' back to class - kinda just wanna take a nap."

Billy hiked up his jean jacket sleeve, consulting his watch for a moment. "Wanna head to mine? Neil's got the evening shift and Susan has bridge club for a few more hours - we'd be alone."

Your eyes rolled, "No offense, Bee, I don't feel like fucking right now."

"I'm not sayin' that, I'm sayin' let's go nap at mine," he chuckled, picking up your backpack that you forgot about. "We can come back to get your brothers but you know you're not gonna rest if you go home."

You gulped, sighing sadly, "Yeah, well, about that..."

"Something else happen?"

"Apparently... The school has an obligation to call the police if a student reports abuse."

"You reported your mom?"

"Not on purpose," you rushed in defense, "just that... I had to explain what Brittany said to me - so I had to admit what Ma did - or does."

Billy frowned, "Jesus."

"Yeah, so... Maybe going home isn't the smartest idea right now. I wouldn't wanna be there when they conduct their wellness check."

"You wanna stay at mine?" He offered.

"What about Neil?"

"He's a lot nicer with you around," he admitted. "Won't care too much if you stay the night. Plus Max has that club thing after school, then she's going to the arcade; so, she won't need a ride, we can just go."

"You know what? Sure, all right, I'll come to yours," you accepted, your lover boy whisking you away without a second thought. "Thank you, baby."

Your hands were stiff, and when you looked at them, noted split skin and stained blood as a reminder of your aggression... Wondering why the fuck people pushed you to these limits and acted surprised when you reacted? If they wanted a punching bag, they picked the wrong one - but you were willing to remind them.

When you got to the Hargrove residence, you were silent as the grave; stewing in your anger that rolled off you in projected waves. Billy was terribly disarmed, unsure how to properly comfort you - wondering how he would want to be comforted, realizing he'd want to be alone, not subject to anyone's bullshit advice. So, he did what he knew and after handing you a bag of frozen peas for your split knuckles, comfortably stripped and crashed in bed with the window cracked and a rolled joint between his fingers.

You rested on his bare chest, sighing deeply while watching the end of the spliff come to life in a smoldering ember. Billy took the first inhale to make sure it was lit and instantly handed it to you, his arm snug around you and the silence hanging in the air like the swirls of stale, exhaled smoke.

"I'm sorry it got to this point, pretty girl," He offered awkwardly, his other arm bending to prop under his head. Both of you stared off aimlessly, stereo filling the space dully in the background.

"Not your fault," You inhaled and held your breath, handing him the joint. He casually flicked the end in an ashtray resting on the window sill.

"No, but I could've done more."

You chuckled, smoke seeping through your lips and teeth, "Oh, yeah? How? You gonna beat up three girls?"

"Nah but I could beat the shit outta Jason."

"What good would that do?"

"If he didn't want a weekly black eye, Jason would control his sister."

"It's always about control with you, isn't it?"

"I'm just saying," he handed the joint back, lungs pinched to hold the smoke, "I could protect you."

"You already do, baby."

"Let me do more, princess."

"You can't fight every battle for me."

"You could let me try."

"You'd be fighting on two fronts," you frowned, exhaling slowly. "Can't fight for me when you're defending yourself against Neil."

"Might be easier to deal with your shit than my own," he chuckled without humor, accepting the spliff. "Look, I know you don't want me involved, but that's kinda what a boyfriend's supposed to do, right? Protect their woman?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Never had a boyfriend before?"

"Nobody was worth dating until you. Nobody could understand me the way you do so effortlessly."

"'Cause we're one and the same, baby girl. You don't have to do everything by yourself," he inhaled, handing the spliff over again, "don't always have t'be strong."

"Ain't no other choice."

"You could let me in more..."

"You're one to talk."

He sighed, smoke billowing. "You're right. Can't expect you to open up if I don't, so why don't we both try to let the other in more? Yeah, I get it, the shit we deal with ain't pretty but at least we understand each other, right? We're the best for each other to lean on."

"I don't wanna drag you into my bullshit, baby."

"I want you to drag me in, princess. I wanna help you."

You sighed, "Well, Brittany and her cronies are getting suspended and kicked off the cheer squad - they'll be looking for reason to take it out on me."

"Say the word, baby, and I'll beat Jason black-and-blue."

"You're so romantic."

"Only for you - so don't tell anyone. I got a reputation to protect."

You both snickered as the weed you indulged in took effect, lulling you two into a state of ease. Your knuckles had stopped burning, resting your injured hand under the frozen peas, reminding yourself to remain grateful in this turbulent period of life because now, you had someone on your team. Someone who wanted to help carry your baggage. Someone without alternate motives. Someone who was willing to withstand the storm in the hope of feeling the warmth of the sun again.

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Text

I Told You Now || Rick Grimes (TWD) x gn!reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

Part 2

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: I've Told You Now by Sam Smith or "But what the hell, why do you think I come 'round here on my free will? Wasting all my precious time... Oh, the truth spills out and oh I...I've told you now."

Summary: You were in love with Rick, not that he knew. You weren't sure you were ever going to tell him. What could you say, you loved the kids and didn't want to lose them too. It was too risky. But finding out he was chasing after some married woman was just the last straw.

TWs: angst, jealousy, yelling, anger, crying, cursing, mention of fainting, not really unrequited love (you just don't know that yet) and vague references to infidelity (Jessie to her husband).

[[A/N: This song came up on my old playlist, and let me tell ya... I had some thoughts. This might be a two-parter, we shall see. Enjoy <3]]

"Hey, Mags," you hummed -Judith bouncing on your hip, "-where's Rick? I've been trying to find him all da-"

Maggie froze for a second, and you stilled -tightening your grip on Judith. Was there danger? Was everything okay? Your eyes swung around to see if there was anything unusual, anything dangerous-

Your eyes caught on something.

It was Rick, wearing his constable uniform (which you blindly noted suited him really well), and talking to a woman. You knew her name, Jessie, he'd talked about her before -said her husband was a real piece of shit. Everyone within Alexandria apparently knew that, but Rick was the only one to do anything about it.

At the time, you thought it was heroic of him, something Rick would do.

But now...

Your eyes skimmed across his face, across the intent of his blue eyes. There was something there, something you knew. You're not sure if it's the way he stood, or the smooth smile slipped onto his lips, or the way he looked down when he laughed at her -whatever she said, but-

"Why don't you just come inside?"

You barely heard it, something in your chest sinking -heavy. Your heart was pounding in your chest, it felt like every breath took everything out of your lungs, like your whole world was teetering on an edge. And Rick Grimes held it in his hands.

And he was... he was throwing it around, he wasn't even careful-

"Y/N," she continued, and you could hear her but there was something in you that couldn't move.

How long had this been happening? A married woman, really?

You knew her husband was terrible, scum of the Earth-

"Y/N," she warned, gently.

But her?

Why hadn't he ever told you? Why did you ever think that it was different now?

What were you to him? Just a goddamn babysitter?

The hope that had gathered up in your chest was snuffed out, just like the crumbling of your heart. You'd always knew it would come to this, you just weren't ready.

"Y/N," she stressed -trying to gain your focus, "-come on-"

Something in your stomach twisted, sour.

Tossing like a tide, you swayed in place. Your head was getting fuzzy and your eyes were bleary. Your ears felt like they were stuffed, all the voices so far away-

You took a languid blink.

With a breath, you pushed Judith into Maggie's arms -ensuring her safety. And with that, your knees buckled underneath you.

You fell to the ground.

You remember hearing Maggie scream, hearing the rush of footsteps -slapping along the ground. You remember hearing him then too, but something in you soured -you tried so hard to block it out. Ignore it.

"What the hell happened?"

It made your head pound again, made your brain swim. You squeezed your eyes closed like it would bring you some relief, anything-

"Y/N?" A voice offered, you recognized it to be Maggie's, "-are you awake?"

You shifted ever so slightly, eyes blinking open. The first thing you noticed was the bandage along your head, had you hit your head? Your fingers shifted to touch it-

Maggie grabbed your wrist, stopping the motion, "That'll hurt. You hit your head when you... Doctor says it might give you some headaches for a while."

You realized then, you were in a bed -distinctly not yours. You knew the woody smell anywhere, your eyes darted along the nightstands, almost to confirm -an old picture of him, Lori, and Carl. Something in you winced, and not because of your head.

"Told 'im to give us a minute," she revealed, "-I said you'd want to be in your own house, but he insisted."

The apology went unsaid.

"'S okay," you slurred a little, you weren't sure if it was from the pain or the sleep, "-not your fault, Maggie."

"Still," she echoed -something in her protective, "-I won't leave 'im alone with you, I promise."

You laughed a little, "Grimes is gonna do it anyway, we both know that. Hell, maybe I'll finally tell him."

"Because of..."

It again went unsaid, you weren't sure you could say it out loud either.

"How-" you cleared your throat, "-Do you know how long...?"

Maggie sighed -picking at the white comforter, "A few weeks at most, me and Glenn only caught onto it that long. But I don't... I don't know."

"How can I be so pissed-" you cried -tears burning the backs of your eyes, "-I don't deserve to be pissed. How would he even know?"

"Y/N, you can be pissed," she interrupted, wrapped your hands into hers, "-It's not just you. Everyone thought- You aren't delusional. He was... There was something."

"Apparently not," you retorted -bluntly.

"Don't," she frowned, getting something to wipe at your eyes, "-Don't do that to yourself, you couldn't have known better."

"I should've known better," you echoed out -sniffling, "-I'm so stupid. I told myself to n-"

The door swung open.

Rick stood there -less composed than you saw him before. You inwardly flinched at the notion of... before. His hair was a bit unruly like he'd been running his hands through it -he did that when he was worried. You knew that. His jacket (constable jacket) was tossed off, a frown creased on his lips and worry on his brow. He looked at you -unflinchingly.

"I thought I 'eard ya cryin'," he spoke, seemingly to confirm to himself, "-does it hurt? Do I need to go get some medicine? Doc said-"

"No," you interrupted -plainly, wiping at your eyes, "-I'm fine, Rick. Actually-"

You pulled yourself out from under the comforter, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed. It felt like you were suffocating in here -all you could smell was him, all you could see was him, all you could feel was him. It wasn't fair.

You needed some air, like now.

"-I'm gonna go home," you finished, looking to Maggie to help you get onto your feet (you were still a little dizzy).

"You can't-" he seemed to respond, in disbelief, "-You ain't supposed to be alone, right now. Doc said-"

"I'll go to Maggie's then," you offered -grabbing your shoes which were placed neatly by the bed. Something in you stung that he had thought to do that for you.

"Why?" He asked -genuine.

You wordlessly walked through the door past him -Maggie trailing you. You padded down the hallway, cursing the familiar walls -the baby toys scattered in the corner, the picture frames hung up on the wall, and the little trinkets from his time on the road.

"You'll tell me if the kids need me, yeah?" You spoke, finally -hand turning the doorknob.

"Will ya just talk to me?"

You stuttered in your step, you could feel Maggie behind you. Your heart twisting in your chest, you just wanted to go. But something in you stopped; god, you loved him so much. It wasn't fair.

"Fine," you answered -clipped, "-Maggie, give us a minute? I'll be over in a few."

She looked at you a moment, trying to see if she should leave maybe. Eyes darting over your face, reading your eyes -she seemed to be satisfied, "Okay."

You spun to Rick, taking a deep breath in through your nose.

"What do you want to talk about, Rick?"

He laughed -in disbelief, you could tell, "What do I wanna talk 'bout? Seriously? Like you don't know?"

You stared at him -wordlessly.

"Y/N," he started -stepping toward you, you almost immediately stepped back and he noticed, "-you fuckin' fainted, you're hurt. We don't even know why and now-"

"I know why," you interrupted.

He seemed to look at you in curiosity, "Why?"

"Haven't been eating," you lied with the ease of the wind.

He seemed to process that a second -concern flitting through his face before settling somewhere else, "'At's bullshit."

"How do you know-"

"You ate dinner at mine last night," he explained, "-an' ya cleaned your plate."

Shit.

"Look Rick," you mended, "-I really don't want to talk about it."

"Why?" He offered, and he stepped forward -you stepped back, "-and now you're... you're avoidin' me? What the hell happened? You were fine, yesterday-"

"Can we not get into this right now?" You interrupted again, "-My head hurts like hell, and I just want to go and rest, like I imagine I was told to do."

Rick leveled a look at you, "Why not 'ere? Why Maggie's? You're always 'round 'ere anyway-"

It slipped out before you could think about it -venomous, "And why do you think that is?"

He stuttered to a stop, "What?"

Regret spilled into your stomach, "Rick, let's not get into this. Seriously. I'm tired-"

"No, no," he echoed, "-you brought it up. What do ya mean? What are you talkin' 'bout?"

"I can't," you swallowed, tears burning the backs of your eyes, "-Rick, not now, okay?"

He looked at you surfing over your eyes, insistent, "Why are you 'round 'ere so often?"

"Rick-"

"I thought it was 'cause ya loved the kids," he listed, "-or 'cause we were friends. But you... 'Ere's another reason."

"Rick, I don't want to."

"Want to what?" He asked, something in his voice teetering, "-Tell me? Talk to me? We used to know everythin' 'bout each other, and now you're sayin'-"

Something in you snapped. You don't know if it was his tone, or the words, or the implication that you had been lying to him while he was so truthful to you-

"God, Rick," you nearly shouted, "-I'm in fucking love with you!"

Rick froze -unmoving. You couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

"Are you happy now?"

He didn't say a word.

"So, yeah. I have been lying to you," you hissed, "-if you wanted to put it that way. If you wanted to say that I'm an asshole for protecting myself, then yeah, I am."

Rick was much different in his stance now -gentle like you'd run at his first motion toward you, eyes flickering between so many things, "Y/N..."

"No," you spoke -steely, "-I'm not. We're not doing this. I already know..."

Your words trailed off, and you swallowed -pushing down the tears. You weren't going to cry now.

"I saw you with Jessie, okay?" you explained -something in your voice softer, fragile, hurt, "-So I know. It's why I fainted. I just... I wasn't expecting it."

"Y/N, I never-"

"Seriously, Rick," you nearly begged -your voice cracking, "-I know. You don't need to drag this out longer. Did you not hear me the first time?"

His mouth snapped shut, even though he looked like he had a lot to say. Words urging to be uttered from his lips. But he didn't say anything, maybe out of respect to you. You were grateful.

"I'll be back by later to see the kids," you echoed out -something in your voice hollow.

"Will ya just let me-"

"Just let me know when Judith's up, okay?" You interrupted, deflecting, "-I said I'd watch her today."

And with a final look (maybe your last ever full look at him), you walked out the door.

#i told you now #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #rick grimes x you #twd rick

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gravehags · 9 months

Text

heaven in hiding

Pairing: Swiss x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: virgin reader, ghouls being freaky, ghouls being able to smell virginity, hand jobs, dry humping, swiss being needy

Words: 1,487

Summary: It's not your fault you're a virgin, but it's certainly causing problems for Swiss.

a/n: listen the way this man has been acting out on stage recently...he's going through it. someone had to do something about it.

~~~

“It’s because you’re a virgin.”

Your head whips around to face the blonde ghoul sitting on the couch who is currently flipping through an old copy of Vogue that was clearly stolen from your quarters. Your jaw drops and your cheeks heat up painfully while he continues to browse the magazine.

“I—no—who—”

Dewdrop looks up at you from where he’s lounging and gives you a small eye-roll. Cirrus is folded up on the opposite end of the couch fidgeting with her cuticles while Mountain leans against the wall, trying to avoid the conversation entirely. All you had inquired about was why Swiss was acting so goddamn weird around you ever since you and the ghouls had struck up a friendship and started spending time together. Everyone else seemed fine around you so why was he acting so…so bizarre every time you entered a room or walked past him? You had just come into the lounge and he had stormed out past you, practically running from the scene.

“Don’t bother trying to deny it, we can smell it,” Dew says, flipping a page.

“Bullshit!” you squeak before falling into a chair next to the coffee table.

“It’s true, hon,” Cirrus pipes up, looking at you apologetically. “You just smell…different.”

You bite your lip and fuss at the hem of your shirt, clearly embarrassed by being probably the worst sister of sin in the history of the abbey. Finally, you work up the courage to continue the conversation.

“So…is it a gross smell? Like is that why Swiss looks like he’s in pain when he’s around me?”

Dewdrop snorts loudly and tosses the magazine on the table, sending the pages flying.

“Babygirl he’s horny. You’re driving him batshit insane, that’s what’s happening.” Cirrus leans over to lightly smack Dew on the thigh and give him a pointed look, clearly indicating she wanted to ease you into this conversation.

“I…oh. Oh.” Your flush deepens and spreads across your chest, warming you from head to toe. “But you guys aren’t…affected…by me though, right?”

Mountain lets out a deep, vaguely sinister chuckle which Dewdrop snorts at.

“Oh, babe we’re affected alright. Makes us all fucking crazy. It’s just that everyone else handles it better than Swiss, he’s always been so sensitive about these things. We just go back to our rooms and jack off when it gets too much but he’s gotta be fucking dramatic and make a scene.”

You can’t lie, the thought of the ghouls alone in their quarters touching themselves to the thought of you makes your head spin and your cunt ache. Before you can comment on Dew’s bombshell statement, Cirrus interjects with a loud clearing of her throat.

“Hon, why don’t you go talk to him?”

Mountain’s eyebrows shoot up and Dew snickers to himself, causing you to pause a moment.

“Is that a good idea? Or will I make the problem worse?”

“Depends what you’re gonna do for him,” Dew says, a grin curling his lips. “Gonna help him out? I call dibs on being next.”

This time Cirrus doesn’t hold back when she smacks Dewdrop on the arm with the flat of her palm, causing him to yelp and jump in his seat. It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you stand and make for the door.

“Good luck,” Mountain intones ominously as you pass the threshold.

It takes a good ten minutes of you wandering the cloisters to find Swiss. When you see him, back against the wall bent over on himself at the waist your heart sinks. He looks fucking miserable. Were you about to make a bad situation for him worse?

His head is in his hands as you approach him, gripping at his curls. When you get within a yard of him, he unfolds and practically slams the back of his skull into the surface behind him. His body sagging, he turns to look at you, tail flicking behind him in agitation.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Wanted to talk to you.”

He chuffs out a desperate little laugh and folds his arms in a defensive position across his chest.

“About—” he clears his throat when his voice comes out a little too raspy, “about what?”

“They told me about uh. How you guys can smell me. You know.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and you wonder briefly if he’s willing you to disappear, his palms rubbing viciously at the stubble on his cheeks. He doesn’t speak for a solid minute and you shuffle in place, wondering if you should just cut your losses and walk away. When you shift a foot to leave, he reaches out towards you to gesture without touching.

“Don’t,” his eyes open and he looks at you longingly. “Please don’t leave. I—fuck.”

You’re by his side in an instant, hand on his bicep. Upon touching him for the first time, he flips your positions with a growl so that now he’s looming over you while you’re backed against the cold limestone wall. He doesn’t touch you, just hovers his hands above your shoulders while he leans in at the juncture of your neck to inhale deeply. He’s close enough now that you can feel the hardness of him pressing insistently, achingly into your belly and you look up at him.

“Let me help you,” you whisper, moving a hand to his cheek to drag the pad of your thumb along his jawline. “Please, Swiss. I want to help you.”

He lets out a noise that is somewhere between a hysteric laugh and a painful cry as you stand on your tiptoes to reach him. The upward tilt of your chin is all the invitation he needs and he slams his mouth onto yours. The breath is knocked from your lungs as he molds his lanky body to yours, gripping at your hair and neck. You barely register the way his tail wraps tightly around your thigh, drawing you even closer to him. His tongue is desperate against your lips, begging for entrance and you oblige him. The noises he makes as he plunders your mouth are desperate, animalistic, and they send shockwaves straight to your cunt. When you finally have to catch your breath, push him off you with a slight shove and he whines low in his throat.

“Can I touch you?” you breathe up at him and he replies with a frantic nod. You place your hand over his heart and very slowly drag downwards, reveling in the hard planes of his body. He’s watching you, pupils blown, and when you finally cup your palm against the curve of his cock he slams his fist on the wall behind you, effectively caging you in.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines, bucking his hips into your touch. ��Please.”

You breathlessly follow the line of him through the black denim and when your thumb brushes over the head his tail tightens its grip on your thigh, practically cutting off circulation, as he pushes you even further into the wall. Your exhales are nearly as ragged as his when he slots a long, firm leg in the space between yours, pressing divinely against your cunt.

“Don’t stop,” he croaks as you continue to swipe your fingers over the clothed head of his cock. “Please, please, please.”

Your wrist is at an awkward angle now with how intently he has pushed you against the wall but you do your best, sliding your palm over the denim in long strokes. Your eyes dart around the cloister, briefly worrying about who could stumble upon you but then he presses right there and you let out a breathy moan. Your own hips are rocking against him now with every swipe of your hand, both of you working in tandem. When you feel his cock jump, he lets out a whine and his hips begin meeting you stroke for stroke. You’re close but not close enough when he jolts forward, practically collapsing on you when he comes with a cry. His hand covers yours and urges you to continue moving even as he finishes, his body writhing against you. When you look up at him you see him blink tears out of his eyes and take several deep, shuddering breaths. Abandoning his softening cock and the wet spot at the front of his pants you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest, breathing deep. He smells like smoke and something sweet that you realize after a moment is your perfume. And the realization hits you that you’re greedy for him, need your scent on him again and again. You separate but he’s still loosely holding you in his lean arms.

“You didn’t come,” he says flatly. “I’m sorry.”

You smile and when you run your thumb over his stubble, he practically purrs while leaning into your touch.

“You can make it up to me.”

#swiss x reader #swiss ghoul x reader #swiss x f!reader #swiss ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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zeltqz · 10 months

Text

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 [𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐃] TWO

|you and ran catch up a little in more ways than one.

pairing. ex!ran x fem!reader

series synopsis. bonten is forming and in the midst of it all, you find yourself caught in the sticky webs of your ex boyfriend and current bonten executive, haitani ran.

length. 7.2k words

A/N: thanks for all the sweet comments you all left me under ch1. they were so positive i love u all :(((( made my whole week

With a world heavy sigh, you turned to look at him again. The first thing you noticed was he was attractive. His sharp jawline caught your attention first, his tattoo next. Then you met his eyes. Those goddamn eyes that no amount of alcohol could make you forget. You blinked for a couple moments, the movement slow as you tried to regain control over your muscles. “No way.”

“Yes way,” he responded, tilting his head as he watched you blink life back to your eyes, amused with the way you rubbed your eyes with the heel of your palm. “Careful. You’re gonna dig your eyes out.” He gently held onto your wrists, removing them from your half blood shot eyes.

“No wait, stop.” You shrugged your hand out from his grip,almost stumbling over your feet as you stood up abruptly, taking multiple steps back to contemplate what the fuck is going on today. Obviously you expected to run into a couple of old friends eventually, but you thought that’d take months, weeks at best. Now you managed to meet at least three already in a span of two weeks. “How did you find me? Are you stalking me? Why are you here? What is going on—”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was here on business and saw you with Mira earlier at the table. I wanted to talk to you before but wanted to wait for the right time.”

“Oh.” You felt the slight panic inside you slowly ease out as your shoulders slumped downwards. “Okay. That’s cool. I guess.”

“Sit down.” He grabbed your wrist and gently eased you back towards the staircase. You almost tripped again when you sat down, the alcohol making your legs inoperative. “I missed you, you know? How’ve you been?”

“Honest answer?” You looked at him and he nodded. “Not so great. But it’s whatever. I’ll get over it. And I missed you too," you admitted, meekly.

Ran tilted his head and looked at you, resting his weight on his left arm. He took a moment to trace your side profile, desperately wanting to go lower but given the fact you were bouncing your knee restlessly, he knew now wasn’t the time. “You good? You look stressed.”

“I’m not, I promise,” you responded, unable to look him in the eye despite feeling his gaze on you. Everything is too overwhelming right now. Regarding that list of people you desperately wanted to avoid, Ran was a solid number 1. You can’t bring yourself to look at him without the prickle of tears springing in your eyes. You sniffle quietly and turn your face away, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Are you crying?” he asked, leaning more forward to get a better look at you but you stubbornly turned away, mumbling you’re fine as you wiped at your face with your sleeves.

He sighed heavily and shifted towards you. You stiffened when you felt his arm wrap around your arm. “C’mere,” he said, pulling you towards him. Reluctantly, you allowed him to pull him closer. He rested his chin on top of your head, wrapping his arms around your side as you sniffed and wiped your face. “Come on, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…being back is messing with my head. And everyone is in my face and there’s so much going on and I feel I haven’t had a chance to just breathe since I came back.” He handed you a tissue from his suit pocket and you thanked him, sniffling again as you wiped your nose and face.

“When did you come back?” he asked and you felt his chin move atop your head when he spoke.

“Two weeks ago.”

“Wow. So you really left the country for eight years? No wonder I couldn’t contact you.”

“I doubt even if I stayed we would be in contact either,” you responded quietly, slowly pushing out of his grip to sit back at a reasonable distance on the staircase.

“You’re still mad at me about that?”

You stared at him for a long moment before shaking your head. “I’m not doing this right now.” You stood up and he watched as you walked over to the door to unlock it but the door remained locked ever since Ran moved his foot.

“It’s locked,” he stated the obvious, making you stop and slowly turn around.

“No really? I didn’t fucking notice.”

“You’re taking your anger out on the wrong person.”

You shoved your hands into your coat pocket and zipped it up, walking back over to the stairs to grab your bag. “I’m walking home.”

“Like hell you are. Let me drive you home. You’re drunk.”

“I don’t need your help. I’m fine. Don’t touch me.” You pushed his arm off you.

“I’ll call you a taxi then.” Ran stood up and reached for his phone. When you tried to walk away again, he reached out, arm curling around your waist to tug you back to his side. You were squirming as he was dialling the number of one of his drivers. “Yeah I’m around the back. You got two minutes.” He hung up the phone with those simple words. “Come here, he’ll be soon.”

“What kind of taxi comes in two minutes?” you argued, trying to release his grip from your arm as he was walking you towards the backroad.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about the details.” He turned around and booped your nose. You scowled up at him as the driver pulled in. The car was shiny and black, a guy with a bald head and thick black sunglasses on his head driving the front seat.

“You must think I’m a fool if you think I’m getting in that car.” You finally ripped your hand from his grip and scowled up at him, arms crossed over your chest.

“Why not?”

“Because…he looks shady. I don’t trust it.”

He lifted your head up by your chin and stepped a little closer to you. “Do you trust me?” he asked with a low voice and you felt the rumble of his voice stir low within your belly.

“I…no—I don’t know.”

His grip on your chin tightened a bit. “Yes or no.”

As scary as Ran looks now, part of you still feels safe around him. Never once in your life has he ever made you feel unsafe. You swallowed and slowly nodded your head. “Yes. I do.”

“Good.” He held your face between both hands and planted a kiss on your forehead. “Now get in the car and tell him your address.” When you still looked hesitant, sweeping your eyes back and forth between Ran and the driver, he continued. “He works for me and won’t even dare to hurt you. He knows what’s on the line if he does. I promise.”

Your eyes trace his face, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He was standing so close you could kiss him, you could wrap yourself in his arms and slide your hands through his hair and take him in the backseat of his car. But you had restraint, the sober part of your mind whispered to take your ass in that car and go home.

You backed away and slowly entered the car, shifting to the end and rested your head on the window. Ran walked up to his driver and knocked on the window. The tinted window rolled down and Ran rested his arms against the open window, gesturing for the driver to come closer.

“Take her home and you don’t take your eyes off her until she gets inside. If something happens to her," he leaned in to whisper his threat into his ear and you watched as the driver stiffened momentarily before catching himself, readjusting his glasses on his head and nodded.

"Yes, sir. I understand."

Ran smiled cooly, patting his shoulder. "Good to know."

Ran walked over to your side of the window and you blinked wearily at him, going in and out of consciousness as you started to feel sleepy. “What did you tell him?” you asked, voice slurring a bit.

“Don't worry about it. Get home safe, okay?" His sweet smile and those mesmerising eyes made your heart flutter. You'd blame it on the alcohol later, but right now you nodded silently and rolled the window back up as the car began to drive away.

"Where do you live?" the driver asked hesitantly, not taking his eyes off the road as you tried to meet his gaze through the rear view mirror. You tell him your brother's address and the two of you continue the drive in silence.

"So, how do you know Ran?" you asked the driver, frowning when he stayed silent. "Did you hear me?"

He glanced at you briefly before turning back to the road. You frowned and sulked back in the seats. "Fine, ignore me then."

"Don't sulk like that," he said after a moment, sighing shortly and clearing his throat. "It's just...Haitani doesn't want me talking to you."

You sat up. "Why not?"

"If he found out I was talking to you, he'd probably kill me," he laughed awkwardly and you snorted, shaking your head.

"He's bluffing. He wouldn't actually do that."

The driver stayed silent and you turned your attention back to the scenery outside the window. A dark thought struck you and you furrowed your brow. "What's your name?" you asked but he stayed silent again. "Ran isn't here. You don't have to be scared of him. Besides, I won't tell him. Not like I'm gonna see him again anymore."

"Why not?" he asked curiously.

"I have no business talking to him. He's like an itch that needed to be scratched a long time ago."

"If you don't mind me asking, what is your business with Mr.Haitani?"

You fidgeted in the seat a little and he noticed. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'm just...curious."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "He seems protective over you. It's weird. I've never seen anything like that."

"He doesn't care about me," you said softly, almost to yourself.

The driver fell quiet again. The tension filled the air between the two of you and the only sound filling the space was the hum of the engine. "Well if you say so. But your relationship with him? What is it?"

"I'm his ex," you answered bluntly and the driver blinked, lips parted slightly.

"Makes sense," he responded before parking outside your brother's house.

"Thanks for the ride," you responded, sliding out of the car. You waited for him to drive off but he didn't move. "Uh, you can go now."

The driver shook his head. "Mr.Haitani said I should wait until you get in before I leave."

You rolled your eyes. "Of course he fucking did." You slammed the door shut and walked inside your house, watching from the peephole as the driver stayed stationary for a couple of minutes before driving away. "Fucking weirdos," you thought to yourself.

~*~

"Good fucking news!" Your brother shouted excitedly when he burst through your bedroom. He opened the curtains, exposing sunlight directly into your face. You hissed and stirred on the bed, lifting your sheets to shield your face from the sun.

"Leave me alone," you grumbled groggily, fighting the urge to kick your brother when he lifted your sheets off your body. "What is it?" you groaned, rubbing your eyes and sitting up.

"I got you a job!"

"That's great, congrats." You yawned and stretched, a dull ache emerging in the middle of your lower back. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

"What kind of reaction was that?! You're supposed to be happy!" He exclaimed, rushing to your side and pulling you up. "Come on, wake up!"

"Stop tickling me," you protested, pushing him away to slump back in the bed. "My head is fucking killing me."

"Well nobody told you to drink that much yesterday."

"I wasn't planning on drinking that much! It just happened!"

"Yeah, okay whatever. Sureee." He moved to sit on the end of your bed as you rolled over onto your back and splayed your palm over your forehead to feel how hot it was. "Who did you hang out with after you left the wedding by the way? I didn't hear from you all night."

"Mira took me to some party with her husband," you responded, raising your hand to cup your mouth as you yawned. "Technically her fiance but yeah."

"Oh she's engaged? That's cool. Did you see Dona?"

You glanced up at him awkwardly scratching his neck as he waited for you to answer. "Did she ghost you or something? Please don't tell me you're in love with her."

His face flushed and he whipped his head over at you. "I'm not!"

"You better not be. She's a bitch first of all and I'd probably kill you for catching feelings that quickly after spending one night with her. Which is still gross as fuck by the way. Never sleep with my friends again."

He rolled his eyes. "It was one time..."

"One time too many," you shuddered and sat upright, the sleep now long gone from your system. "Now tell me about this job."

"Shion said he got you a job at his convenience store. It's yours if you want it."

"Ew..." You shot up, throwing the covers back. "I hate working retail."

"I knew you would say that. Guess you'll just have to start applying for other jobs then. There are plenty of companies hiring and shit," Hiro said, pushing himself off the bed to wipe down his crumpled jeans. "I gotta go to class now. Don't do anything stupid please."

"When have I ever done that?" He opened his mouth to answer. "Don't actually answer that. Just...get to class already."

Hiro grinned and waved goodbye at you before heading down the stairs. You pulled out your phone, expecting your texts to be completely dry only to see a message from Mira.

Maybe: Mira Moria

Hey!!!! I'm sorry I abandoned you at that party yesterday. I was drunk and crying and Naoto took me home early :(((( It won't happen again I promise!! If you ever want to hang out again just text me. I'm always available!! Love you loads and I missed you tons <3333

Your heart warmed at her sweet words, a wave of reassurance washing over you and a smile spreading over your face as you texted back a simple Thank you before shutting off your phone.

The rest of the day went by and you found yourself clinging onto the last bit of your student finance. You really do need a job. One that pays well. That's how you ended up agreeing to Shion's deal.

"Press this button to open the register, press it again to ring up a purchase." He pointed at a small plastic keypad set beside the cash register.

You groaned . The job was definitely far more involved than you expected. "I can't remember all this shit."

"Language," Shion nudged you gently when the store manager looked grumpily in your direction. "C'mon try again, it's easy. I'll go slower." He grabbed your hand and stood behind you as he moved your fingers to each button, explaining slowly their purpose but you were distracted. The feel of his lip against your ear as he spoke, the grip of his hand on your wrist as he moved it from button to button had your heart beating twice as fast. "Gotta get you trained quickly."

With his fingers intertwined with yours, you managed to push the right buttons and complete the task successfully without pressing any wrong ones.

"Hey! You did it!" Shion cheered, gently nudging your shoulder. You bit back on a smile when he wrapped his arms around you in a backwards hug, resting his chin on top of your head as you continued to push the buttons on the screen. His breath tickled your neck as he chuckled quietly. "You wanna give it another go?"

"Sure." You reached forward and pressed the same buttons he did, doing exactly as he instructed. The drawer didn't pop out and you frowned. You felt his hands move back to yours, moving your hand to press the right keys.

The store manager's phone rang and she stood up and left the room to go answer it. She returned minutes later. "Shion, close up the store for me. I have to run."

"You got it, boss." He winked as she rolled her eyes.

"Train her. I want her to get this down before next week,” she added.

"I will," you responded, determined to understand how to work this damn machine. But the second the door closed, Shion spun you around, pressing your back into the counter and attached his lips to yours. You were caught off guard for a second as he slid his hands down your waist, gripping and squeezing at your hips.

"Shion, we can't," you whispered, panting when he pulled away.

"Why not? It's been so long." He rested his forehead against yours, looking deeply into your eyes. "I missed you so much."

"It's...complicated," you replied, breathless.

"What? You taken or something?" He bent down to kiss your neck, nipping at the skin. "Got some boyfriend abroad or what?"

"No. I don't," you whimpered when he began kissing his way up to your ear, nipping at your earlobe.

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's weird..." You gently pushed him away, breathlessly, wiping your mouth. "I just really need a friend right now. Not...this."

"I know but...we did it before."

"I just got dumped and I was lonely," you admitted, hating the way he tensed up at your harsh words. "I know it was wrong for using you like that but I was nineteen and dumb. I made stupid decisions back then and I regret them." Your hands moved to cup his face. "I love you Shion, but not like that. I don't think I love anyone like that right now."

"Right now...? So there's a chance later?"

You blinked at him. "I don't know."

"Think about it. Because I'm not letting you up that easy, okay? Whenever you need someone, I'll be there." He rested his forehead against yours, intertwining your fingers together. You gaped up at him as he fought back the urge to snatch your lips back in another kiss. "I promise."

"I..." you take a moment to swallow. "I need to take a walk." You stepped out of his grip and grabbed your bag, moving to step past him but he caught your hand in his, turning you back to face him.

"Are you coming back?"

"Yeah! I just need fresh air. I'll be back in like 15."

He looked hesitant but the look on your face made no room for arguments. He let go of your hand and you held a poker face before leaving the store. Your head felt like it was going to explode. How could things go so left in a matter of two minutes...?

In the midst of your walk, your thoughts were interrupted by an incessant buzzing coming from your pocket, Unknown Caller at the top of the screen.

"Hello? Who's this?"

"So you do have the same number." It took every ounce of willpower in you to not instantly hang up.

"Ran. How did you find my number?" you asked through clenched teeth, slowing your footsteps down to a stop.

"It's crazy. I have this thing called a phone and it stores phone numbers in it, and yours also happened to be there you know, because we dated?" Ran said and you could hear the shit-eating grin that was undoubtedly spread across his face.

You groaned, looking up at the sky and hoping someone up there gave you the strength to get through this call. "So, what do you want? Why are you calling me?"

"Because you can't leave me on read this way."

"...bye, Ran."

"Hold up, wait wait," his laugh stopped you from hanging up. "Can we just talk for a moment?"

You sighed, running a hand across your face. "Talk about what? What on earth is there possibly to talk about?"

"Anything. You know my conversation topics are diverse."

"Well mine aren't. Neither is my patience, Ran. So say what you want or I'm hanging up and blocking your number." You didn't mean to sound as harsh as you came across, but emotions were getting the best of you.

There was a brief pause and you swear you heard him sigh on the other line. "You're stressed."

"I'm not fucking stressed," you remonstrated, rubbing your temples once you felt your temper start to rise.

"You sound stressed," he hummed thoughtfully, oblivious to the way you were slowly starting to lose it. "You were never this stressed when we were together," he added.

"For the record, I was stressed out because of you many many times Ran."

"Yeah...but at least I made things right and fucked it out of you." You scoffed loudly and he laughed. "I can do it again if you'd like."

"I knew there was something you wanted," you sighed heavily, hating how your mind was actually considering it.

"No strings attached. Promise," he grinned and you pursed your lips in a small line.

"There's always strings attached with you, Ran."

"Just come over. I'll send someone to your house to pick you up right now," he said softly.

"I'm not at home right now. I'm at work."

"Where?"

"That convenience store on the corner by the train station," you said automatically, casting a guilty look back at the convenience store with Shion inside.

"Perfect." He texted his driver the location. "You're comfortable with the same driver from yesterday, right? Rate his service."

You snorted. "Do you run an Uber service or what?"

"Nah," he chortled. "He's on his way. See you soon."

"Okay, bye Ran." You softly hung up the phone and bit your lip as you looked back at the store. The driver would take a couple minutes and you have plenty of time to walk in there and talk to Shion, tell him you're going to hopefully get laid...yeah no, you can't do that. That'll be a slap in the face.

You wanted to slam your head against the car window when the same driver from yesterday pulled up and you didn't tell Shion you in fact were not coming back to the store. A simple text could suffice too, but you were feeling uneasy contacting him after that confession earlier. It was a shitty thing to do, you knew that, telling him you weren't ready for anything like that whilst currently on your way to your ex's house.

The driver looked at you through the mirror. "You look stressed."

"You know you're the second person to tell me that today," you couldn't help but fight back a laugh. Do you look stressed? How were you even supposed to know at this point? "What's your name? I'm curious."

"I can't tell you that."

"Why not? I'm harmless."

He chuckled before clearing his throat, looking straight back at the road. "Maybe later. I consider Mr. Haitani would want me to drive you around a lot in the future."

"Yeah right. This is a one time thing."

"I've heard that before," he chuckled before pulling up outside Ran's penthouse.

Feeling mischievous, you unbuckled your seat belt and leaned over the console to the wheel and honked the horn around ten times, each one lasting longer than the last, until Ran opened the front door, mumbling something under his breath before walking over to the car, tapping on the window. You moved back into your seat and rolled it down.

"I have a doorbell you know? And a door," he said with a grin when you wouldn't stop laughing.

"I was lazy," you smiled sheepishly, unlocking the car door and pulling him inside. Your hand moved behind his head and pulled him down for a kiss. You nearly melted when he brought his hand up to your thigh.

"Get out," he pulled away, casting a glance at the driver who nodded and smoothly slid out of the car. The second the door shut, Ran brought his attention back to you, pushing you down against the seat. You moaned as he covered your body with his own, trailing kisses along your jawline.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your nose up against his. "No strings attached right?" you asked.

"None," he promised, moving to sit down and pull you on top of his lap. His hands gripped your waist tightly as he kissed you passionately, causing goosebumps to cover your body. It had been so long since you've gotten any form of affection and the butterflies in your stomach were raging.

His tongue ran along your bottom lip, urging it open , letting it glide along his own. When you pulled away, you hummed softly when his lips trailed soft kisses down your neck and your shirt soon got thrown on the floor.

Your fingers raked through his hair as he got closer to your chest. You reached down and slid your hand under his t-shirt. Feeling his muscles, and smooth skin underneath his clothes caused butterflies to form in your stomach. Pulling him closer, you bit his earlobe as his fingers traced under your breast. His hands moved to unzip your jeans, you raised your hips up to allow him to successfully take them off and tossed them onto the floor, in a sad pile along with your shirt.

He ran his fingers along your bare thighs, making you gasp slightly. The feeling of his warm breath against your breasts, the gentle nips and bites were all so distracting you didn't notice his fingers trailing down to your panties.

Your body shivered with desire as he pressed more of his weight against you, pressing his lips against yours more harshly, moaning into your mouth and gripping every part of your body he could grasp. You felt more drunk at this moment than you did yesterday when you were actually drunk. Your body is naturally attracted to his presence, craving his mouth, his fingers, his touch.

"Fuck..." you whispered when his fingers nudged your panties aside, rubbing soft circles on your clit. You were so wet, his fingers soaked when he pulled away, moving them up to your lips, watching eagerly as you sucked them clean.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered huskily, pushing his fingers deeper into your mouth. You moaned around them, sucking hard before gasping when he pulled his fingers out. "Fuck. Get on your knees."

You obeyed, bending in uncomfortable positions to shift onto your knees in the limited space in the car. Grinning, he leaned back and watched you reach inside his pants and grab his cock. You shifted forward, taking in every inch of his length and biting your lip as you wrapped your hand around the shaft, squeezing gently. You began softly stroking it, letting the tip rub against your lips, and back down to the base. The salty sweet flavour of pre-cum began coating your fingers as you moved your hand faster.

"You look so sexy right now," he muttered, tilting your head up so he could see you better. You smiled and licked your lips, moving back down to suck gently on his tip. Your eyebrows pinched in interest when you saw him lift his hips up to grab his phone from his back pocket, holding the camera just above his dick.

"What are you doing?" you asked, leaning forward to see. His spare hand pushed your head back down towards his crotch.

"What does it look like?" he quipped, focusing the camera on your face as you stared at him intently.

"Who are you sending that to?" you asked curiously.

"Myself." You looked at him a little unsure. "I promise, baby. This is my spare phone for my personal use only."

"Okay..." you whispered, playing with his dick a little more before moving back up to the tip. "At least tell me if it's a pic or video."

"Shh...don't distract me."

You rolled your eyes and kissed down the length of his cock when you heard a click, then another click, before the sound of a video being recorded. Looking up at him, you grinned and placed your free hand under his balls, moving your thumb in circular motions over them. You licked a long strip from base to tip before slowly engulfing his cock in your mouth. His hips thrusted forward as you took all of him in, moaning softly at how good he tasted. Sucking gently, you twirled your tongue around the tip, sucking firmly. He groaned your name, tossing the phone on the seat and pulled you off his cock.

"C'mere," he murmured, tugging you upwards onto his lap. With a soft giggle, you wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands slid over the curve of your ass, letting you climb on top of him.

You peeled your panties off, adding to the pile of your clothes in the corner and lifted your hips up to let him angle his cock inside you. Slowly entering you, you slowly sunk down, savouring every inch of his cock working his way into you. Your eyes flew open as you felt yourself start to drip around him. You shifted slightly, his cock hitting something good inside you, then whimpered by his ear the lower you sank down.

"Oh...fuck..." you bit your lip, closing your eyes as you let out a soft sigh when his lips attached to your neck. Glancing down at him, you ran your fingers through his messy hair, gripping it tight as you started bouncing. He groaned when you tightened around him, your fingers scratching at his hair made him tighten his grip around your waist.

Every time you slammed down on him, he pulled you tighter, burying himself deep inside you. His fingers dragged deep lines down the length of your back every time you tightened around him. You tried to slow down but he wouldn't have any of it, sinking his fingers in the soft fat of your hips and started bouncing you harder.

"Faster...please..." you begged, shaking with pleasure, reaching behind you to grip onto his knee. He ran his eyes down your body, licking his lips when he noticed your face squeezed in pleasure. Giving a soft chuckle, he reached down to play with your clit, sliding his thumb over the sensitive bud every time you slammed down on him. It felt like he was splitting you open, your body exploding with nerves as his lips wrapped around your nipples, sucking with an intensity that sent your body into overload.

Your orgasm ripped through you and you silently screamed as your juices gushed out onto his cock, turning a creamy white colour as it mixed with his cum. Every inch of your body shook uncontrollably as you collapsed onto his chest, trembling.

His finger stopped rubbing against your clit and you moaned quietly. He ran his fingers down your sides, planting kisses along your face before reaching your lips. You kissed him back just as eagerly, pulling away to catch your breath.

"Holy shit," you breathed heavily, bringing your forehead to rest on his. "God...that was amazing," you panted, trying to catch your breath, your sides ticklish from his fingers tracing patterns into your skin.

"You were amazing," he replied with a grin. Lifting his hand from your hip, he caressed your thighs slowly. "Do you have any plans tomorrow?" he asked, looking up at your face, completely mesmerised by you.

"No, why?" you responded, fanning yourself as the temperature in the car rose.

"Spend the night here." His voice was warm and serious.

"What happened to no strings attached, Ran?" you teased, looking down at his t-shirt and unbuttoning a couple buttons to run your finger down his tattoo.

"Please," he sighed, angling his face in a way that caused your breath to catch in your throat.

"I dunno...Ran."

He pulled your hand up so he could kiss each finger individually. "Mm, why not? You said you missed me, remember?"

"Yeah but that's the problem. I don't want things to get weird, you know."

"I don't care if it's weird, just spend the night with me." He looked you in the eye, making sure there was no hint of regret or sadness behind your eyes. "Besides, you kinda owe me."

You moved your head backwards. "What?"

"With how we ended," he leaned forward until his nose brushed yours, "that was rough."

"You deserved it," you spat, hating how close you were getting to giving in to his charm.

"The only thing I deserve right now is your cute ass in my bed sleeping next to me, and by the looks of things," he ran his thumb across your bottom lip, "I think I'm going to get what I want."

The two of you held eye contact as if challenging you to say otherwise. You gave him one last look, then moved off his lap. He watched in silence as you began changing back into your clothes, fighting back a laugh when you put your shirt on inside out but it didn't matter because you looked at him, disappointed in yourself. "Lead the way."

~*~

"Where's your shower?" you asked as you stepped inside his house. "I feel gross and sweaty."

Ran shrugged off his jacket, tossing it over a nearby chair and walked towards his room. "Just down the hall, second door on the left," he answered, slipping off his shoes and pulling you with him. "Come on, I'll show you."

You glanced around, taking in his house as he led you to the bathroom. His hand was firmly planted on your back, never releasing you as he opened the door and walked inside, motioning for you to follow. You began to strip off your shirt, pausing when you realised he was still there.

"Um. Privacy please?"

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and tilted his head at you. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Jesus...Ran. Are you being forreal right now?"

He snorted and left the room, shutting the door behind him. After you showered, you grabbed a clean towel and wrapped it around your waist, stepping into his bedroom. "I need clothes."

Ran was laying on his bed, texting on his phone with one hand as the other fiddled with the front strands of his hair. "In the closet over there. Help yourself."

You padded your wet feet over to the closet and found a shirt and a pair of shorts. After changing, you crawled onto his bed, lying flat and watched his eyes glue onto his phone. "What're you doing?" you asked.

He tilted the phone in your direction and your eyes widened when you were met with the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock from earlier, slowly bobbing your head up and down.

"Please delete that," you groaned, covering your face in embarrassment.

"You look good, stop stressing."

A few minutes passed where neither of you spoke, enjoying the moment and he went back to typing at his phone. "When are you going to sleep?" you asked.

"Not anytime soon," he said, not taking his eyes off his phone. "I have work to do tonight."

"By the way, what do you do? I noticed that tattoo on your neck." You sat upright and reached out to touch it. He flicked his eyes up at you, throat bobbing under your touch as he swallowed.

"I do business."

You looked at him impressed. "What type of business?"

He booped your nose. "You're nosy, aren't you?"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You're hiding something from me."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Not."

You crossed your arms. "Then tell me." Your eyes dropped down to his unlocked phone and quickly grabbed at it, scrambling backwards to the end of the bed. He laughed and grabbed your legs, pulling you back towards him and took his phone back. You giggled and tried squirming away but he was too strong as he caged you in. "You want to play games, big girl?"

"Um...no," you said, looking up at him shyly.

"If you must know, I run businesses like clubs, restaurants, casinos, etc." He intentionally left out some more details, but the satisfied look on your face was enough for him.

"That's cool I guess," you said as he stood up. "Do you have to go now?"

"Yeah. I've got a meeting now." He slid the phone back into his pocket and placed his hand on your cheek, turning your face towards him. He moved closer, staring deeply into your eyes. "Goodnight. I'll be back before you wake up."

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly. "Night," you whispered. He lingered longer than necessary and your heart beat faster every time he pressed his lips against yours. When he finally pulled away, he stared down at you, taking his own sweet time.

"Keep looking at me like that, you're gonna make me miss the meeting," he whispered, leaning down to press his lips against your collarbone.

"Then miss it," you whispered into his ear, watching him slowly think about it.

"Where the fuck is Haitani?" Mikey sighed for the tenth time, pinching his temples as Ran's assistant rapidly tapped away at her phone, spamming her Boss.

"I don't know," Dona said, frowning down at her phone screen. She flipped her blonde bangs out of her eyes and sighed again. "I called him six times but he's not picking up. His phone is on because it didn't go to voicemail."

Sanzu snorted, leaning back in his chair. "Doesn't mean anything, people lose their phones all the time."

Kakucho shook his head, disagreeing. "Not Ran. He practically has his phone glued to him at all times. He probably just fell asleep again."

Mikey was growing more and more impatient. "Rindou," he called out suddenly, making Rindou look up at him. "Go to your brother's house and get him to come already."

"You think he's gonna listen to me?" Rindou asked, getting up from his seat and putting his phone away.

Dona rolled her eyes, grabbing the nearest paperweight. "Of course he will. You're the only one in this room he actually considers listening to, minus Mikey of course. I’ll come too."

"Fine." Rindou shrugged his jacket back on. "Give us twenty minutes."

"Take your time," Sanzu grinned, scooting his chair over to Takeomi sitting near the back of the room and resting his cheek on the table. He peeked a green eye open at his older brother as he counted the money from the deal he made earlier. "Whatcha doin'?" He reached out to poke Omi's cheek before gasping when his hand got slapped away.

"Minding my business, dumbass." Takeomi grumbled, kicking Haru's chair away.

Mikey puffed out his tenth sigh of the day and pointed at Rindou. "If Ran doesn't come in the next thirty minutes we'll start without him."

"Got it, boss," Rindou said before exiting the room with Dona following behind him.

You sighed happily when Ran planted a small kiss on your clit. He slowly began unravelling you with his tongue, running it along the seam of your folds. His nose brushed against your clit and you sighed happily, messing up his hair as he sucked you gently.

There was loud banging on the door which snapped both of you out of your sex haze. You sat upright before Ran pushed you back down, moving your hips back towards him. "Ran, not now. Go answer the door."

"They can wait," he responded before returning back to his mission. You sunk back down into the pillows, trying to keep your moans to a minimum as his tongue slid along your slit, circling and sucking the bed gently.

"God..." you whimpered, digging your nails into the sheets as his talented tongue worked magic on you. The knocking persisted but Ran continued to ignore it, his eyes meeting yours as they danced with lust. His finger trailed along your wet slit and your body tightened as he slid it inside you.

"Mmm," he mumbled against your pussy as his thumb began teasing your swollen bud.

The knocking stopped then the sound of a key unlocking the front door. You froze when you heard footsteps down the hallway. You tried to push Ran off you but he gripped your hips firmly when you tugged at his hair, hard enough to lift his face from between your thighs.

"Relax, it's just Rindou. He's probably here to scream at me or somethin'."

"Rindou?!" you squeaked, trying to squirm away from his lips kissing down your thighs. "He's gonna see me! At least lemme put some clothes on!"

"Relax," he replied.

"Say relax one more time and see what happens," you glared down at him. He grinned, planting one more kiss to your thighs before letting go. He sat up against the bed, watching you change back into the pair of shorts he gave you in record time before Rindou burst through his bedroom door.

Rindou's eyes surveyed the messy bed, the crumpled sheets, Ran's messy hair, your heavy breathing, and he narrowed his eyes. "Oh you've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Part of you was nervous he recognised you, but he never brought it up or said your name.

Ran only grinned and shrugged. "What?"

"You wanna tell me why you're twenty minutes late to the meeting?" He looked over at you and you intentionally avoided his gaze. "Actually, I know why. You're prioritising sleeping with hookers instead of doing your damn job."

"Hooker?" you said, offended.

"Oh my bad," he faked sincerity. "Forgot that word is offensive now. What the hell are you girls called instead these days?"

You opened your mouth to speak before Ran cut you off. "She's not just some chick, Rinnie." Rindou rolled his eyes at the nickname. Ran grabbed a hold of your waist, pulled you into his lap and grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks and forcing you to meet Rindou's gaze. "You don't remember this face?"

Rindou blinked, taking another look at you. It took him a couple seconds before his eyes widened as the realisation dawned on him. "No. You're fucking lying."

Ran smirked and moved his hands from your face to your waist. "You're so slow. That hair dye is getting to your brain, isn't it?"

"We have the exactly same hair colour--"

"Hi, Rindou," you cut him off before it could lead to an argument. He glared at you for a short moment before clicking his tongue, successfully ignoring you and turning to face his older brother.

"Ran let's fucking go already."

"Okay then," you murmured, looking down at your hands.

Ran sighed and peeled you off his lap and set you on the bed. "I gotta go, baby." He planted a wet kiss along your forehead. "Get some sleep, I'll see you soon."

TAGLIST: @escafhwiluv @lyniana @haitanifxn @rindougf03 @mvteria @hisan-na @luvhaitani @mishueb @Dreamxies @yuma404 @sleeplessreader @shinichirolover @illusorysmut @Lxvephxbic @obsessedwreiner @ililailii @insayninthamembrayn @missgab @reihimbo @l0velikethis @lollevi @danasaan @tenjikusstuff4 @midoriapologist @alkanessa @asp7n

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#—tr </3 #series : wasted times #ran x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev #tokyorev x reader #haitani ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #haitani ran smut #ran smut #ran haitani smut

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intimacyequalsdeath · 7 months

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Bubz's Slasher Fictober Day 10: Johnny Slaughter. (Pumpkin Spice)

Double digit days baby! Not much to say at the start of this other then my broken record speech so I hope you enjoy! <3

Notes: Minors DNI, Smut, Nsfw, No pronouns or descriptions of reader used, Only "you". Johnny would totally call you "Bunny".

I've only had it for maybe two weeks and I already play this game too goddamn much.

You had done it now, you had really fucking done it this time. You knew Johnny was going to be mad when he caught up to you, and by god you knew he was going to catch up with you.

The family had brought in a group of college kids, pretty routine shit, except this time you had be in charge of tying them down in the basement. Something or another happened and they ended up escaping.

Now Bubba had been able to round them up along with Sissy and Nubbins before they escaped the house. But you knew when Johnny caught wind of your lack to tie them down properly, you were done for.

So because you apparently loved to make matters worse for yourself, as soon as you heard Johnny enter the house and the door slam behind him, you made a run for it.

Once a would be victim of the family yourself who had countless escape attempts, you knew the Sawyer land like the back of your hand so you took off into the thick sunflower fields behind the house heading towards the slaughterhouse.

You could hear the heavy footfalls of the Sawyer that had both saved your life and declared that you were now his in front of the entire family. That was the only thing that had saved you from ending up like the rest of the group you had rolled in with.

Johnny was on you now, He grabbed the back of your shirt and brought you to the ground. His hand pressing the side of your head against the dirt as your ass ended up situated against the crotch of his pants.

"Well well well, What the fuck do we have here" Johnny spit at you, oh yeah he was totally mad.

"Johnny I'm sorry!" You yelled trying to smooth things over with him.

"The only thing I can't figure out is why you ran?" He said ignoring your apology.

"You know damn well I'm the best tracker and hunter in this family but you still fuckin ran, you KNEW I would find you but you still did it" He paused running the knife he always carried down the inside of your thigh you shivered at his action and he laughed.

"The more I think about it, the more I'm led to believe that this is exactly what you wanted. You wanted me to hunt you down, you wanted me to find you and give you a reminder of just who the fuck I am to you" The knife dug into your thigh and you could feel it slicing the fabric of your shorts.

Johnny removed the hand from your head to grip the fabric that used to be shorts and rip them off your bottom half. You knew well enough to not move your head from the dirt even if his hand wasn't there anymore. The dirt scratching against your cheek didn't even bother you anymore.

"So now darlin' I'm gonna show you exactly who the fuck I am to you"

All at once you were full, The one thing you had never quite gotten used to was the size of Johnny's cock. It stretched you and filled you more so then you had even been before. None of your old partners could ever hold a candle.

You blinked away the tears in your eyes has Johnny began to thrust, not even giving you time to adjust to his size before his hips starting snapping against yours.

"Bad bunnies don't get time to compose themselves" He had told you one time when he had bent you over the hood of his truck for mouthing on.

"Johnny" You kicked yourself when his name came out in no more then a whine.

"Shut the fuck up Bunny" His hand slammed into side of your head, holding it in place once more.

His thrusts sped up, each one filling you up and then as fast as you were full the fullness would disappear and you were left longing for it once more.

Johnny's finger gripped your hair, bringing your head up off the ground in his grip as he used this to get a better angle. He pushed himself deeper into you but his thrusts were still at the same speed.

The only noise besides screams coming out of you was his name. It reminded you of one of the cult chants Sissy had shown you when she returned the house from out west.

Your walls clenched as you came. Johnny didn't cum though, he never did the first time you came. So you knew you were in for the overstimulation of a lifetime.

Through your sensitivity, the thrusts continued. Every sweet spot inside you now even more sweet when Johnny's girth would brush up against it.

"Johnny please" You didn't realize you were crying until you spoke.

"Awe, what's wrong Bunny?, Is daddy too much for you?"

You swore you could feel each vein on his cock brush against a new part of you as it slipped into you. The thrusts were a lot smoother now that you had cum and lubed Johnny up. You could feel it dripping down in between the two of you making your thighs sticky.

Johnny gave a few grunts and let you know he was ready to give it to you.

"Johnny not insi-" You whined but it was too late.

The hot white ropes of his seed splashed into you, coating your insides with their warmness. You whined but reveled in the feeling.

"Sorry Bunny, Daddy doesn't cum anywhere but inside you know that." You nodded pathetically feeling like a scorned child.

He reached down between your legs and grabbed you where his cock had just been.

'because this is daddy's ain't that right?" Another nod.

"And if it's daddy's then that means daddy gets to cum in it no matter fuckin what" He growled into your ear as he leaned down pressing his chest into your back before gathering you in his arms and picking you up.

"Now that, that's over with you can go back to the house and get your punishment for runnin'" Your head snapped up to look him in the eye.

"B-but daddy wasn't that ?" You trailed off, He fixed you with a look.

"No bunny, fuckin' wasn't your punishment, fuckin you was just a reminder of who you belong to and who you should obey"

#slasher x reader #slasher fandom #johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny sawyer #johnny sawyer x reader #johnny slaughter x reader #texas chainsaw massacre game #johnny tcm #johnny slaughter smut #Halloween #Fictober

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christinesficrecs · 5 months

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I love ALL of these fics but if they are a bit "too classic" for you, definitely read Mating Habits and The Dating Game. 🩷

Things To Do On The Dates You Aren't Having by lielabell | 5.5K | Mature

"So are we dating now or what?" Stiles asks the third time he finds himself doing the obligatory postcoital cuddling with a certain sour wolf.

A Heart is a Heavy Burden by lielabell | 41.2K

In Which Stiles: is accosted by unhappy witches, becomes friends with fire demons, is rescued by darkly handsome wizards, discovers hidden inner depths, is introduced to princes, and finds true love. Though not necessarily in that order.

And Dwell Beneath My Shadow by lielabell | 8.6K

Derek is not stupid. He gets why Stiles puts up with him. It’s clear every time Stiles looks at him, the spicy scent of lust and arousal Stiles’s body can’t help but put off. It doesn’t surprise him. Not at all. Derek knows what he looks like, knows that his face and his body are more than enough to compensate for his shitty personality. Stiles wants him more than he is annoyed by him. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s not anything to be amazed over, nothing to write home about. Stiles isn’t the first– and most likely won’t be the last– hormone soaked teen who has panted over Derek.

Good Intent by lielabell | 4.4K | Mature

It’s dark out, no moon tonight. Just clouds and a bitter, cold wind that rips right through you as you move from shadow to shadow. You’re hunting, because you are always hunting, and tonight’s prey is the best kind: not too smart, not too old, and worth enough to keep you in the black for the better part of a year.

Nine Times Out Of Ten by lielabell | 4.6K | Explicit

Nine times out of ten, Stiles is the one being pushed back on the bed with his head tilted back to expose his neck. Nine times out of ten, Stiles's legs are the ones that are spread, his hands are the ones that grip the sheets. Nine times out of ten, Stiles gasps and moans and arches up into Derek's touch, Stiles's thighs grip at Derek's hips; Stiles’s feet lock together behind Derek's back. Nine times out of ten, Stiles takes and takes and takes and loves every single second of it.

But the tenth time . . .

The tenth time is different.

Mating Habits of the Domesticated North American Werewolf by lielabell | 35.4K | Mature

Derek doesn’t do pining. He doesn’t. So when it becomes clear that Stiles is much more interested in having Derek as a new best friend than a boyfriend, he puts on his big boy pants and makes it fucking work. He becomes the best goddamn friend a spastic teenager could ever hope to have.

The Dating Game by lielabell | 4.5K | Mature

Derek doesn't exactly understand how he ended up as a contestant on a dating show. He knows that it started with a lot of whiskey and a late night phone call to his sister and mockery. Lots and lots of mockery, because Laura never lets anything go, no matter how old she gets.

In Word and in Deed by lielabell | 7.7K | Explicit

Stiles has stopped saying "I love you." Derek wants to know why.

I Like My Coffee Like I Like My Men by lielabell | 2K

Seriously, sometimes Stiles thinks that the man is a plant by the owner, who is a hippie, through and through, but just business savvy enough to pay someone hot to sit on the premises and brood up a storm like a modern day James Dean, clicking away at his computer in his leather jacket with that pensive look on his face.

Upon My Skin by lielabell | 6.2K | Mature

"I smell blood." Derek draws in a breath through his nose, frowning like it's going out of style. "And ink and--" his voice trails off and his eyes widen slightly. "Let me see it," he demands, crossing the space between them and tugging at the hem of Stiles's shirt.

#sterek fics #sterek #ficrecs #fanfic writers #sterek fandom #author spotlight #lielabell #author appreciation

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nrdmssgs · 5 months

Text

Liar

Masterlist Smut Pairing: Captain John Price X reader TWs: no

"Should we even..." Your voice is barely audible from the water hitting the sink.

You catch a glimpse of your own reflection right before you: eyes half shut, hands bringing him closer despite your own doubts, lips deliciously parted. John stays outside the sheaf of light, provided by the only lamp in the bathroom. His lips crush against the back of your neck repetitively, but that doesn't fulfill his hunger. So he bites down - not hard enough to break your skin, but more than enough to make the world around you grow hazy, as you melt.

"Should you have teased f`so long?" Prices voice reverberates deep in his chest, and you don't even hear his answer - you feel it with your back pressed against him.

He is not incorrect - there were months of playing around, friendly teasing bordering with flirting. So now it looks like a time for payback. John couldn't care less, it was at your mutual friends house, in the middle of the party. He needs to feed you your own medicine.

Until your brain can't form a single thought.

Until you realize no one else can put you in so deep.

So his hand leaves your neck and reaches down to press you against his bulge so that you feel how hard you made him. And if your knees didn't fail you before - you are now so weak, that only big hands are keeping you from collapsing.

"Not here," you mewl, turning your face back to him. Only to be met with a messy, hungry kiss.

"Here." And his tongue slides past your lips, getting a good taste, taking your breath away. He has to force himself to stop kissing you for the next word to be said.

"Now."

The water is still running down the sink, but all you hear is his heavy breath. You're so needy for his touch, that you have to bite down your lip, to not make a sound, when he finally slides your underwear to the side.

***

You wake up, breathing shakily. That goddamn dream - it's been a few months already, since it happened, and that dream still haunts you. It feels nice to wake up to such a dream at your cozy bed back at home. But to wake up next to him? In a safe house, where you and his Task Force had to wait, until the new intel on enemy disposition gets a confirmation from your scouts? This was a torture.

You two barely talked about what happened at your friend's place, but decided, that you both were rushing things too much. You were trying to keep personal business as far from work as possible. And for now, John Price wasn't your old friend - he was a colleague. So you clutched your teeth and did everything to keep the memories of him being so intoxicating and overwhelming away. But you just couldn't control your dreams.

You hold your breath and listen intensely to surrounding sounds: distant voices - coming from other rooms, howl of the wind outside the window and Johns calm breath. He seems to be sleeping, which is a good thing - you wouldn't want to embarrass yourself with your neediness here and now.

You just need to cool your head down, splash your face with cold water - anything to forget the feeling of his hands on your body. So you carefully release your hand from under the blanket, grab the edge of the bed and try to pull yourself towards it in order to slip out unnoticed.

"Going somewhere, darling?" His bear paw lands right on your stomach and drags you back under the blanket.

"I've slept enough, I'll go switch for a watch with one of your men, Price."

"M-m-m-m-m, liar." His warm breath rolling against your skin makes you shiver.

"Ok-ok, you got me, Captain. Bad dream. I don't think, I'll be able to fall back to sleep, so I really gotta go."

"Bad dream you say?" Price clicks his tongue. His hand leaves your tummy and snakes down your hip.

"So it was a bad dream, that made you roll over in bed?" John grips your upper thigh gently yet authoritatively.

"`twas a bad dream, that made you pant and whisper my name?" It feels more like being trapped in captivity to predator's grip: he is not yet trying to feed on you, but he is not letting you anywhere away.

"Just a bad dream... that made you grind against me so deliciously?" He guides your thigh up his hip, spreading you, pressing you closer, and 'demonstrating' to you the fruits of your labor.

And as you try to calm down the rushing heart and hide the fact, that the blood is surging to your cheeks, you mumble some excuses incoherently. Only for John to quietly chuckle, enjoying, how worked up you get from just a dream about him.

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eris-snow · 5 months

Text

6. 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞?

Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst, swearing, toaster shenanigans, bakusquad shenanigans

A yellow thread like a soulmate’s cord: So similar, but so different.

Katsuki hates people.

It doesn’t matter if he appreciates a small small small minority of them, he’s fully obligated to bring his thoughts to the grave because Mina and Denki had broken the toaster for the hundredth time, Kirishima’s way too positive for someone going for therapy and Izuku breathes too hard.

“Why do I have to buy the stupid toaster?” He lashes, sweat building dangerously in his hands. “I did nothing!”

“We haven’t hung out properly in a long while, man! Think of it as a…a get-together!” Eijiro told him, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

He’s testing his luck.

Ashido marches ahead of the both of them while playing thumb war with Denki. “And plus-hey!-you went feral when we got the previous previous toaster—Mina, stop it!” Denki chimes in, wrestling with Ashido.

“Who buys a VHS Player toaster? HOW DID YOU EVEN FIND A VHS PLAYER FOR A FUCKING TOASTER.”

“Mhm, uh-huh, yeah, yes, you see?” Ashido responds calmly. “This is why you’re needed.”

Behind them, Eijiro frowns. “I thought that was the 5th toaster, not the—”

“Finish that sentence,” He grits out. “I dare you.”

So yeah, borderline, Katsuki hates people.

He especially hates them when they start asking questions.

“You’ve been a ghost lately, disappearing right after class. What’s going on with you?” Eijiro changes the subject, and looks at him with curious red eyes.

Real, fuckin’ annoying questions.

Katsuki’s brain goes uhhh, and he shrugs off the red-haired’s shoulder to buy time.

“None of your business. If I’m busy, I’m busy. Deal with it.”

His friend gives him an inquisitive look, but Denki’s groan of defeat snaps both of them out of it, and Eijiro backs off. “Whatever you say, man.”

There’s an old street piano that lives right outside the mall. Katsuki’s surprised it’s still there, even after the plaza was stripped bare and renovated, the instrument sat there, creaking and lonely. What a contrast to the shiny, modern building it sat so innocently next to.

Out of nowhere, a splitting headache rips into his skull, and he has to grab the nearest thing (Eijiro) to keep himself from toppling. What the hell?

All he can see is that goddamn piano, multiplying and filling his vision. It flashes, disappears, and then reappears like it’s trying to decide whether it should be there or not. Someone calls his name, but it’s far away. Suddenly, he’s 7 again, showing off to all his admirers how wide his fingers could reach, how beautifully he could play the instrument.

All eyes are on him, and he feels like he’s a third person watching his younger self smile, shift aside to let someone else join him on the seat—

“Bakugou?”

A blink, two blinks, and the image is wiped.

“Bakugou?” Eijiro’s hand is on his shoulder and all eyes are on him. It takes him a second to realise that he’s gripping Eijiro’s arm, and another to unclench his hand. He leans away, and grits out low. “I’m fine.”

“You’re a liar,” Denki refutes, expression worried. “You okay, Bakubro?”

“Headache,” He supplies, gaze cutting back to the piano. It’s still sitting there harmlessly, like it hadn’t given him an existential crisis 5 seconds ago. He filters through his memories, frowning when he grasps at straws. He can’t remember ever playing a duet with someone.

Stalking ahead, he shoots a scowl at the inanimate object and enters the mall. “I wanna be in and out. Let’s go.”

He knows his friends’ expressions. They’re all concerned, because for some reason, Katsuki’s word isn’t good enough for them.

Whatever, it’s not like he hasn’t had lapses like that before.

A store full of green catches Katsuki’s eyes, and suddenly, all he can see is ferns and flowers stuffing the entrance of the little shop greeting the visitors of the mall.

They come back to the dorms with a new, normal toaster, and Katsuki gets a desk cactus.

—

Katsuki’s going deaf. He knows the drill yadda yadda, he’ll be deaf by 35 yadda yadda his quirk is an ass and so is he. However, he prides himself in knowing his eyesight is perfect and better than average. So he really, really hates it when they try to fuck shit up for him by making him see things that aren’t there.

His jacket hanging on the edge of the couch when he was visiting his parents over winter break. (It’s in an old storage unit his parents rented out since he can’t fit it anymore)

A cherry blossom tree siting right outside his old middle school. (It’s in the dead of the winter.)

Random street pianos, showing up at every turn.

And every time he shakes his head and blinks, the objects disappear. He doesn’t even want to get started with his dreams. Scenes from the war have been ending abruptly, cutting off and throwing him into moments of his life he never knew he lived through.

It’s been all he can even think about lately, and his zone-out sessions have earned him a slap to the head by his mother and daily check-ups via text from the shit broccoli nerd and Shitty Hair. He thinks about it, because it’s the same feeling when he hangs out with you. Your presence is so difficult to detect sometimes, he has to steels himself from blasting your face off because he didn’t notice you sitting right in front of him.

He has an internship with Jeanist and 10 articles to write for Hero History. He cannot afford to go crazy now.

—

“Katsuki.”

Katsuki’s eyes open. He spins around and finds a memory, ripped straight out from his life. It’s like watching a scene directly out of a play. His old, junior high classroom, with its rusted cabinets and creaky seats.

His younger self stops, and looks back, obviously annoyed. “What do you want, extra? Who the fuck are you?”

A girl stands there with her face blurred and clipped out, but for some reason, he knows her expression is one of shock and disbelief.

“Katsuki, don’t you remember me?”

Bakugou jolts awake. The sound of someone’s voice he can’t quite hear the words off ring in his mind, and he clenches his shirt as his heart pounds so loud it feels like it’s echoing throughout the entire room. Sweat is everywhere, clinging to his skin like a layer of dust, and a glance at his alarm clock shows 02:31. He lets out a loud groan, glaring at his empty ceiling. He’s definitely not going to sleep anytime soon. With sweat clinging to every part of his body, he swings his legs off and heads to the door. He needs a shower.

And coffee.

—

“Weird dreams? Seeing items not there?” Recovery Girl looks at him thoughtfully. “And you’re positive it’s not a Quirk?”

“That’s what I said,” Katsuki replied through gritted teeth. He’d have known if it was a Quirk. Even some Quirks weren’t touch-based, it was hard to be put under a quirk undetected. This was something else. “If it’s not doing you any physical harm, then my Quirk can’t help you with that. The best prescription I can give you is neuroleptic medications and sedatives for a good night's sleep. Other than that, try to take your mind off training for a while and take the rest of the day off. I suspect that you’re overworked.”

With Recovery Girl’s advice in mind, Katsuki comes out of the infirmary feeling less sane than he originally felt. Overworked? As if. The most eventful thing he experienced this month was him buying a fucking toaster.

With a heavy grunt, he opens the library door and ignores the hall just down the corridor. You’re probably on vacation, or visiting relatives. No point in going there.

If he’s barred from training the rest of today, then he could kill time by learning something new. If he wants to be a top hero, he’s got to be able to communicate. That means in both Japanese and English. If he can read more English books, he’d surely be more fluent in—

He stops short. In front of him, is a yellow thread. It curves and winds and leads him all the way to the back of the library, slung over seats and tables of the nearly isolated room. He’s heard about cringy soulmate manga from Mina, the one where the pinkies of two individuals are connected by a red string. This one, however, is yellow, and looks way thinner, like a spider’s skein.

Yellow.

That was your favourite colour.

Intrigued, he follows it all the way, and when he stops to see what’s at the end of it, he finds an essay shelved in the wrong way buried behind the dusty books that haven’t been borrowed in a long, long time. He almost misses it, but when he does find it, he takes it off the shelf and eyes the title wearily.

Phenomenon: Reset

It’s clearly not a published book, it’s bonded by stapler bullets and it’s written on the old U.A. foolscap that was outdated years ago. It’s more like a log then a book, a diary, even. Katsuki slaps himself mentally. What the fuck is he doing? Playing detective for his delusions? This could be a prank for all he knows, and the yellow skein his eyes playing tricks on him. This was—

‘Not a Quirk, causes people to become nearly invisible to the eye.’

Katsuki blinks rapidly.

Hah?

‘Day 3: I tried to talk to him the other day. It’s like we never met. He asked me if I was a new transfer student. I’ve been in his class for over a year.’

‘Day 4: He forgot our conversation the previous day. The teacher missed my name during attendance and called my parents up today. What’s going on?’

Katsuki skims through the rest of the days, and with each passing page, the handwriting gets more and more illegible.

‘Day 7: I feel like a ghost. My parents still remember me, thank goodness. I don’t know if I could handle it if they didn’t.’

‘Day 16: If this is some sick joke, I hope it ends already. What the hell? It’s like it’s a reset for me every single day. Every time I try to tell someone about it the person straight up forgets me the next day. This isn’t funny anymore.’

‘Day 70: He sees me! I don’t know how this worked but he sees me! I tried probing for more, but I can’t believe it! I’m so glad…it’s been so long since someone looked at me in the eye.”

‘Day 71: He remembers! Honestly, I don’t care that everyone else isn’t noticing me anymore, just having one person is enough.”

‘Day 121: I told him about my situation, and thankfully he believed me. He said he had a feeling about it, something about a watch and the stupid tree in the forest we used to sleep under. He said it kept popping up everywhere and it was driving him crazy.’

‘Day 235: I found an article that’d tried to be covered up. One of the government’s mistakes, back when Quirks were new. It had something to do with a science experiment gone wrong. It might be a lead.’

It goes on and on, from red hairs to dead ends, but through it, Katsuki got a gist of the situation. A science experiment from 70 years ago was conducted to see if a Quirk could be transferred forcibly from one person to another. That Quirk was named Undetected, one of the less destructive Quirks of that time and among the few who agreed to proceed with this experiment.

It might be possible in the modern day, but humans back then were far too uneducated to be dealing with Quirks that were still relatively new. The experiment went wrong, obviously, and it resulted in a glitch of the person’s Quirk and the region the experiment was being carried out in. Victims ended up forgotten with a presence so low that they were basically invisible. Back when this article was still new, there had been questions raised about it, whether these Quirks were more of a curse than a blessing, but with time this phenomenon ‘faded out of existence’.

No one could prove it, and the victims were chalked up to accidents or lunatics. Not many were affected anyway, and almost as quickly as the rumour made headlines, it disappeared entirely from the internet.

Katsuki’s blood runs cold.

Is this what was going on with you?

He leafs through the paper and skips to the last day that was catalogued.

‘Day 435: He said that I looked really pale, and told me that he’d found a way to save me. I was really glad, I was really. I only wish that we could have done it before it was too late.’

Katsuki flips the page over to find nothing else written and almost crumples the paper up in frustration.

He needs to see you. Now.

#juxtaposition (Bakugou)#mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #bakugo x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #angst #bakugou x reader #bakugou angst

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justagalwhowrites · 6 months

Text

Yearling - Ch. 22: Storm

A spring snowstorm hits Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-21 found on Tumblr here.

PLEASE PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO THE CONTENT WARNINGS, THIS IS A ROUGH CHAPTER!!!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Past sexual assault vaguely described; animal death; PTSD response; sexual assault of a minor mentioned in a vulgar way (not seen); possible child death. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 8.6k

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Early May, 2013

You were outside when the woman rode up.

Your home was well hidden and you’d only seen five people since Mark had left almost a year earlier, each of them making their way into your land and telling you that he’d sent them your way. They were all kind, they were all vulnerable and they were all loaded down with things you would need. Flashlight batteries and bulbs, sugar and salt, rubbing alcohol and petroleum jelly. Thread, fabric, pain killers, antibiotics, guitar strings. One woman had been sent with a snack sized bag of Lays that were still sealed and a bottle of whiskey. That had made you smile, the clearest sign that Mark hadn’t forgotten about you.

All of the others had arrived on foot, seemingly with a good idea of where to go, mostly alone but two women has traveled together. The timing wasn’t predictable but you at least knew what you could expect when someone Mark sent your way came into your territory.

This woman was different.

You heard her before you saw her, the thundering footfalls and heavy breathing of her horse loud against the quiet of the forest. You didn’t have time to fortify your position, didn’t even have time to go get more ammo. So you stood your ground and raised your rifle, heart pounding, when she burst through the tree line and into the clearing that you called home.

“Back the fuck up!” You yelled, gun raised. The horse all but skidded to a stop, the woman on its back clutching a bundle of blankets to her chest with one hand, yanking back on the reins with the other.

“Easy!” She said dropping the reins and putting her hand up. She still clung to the bundle. You recognized the horse. It was Perseus, it was Mark’s horse. “Are you Texas?”

“Who’s askin’?” Your accent was thick, fear a knot in your stomach as you looked Perseus over. You didn’t see any signs of injury.

She kept her hand up.

“You knew Mark?” She asked. She had an accent, too. Georgia southern, like Mark. “Brown hair, criminally long eyelashes?”

You narrowed your eyes at her and tightened your grip on your weapon.

“He knew you,” she kept going. “He… he told me all about you. Doubt he ever mentioned me but… he talked about you all the time. He loved you and I think you loved him, too.”

You swallowed past the growing lump in your throat and tightness in your chest. She kept using past tense.

“What about him?” You asked, keeping your gun raised but your grip loosened.

“He sent me to find you. We need your help,” she said, reaching and tugging her pant leg up just enough to reveal a festering bite mark on her ankle. “And I don’t have much time.”

***

Early April, 2027

“I can’t believe you’ve been calling her a fucking baby deer this whole goddamn time!”

Ellie was perched on Shimmer’s stall door, watching as you and Joel set out blankets for the horses. It has been snowing all day and winds were picking up. You were worried a blizzard was moving in and you wanted help getting the horses set to ride out the storm if you couldn’t get to them for a day or two.

Joel was happy to assist, especially since he had come back from patrol a week earlier with a copy of Bambi on VHS. Ellie hadn’t been able to calm down about it since and it reminded him of the giddiness she had when she started in on the puns the first time, almost four years ago now. He’d have done anything to get that back and, it turned out, all it took was an old Disney movie and a funny nickname.

“Thank you,” you laughed, almost smug. “Don’t talk for a few minutes and get saddled with the name of a cartoon deer for life…”

“Hey, needed somethin’ to call you and you try coming up with anything else after lookin’ at you with those big eyes,” Joel said, defensive but smiling. “Not my fault it stuck.”

“Yeah well Bambi here was gonna kick your ass the first time we met,” she replied. “Big bad contractor was gonna get beat up by a fucking cartoon deer from a kid’s movie…”

Joel tried to keep from laughing and raised his eyebrows at you.

“OK that’s an exaggeration,” you said. “All I was going to do…”

“I asked if you were going to try to kick his ass,” Ellie cut you off. “And you said ‘no try about it, I was gonna kick his ass.’”

“And what did I do to deserve that?” Joel asked, teasing.

“Well, Ellie tried to warn me about you…” You began, but Ellie cut you off.

“Should have listened….”

You glared at her.

“But she wasn’t very clear,” you said. “And if some grown man was messing around with a girl, I was going to kick his ass. Turns out I didn’t have a reason to.”

Joel laughed.

“Glad you spared me.”

You laughed before planting your hands on your hips, looking around the stable for a moment, taking stock.

“Think things are just about as good as they’re gonna get,” you sighed. “But I think they should be good for a day until we can dig out and get back over here. Just wait for them to finish dinner, put more feed in after…”

“Think there’s any chance of the patrols making it back tonight?” Ellie asked, her eyebrows drawn together.

“Probably not,” Joel said. “They got places to ride out shit like storms if they get stuck, they’ll be alright.”

“Still,” you said. “Had a group that was due back tonight, Jackson was probably the closest point to ride it out. Think I’ll hang out for a bit yet…”

“I’ll go get us something to eat,” Joel said. “We’ll wait with you, head home after, settle in to ride out the storm.”

“Can we stay at Bambi’s?” Ellie asked. “She’s got a way better stereo.”

You smiled.

“Sure, kid,” you said. “On you to get Joel to dance party, though.”

“Dance party?” He frowned.

“You wouldn’t get it, Old Man,” she replied, the hint of a smirk on her face.

“Don’t get a lot of things about you, Baby Girl,” he said before stretching his back a bit. “Alright, back in a few. Try not to find too much trouble while I’m gone.”

You and Ellie both rolled your eyes and he couldn’t help but smile as he made his way through the few inches of snow that had already fallen, heading for the mess hall.

One of Joel’s favorite parts of being back on good terms with Ellie was getting to see your relationship with her. Even before she was mad at him, he wanted her to have someone like you in her life. Another woman she could talk to, look up to, guide her in ways he didn’t fully understand. She needed that and he hadn’t been able to see it happening from the distance she was holding him at before.

He knew the two of you were close, he just hadn’t realized how close until the last few months. The two of you felt more like family than Sarah’s mother ever had and he treasured it, treasured that you seemed to love his daughter almost as much as he did.

The mess hall was getting ready for a storm, too, putting together baskets of food to send home with Jackson residents so people wouldn’t be struggling through the storm for their meals over the next few days. He gathered enough to last the three of you for a bit plus some sandwiches for tonight before he started back toward the stables, the wind more forceful and biting than when he’d left just half an hour earlier.

As he got closer, he noticed tracks in the snow, hoof prints leading to the stables. A patrol had made it back and, for half a moment, he was a little disappointed. If the storm wasn’t as bad as they were expecting and the patrol was able to make it back to Jackson without losing much time, he might not get to spend the day with you and Ellie tomorrow. Ever since the storm started moving in that afternoon he’d been excited for the chance to have some unexpected time just the three of you - almost like playing hooky but with permission.

But he knew he should just be happy the patrol made it home through the weather, hopefully with all the people intact. Which, he was. But damn if he didn’t love an excuse to spend time with you.

He opened the door to the stable and quickly moved shut it behind him, expecting to find you taking saddles off horses. Instead, you damn near slammed into him, your eyes wide, not saying a word as you shoved the door open and took off into the snow.

“Bambi?” He called after you. You didn’t even slow down. He jogged over to Ellie’s perch and set the food down, a tightness starting to grip his chest.

“No idea,” Ellie said, not waiting for him to ask. “Patrol came back, said something about some people they found outside… She just said ‘savvy’ and took the fuck off.”

Joel looked around for a second. Julie was standing next to her horse, a confused look on her face.

“You found people outside?” Joel asked.

“Yeah,” she said, still staring at where you’d run out. “Yeah, a group of five. We brought them back…”

“Where are they?” He asked, fighting to keep his voice calm.

“The clinic…”

“Ellie,” he said quickly. “Stay put here, alright? I’m gone more than half an hour, head on home. Mine or hers, don’t want you in that little place for this storm, OK Baby Girl?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, not giving him shit. She looked concerned, too. “Yeah, OK.”

He gave her a stiff nod and went out into the building storm, following your footprints to the clinic.

Joel heard you there before he saw you, your voice pleading and desperate as he shut the wind and snow outside.

“Anything,” you were begging. “Anything at all, a name, an age, hair color, anything, please…”

“I’m sorry,” a man whose voice Joel didn’t recognize said. “She did say much before she died, just that there was a girl…”

Joel found you then, in the same room he’d been in when he’d come in from patrol with a bullet in his leg.

“Where?” You asked. “Where’d you find her? Did she say where she escaped from, how far she’d come?”

“We picked them up about 15 miles north east of here,” Fred, one of the men on patrol, said. “Just south of Kelly.”

“Think she came from a camp ground near there,” the other man said. He was skinny, a patch of frostbite on his nose. “Said something about cabins…”

“Right,” you nodded. “Right, thank you.”

You turned and ran smack into Joel’s chest. You barely seemed to register it, hardly even glancing at him before ducking around him and running out the door again.

“She was asking about a girl,” Fred said quickly. “These folks here, had a woman with them before we found them. Said she escaped raiders, that the raiders had a teenaged girl…”

“Fuck,” Joel muttered under his breath before looking at the other man. “Thanks, Fred.”

He didn’t wait for a response, just ducking back into the snow, the wind starting to howl now, running to catch up with you.

You were on your porch by the time he reached you. You didn’t even seem to be aware that he was following you, you were too focused on something else entirely. You didn’t even bother to take your boots off when you got in the house, just ripping the coat closet inside your door open and pulling out your patrol materials as Joel let himself in.

“Bambi,” he said gently. You looked up at him for a moment, like you were surprised to find him there before you focused back on your pack, shoving in blankets and flashlights. “Come on, honey…”

“They’ve got her, Joel,” you said, barely glancing at him before you grabbed your bag and half walked, half ran to your kitchen. “Can’t just leave her out there with them, I…”

“There’s a snowstorm, Sweetheart,” he said gently, trying to keep his voice calm. “It’s not safe…”

“Doesn’t matter,” you started stuffing food in your bag, no rhyme or reason to it that Joel could see.

“Yes, it does,” he said, trying to take the pack from you. You yanked it back, a vicious look in your eyes before you ducked around him. “Baby.”

“I’m not leaving her to those… those…” your voice cracked. “Those fucking monsters, I’m not, I can’t just leave her, I can’t just abandon her, I…”

“You getting yourself killed won’t help anybody.” It was getting harder and harder to keep the panic from his voice. He’d never seen you quite like this. Close to it when out on patrol and there were signs that raiders were near, signs of their violence, but he’d always been able to pull you back from the edge. He wasn’t sure he could this time. “Bambi, you can’t…”

“Yes, I can.”

You moved around him and he followed.

“I know you want to help people,” he said. “But you can’t help anyone if you get yourself killed. I know you want to save everyone from going through what you went through…”

“That’s not what this is,” you said, turning in circles like you were looking for something but you couldn’t place it.

“Then what is it?” He caught you by the shoulders and looked at you, your eyes wide and panicky. “Tell me, help me understand. When the weather clears, I can go with you and…”

“It’ll be too late then,” you shook your head, tears starting to swell. “As soon as the snow stops they’re going to leave and it’ll be too late, I’ll never catch them and they’ll still have her and I can’t lose her again, Joel, I can’t, I can’t take it, I can’t do this again, please, don’t ask me to do this again I…”

“Do what?” He asked, pleading, his grip on you firm. “Let me help you, Baby, please, tell me what’s going on. Who…”

“My daughter!” You said quickly. Joel froze, his heart pounding against his ribs. “I have a daughter, I have a daughter and if it’s her I… I can’t lose her again, I can’t. I have to go get her…”

“You…” he breathed.

“My daughter,” you said, eyes wide. “Please, Joel. I think they have my daughter.”

***

Early May, 2013

You lowered your rifle enough that it was no longer an immediate threat and she relaxed a little, letting the pant leg fall over her ankle again. There was a small cry from the bundle in her arms and you frowned, looking between her and it. She carefully lowered it from her chest, looking down to it.

“Hey, you’re OK sweet girl,” she said gently. “It’s alright…”

The bundle fussed but didn’t cry again and she looked back to you.

“Can I get down?” She asked. “Got a lot to talk about and not a lot of time to do it. Figure I’ve got an hour left. Two, tops.”

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “Yeah, OK. Let’s talk.”

You didn’t invite her in, not wanting to deal with the potential hazard of her turning into one of those inhuman things in your house. She didn’t seem to mind.

Her name, she said, was Laurel. She was about your age, you guessed, with her dark hair in two thick braids, deep brown eyes and rich umber skin.

“This is Savannah,” she said, tilting the bundle so you could see inside. “She’s nine months old…”

You looked at her, awed for a moment. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen a baby and you resisted the urge to reach out and run your finger over her chubby, impossibly soft looking cheek. She blinked at you, her brown eyes oddly keen and exacting for a baby, her lashes almost obscenely long. You frowned, leaning in to look closer at her. You knew those impossibly soft, brown eyes set in her lovely russet-hued face.

“She’s Mark’s,” you said softly, looking up at Laurel. “She’s Mark’s, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, she is.”

“I…” your voice broke. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know he had someone, I wouldn’t have…”

“It wasn’t like that,” she cut you off. “My husband died about three years ago. He got hurt, it got infected… Not even the fucking apocalypse kind, just the kind that you can clear up with penicillin if you can find the damn stuff. Mark… we were both lonely, looking for something to make it better for a while. It just kind of happened. She just kind of happened.”

The baby cooed, stretching and reaching for you.

“Where is he?” You asked, looking back at Laurel. “What happened to him?”

“Our settlement got overrun,” she said, her voice suddenly thick. “They came out of nowhere and just… He tried. He tried so, so hard, you should know that he tried. But he got bit, on the neck, trying to protect us and… He told me where to find you. That’s what he did with the last few minutes of his life, he told me where to find you, he told me that you’d take care of us, make sure we survived. He told me to tell you that he loved you and that he wanted to come back to you…”

You found yourself nodding, tears on your cheeks as you looked into the eyes of the man you loved in his child’s face.

“He died before I got bit,” she said. “He died thinking we had a shot. I kept her safe, though. She was safe…”

“You did good,” you said, throat tight. “You really did…”

“I need your help,” she said before taking a deep breath.

“Course,” you nodded, tearing your eyes away from Mark’s daughter to look at her. “What…”

“I need you to take Savannah.”

You just blinked at her for a moment. “I…” you broke off, shaking your head. “What? I… no, no, I’m not who you want, I don’t…”

“I don’t have a lot of options,” she said. “I don’t have time to find another person let alone someone I know I can trust. And I know I can trust you with her. Mark loved you and you loved him, you won’t let anything happen to his child.”

“But I…” you looked back at the baby in her arms. “I don’t know anything about kids, I wouldn’t even know where to start, I don’t…”

“Please,” she said, her voice breaking. “He wanted you to take care of her. I think… I think part of him knew it would just be her. That’s why he sent me here, to you. He wanted it to be you. He trusted you and he loved you, he wanted her to be with you. Please, I’ll beg if I have to, just please take care of her. Please.”

You looked at the baby in her arms, at Mark’s eyes with the impossibly long lashes.

“OK.”

Laurel held her daughter while she told you everything. You paused her to take some notes when you thought of it, things like a recipe for formula when she refused solids and what to do when she started crying but wouldn’t stop. She told you how much her daughter loved to gnaw on bits of apple and loved to bounce in time to her father’s humming and her birthday - July 20.

She started twitching more in what felt like no time at all, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. She pressed her lips to her daughter’s forehead.

“You’ll be OK sweet girl,” she whispered to her. “You’ll be OK. Mama loves you, OK? Try to remember that for me, OK?” She looked up at you. “Will… will you tell her about me? About Mark?”

You nodded, the pinch of tears tight in your throat.

“Of course,” you said. “I’ll make sure she knows everything you did for her. She’ll know about you.”

She nodded, passing you her child. Your child.

“I’d like to do it myself,” she said, nodding to the gun at your hip. “If that’s OK.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, adjusting Savannah in your arms and handing Laurel the gun. She took it and walked backwards away from you, her eyes on her daughter. Your daughter.

“I’ll close my eyes just before,” she said once she was about 20 feet away, still looking at her baby. “Can you cover hers for me? I want to look at her as long as I can but I don’t want her to see…”

“Yeah,” you nodded again. “I can do that.”

“Thank you,” she smiled tightly, actually looking at you this time. “I… I know this isn’t what you planned but… It’s easier, knowing she has someone.”

“I’ll take care of her,” you said. “I’ll love her. I’ll take care of her.”

Laurel just nodded and looked back at her child, watching her for a moment, the gun in her shaky hand.

“Mama loves you,” she said softly, raising the gun to her temple and closing her eyes. You quickly pressed Savannah’s face into your chest and held her close.

Everything was eerily silent for a moment, the longest second of your life, before there was the crack of the gun and the sharp cry of the baby who was all you had left in the world.

August 2018

“You have learn this, Savvy.”

“I don’t want to shoot them, Mama,” your daughter looked over at you from her spot on the downed tree, looking at the infected more than 100 feet away through a scope.

“These are the easiest things you’ll ever have to shoot,” you said gently. “It’s nice to shoot them, you’re making it so they’re not hurting anymore…”

“But they’re people.”

Her eyes - her father’s eyes - were so wide. The springs of her curls were bundled back away from her face, a sprinkle of freckles across her nose.

“I know they look like people,” you ran your hand over the crown of her small head. “But they’re not, not anymore. They’re things that are hurting and the only way to help them is to shoot them. And shooting them keeps you and me safe. Now, you can do this. Do it just like you do at home with the targets.”

She looked at you, her big eyes watery, before obeying and turning back toward the gun. You watched as she lined up her shot and took a deep breath, exhaling before firing.

Her shot went a little wide, catching the infected on the arm. It whipped its head around and shrieked before running for you.

“Mama!”

“It’s alright,” you said, looking down your own rifle for a moment before firing and hitting it in the head. It dropped like a stone. “See? All OK. This is why we learn.”

“I’m sorry,” her voice was thick and trembling and you looked over at her, tears streaming down her face. “I tried hard, I promise…” she hiccuped and gulped in air and you set your rifle down and sat up before pulling her against you.

“You did so good,” you kissed the top of her head. “Don’t be sorry, Honey, you did so good, I’m so proud of you.”

“But I didn’t kill them,” she pulled her face from your chest, her lower lip quivering. “I did it wrong and…”

“You’ll get better,” you said gently. “No one is perfect when they’re learning. This is just to make sure that you’re safe. I’ll always protect you but it’s good for you to know how to protect yourself, too. This is just in case, OK?”

She nodded against you and you held her until she stopped crying. When she calmed, you ran your thumbs over her cheeks and kissed her small forehead, wishing you didn’t have to teach her these things. If you could just shelter her away from the world - from infected, from the people who has found power because of the infected - then it would all be OK. She wouldn’t need to know how to kill. It could be just you and her, growing things and raising horses and reading by the fire, until the end of time.

But the world, you knew, was not so kind.

“Want to go pick out some books?” You asked gently. She nodded and the two of you got up and you took her hand, leading her to the library.

In the more than five years you’d had Savvy, she had become your entire world. Everything you did, you did for her. To keep her safe, to make her happy, to teach her. You’d known nothing about children when Laurel brought her to you. The first night, you’d held her close while you both cried and you prayed to a god you’d never been sure existed that you would do right by her.

Loving her came easy. Living for her was harder.

But you fell into it eventually, guiding her through the world as it was now as best you could. If you found a family near your territory, you’d watch them from afar and, once you knew it was safe, bring Savvy to introduce her, give her a chance to know someone besides yourself. You taught her how to read, how to count, how to skin a rabbit. You had no idea if it was the right thing but you hoped it would be enough that, when she was older, she would survive if something happened to you. That’s all that mattered, that she would be OK.

“Mama?” She asked, setting her picture book on her legs as you browsed the shelves for more books on home schooling and small scale farming.

“Yes baby?”

“What else would I need to shoot?”

You frowned and looked down at her, your hand on the spine of a book.

“What?”

“Well, you said that the not people are the easiest things I would have to shoot,” she said, face serious. “So… what else would I have to shoot?”

“I don’t think you’ll like shooting animals much,” you said and she crinkled her nose. “But you’ll probably have to at some point.”

“But I like animals,” she pouted.

You smiled.

“I know you do.”

“What else?” She asked, still peering up at you.

You sighed.

“Sometimes…” you turned your attention back to the books. “Sometimes you’ll have to shoot a person.”

Her wide eyes somehow grew wider, a look of horror on her face.

“But…” her little voice broke. “But I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “But sometimes we have to.”

“Why?”

“Because,” you looked down to her. “There are things in this world that want to hurt you and you need to know how to hurt them first.”

“But you’re here,” she said. She was so young, so small. You knelt, getting down on her level.

“You still need to know how,” you said. “I will do everything I can to protect you but I might fail. You need to know how to destroy them before they destroy you because they will. They will destroy every part of you they can touch if they have the chance. Don’t give them the chance.”

She considered that for a moment, her face very serious.

“Does it hurt?” She asked, looking up at you.

You reached down at cupped her cheek.

“Yes,” you said quietly. “Yes, it does.”

Her eyes were wide and soft and deep and you wanted, more than anything, to keep her safe.

“But I’ll take care of you,” you said, stroking her soft skin with your thumb. “For as long as I’m alive, I’ll take care of you.”

September 15, 2023

“Mom?”

You looked up from where you were working at skinning a rabbit. There was a glow in your front window, a hold over from when Savvy was even younger and you had to leave to go check on the horses before bed. She got scared one night when she woke up and found that you weren’t in the dark cabin. Ever since, you always left the electric lantern on when you left in the evenings, even though she said she didn’t need it anymore. It was just enough to work by as the sun got lower outside.

“Yeah?”

“What…” she paused, an odd look on her face. “What’s in Gattling’s mouth?”

The dog was hovering behind Savvy’s legs and you leaned around from your position on a tree stump, trying to get a look at her. You frowned, not able to make it out in the low light, and set the rabbit and your knife down, wiping your hands on a rag tucked into your belt.

Gattling’s tail wagged as you approached, her head low and you squatted down to be on her level, angling her head toward the house so her muzzle wasn’t in shadow. Her snout was red with blood, something dangling from her jaws. You held your palm out flat.

“Gattling, release.”

She obediently dropped it in your hand with a sickening splat. It took you a moment to realize that it was a pinky finger.

“Mom?” Savvy’s voice was shaky. You dropped the finger where you stood and heard the crack of a gunshot in the distance.

“We have to move.”

You grabbed her arm and pulled her in the house, Gattling trotting close behind.

“What’s happening?” She asked, looking back over her shoulder. “Mom, what’s…”

“Get packed,” you said, grabbing a pack and thrusting at her before running to the dresser in the corner. You shrugged out of the shirt you were wearing and traded it for the one you’d worn when you fled the ranch 20 years earlier, not willing to leave Justin’s shirt behind. “Some clothes, first aid, batteries, flashlights, all three kinds of ammo, sleeping bag.”

You went to the kitchen and started grabbing things you’d already preserved. Jerky, dried fruit, some seeds. Most of the canteens in the house were full and you grabbed a few. You grabbed the pistol, the shot gun and the rifles. You set it all out on the table and looked over to your daughter who was obediently filling her pack.

“Leave room for this,” you said, taking your rifle from the pile. “Meet me by the horses as quick as you can. Turn out the lantern on your way.”

She just nodded. You sprinted for the cabin you’d turned into a stable. Nike was huffed at your arrival and you grabbed her tack and saddled her up as quickly as you could, making sure there was room to add basic supplies. Savvy ran into the pen just as you led Nike and Perseus into the middle of it.

“Long guns,” you held your hand out as you tightened down straps of the saddle. She handed you the shotgun first and you tucked it into a strap on the saddle. The rifle came next. You stepped back and looked at it for a moment.

“OK,” you said turning back to your daughter, looking her over. She’d gotten so tall, she was only a few inches shorter than you now, you didn’t even need to stoop to press a kiss to her forehead. “Want you to head north, understand?”

“What are you talking about?” She asked as you took her arm and guided her alongside the horse. “Mom, you’re coming with me, I’ll just follow you, I’ll just…”

“I’ll get to you when I can,” you said. She shook her head, her eyes wide.

“No,” she grabbed your arms. “No, you can’t, you can’t just leave me, you can’t…”

“I’m not leaving you,” you held her face in your hands, looked into her eyes. She had her father’s eyes. “I’m not, OK? I will find you. I will always find you, sweet girl, I will always protect you. That’s what I’m going to do, OK? I’m going to buy you time. Cut north, stick to the woods, off the trails. You know things here. Go out of the way, work your way around the long way to the library. Meet me there in three days, it should be safe…”

“Three days?” She gaped at you. “No, I can’t…”

“Yes you can,” you said, firm enough that you believed it, too. “Yes you can. I’ve taught you everything I know, you can make it. It’s just three days, you’ll be OK. You’re so strong and you’re so smart, you’re going to be OK. I will always find you. I will always protect you, I will always keep you safe. I promise.”

You pulled her tight to you and kissed her temple.

“I love you,” you breathed, pulling back to look at her face. “More than anything, I love you. I’ll see you soon, OK? Ride through the night, switch horses at dawn and keep riding until tomorrow night. You can do this.”

“I can do this,” she repeated. “I can do this.”

You looked to the dog at your feet, her tail wagging and her muzzle bloody.

“Gattling,” you said. Her ears perked up. “Savvy.”

She immediately went to your daughter’s side, ready to protect her.

You boosted Savvy onto the horse, taking a final look at her.

“Just three days, right Mom?”

You swallowed, hard, before nodding.

“Just three days. Be safe. Be smart. I’ll see you soon.”

You didn’t have the luxury of watching her ride away. The second her, Nike and Perseus were clear of the paddock, you ran to saddle up Hercules.

You needed to buy her time.

October 13, 2023

You were still paying for your escape.

It was hard to keep track of time. You were with Mitchum and his crew about two weeks the first time. That’s what it felt like, anyway. You were pretty sure it had been about half as long since they got you back. It was hard to tell. You were so panicked, in so much pain that time stretched and expanded and every hour that passed was an hour that you were separated from your daughter and you needed to get to her, you had to. She was just 11 years old and the world was not kind to girls. You’d taught her everything you knew but you had to get back to her, you didn’t want her to have to hurt and kill.

When you’d escaped, you’d done nothing but search for her. You went to the library, tried to track where you thought she’d have come from but it had been weeks. There was no trail left to follow. You were about to return to your cabin to check there when Mitchum’s men found you again. You still had no idea where Savvy was.

You’d promised to take care of her. You’d promised her, you’d promised the woman who had given her to you a decade earlier. You’d promised.

You had to get back to her.

They’d chained you to a wall this time but you thought you might be able to pull the bolt out of the wood if you worked at it diligently enough. You pried at it until your nails were bloody and you kept going. You were covered in blood already, anyway. It was sticky on your skin where it had flowed from the cut on your head where your face had been slammed into the floor as one of Mitchum’s men had taken you from behind while you were on your knees. It had been a steady drip from inside of you since the first time Mitchum forced himself on you when you were brought back, whatever injury there was not given time to heal. The raiders seemed to like it when you bled on them. It even coated part of your arm where one man had cut you when trying to control you, not happy with your lack of compliance as he hurt you. A little more as you tried to pry yourself free wasn’t going to draw attention.

The door slammed into the wall without warning and you jumped, shocking back from the wall. The man standing there smirked, stalking over to you.

“Getting ideas are we?” He sneered. He didn’t wait for a response. “Thought you’d have learned your fuckin’ lesson last time…”

He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the cuff that held you before pulling you roughly to your feet. He didn’t give you any clothes, he just pulled you, naked, out to the circle of men around a campfire. Your heart sped up, tried to count them. You weren’t sure you could survive being at the mercy of the more than two dozen who were here, not at one time. He threw you into the dirt and you caught yourself on your hands and knees.

“Here’s my favorite little bitch,” Mitchum stalked forward. You sat back on your heels and crossed your arms over your chest, trying to protect what you could. “How have you liked being back home? We keepin’ you entertained?”

A few of the men laughed. You swallowed and peered around, hoping for something you could take advantage of, just one open space, one unguarded moment and you could escape. For good this time. You could do that, you could escape and figure out where you were and then find Savvy.

“Figured out what you were hidin’ back in that homestead of yours,” Mitchum said, a smirk on his voice. You looked at him, eyes wide. Your stomach dropped and he laughed. “Didn’t think you’d like that. Can see why you were workin’ so hard now, she sure was a pretty little thing.”

“Fuck you,” you spat.

He laughed.

“That can be arranged,” he said. “Fucked that girl of yours, too. Broke her in real good…”

You were on your feet before you fully realized what you were doing, running for him. You grabbed at his face, snarling and grasping as you sank your bloody nails into his skin. You dug deep and he punched you in the stomach as one of his men pulled you back, forcing you to the ground.

“I’ll kill you!” You shrieked. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

He stalked forward and punched you across the face before grabbing a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look at him. You felt blood on your teeth and you wished it was his. You wanted to rip his throat out like an animal, wanted to claw and bite at him until he succumbed.

“I wanted to keep the both of you,” he said, holding your hair tight in his fist, fingers against your scalp. “Figured you’d be a lot more fun with her life on the line. Too bad she couldn’t take it.”

The world tilted on its axis. You hadn’t eaten in days but you still felt like you were going to be sick, like everything inside of you, the blood and the viscera that made you a living being, was going to come up.

“Oh yeah,” he smirked. “Should’ve probably been more careful with her but it was just so much fun to hear her beg for her mama…”

“You’re a liar,” you hissed through clenched teeth. “A fucking liar!”

He kept his eyes on you and he whistled before forcing you to look at the fire. Two men stepped forward, each carrying burlap sacks. One was much larger than the other.

“Show ‘er.”

The first man, the one with the large bag, turned it over. A horse head fell out of the sack, landing on the dirt with a wet thud. It took you a second to recognize her, separate from her body, but it was Nike. You screamed, the sound clawing its way up from your chest and you instinctively reached for her only to have Mitchum rip you back by your hair.

“Wanna see what’s in the other bag?” He pressed his mouth against your ear as you sobbed. “Decided to keep her head, thought I should pass it around, see if it’s as good cold…”

You strained in his hold, trying to shake your head. You couldn’t get yourself to form words. There was the distinct feeling that someone was cracking you open, prying apart your chest and pulling your organs out one by one. They didn’t belong to you anymore. You weren’t sure they ever really had, they were hers and she was gone.

You couldn’t see her like that, see just her head, like she had only ever been parts and pieces to begin with.

“Please,” you managed through the gasping, racking sobs. “Please, please, no, I’ll do whatever you want, whatever…”

Mitchum smiled.

“Good.”

The pain of the brand barely registered in your mind, even as your body jerked with it. Everything seemed dulled and numbed. Time slowed and stretched and, for a while, the only thing that your body seemed to have space for was the agonizing pain of losing something you were never built to lose.

It was a year before there was room for anything else.

Early April, 2027

“Bambi…”

“Move, Joel.”

You shoved past him. You’d need a sleeping bag, two sleeping bags, actually. An extra pair of boots, she probably didn’t have those. She’d have out grown the last ones she had, she would be 14 now, she’d be even taller, have bigger feet, longer legs. They didn’t give you clothes when you were with them, you doubted it was different for her.

First aid, that you’d need.

“You can’t do this, Baby,” he was following close behind you.

“Yes, I can.”

“You’re gonna get yourself fucking killed,” there was a strain in his voice. “Who knows what you’ll be walking into out there, how many there’ll be, how armed they’ll fuckin’ be, what they’ll do to you if they get your hands on you…”

“I have to try.”

You didn’t have a gun here. You’d have to get one, you were pretty sure Maria would give you one if you told her why you needed it.

“Just…” Joel sounded desperate. “Just wait, until after the storm, just wait, I’ll go with you, we’ll look, we’ll…”

“It’ll be too late,” you shook your head. “Someone got out, as soon as the weather clears they’re gonna move and we’ll lose them, it has to be now.”

“Have you seen how shit’s pickin’ up out there?” He came around in front of you, taking you by the shoulders. “Baby, the wind is gonna knock you off your damn horse, you can’t help her if you’re dead, please, I’m begging you, please…”

“What would you do?” You asked. “If it was Sarah, if it was Ellie. Would you sit here and wait? Or would you go get her?”

He froze, looking at you.

Your knife. You’d need your knife. You went to get it but Joel stopped you, his hand on your elbow.

“Bambi,” he said quietly. “You can’t know that it’s her.”

“It could be,” you said. “Joel…”

“It’s been years,” he whispered. “Baby, it’s been years, there’s… I’m so sorry but she’s… They wouldn’t have let her live this long, she couldn’t have survived this long, she’s gone, I’m so sorry…”

You shook your head. You had that feeling again, like the one you had that day around the fire when Mitchum had told you he’d killed her, the feeling that your whole self was being ripped apart.

But you’d never seen that she was gone. You never held her body, never saw the life leave her eyes. You didn’t know that she was gone. She could be alive. She could.

“You don’t know that,” you said, your voice thick. “You don’t…”

“You barley survived,” he said softly. “You, the strongest fucking person I know and you damn near died. A teenager couldn’t have survived that, Baby, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry and…”

“No,” you snapped, swallowing back your tears. “You don’t know, you don’t know them like I do…”

“I do,” he cut you off. “Sweetheart, I am begging you, stay here. Please. Don’t get yourself killed, if it’s her we will find her as soon as it’s safe…”

“You don’t know!” You pushed him back. He was costing you time, time you didn’t have. Savvy was out there, she was out there alone and afraid and you were going to find her. “Let me go, Joel. I know them, you don’t understand them, you can’t understand them…”

“I understand them because I used to be one of them!”

You froze. He was watching you, his eyes wide and desperate as he panted for breath. Your heart was pounding, there was a high pitched whine in your ears, something like a siren or when you first came to Jackson and could hear the electricity in the walls.

“What?” You whispered, suddenly keenly aware of how close he was to you, of his hand on you. You could feel the outline of his fingers, each individual callus distinct against your skin.

“I used to be one,” he said softly. “A… a raider, I used to be one. It was a long time ago but I know how they think, I know how they operate and… I’m sorry but if they’ve had her for three and a half years? She’s gone, Sweetheart. There’s nothing left for you to save…”

You thought Joel was still talking but you couldn’t hear him. It was like you’d just jumped into deep water, the cold of it shocking and painful and the rush of it drowning out everything you knew. You couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe, could barely see.

Joel. Your Joel, the person you trusted more than any other, was a raider. He was like them, like the men who had torn you away from your daughter, who had raped you, who had tortured you, who now might be doing the same to your child right now and Joel knew them because he was like them because he had done those things, too.

“Don’t touch me.”

You were suddenly in your body again, out of that deep dark water and back in your house. Joel’s hands were on you and it was like they were on fire, you could feel it through your skin into your muscle, your bone, down into the marrow of you it hurt where his hands were on you.

“Baby,” he said gently and you forced yourself to look at his face. You couldn’t breathe. You’d kissed him, told him things you’d never told anyone, all but begged him to touch you and he was just like them.

“Don’t touch me!” You screamed it and he ripped his hands away like you’d burned him. You could breathe again and gulped in air, reaching for the back of your couch. You needed something to keep you standing, you felt like you were going to collapse or throw up. Joel’s hands were up, like he was waiting to catch you if you fell. “Don’t touch me, don’t you fucking touch me!”

“You’re OK,” he said, keeping his hands off of you but stepping closer. “I’ve got you, you’re OK…”

“Get away from me!” You backed away from him, looking for the best way out of here. You had to get away from him, he wasn’t safe, he was just like them and you had to get away from him, you couldn’t be anywhere near him. “Get away!”

You said it again and again and again and you kept backing away from him until you were pressed against the wall. Joel stayed where he was and, when you were able to look at him again, it looked like he was in pain.

“I’m away,” he said softly, his hands up. “Not gonna touch you, Sweetheart…”

“Don’t call me that,” you were sobbing and you weren’t sure when you’d started.

“What?” He whispered.

“Don’t fucking call me that!” You bit out, staying back against the wall. He was so big, he could overpower you, he could hurt you, it would be easy for him. “Don’t call me that, not when you’re like them, you’re just like them, I trusted you and you’re just like them…”

“No,” he shook his head, voice thick. He closed the gap between you quickly and you shocked back from him but he didn’t seem to notice, taking you in his arms and clutching onto you. But his touch made your skin crawl, everywhere his body was against your own screaming in panic. “No, not like that, I never… I never did what they did to you, Sweetheart, please, you have to believe me, I never did that, never. I just…”

“I trusted you!” You sobbed, your legs collapsing from beneath you. Joel clung to you, keeping you from falling to the floor, but you hated his hands on you, suddenly feeling like hands you’d hated so much. You twisted and fought to get away but he just held onto you. “I trusted you, you made me love you, I let you inside of me and you’re like them, you’re just like them…”

“I’m sorry, Baby,” his voice was thick and wet. “I’m so sorry, I wish I could take it back, wish I could change it…”

You managed to firmly plant your feet on the ground and you shoved against his broad, firm chest, desperate for distance from him.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

He let you go and you scrambled back from him, fighting to breathe. He was looking at you, tears in his eyes.

“Baby, please,” he whispered. “Please just… let me take care of you, I understand what…”

“I don’t want anything to do with you,” your voice shook.

“Bambi…”

“Get out,” you managed.

He said your name. Your real name.

“Get out!” You screamed, so loud and harsh you felt it ripping out of you. “Get out of here, get away from me, get out!”

“I’ll go!” He kept his hands up. “Just gotta promise me…”

“I don’t gotta do shit for you,” you shook your head.

“Promise me you won’t do anything that will get you hurt,” he said softly, He was crying, too. “Please, I’m begging you, I’ll do whatever you want just promise….”

“I won’t, now get out!” You yelled. “Get out, get away from me!”

“I’m going,” he said quickly. “Please… Please, be safe, please.”

You watched as he made his way to your door but he stopped and looked back at you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For… for all of it, I’m so sorry.”

He closed the door behind him and you collapsed to the ground and sobbed, clutching onto yourself like it was going to keep your body intact but it still felt like you were going to shatter into a million pieces and there would be no one to help put you together again.

You weren’t sure how long you were there on the floor but, eventually, you were able to make yourself move again.

You thought of Savvy, of your daughter, of where she might be, of how you’d promised to keep her safe. You got up off the floor, body numb, and grabbed your pack before going out into the snow.

Next Chapter

A/N: Alright, yell at me. I'm ready for it.

There's a lot in this chapter, I know. It's long, it's rough, it's been coming for a while. We first got a hint of Savvy in chapter 4 when Bambi thought about Joel's possible relationship to Ellie and she's been hinted at regularly since. She's why Bambi knew to use ginger to help William's teething, she's why Bambi was specifically grateful to have another adult around when Marisa showed up, she's why Bambi keeps searching every time there's even a hint of raider activity.

And after everything she's been through, she can't just blindly accept Joel's past, that's way WAY too much for anyone who's survived what she has to bear.

I hope this didn't come completely out of the blue and I hope you're still up for reading more of this story. I hope it'll be worth it in the end. I think it will be.

Thank you for being here. This is a story that I feel like deserves to be told, even the dark parts of it, and I'm so thankful you're along for the ride. 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

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc

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netherfeildren · 7 months

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter VII : Hysminai

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: Hello tin can man nation, happy Mando Monday and one million billion trillion apologies that it’s taken me a whole goddamn month to update. This has literally never happened to me with any of my stories before, and quite frankly, it feels terrible! All I can say is that like I said in my last note, after this the story changes drastically, and I was having a difficult time crossing the bridge between how we were and how we will be (oh I sounded so philosophical, are you impressed?) I needed to figure out how it was they’d be feeling in the in-between sort of place they’re at in this chapter. Apparently, that took me a whole month to do, sometimes I think I need to get a grip or something idk.

Anyways, more canon divergence more timeline divergence. so yes, that’s all. Here it is — it’s a little idk — idk how I feel about the chapter after all that, but it is what it is, so tell me what you think!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.0K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VII : HYSMINAI

Where does unbelief begin?

Anne Carson, Glass, Irony and God

“My fucking back hurts,” he groans, flopping down on top of you. Dirty and sweaty and a little stinky from his unsuccessful hunt today, you push your hands up beneath his shirt, pulling it out from where it’s tucked in his pants to get at his skin, wrapping your legs around the tapered expanse of his strong waist.

A soft whine, as if he thinks he should argue or tell you no but can’t bring himself to. “I’m sweaty,” and then like a confession, or something frightening and shameful, “And tired, and I’m getting old,” he whispers, heavy helmet digging into the crook of your shoulder, crushing your collar bone.

“My poor baby,” you croon at him, one palm stroking the slope of his spine, the other digging beneath the layers of fabric around his neck to get at his tender nape. “You just need a bath, some rest, something to eat. It’ll all be okay after that.” And he groans, great beast that he is, rumbling through the modulator and rolling the curve of the helmet over your shoulder. You press the tips of your fingers into the thick slats of muscles along his spine, feel him jerk at a particularly sore spot, and then melt once you begin to soothe the hurt away gently. His bones seem to sag into you, the entire tremendous weight of him pressing you into the blankets until you feel like you can barely breathe. He’s a huge mass of sweltering, sweaty man, worked into exhaustion.

To say that it had been difficult convincing him you’d be fine left on the Crest so that he could go out and hunt the bounty you’d come to Yavin 4 to retrieve, would be putting it lightly. First, he’d said you’d be coming with him, and you’d watched, patient and silent, as he’d worked himself into a knot, pacing back and forth, muttering to himself as he talked himself in and out of bringing you along several times over before he’d landed on the decision that no, you could absolutely not come out on a hunt with him – too dangerous. And so, okay, sure, whatever you say, Din. Now come sit and have some soup, and he’d grumbled and huffed and puffed the entire time while you’d stroked all the bare skin you could get at, trussed up in the armor as he was, soothing him back into calm. But then he’d come up with the brilliant plan that you’d simply return to Nevarro, jumping up to pace once again, and he’d tell Karga that he’d be unable to acquire the remaining bounties, return the pucks, and wash his hands of the Guild entirely. That idea had lasted a total of thirty seconds before you’d helpfully pointed out that the two of you still needed credits to live, fuel for the ship, food and supplies. Somehow, it seemed the practical necessity of money had slipped his mind in the midst of his stress. However, eventually, in the gentlest and most placating voice you could muster, you’d bade him to come sit with you, and crouching at your feet while you perched on your stool, fingers pressed to the tee of his vizor you’d told him that you’d learned your lesson, you weren’t going to be caught unawares again, and that he couldn’t abandon his work and his Guild because of what happened. Something about the words had felt, not necessarily like a lie, but like a falsity. There was something frightened and aware within you now. And you didn’t want to examine it closely enough to categorize it for what it truly was yet, but you knew it was there, that it’d been woken and stirred to restlessness with the appearance of the Thalassians and all they’d had to tell you about the whispers of you circulating the Outer Rim.

And worst of all, you hadn’t told him anything of what they’d said. You hadn’t told him of the claim that there were rumors of the two of you, knowledge of what you are being passed between scheming mouths with cruel intentions. You didn’t want to worry him, you didn’t want to distract him from his work. The thought of him going out there to face unknown dangers while he left his mind here on the ship with you, worrying and fretting and not watching out for himself the way he needed to, with full attention – well, it just wasn’t a possibility. And anyways, you told yourself, liar, liar, liar, you could handle anything else that came your way. You could handle your own worry and your own fear and your own raging thoughts, what you could not handle, and this you knew with absolute certainty, was his worry and his fear. You needed him to be calm, focused, well and happy. Nothing else really mattered besides that, especially not you.

He pulls you forward, pulling your wrists to wrap around his neck, needy, needy Mandalorian, “I’m sorry. I’m just–” a gruff sound of frustration, “Just worried.” Sometimes you think he’s the one with the ability to read minds, not you. “I’m taking you somewhere,” he says into the crook, “Once we’re done with this one.”

We. Always a we now. There is such togetherness here and now, between the two of you,

“Where?” And it’s a funny thing, always existing in the dark with him now, and you hadn’t thought about it or looked at it closely enough up until someone else, someone bad, had stepped into this comforting darkness the two of you had settled into with each other, made you realize that that's what you’ve been doing, living in the dark again. But now it’s everywhere, glaring and demanding your attention, and you can’t understand how it is that you ended up here again, a different sort of dark, surely, but still the same thing constructed in an altered form, nonetheless. Or perhaps, how or why it is that you’ve pulled him, someone that burns like a flame on their own, into your shadow. And you’ve watched him, and you know him now, so surely it must be that a man such as he could never be pulled or taken or turned into anything he didn't choose for himself because watching him is like watching a man be a god, and for a girl who’d been told all her life she was a god herself while she sat in the place of slave, it is exciting and erotic and so many things. But it is also confusing.

And there are locked rooms inside of you: lust, grief, apathy. You would like to take a hammer to them all, but it seems that, perhaps, Din is the one taking that hammer to those doors and obliterating them for you. That help you’d always been so afraid of, he’s there to give it to you, and so the easy answer, the right answer, would seem to be for you to take that help… no? To accept what he gives you in whatever way he thinks is best because he only wants what is good for you, to help, to soften, to make things easier for you. To remove that interminable struggle you’ve found yourself in for so long, for your whole life.

Sometimes it feels like I haven’t been happy my whole life. But I know I feel it with you.

“It’s a surprise.” Another reminder of happiness.

It only takes him one more outing on Yavin 4, before he returns with the bounty slung over his broad shoulder. Grunts and curses as he wrestles with the heavy weight of it, stuffing it into the carbon freezer. His hair is getting too long, the rich curls peeking out beneath the lip of his helmet in the back, and the sight of them does something strange to you. A small thing like a vulnerability, a reminder that he’s only a man, only human beneath all of that beskar. That thing of fear that’s been roiling inside of you thumps and thumps and thumps, and you try and swallow it and push it down, kill it if you must, but it will not be silenced or settled. As he passes you on his way to the ladder you stop him with a small hand on his chest plate, small and seemingly insignificant in comparison to the great breadth of him – you’ve always liked that, the way that if no one knew you for what you really are, in comparison to his size and strength they’d never take you for the more dangerous one. There’s something comforting in that. You reach up to tuck the soft curls back beneath his helmet, you wish you could reach up to press a kiss to his mouth also. “Hair’s getting long,” you tell him instead. But again, he’d been distracted, worried, forgetting the small things he needed, forgetting to take care of himself. You can’t help the feeling of guilt this brings on, but then he’s gripping you around the waist and pulling you up towards himself, pressing the round of his helmet against your cheek, a hard metallic nuzzle, basically carrying you up the ladder to the cockpit with him, and you’re forced to abandon your guilt and worries for the moment.

After a maintenance stop in Mos Eisley on the planet of Tatooine, he takes you to the terrestrial ice planet of Maldo Kreis where he tells you he’d once crash landed and come upon, believe it or not, hot springs. Nestled deep into a system of caves that run below the surface of the planet, there live a collection of hot baths. He said that the caves weren’t entirely without their threats, but that if one was careful, the baths he’d found were enough of a desolate little pocket of space that he could relax without fear of discovery.

You’d told him that you loved water, and so he’d brought you to water he could share with you.

You watch the broad line of his shoulders as he lumbers through the icy snow, he’d wrapped you in all your layers and one of his thick capes over your own cloak so that he was sure you were as warm as possible during the short trek from the toasty interior of the Razor Crest to the cave he was familiar with. He pulls you along behind him, blaster in one hand, your fingers gripped tightly in the other, his tactical light swinging in a slow arc from side to side as the two of you make your careful progression through the dark, near silent caves. Nothing but your short, excited panting, the hollow crack of the all encompassing ice around the two of you, and his low murmurs to watch your step here and careful, cyare and step where I step; ever careful and ever cautious with you. And the cave, when he steps into the high domed cavern, the great echo of the drip, drip, dripping of the ice above melting in the rising steam, and the sight of the baths, like nothing you could have ever imagined. Nothing like the ones on Carosi XII you used to visit in your youth in the moments you found to sneak away. The bath is large, about six by ten meters in diameter and it glows. Suffused by some sort of bioluminescent light at the heart of its basin, some sort of unearthly blue light shining up from its core to alight the cavern and refract against the ice glittered walls. You stand there shocked for a moment, eyes slowly roving the large space, small and shivering and maybe even a little terrified, beside a man that on the surface would seem to the unknowing eye to be just as hard and just as frigid. “Do you like it, cyar’ika? Did I do well?” He asks you in a soft voice that holds something like boyish shyness, vulnerable uncertainty. You squeeze his arm tight, hugging it to your chest and squishing your cheek against the ice cold pauldron, burning the fine skin there.

“Oh, Din,” you look up at him with that thing you can’t say out loud, but that you’re so entirely full of for him, “It’s so beautiful – let’s get in please. Is it safe? Please, let’s get in.” He makes an indulgent noise in his throat, extracting his arm from your tight hold to wrap it around your shoulders and urge you forward gently.

“You get in. This is for you, little one.” And you want to argue, to say that it’s not the same without him, that it’s not worth it without him, but the water looks so lovely and warm and an azure so pure and crystalline it looks as though you’d be stepping into the heart of a diamond. He pulls his own cloak from around his shoulders and lays it on the snowy floor of the cave for you to stand on as he removes your clothes in quick, efficient movements, somehow keeping you wrapped in the layers of your own cloak and his extra cape he’d tucked you into so that you’re never entirely bared to the frigid air of the cave until he’s gently wrapping one large, gloved hand around your forearm, the other clasped at your waist to help you step into the warm bath. And that first moment of contact, submerging the tips of your toes in to your calves, knees, thighs, your hips and belly and finally your breasts, that first moment almost hurts, the shocking change from sharp cold to soothing heat burns, your skin going too tight stretched over your bones and then loose and relaxed, all strength seeming to seep from your muscles so that you’re sagging into the pool weakly with an airy moan. You float slowly out into the middle and then suddenly, remembering the most important part of the scene, you turn back to look at him, but he's still at the edge of the pool, slowly going to a crouch on his knees to watch you. He isn’t going to come in, and you try and swallow your disappointment, letting yourself sink down to the bottom, squeezing your eyes shut tightly so that all that remains is the blue glow of the pool’s luminescence. Your bare bottom settles at the base, the rocks hot against your skin, and wait there a moment, feeling as though your at the heart of a womb, nothing but a thought at the start of your life, and then pushing yourself back up, breaking the surface with a gasp, pushing the sluicing water out of your eyes, your lashes seeming to crackle and freeze at the contact with the frigid air once again. When you turn back to look at him with a wide smile, he’s slowly shaking his head at you, pissed off sound rumbling through the modulator at you staying below the surface for so long.

You let yourself sink down until only your eyes remain above water. Stretching your toes to skim the bottom of the warm rocks at the base of the pool, and you watch him watch you, that intensity of his, so powerful it spears his visor, suffuses your entire body, moving through your limbs like electricity and pooling at the tips of your fingers and toes. You know he can see the distorted shimmer of your naked body beneath the surface of the water, the tips of your breasts, the line of your belly down to the apex of your thighs, your hair floats away from you in ghostlike fingers, as if they were reaching towards him. You suck in a tiny bit of the slightly brackish water, hold it on your tongue, and when you let your mouth break the surface you spit it towards him in a crystalline arc. “The water’s so lovely. Come hold me,” you flirt at him. He’s crouched at the edge of the pool like some metallic sentinel, entirely still, frozen in time and space. You’ll remember him like this always, you think, silent and riveted only on you. That silence of his that sometimes says so much, echoes in your mind like a shout. The helmet cocks slowly to one side, entirely predatory, and if you hadn’t come to know him as well as you have, you’d worry for a moment that he’d seem entirely unaffected, but you can make out the tiight grip of his fingers around the cap of his bent knee. The restraint in the lines of his limbs he holds himself with, and the tips of your breasts go tight and aching at the display of want, subtle and silent as it is. The stillness and the silence, he uses it as a weapon when he likes, and sometimes they hold him in reserve, but other times, they tell you so much. “Please, come join me. I won’t look. I’ll be good,” you whisper, mouth just above the surface of the water, and slowly start to tread closer to him. “I promise.”

The hand over his knee tightens, and he makes a pained, frustrated sound, spit through the modulator. He looks around the cave again, visor slowly scanning the dark crevices and passageways, and you know he’s scanning once more for heat signatures. “Turn around,” he says quietly, vizor finally coming back to you. You obey silently, treading water to the far end of the pool, as far from him as you can go, giving him space and time and privacy to divest himself of the protections of his Creed. Protections he’s ridding himself of for you. You reach the stone ledge on the opposite side of the hot spring and rest there, arms crossed over the edge and chin propped on your folded wrists, and you close your eyes and listen to the sound of him giving himself to you, the disengaging of the magnetics that hold his armor together, the hollow drop of a pauldron, another, chest plate, vambraces, the thigh and shin guards. Then the heavier thud of his helmet, and the sound of his naked sigh, your heart drops into your stomach. You bring your face down into the cove of your folded arms, hiding away, heart racing as fast as a small, hunted creature. Your water warmed arms and neck are steaming in the frozen chill of the surrounding cave, but your lower half is enveloped in all of the sensual heat of the pool. The warring sensations shiver through you, up and down the length of your spine like electricity, the back of your neck prickling and breaking out into gooseflesh. Your entire frame trembles in anticipation, everything inside going tight and hot as a flash fire, and then loose and shaky, wet and molten. You hear the rustle of clothing, his softly pained grunt and sigh from what must be him bending to shuck his boots and pants, his back hurts, and then the splash of disturbed water and a different sort of groan, one of pleasure as he submerges his sore body in all the heat of the pool. You can’t help the almost silent answering whimper that claws its way up your throat, he calls to you so strongly always, that string from rib bone to spine that you’re terrified of being without one day. Terrified of the sort of lost you’ll become if it were to ever be severed. His movements go still suddenly, all sound seeming to cut off from one moment to the next, a pressurized sort of silence so immediately jarring that for a single second of panic you’re tempted to turn around to make sure he’s still there, but then: the whisper soft pressure of a single finger dragging straight down the line of your spine. His hand unfurling to spread entirely at the small of your back, pressing you hard against the stone wall of the pool. The facade is jagged, but warmed by the volcanic heat source deep within the core of the planet, and the incongruous sensations have you breathing out a whimpered moan. “Hi,” he presses a kiss to the ball of your shoulder, the top of his dark head flashes in your peripheral vision and you snap your eyes shut quickly, and then the press of his long, hot body all along your back. His chest, his groin and the already hard cock there, the rounds of his knees at the backs of yours. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you away with him, lets your bodies float out into the middle of the pool. The heat is more concentrated here, as if the pool possessed its very own beating heart, warming the rest of its body, and the two of you float there, quiet, with him wrapped around you like this, the soft press of his plush mouth every once in a while, and the deep hums and rumbly sounds of his relaxed contentment. You lay your head back on his shoulder and sit in the quiet risk of this with him, but everything is so well and so peaceful that you let your mind close away that worry and that fear and that door that’d been opened inside your mind, just for now. The galaxy is exceptionally still, here in this place with him.

“You’re happy,” he reads your mind all the time now and amongst all the risk that surrounds the two of you, nothing bests that. “I did good. You’re happy.”

“You’re perfect,” you say in return, turning your face into his throat, hiding yourself away in his skin.

“Tell me something else that makes you happy,” he says, and a furious flush of heat floods your face, you, you want to say, you make me happier than anything, a swift frantic throbbing starting up at your throat, wrists, the backs of your knees.

But you hold your tongue, think of another thing you’d once thought you couldn’t live without. “My blade, I think,” you say slowly. “I told you once that I, perhaps, should not have made another lightsaber.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know if I deserve it anymore. But… she’s beautiful and unique and comforting. And I wanted one. I wanted to be the bearer of a lightsaber, and so I forewent what I thought I should do, and did only what I wanted to at the time.”

“And now? Do you still think you don’t deserve it?” His voice is gentle and tentative, and you’re sure he knows these questions will only aggravate old wounds. But there is also a part of you that wants him to know anyway. Amongst all the things within you that you’d like to keep from him forever, there are others which you’d like him to understand about you, as well. Things no one else has ever or will ever know.

“Yes, maybe more than ever.”

An admonishing click of his tongue. You know there are certain things you believe about yourself that he doesn’t agree with, you can sense it within him, and it’s the greatest gift he constantly gives you, the benefit of his doubt. “What else do you want?”

You lift your head from its hiding place in his neck, chew on the thought, peek down at his bare arms wrapped around your middle. Something about seeing them so out in the open, water strewn, the soft dark hair covering the golden brown skin and sinewy muscle feels like breaking a rule. You hold your palm hovering just beneath the surface of the water, let the tips of your fingers break the glass-like edge, the glowing light that burns beneath the rockbase of the pool suffuses between them,“Absolution, perhaps.” You.

“From what?”

“Everything.”

“From who?” You have no answer for that – a moment of shocked speechlessness. The entire galaxy. Him, above all, him. “Because you aren’t going to get it from me,” voice grave and sad and serious, gentle, as if he’s telling a very young child a very big thing. “I have nothing to absolve you of, and so I cannot give it to you.” A lie he does not know is a lie.

I know, you breathe in the smallest voice you can. As if the quiet will prevent the words from going out into the world. Acknowledgement breathes life into a thing, and you do not, cannot, acknowledge this truth. That you have started to fear that even if he knew the truth of it all, that it would still not satiate your guilt, silence it. That, most terrifying of terrifying truths, you fear you are the only one who can give that to yourself. You wish, very badly indeed, that you had the courage to tell him the whole of it, every bad or terrible thing, the worst thing, that you could be yourself entirely. You want to ask him how he finds the courage to be so brave and so mighty all the time? You would like to say: This is me at my best. I am asking you to endure it. I know it is selfish, but it’s what I’d like anyway.

The sight of the heavy end of the Thalassian’s stick hurtling towards you flashes in your mind, the sound of your bone crunching beneath the weight. Years and years of beatings and darkness and horror. You shut your eyes to it, focus on the sound of his breaths, the drip of water, the luminescence of the pool’s hot stones glowing through the thin membrane of your eyelids, the electric blue seeping into your corneas.

“What are you afraid of?” You ask instead. You suspect that the answer to your own courage does not necessarily lie with him, and so you alter the framing, cast it in a more revealing light. “What sorts of things worry you?”

He thinks on it for a moment, lets his arms slip from around you to tread water, and then stillness, the sound of him cupping little pools in his palms and letting them trickle back into the bath. “I’m getting older. I worry about the day I realize I’m weaker, slower. What that’ll do to me, what it’ll feel like – to realize the tool… weapon, I’ve relied on for so long is failing me, my own body.”

“You’re not that old,” you laugh lightly, “Only the disposition of an old man.” He bumps his spine into yours, turned to face away from you now.

“Brat.” You love this game of questions. Your favorite of all the games you play together.

“If you can look into my mind,” he says slowly, “Could you also erase my memories?” Your stomach churns with the change in direction.

“Perhaps. I… I’m not sure – I’ve never tried to do that.” You hum in nervous consideration, “I could rework them, maybe, change them. But it would be difficult to pick and choose without running the risk of wiping a mind completely, I would think.”

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense.” He’s quiet for a moment, and you listen to the rustle of the water, the lapping of his movement slicking up against your naked back. “What am I thinking about right now?” He asks suddenly, and a flush of angry heat sizzles across your face.

“Don’t ask me those things. It’s not a game, Din.” A hypocrite in your own mind.

Another silent pause, and you can hear a smile in his voice that forces your annoyance away. “Play with me anyways,” and he bumps his back into yours again, then turns to pull you to his chest once more, drags you slowly bobbing through the water to the far end of the pool to rest on the ledge there.

The two of you sit there back to back, and you wrap your arms around your bent knees, resting your chin against the dome of your joint and close your eyes. All of these games… But you let the Force wrap around the both of you slowly, a bubble made entirely of yourself, let it slink around him, snake up his ankle to his knee. Another up the curve of his back and over the hill of his shoulder, up the column of his neck and over his face, your power licking and tasting as it goes, feeding off of him. You listen to him gasp and can’t help but smile a little. You feel him everywhere, always, you wish – hope, he feels you like this always too. And then in, gentle as possible, like piercing the thin, delicate membrane of a piece of fruit skin, a transparent membrane, and it’s like you’re running your fingers over the contours of his present thought, held just there, tasting it off the tip of his tongue: it’s you. He’s thinking of you, and the sight of yourself within the space of his mind is jarring like a snapping bone, ragged edges of white ivory, blood red marrow. You want to jerk away immediately at the sight of yourself, but you pause, take in the sight of yourself asleep earlier on the Crest. He’d woken before you, and you’re naked and vulnerable, cheek smushed against your folded hands, hair a bedraggled mess. He drags the pad of his thumb over the swell of your breast, feels the smoothness of your skin, leans forward and crowns a fading bruise along the slope of your shoulder with a kiss by the same mouth that had placed it there earlier. You can almost taste the scent of yourself on his tongue, and you smell like him, like you belong to him. The thought that you do, that you’re his follows, charges in on the tail end of your mingled scent. Ownership so pure, so intrinsic over another being should seem wrong, no? But it’s merely fact here, as he looks upon you. And he lo–

You pull yourself back, blinking away furious, overwhelmed, distraught tears. Tears of exaltation and such grief. This is how he sees me, you think. I am beautiful and good in his eyes. Perhaps, the greatest lie you’ve ever made him believe.

The Thalassian crone’s voice cracks in your mind, worth nothing more than an invisible and illusory thing, The Force. He doesn’t see it yet, he still believes in the game, but fate is about to best the both of you, you’re certain of it. And you feel so fucking angry at the thought, at the reminder and memory. So frustrated that they’d found you, that they’d pierced the bubble of happiness the two of you had secluded yourselves in these past weeks together, that you were letting them disrupt it. That you couldn’t let go of the past.

“What do you see, cyar’ika?” His voice is gentler than the water.

“Me.” Your tears salt the pool.

“That’s you,” he whispers, reaches back to grasp your hip. And you want to argue, to make him see the fallacy for what it is, but it’s such a lovely lie. You can’t bring yourself to ruin the dream. A sob breaks in your throat, spills out, and he turns in the water, hugs your back to himself. His face is right there, so close, out in the open. You can almost touch the dream. “Don’t cry, little one. I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry–” you gasp, press a hand over your mouth, swallow the horrible outpour back down.

“I’ve never resented my Creed more than I do right now.” He says it through clenched teeth, as if he knows he shouldn’t. “Not being able to look at your face, not being able to have you see me, to kiss you – I want to kiss you so badly.” Your heart drops down into your stomach.

“Don’t. Don’t – you can’t. You don’t want that.”

He’s silent for a moment, stiff, and then slowly: “Why not?”

How to be honest without splitting yourself open? “You can’t give that to me, Din. I don’t– I don’t deserve it,” your voice ends on a shamed whisper. The idea of him trusting you with that last, most important thing, the sight of his face. It could never happen. Never.

“So many things you think you don’t deserve… It’s my choice, isn’t it?”

“It would be the wrong choice.”

“I’ve never done it, you know? No one has seen my face since I was a boy. The night you told me we ran the risk of you seeing me in my memory– sometimes I feel like I can’t even remember it myself. Like that isn’t even a possibility because the memory doesn’t exist. Like the face I occasionally glance at in the mirror isn’t actually me.” You could understand this so well, the phenomena of being wholly unrecognizable to yourself, and it was moments like these, when he said something that reminded you so entirely of yourself, that showed you how alike the two of you were in certain ways, that frightened you more than anything. That brought that keen sense of knowing into awareness. That made you awake to that thing you felt for him that you could not yet name or acknowledge. Acknowledging a thing brought it to life, after all. He presses another kiss over the bruise, intensifies it further with a pull of his mouth. “I never want anyone to know something about me that you don’t know. If I were ever to give it to anyone, it’d be to you.” As if he’s the one who possesses the power to read minds, not you, and you're pressing your hand over your eyes and turning in his embrace, blindly, madly shoving your face towards his and stumbling for his mouth. He grasps you around the waist, another hand to your jaw, squeezing so tight your bones feel set to burst, and with a snarl, he kisses you. Blindly, madly, like everything else this thing between the two of you has been, so full of risk. Your name in his mouth is a savage thing full of sharp teeth and want and violence, and you breathe a warbled moan into him as he pulls you further onto his lap so that you’re straddling him, aching cunt nestled against his hardness. “I never want anyone to know something about me that you don’t know,” he breathes again, licks the words onto the surface of your tongue, and you’re sure he’s trying to break you, to leave an imprint, a brand, a burn inside of you in the shape of him. Something that hurts worse than anything else ever has. It’s unfair, it is almost a cruelty, for Din– Din does not always know how a thing will end as you do. He’s absolved of such a curse, and so he must not suffer the certainty in which you’re sure there will come a time when there is a whole life of things about him which you’ll not bear witness to. It makes you cry harder, it makes you want to scream and rage and draw blood, to drink him down so that you might keep him forever. Please, please, let me keep him, let me keep him. You sob into his mouth, pull at his hair so hard he whimpers, subdues you with sharp teeth and pinching fingers.

What is it? What is it, cyare? Tell me, and I’ll fix it for you. I cannot overcome your anguish. Your eyes are filled with darkness again, and I wish you wouldn’t cry. I know everything, and I’m still here.

You bury your face in his neck, mouth at the warm, damp salt of his skin, try and control your anguish. He doesn’t deserve these hysterics. He doesn’t deserve this. So many lies he doesn’t know you’ve embroiled him in, and you feel unfixable, like you’ll always disappoint him, like it’s inevitable. The Thalassians had been a savage reminder of this. Finally, the hiccuping cries settle, the ricocheting stone in your chest resting, and you prop your chin on his shoulder to look out at the dim surrounding cave. Steam rises off the surface of the warm pool, and the yawning mouths of the branching tributaries are pitch black holes descending into absolute darkness. You wonder, first, what it would be like to become lost in that maze of pure dark, you remember, second, that you already have been.

“I haven’t been to a hot spring since before,” you murmur, unseeing, feel the ruffle of his overlong curls tickle your damp cheek. “I used to steal away to the ones on Carosi XII sometimes. I loved it–”

“Before…” He smoothes a large, rough paw up the sensitive line of your spine. Calluses catching at your skin, scraping and inciting. Drawing back down in a swoop to press at your tailbone, nestling his throbbing erection more snuggly between the lips of your sex.

“My escape.” Quietly, as if speaking of it too loudly will undo the entire thing.

“Ah.”

“It was so dark for so long,” you confess, voice full of air and ghosts.

Both arms wrapped around your back now, he presses you tight as possible to himself, squeezes all the air and memories of the past out of your lungs. “What did it cost you? The dark, your freedom?” You wish he wouldn’t ask such things, you also want to tell him anyway.

“Hard to define. My soul, I think. But I’m getting it back.” A soft hum, one that understands. “Have you ever felt like that… like you’d lost your soul?”

“Once or twice, maybe.” A bite to the line of muscle connecting your neck and shoulder, a slick slide of your hips ending in a jolt of pleasure. “A soul is a finicky thing to keep hold of constantly. Don’t you think?” You’ll never be happy anywhere else besides right here with him. Of this you’re absolutely certain.

“Undoubtedly. Slippery little fuckers – souls,” and his laughter is always such a gift, almost a benediction. You wrap your hand around his throat to feel the humming joy of it there, and it pulls your own from your heart, matches his happiness in the way he deserves. He deserves to have his joy reciprocated. To be with someone capable of such unadulterated happiness, that can give it to him and return it to him and amplify it ten fold. An illusory sort of thing… and Din, Din, Din deserves more than a non entity, more than something non existent. Your Mandalorian deserves so many things. You never thought it would be like this when the two of you first started this, that it would require so many things of you you’re not sure you can give. You press a soft kiss to the shell of his ear, eyes closed and safe, fingers twined through the damp curls at the back of his head. You wonder if they flop down over his forehead, if they’re laying slicked and soaking wet, pasted against his skin. You wonder what color his eyes are – dark, you think, dark and warm and rich like his hair. His scruff is grown out too, beard scratchy and a little scraggly. It leaves burns and raw marks on your skin that you press at when he’s away, not looking. The reminder of his mouth at your cunt and breasts. Another kiss to the rounding of bone behind his ear, the scrape of teeth over his jugular, the flavor of his collarbone. An entire sun inside the heart of a single man, and you wonder what that makes you. The dark sky that consumes him, perhaps? That steals the light?

“What does your Creed cost you?”

“Everything,” he says, and your name shouts at you from his mind. The two of you are so alike in so many unknown ways again and again and again. And so many things frighten you, terrify you. You feel afraid of everything and weak and half made, only half a girl, half a creature. You don’t want him to be anything like you. You want him to be only himself full of all the greatness and goodness he possesses.

He slides his palm between your thighs, rough fingers whispering and teasing, and then he’s pulling your hips back and notching the wide head at your entrance, wedging that thick cock inside of you, in, in, in, bumping at the mouth of your womb. No preamble, no warning, only claiming. You lay your head on his shoulder, so strong and broad, and watch your tears slide over the hill and down the valley of his back; your moan is ragged as you take him within you, and he burns inside of you like a fever. Or not like a fever, like a second heart, and there’s no reason to cry, you want to tell yourself, console yourself. He’s here, he’s as close to you as he can possibly be. And you’re happy, you are, but you are also aware. You are also yourself. You also know so many things about yourself and fate and destiny that he does not.

“F–feel so– so fucking good, cyare.” You wrap both arms more tightly around his neck, bury your teeth in his skin, and he grips your ass with one hand, the other wrapped around your breast and pulls you harder onto his cock. “Always.”

“Din,” you whimper, clit grinding against the bone of his pelvis, little toes curling in pleasure as you moan for him.

“Yeah? Like that?” You feel him spread his knees wider beneath you, deepening the angle, and you brace your feel on the stone ledge behind him to leverage yourself better on his lap, ride him. “Fuck, yeah – just like that.” He wraps a fist in your hair, “Close your eyes. Let me see you – need to look at your face,” and he tugs your head back, chin tipped to the ceiling of the cave, throat bared, mouth hanging open.

“Din, no– wait,” he takes too many risks. “You’re being careless–”

“Am I? I don’t give a fuck,” he grits. “I have to look at you, I have to. You can’t say no to me, you can’t tell me no.” He fucks up into you quicker, hitting that spine melting spot inside of you. “No one fucks this cunt like I do. No one,” he growls.

No one, no one, no one. I have to look at you.

“Din, please–” you beg for something unknown.

And he tells you that he knows and understands while he drags his fingers through your wet hair. “I know it’s so much,” and he pushes his hips up again, your cunt letting him in that little bit further, opening and blooming for him. He is changing – a changing sort of man. A phenomena of nature. He is changing you into something different. You can feel it like this hunger that cuts you in two. You fold yourself into the dream that soon your past self will be lost to you entirely if the two of you continue like this, but what worries you is that you are, in turn, changing him, as well. And you aren’t certain that whatever change wrought upon him by yourself would be something good, something that wouldn’t be damaging.

But you… the sun could only ever change a dark thing for the better. And it was true that together you could do such incredible things, but you would not let yourself be destructive with him. You would not let yourself destroy him. “I’m not going to open my eyes,” you tell him. “I’m not going to open my eyes.”

And he begs: “Please,” but he does not say that which he’s begging for, and you won’t ask. He bends his head and pulls on the tip of your breast, sucks as much of the heavy weight of it as he can into his mouth, you’re so beautiful, he murmurs, fingertips gripping your bottom, slithering down to pet at the place where your cunt is stretched swollen around the thick root of him, wedges his fingers on either side to feel where he enters you. You rest your cheek on the crown of his head, wrapping your arms around him so that his face is buried in your breasts. The feel of his cock throbbing and swelling within you is maddening, and you’ve done this more times than you can count now, yet each time feels like there won’t be enough room within you to take him, that he’ll cleave you in two, cunt stretched to obscenity, to almost pain. The whole sun inside of a man like a god, inside of a girl who only ever wanted to be a god and failed. The whole sun illuminating the darkness into flame, and your cunt begins to pulse and flutter around him, pleasure like agony surging up your spine in electric sparks and pooling in your pelvis, tightening around him to rouse his own orgasm to spill forth and coat you from the inside. He groans savage and wanton and yours into the deep crevice of your breasts, you feel his tongue licking into the space between, tasting and branding, and you wrap around him like vines.

Perhaps… one single moment of truth now.

You realize you’ve never loved anything before in your entire life. You’ve never had anything to love. Din is the first. The memory of your parents, always too weak, too far removed to have ever been anything more than an acute yearning, but him, he is here, he is alive, he is with you, and you love him.

And Din deserves so many things, but he does not deserve this. He does not deserve such a fate, such a damnation – the love of a creature such as you, a thing you’d not wish on your worst enemy. After all, it’s an impossible thing to swallow an entire sun, it’s an impossible thing to abscond entirely from the darkness. I’m sorry, you whisper as he stills within you, and he presses you so tight, as if he could squeeze out the very seed of wrongness that still lives within you.

You love him, and they will always come for you. As long as you’re alive, as long as the dark exists, as long as The Force exists they will always come for you. And one day they’ll go through him to get to you. Like some sort of grotesque chant in your mind, endlessly, without mercy, this is the only truth that remains.

I’m sorry, you say again and again and again.

“Cyare, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what it is.”

And a lie to comfort can surely not be such a bad thing, if done with the right intention. Surely, it cannot be such a terrible thing. “It’s only that I’m so happy,” and you know, as soon as the words leave your mouth, that he won’t believe you, but he says nothing anyways, and it only makes you feel worse, for you know that his reticence only comes by way of his own fear. He's scared for you, scared of you, of the fact that he can feel that roiling shift within you, between you, and hasn’t yet managed to solve the riddle of it, of you. You realize that here and now, he’s scared of you. And the truth of it sears you, makes you feel worse than anything the Thalassians could have ever done to you, but this is the true mark, this is the scar forming, invisible above the injury. This is the true consequence, the worry and the apprehension and the seed of fear they’d planted between the both of you.

“I believe in you above everything else,” you tell him in lieu of all the rest, in lieu of your love.

He’s silent for a moment, the sound of his swallowed fear, “Why does it feel…sometimes, like all you’re doing is saying goodbye to me?”

Like a lancet through the throat, like dying, something worse than the darkside, but somehow, your voice is measured and even when you tell him, “I don’t think, even if the worst happened, that I’d ever really be able to say goodbye to you.”

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