#IM SO SORRY THIS GOT LONGER THAN IT SHOULD

[emilynightshade89]

OC Profile:

TW: Mentions of Alcohol Abuse, Domestic Violence, and Mentions of Canon Typical Vampire Violence. (Please take care and let me know if i need to add more!)  

Fandom: Daybreakers (2009)

Face Claim: Joyce Byers in Stranger Things

Full Name: Wendy Jessamy Conwell McCoy

Nicknames/Aliases: Bones (Given by Elvis affectionately), The Day Rider (Given by the Vamp. military squadron set on her capture and the findings of her human colony) 

Age: Mid to Late 40s

Height: 5′ 3 1/2 inch. 

Sexuality: Bisexual

Gender: Cis-Gendered Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Religion: None

Personality Type: ISFJ-T “The Defender”

Alignment: Neutral Good

Birth Date: March 21st 

Star Sign: Aries

Birthstone: Bloodstone 

Clothing Style: Mostly laid-back plaids over tanks and band t-shirts with jeans and boots. Her favorite band tees would consist of: Metallica, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Pearl Jam, and more. Typically wears ripped jeans. Will don her military gear for holding supplies and tools over her motorcycle outfit while scouting. A black long sleeved collared jacket, black pants, and sometimes a green parka hoodie for when it gets cold at night. She also wears a helmet that’s tinted so you won’t be able to see her face, but she can see you just fine.     

Family Members: 

Margaret Conwell McCoy (Mother, Deceased)

Joseph Conwell (Father, Deceased)

Travis McCoy (Stepfather, Deceased)

Jeremy Conwell McCoy (Brother)

Two unnamed nieces 

Significant Others:

Laverne Bree (Fiancée, Deceased) 

Lionel “Elvis” Cormac (Current Partner, Eventual Spouse)

Children: 

Matthew Dillon Cormac (Eventual son)

Platonic Relationships:

Friends -> 

Audrey Bennett

Edward Dalton 

Gavin Smith (Former leader of Wendy’s Military Squadron, Colony Representative)

Parker Hayes (Military Deserter, Colony Doctor)

Guadalupe Romero (Military Deserter, Colony Electrician)

Levi Chambers (Military Deserter, Colony Emergency Rep.)

Trudy Spier (Jeremy’s girlfriend)

Enemies ->

Hudson Fowler (Vampire Military Squadron Leader)

 Pets: 

Lisa Marie ~ A brown and white Border Collie shared with her partner Lionel.

Chester ~ An orange Tabby cat, found and gifted to her by Lionel and Ed for her birthday.

Elton ~ A Doberman Pinscher adopted by son Matthew Cormac after Lisa and Chester’s eventual passing.   

Hobbies: Riding her motorcycle on patrols, listening to music, Playing the guitar and drums (as a teen), Roller Skating, Archery.  

Skills: Close combat with a knife, Gun Handling, Archery, Licensed Nursing.  

Childhood:

Oldest daughter of two, Wendy was born to Margaret and Joseph Conwell and was their only daughter and child until she was seven and was given a baby brother named Jeremy. Her mother was a nurse, and her father owned a business that unfortunately had run into some serious legal trouble that took a hard toll on him. 

As a result, Wendy’s home life would soon become a rocky one. At the age of twelve, her mother Margaret was working constantly at the hospital while her father Joseph was always away and lost money to gambling and feeding into his alcohol addiction as he claimed he was trying to get money to bring his old business back to life. 

In school Wendy had no trouble making friends, but it soon proved difficult to keep them since she was more worried about looking after her baby brother most of the time due to both her parent’s absence at home. She never blamed her mother for it since her work brought food to the table, but she steadily blamed her father for sure since he always came home a drunk with empty pockets 

Eventually her father’s temper snapped when he realized Margaret had plans to take the kids and had stashed money away from him to do so. This led to a horrible fight where Wendy was awoken from sleep to the sound of her mother screaming and rushing to find that Joseph had shoved her into her bedside table and had drawn blood. Wendy retaliated in anger and fear by hitting him with an empty beer bottle and her mother managed to chase him out with a bat and call the police. 

Margaret was able to safely move Wendy and Jeremy out and filed for divorce that week. They cut ties with Joseph completely despite him reaching out once to borrow money. 

Adolescence:

Wendy still had trouble dealing with what she had seen and done and in high school, started drinking to forget and calm herself down. She had a bad friend that would help her get the drinks and eventually Margaret found out about her daughter’s habit and confronted her about it.

This led into a rather nasty fight between them, concluding with Wendy sobbing in the kitchen apologizing and begging her mom for help out of fear that she might end up like her father. Margaret, without hesitation, held her daughter close and vowed to do what it took. 

Wendy received the help she needed, along with therapy for her trauma and cut ties with the friend. She graduated high school with a plan to become a nurse like her mother. 

Margaret fell in love with a man named Travis McCoy and soon enough the new couple was dating. Jeremy liked him and got along with him, and he seemed decent enough, but Wendy didn’t trust him out of fear that their family history would repeat. However, after a group trip to Australia one summer, Travis and Wendy had a heart to heart, and she saw in him what Joseph should have been and accepted him. 

After some time with the family, Travis asked her if it would be alright if he married her mom. Wendy, to her own surprise and delight, said it was.   

Adulthood:

Wendy worked in a renowned Hospital when she met the first love of her life; Laverne Bree. It had started out as a friendship, since Bree had just moved into the same building and was working as a cop. But in the time spent together, Wendy found out that she felt a certain way about her friend and soon discovered her own bisexuality. When she felt secure to tell Laverne the truth, she was surprised to hear that Laverne had felt the same as she was already a closeted lesbian. 

They took their relationship steadily and slow, and soon found confidence and started dating. Wendy brought Laverne around often to see her family and they adored her. Laverne doesn’t speak to her family and would always be ecstatic to join Wendy on holiday trips to see hers. Wendy eventually asked Laverne to marry her after years of dating. 

Wendy and Laverne were about one year into planning their wedding when Wendy heard at work about a sudden mysterious outbreak of multiple people being bitten and behaving in strange and monstrous ways. An attack on a staff member at her hospital caused her to witness exactly what was happening for herself and her concerns grew about what would happen to her family.

The news steadily became more alarming as it was already estimated that vampires had humans outnumbered and that there was a need of what to do with these citizens as they still held onto themselves after being turned and were still considered people. While trying to stay busy after her hospital was shut down, Wendy decided to join the military in an effort to help make sense of what to do to help those in need. The program she entered into taught her all the tactical skills she would later use, and she was put into a squadron with a man named Gavin Smith who would soon become a good friend of hers. She met Parker, Levi, and Guadalupe there as well. 

Gavin, Wendy and the rest of their troop spent their deployment setting up shelters and aid facilities as the world leaders came together to discuss what to do about the dwindling numbers of humans and the steadily rising of vampires. Wendy, while in constant contact with her loved ones, found out from her mother in a frightened voice that the area in which her father Joseph was still kept in prison was attacked and raided by a group of vampires and that Joseph’s body wasn’t anywhere among the dead accounted for. Wendy became fearful and told her mother to contact Laverne for help.

Wendy and her squadron were able to return home early and with things getting much worse on the news, she anxiously returned home that night as fast as she could but was too late and found her mother and stepfather slaughtered and drained of their blood in their own beds. Jeremy was nowhere to be found in the house as he had just been visiting with his girlfriend Trudy and there were more signs of an attack leading towards the kitchen. There, Wendy was horribly distraught to see her fiancee Laverne strewn on the floor bloody and no more. Her police gun a mere feet away from where she had fallen. 

Wendy in her grief, was found by Joseph still inside the house and she vengefully did everything to stop him from turning her as he attacked her. she was almost bitten when Joseph was suddenly decapitated from behind by a worried Gavin as he stood before her with his machete. He helped her out of the house despite her struggles in vain to find her brother as they were joined by the other three members of their squad. Their plan was to abandon their ranks from the military after they had heard about it being announced that military forces were to be turned into vampires as a new protocol by all the world leaders after they had been turned into vampires as well. Finding out for themselves that being immortal was an upside to being undead.  

In the weeks after going rogue, Gavin told Wendy to find an abandoned base that was hidden deep into the mountains nearby that he had heard about. They would hunker down somewhere safe until he had gotten word from her and in the meantime would try to save as many human lives as they still could. After a few months, Wendy was successful and the team along with survivors turned the place into their new home as the world outside changed and became dangerous. 

In the few years that followed, Wendy would scout outside the colony walls by herself, looking for new survivors and being hunted by members of her old squadron lead by a man named Hudson Fowler, who had willingly been turned and were tasked with finding her and the other deserters.    

Late Life:

In her mid to late 40s, Wendy would still scout despite the constant decreasing in human survivors. 

As rumors spread that the Vamps were getting desperate for human blood, her trips became more dangerous and one day, while playing her emergency broadcast for other humans, she ran alongside a car with a Phoenix painted on it and met Lionel Cormac, Edward Dalton, and Audrey Bennett. She guided them back to her colony but ran into some trouble along the way back.

They all arrived there safe, and soon enough Ed, Audrey and Lionel introduced that there was a way to cure vampires back into human beings.

Wendy would ultimately decide to help them convince her colony that it was true, and this collaboration led her to become close with the trio, and eventually causing her and Lionel to become friends and eventually fall in love.

Within a few months, hope spread through the colony as word went around that because the blood substitute was working without any struggles, the conversation around what to do about the remaining humans became relevant again and more senators and government officials were deeply interested in trying to preserve the human race. 

 For the first time in a long while, Wendy was hopeful for a future where she and Lionel could live together.

Wendy was asked by Gavin to seek out another human colony that were in peaceful contact with Vampire senators that wished to help the humans return safely. She accepted and Lionel volunteered to travel with her.

Upon meeting the new colony in a remote location, Wendy was shocked to find her brother Jeremy alive and well with Trudy and their two daughters. Overcome with joy, the McCoy siblings embraced. But it was very short lived as a rogue party of Vampires found them and attacked. 

They were fought off, but Wendy was bitten while protecting her new nieces from being harmed. 

While escaping towards home with the colony in tow, Wendy revealed to Lionel that she had been bit and was worried about turning on her loved ones. Lionel assured her that she wouldn’t and once they got back, immediately set up a space for Wendy to be quarantined away from everyone else. Only Lionel and Ed refused to leave her as Parker does his best to care for her before she painfully turned into a vampire. 

Lionel offers her his blood without hesitation, but Ed warns him that she might actually end up killing him since she was newly turned and hungry. Before any of them could do something, word spread to them about a group of vamps scouting the mountains near their hiding place and Wendy, fearing the worst, snuck away and successfully lured them away from the mountains on her bike. She was captured by Fowler and was taken to the city to be questioned. 

Lionel, Gavin, Audrey and Ed were able to rescue her back and turn Wendy into a human again. Upon seeing that it was in fact possible, Gavin agreed to meet with the Vampires who advocated for human life with Jeremy and Audrey. 

Months pass and the vampire community and government has set up peaceful conditions and places of reserves for humans to live openly and safely during the day. Laws are passed condoning the killing of humans by Vampires and while some are displeased on both sides, steps have been taken to ensure humanity continues safely. Wendy has long since recovered and upon coming home from visiting Jeremy and his family, is accompanied by Lionel and in the following weeks discovers that she has become pregnant with her first child.

Wendy at first is troubled by how late at her age she has become pregnant at and is concerned for their baby’s health while Lionel completely supports her by whatever decision she chooses. At this point Ed and Audrey have already had their first daughter and after confiding in Audrey, Wendy decides she wants to keep her baby.

 After 8 1/2 months she gives birth to a small but healthy baby boy, she and Lionel name Matthew. 

As the years pass and Matthew is now 12, Wendy and Lionel are married and are living happily in a small town that has both a Human and Vampire population within it. Lionel has another garage that services both vampire modeled and human modeled vehicles while Wendy works with Parker at their town clinic.

Wendy lives out the rest of her days with her loved ones, her husband Lionel and son Matthew doing what she loves and at peace with her life.   

[electoons]

she was the silliest billy 🥹

[cj-writes-things]

Fav song(s) at the moment?

I'm sure this is about to be wayyy more than you asked for, but... here ya go!

These are some of my favorite artists + albums/songs of theirs I'd recommend:

The Lumineers

From their self-titled album: Dead Sea, Ho Hey, Slow It Down, Stubborn Love, Big Parade, Charlie Boy

From Cleopatra: Sleep On The Floor, Ophelia, Cleopatra, Long Way From Home, My Eyes

From III: Gloria, Salt And The Sea

Noah Kahan

Albums: Busyhead, I Was/I Am, Cape Elizabeth, Hurt Somebody

Singles: Animal, Part of Me, Come Down, Pride, Hold It Down, Fine, Crazier Things, Sink

Sleeping At Last

From Atlas I: Light, You Are Enough, Earth, Saturn

From Atlas II: Life, Son, Daughter, Touch, Smell, Sight

All 1-9 of Atlas: Enneagram

Hozier

Let's be honest, pretty much anything by this guy is gonna be good. If I try to list all of his songs I really like this will be too long

Lewis Capaldi

Albums: Bloom, Divinely Uninspired To A Hellish Extent (I have this one on vinyl I know every song)

Lord Huron

From Strange Trails: Love Like Ghosts, Meet Me in the Woods, The Night We Met

From Lonesome Dreams: Ends of the Earth, The Ghost on the Shore

Amber Run

From The Assembly: Amen

From 5AM: I Found, Hurricane, 5AM, Just My Soul Responding, Don't Wanna Fight, Heaven

Single: Alaska

Calum Scott

From Only Human: If Our Love Is Wrong, Dancing On My Own, You Are The Reason, No Matter What

From Bridges: Run With Me, Flaws, Heaven, I'll Be There, Boys In The Street

Rainbow Kitten Surprise

From RKS: Cold Love, Cocaine Jesus, All's Well That Ends

From Seven + Mary: First Class, Devil Like Me

My go-to response if anyone asks me my #1 favorite song, btw, is Saturn. I'm not religious but this song is spiritual to me

[minijeong]

before and afters from second half of 2022 😎

[yousaytomato]

Trying my hardest not to be anxious and sad about things that have already happened and that I can't do anything about now. But How

[sparring-spirals]

imogen being drained by her rudimentary hold on her psychic abilites vs resorting to mind reading bc she just has to get answers to any question that pops in her head and she has a hard time w frustration vs relying on what causes her immense pain as her only way to trust that they're being honest even if it means risking learning something she really didn't want to vs being repeatedly told to announce herself by ppl who unknowingly don't announce themselves on the regular vs so much more

and to add onto my messy "imogen vs" ask idk if it's the right wording and this is pure projection but: the way her relationship to her powers is transpiring kinda makes me feel the same way my ocd makes me feel like idk it's very very interesting and fascinating to me. i'm not sure exactly how to put it and which exemples to give (the character limit doesn't help my rambly nature) so this is a bit of an empty ask but yeah.... anyways keep sharing your thoughts it's always interesting! take care

First of all: thank you! You take care of yourself too. :D

Secondly: Hmmmmm. Okay. Gonna be straightforward here, I'm not sure my askbox/this space is the best option/conduit for this particular ask/line of thought, if only because. I think there is something specific in this you are resonating with/prodding at that draws from you personally, that you're trying to puzzle out.

Which! Is generally a valid and fine way to engage with media and is how some excellent metas are written. I think a lot of Imogen's struggles and characterizations resonate with a variety of mental/physical struggles, and there are so many goddamn layers to read it with. (This excellent post by @mysticalspiders comes to mind).

But also, I am not you, and so I don't feel particularly confident in interpreting something that is serving as a catalyst for your thoughts, in part because I'm absolutely going to interpret it differently, which can land differently if you're drawing from a very personal place when interpreting it.

(You don't have to feel bad about it, or anything, this is also a more general PSA so folks are aware before sending in headcanons/more indulgent projections/extensive theories- not because I dislike them necessarily, but because. I take asks for me to provide Opinions Or Analysis on things.

I definitely interpret things My Way, which can be different than intended, or even a more general "I have no thoughts about this, actually", which can land unpleasantly when people are invested or personally invested in their line of thought.

So, largely to play it safe, I'm going to say here, and also more generally, that I might not engage as much with what I understand as largely indulgent/personal hcs/metas that come through my askbox).

That aside, to the first part alone, I will say that: Yeah Imogen's brain is almost certainly going through a number of tug-of-wars and damage control at all times, and it makes her a very, very fascinating character to pull apart and poke. Definitely feel you on that. 👌

[skyllion-uwu]

Brains are so stupid one second it'll be like "You should NEVER talk to anyone ever again ghost them forever" and the next it's like "You need to surgically attach yourself to everyone because you are so alone and need human connection" before switching back to "Erm you're a weirdo go back to never talking to anyone because you're going to chase them away with the rate you're going lol" WHY CAN'T I WIN?! (not about anyone/anything in particular, this is just a pattern I've noticed for the past 5 years or so. Plus my school schedule is hellacious at the moment which is making it worse)

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: bff'sbrother!jungkook, softdom!jungkook, enemies2lovers-ish, he's a lil annoying in this, angst, mentions of rejection, one-sided crush, afab reader, smut, fingering, dry humping, penetrative sex, overstimulation (kinda), etc.

wc: 4076

a/n: another jk fic bc im taking time off work and have nothing to do</3 this went longer than anticipated lol sorry

masterlist

"what are you doing here?", grumbled the man as soon as he opened the door and spotted you on the other side of it.

"can you get out of the way? i'm obviously here for minji."

"she doesn't get here til tomorrow," he responded, though still moving out of the way to let you in.

you were about to snark at him again when he stopped in his tracks, eyes widening when they made contact with the suitcases you were struggling to drag behind you, "why are you carrying suitcases? fuck, don't tell me you're staying here," he grabbed onto one, stopping your movements.

"yes, jungkook. minji told me i could crash here for spring break. what's it to you? your house is big enough. just ignore my presence," you attempted to move your suitcases again, knowing you'd receive no help from the boy even if you asked.

"so you're here to ruin my break?" the complaints were never ending despite having entered the home only mere moments ago.

"stop being a child and get out of my way," you grumbled when the idiot refused to remove his hand from the handle of your suitcase.

he let out a heavy sigh, scrunching his eyes closed in annoyance before speaking again, "okay, move. i'll bring your shit upstairs."

"no, i can-"

"you can't carry all this upstairs. my mom's gonna be mad if i don't offer to help you. just let go," he muttered, pushing your hands away and somehow lifting both suitcases at once as he walked towards the stairs.

without any energy to argue with him, you just followed him upstairs, annoyed he insisted to pretend to do you a favor.

"are your parents home?", you asked, confused as to why he had been the one to open the door.

"no, they went out of town this weekend. they should be here tonight."

"why are you here?"

you knew this was his home, but it was a valid question. this had been the third time you'd spent some sort of school break at minji's house, yet jungkook had never been there during the duration of it, usually only popping up for a day or two by the end of each break.

"you mean in my house?", he chuckled sarcastically.

"you're never here- you know what i meant."

"didn't have any plans this time. why? am i ruining your break?"

the two of you finally made it to the extra guest room in minji's house, with jungkook settling your stuff on the bed and uncharacteristically taking a seat on it, as if planning to hang around. you ignored the thought and went to open your suitcase, planning to unpack a few of the things since you'd be staying for over a week.

"yeah," you deadpanned.

he scoffed, "not like i wanna spend my break with you either, princess."

groaning, you threw a folded shirt at him, "ew, i told you not to call me that."

seemingly pleased at having annoyed you, he chuckled and picked up the shirt you threw, folding it and placing it on the bed. he continued to occasionally grab one thing or another as you unpacked. you always knew jungkook to be quite fidgety, so you didn't question him grabbing your stuff to entertain himself as you unpacked.

jungkook wordlessly stayed on your bed as you went around the room organizing your stuff, attempting to ignore his presence but not entirely able to. you were willing to retain peace without complaining, but then he started making noise.

you usually didn't care for his presence too much, even as badly as the two of you got along, but the constant humming quickly got on your nerves. he hummed and hummed and did not stop even as ten minutes passed by, still taking stuff from your suitcase to fidget with. currently he was entertaining himself with a random shoe.

"jungkook! why are you still here?", you suddenly snapped, confused as to why he'd been sitting on your bed with a blank look on his face despite usually being liberal in expressing his dislike for you.

he looked at you for a few moments, no emotion on his face before speaking up.

"why don't we get along?"

"what?"

"you heard me. why don't we get along? you've been friends with my sister since childhood, but you've always hated me. why?"

"you started it," you murmured, taking the shoe he currently had in his hold and turning around to place it somewhere else.

he got up, walking over to you and turning you around by your shoulders and taking the shoe from you again, "i started it? what are you talking about? you've been rude to me since the seventh grade. i've just been returning the favor."

sighing in frustration, you grabbed shook his hands off your shoulders and stubbornly grabbed the shoe again, "why do you think that is, jungkook?"

a confused look overtook his face at your insinuation of your relationship being his fault, clearly not remembering what you were referring to.

"wha-what are you talking about?"

"god, you're such a dumbass sometimes. i mean, i assumed you didn't remember, but to have confirmation of it just kinda sucks," you chuckled bitterly.

he grabbed onto your shoulders again when you tried to walk past him, "tell me what you're talking about," he insisted.

for the most part, you didn't want to. you still felt embarrassed thinking about it, even if it had been over a decade since it had happened. to know he really didn't remember the source of your dislike for him also didn't really help matters. it just frustrated you at his presence even more.

through the years you had learned not to take the mutual banter too seriously. it was mostly lighthearted, to be honest. but any time you thought back to how it had started, you became beyond angry at the boy who was seemingly nice too all those he knew but you. sure, you had technically been the one to source this animosity, but he bad been the instigator of it after all.

you had been nine years old at the time, having recently moved into town and befriended minji. she had been your salvation, becoming instantly interested in being your friend despite you being brand new. you became quick friends, hanging out inside and outside school almost every day.

minji had the good fortune of being extremely close to her family, which allowed you to bond with them quite a lot. that was when you met her older brother, one of her favorite people in the world.

jungkook had been pure perfection in your young eyes, seeing him as unattainable at the young age of nine. he was two years your senior, which made you come to the quick realization that your crush would remain one-sided forever. except this didn't stop your naive heart to read into his nice demeanor and wishfully believe that maybe he'd like you back.

you crushed on him silently for three years, even coming to befriend him in the process. you wouldn't see him too often, but it was always nice when you did, always getting along quite well. this continued up until you hit twelve years of age, your tweenhood years. unfortunately, jungkook was now into his teens, meaning that he followed the footprints of every other man and had a short-lived phase where he was a bit insensitive to girls his age.

being completely delusional and being on your way to graduate middle school, you took a leap, deciding to invite jungkook as your date to your middle school prom. you had thought you read all the signs right, thinking that even if he rejected you, he'd still be nice enough to go with you as a friend. your hopes were completely crushed when he turned you down with zero hesitance, even patronizing you in the process.

the worst part of it all came later, when you were first entering high school. somehow a few of his friends had gotten word of the situation, dubbing you as desperate and obsessed with him. although the rumors died pretty quickly, and you were able to feign indifference to jungkook and everyone else, the seed of hate began to grow in you. little by little, you stopped speaking to jungkook altogether, eventually coming to proudly dislike him. despite minji's constant questioning about your change in demeanor towards her brother, you never told, not wanting any drift to be caused between you and minji, nor her and her brother.

the gradual change in your feelings for jungkook had been so natural that it made sense for him to not remember the source of the current state of your relationship. he had caught on naturally, simply bantering back with you whenever you gave him attitude. it was likely that he believed it all to be lighthearted at first, eventually becoming accustomed enough to it to not question it.

and now you were here, having to explain a stupid childhood heartbreak to the perpetrator of it all as he stared down at you in absolute wonder.

"eighth grade, jungkook. remember?"

he shook his head in confusion, his eyes still wide as his brain wracked itself to remember.

"the dance?"

"the dance? what dan- oh! the- the dance? that's it?"

'that's it'?

he mustve caught the look of annoyance in your face, as he quickly went to retract himself.

"fuck, wait. i didn't mean it like that, just- is that why you hate me? because i said no to you?"

you took a step away from him again, still frustrated, but his arms remained on your shoulders so you would keep looking right at him. it was awkward and extremely uncomfortable considering the context, but you didn't move away.

"it wasn't just that, jungkook," you started, "was it that horrible of a thought to go to the dance with me? i was twelve, you couldve been nicer about it. and to tell your friends about it? i was mocked for weeks after that. and now you wanna act like this is my fault? like ive just been mean to you for no reason?", you scoffed, looking at your feet in favor of not having to look at him.

"wait, who ... who made fun of you? i- i never told anyone what happened. why would i do that?"

"jungkook, stop. taehyung? jimin? they wouldn't stop bringing it up for weeks. it died down after a while, but i was already humiliated."

he shook his head and denial, seemingly at himself. finally letting go of you, he sat back on the bed, look of confusion still on his face before a lightbulb metaphorically manifested itself above his head.

"oh fuck," he muttered, "i- i remember now, but it didn't go down the way you think, okay? let me explain."

you crossed your arms and nodded, signaling for him to continue.

he uncrossed his arms, running them through his hair in a frustrated fashion before he began to explain, oddly passionate as he did so, "i told them right after it happened. i felt so bad for saying no to you, they noticed how down i was about it and asked. i swear i didnt say anything bad. fuck, i never knew they teased you about it, im so sorry," he rambled, "and i didnt- i didnt mean to make you feel bad when i said no. you're my sister's best friend and- and you were so young. i know it doesnt matter anymore, but saying yes felt wrong. it felt like id be taking advantage of you somehow."

"jungkook-"

"if it makes you feel better," he hesitated before continuing, "i, uh, i kinda had a crush on you when we were 17. i- i was going to ask you to my prom, but you picked a fight with me that day and told me to get the fuck out. thats, that's kinda when i started to hate you back," he smiled awkwardly towards the end.

that took you for a bit of a loop. you weren't a heartless asshole. it wasnt like you meant to hurt him through your dislike of him, but rather protect yourself from further rejection. it made you feel bad to know that you'd somewhat done a similar thing to him at some point, even verbally berating him time after time when his intentions hadn't been malicious.

"are you serious?"

"do you really hate me? for what i did, i mean," he interrupted.

did you? for the most part, you had just grown far too used to your animosity with jungkook. due to your own mean behavior towards him, he became equally as rude, creating a vicious cycle of disrespect between the two of you. but did you hate him?

the answer was probably not.

if you did, your heart wouldn't have jumped at the mention of him having had a crush on you back when you were seventeen.

"no, i don't hate you. do you?"

he turned to you, shaking his head, "of course not," he confirmed, "do you wanna start over?", he asked, getting up from the bed and walking over to you.

you couldn't help but chuckle at his sudden proposal. you also couldnt help in nodding in agreement, confirming that yes, you'd be willing to put aside a petty middle school misunderstanding in favor of starting over.

then he opened his arms, gesturing for a hug before asking for permission for one, "hug?"

wordlessly, you accepted the offer of a friendly hug, reasoning that it was only natural considering how touchy he was with everyone other than yourself.

when you went to pull away, his arms tightened around you, head burying itself further into your hair, "just a little longer," he murmured.

with no reason to deny him, you wrapped your arms around him once more, only letting go when he started to slowly pull away.

that's when you made the mistake of looking up at him as he attempted to make himself let go of you.

seemingly, he had made the same mistake, now locking eyes with you at a proximity far too close for two people who hated each other just mere minutes ago. stupidly enough, your eyes predictably went down to his lips, not realizing his own had done the same. the only difference was that he was far more daring than you, allowing his lips to lower down onto yours and envelop them in a soft kiss.

greedy hands dug into your hips before making their way to your waist, holding you as close to him as he could. your own hands wrapped around his shoulders, moving to play with his hair as soon as the kiss turned more heated.

moaning against him, he pulled away for a second, still keeping his lips entirely too close to your own as he breathed through his nose to calm himself down. the following kiss was even more harrowing, causing you to take a step back due to the sheer force of it. he walked you back, pressing you up against the nearest wall as he took advantage of being able to crowd you, allowing his hands to get a feel of your body as you kissed.

despite how pathetically you followed his lips, he still pulled away, throwing his shirt off before going back to kissing you, letting his hands wander underneath your own shirt as he did so. his hands dug deep under your shirt, feeling up your bare breasts and groaning at the lack of bra.

gradually, his lips made their way to your ear and then down your neck, murmuring against your skin.

"fuck, so fucking pretty ... and so needy for me, huh? sound so good moaning for me like that," he breathed against you.

you burned up, embarrassed by how easily he had an effect on you, but you still let him do whatever he wanted, knowing that nothing you did would prevent your body from wanting his touch.

throwing off your shirt, his lips trailed down even further south, latching onto your nipples and groaning into your skin at the way you arched your body, pressing up even closer to him.

but suddenly there was a shift.

jungkook halted his movements, making his way back up to your lips and locking them with his own in a heavy and greedy kiss, resulting in a lack of breath from both of you. against your lips, he whispered something that made your knees buckle.

"i'm gonna pay you back for all those times you were mean to me, baby," his lips moved to your ear, chuckling at your anticipatory shudder, "gonna do whatever i want with this pretty body, yeah?"

nodding pathetically, you gave way for him to do anything he wanted. already drenched, there was no way you could possibly formulate any words that didn't come out as an embarrassing whine. he seemed to enjoy this too, holding a pleased smirk in his face as he easily dragged you over to the bed, pushing off your suitcase and dropping you on it with a bounce.

before you could even think, jungkook had already thrown off his shoes and undone his pants, his hands coming to do the same to you. your shaky hands attempted to help him, but he simply tsk'd at you, letting you know that he'd take care of everything tonight. everything, he emphasized.

"oh, fuck," he groaned once you were fully nude, "this is all mine now, yeah? fuck, been waiting for years for you to stop being a brat and let me have this pretty body all to myself," he kissed your lips between each sentence, "might lose control at how gorgeous and mine it is ..." he murmured as his hands took their rightful place exploring your body.

"kook-" you whined, already wanting him to do something – anything.

"shh, baby," he coo'd, "i'm gonna do whatever i want. and you're gonna take it like a good girl, okay? gonna behave for me for once."

fully crawling on top of you, jungkook went back to making out with you, wrapping your legs around his waist as he began humping against your already soaked cunt.

groaning, he pulled away for a second in favor of nibbling softly at your lip, "oh, this pretty pussy's so fucking soaked already ... thought you hated me, baby, what happened?" he chuckled darkly, giving you no room to answer before shoving his tongue in your mouth.

just as his tongue attempted to suck all air out of you, his hand suddenly snuck between your bodies, finding your cunt with ease and beginning to drag his fingers up and down your folds, not giving you want you needed.

"pretty fucking pussy," he murmured, "gonna play with your clit now, baby. it's gonna cry for me by the time im done."

his fingers found your clit almost immediately, taking turns in rubbing teasing circles over it and hammering in and out of your cunt. he swallowed every single moan, groaning against your lips any time your cries went so high they went straight to his cock.

"that good, pretty? so good that you have to cry for more? oh, baby. you're so lucky this pussy's so fucking cute. lucky i cant control myself around you ..."

"f-faster, please ..."

"faster? oh, like this?", his fingers slowed down drastically, barely stimulating you at all as you cried and clawed at his back, whining for more than he seemed willing to give you.

"n-no! please, just- just wanna cum, kookie. please?"

his fingers curled entirely too well at your cry of his nickname, even making him groan when he felt your own reaction to his fingers. it was clear he liked you crying out for him, so the more you did it, the more of his fingers he gave you, leading you to the verge of an orgasm.

afraid he'd try and deny you just for sadistic means, you cried for him prematurely, begging him to let you cum.

"kookie, p-please, please let me cum, i-i'll do anything. i'll give you anything, just, fuck, please!"

there was not a single care in you about how pathetic and out of character you sounded, not when jungkook's wasnt faring any better at the effect your desperation had on him.

"cum. cum for me, baby. wanna feel that cunt cream around my fingers so i can fill it back up with my own, okay? be good for me and- fuck, and cum ..." as much as he wanted to be in charge and show a dominant side to him, your cunt just kept dragging his fingers back in, making him feel a carnal need to steal your orgasm all for himself and many others after this one.

your hand wrapped around his free wrist, needing it as support as an otherworldly orgasm took over you. back arching and eyes rolling back, you became a sight that jungkook had only ever seen in his most depraved of dreams about you. he was surprised at his cock not bursting upon such an arousing view, making him realize that he needed to fuck you as soon as posible before losing his mind.

despite talking you through your orgasm, jungkook still gave you no time to recover before shoving his tongue in your mouth and grabbing his dick to drag up and down your sensitive folds.

crying against him, you attempted to push him away at first, feeling too sensitive for immediate stimulation, but your body gave up quickly after, melting into the overload of pleasure. tears crowded in your eyes, but your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, needing more of that pressure against your cunt.

taking the hint and far too horny to drag this out any longer, he pushed inside you, groaning against you at the feeling of finally being wrapped around your warmth.

"it's so fucking wet ... oh, fuck. you wanted this so bad, didnt you, baby? fucking soaked and just pulling me in ... it's so- so tight n warm n perfect for me," he babbled, lost in pleasure.

jungkook's hips were restless against yours, an insatiable desire to chase for his pleasure taking over him as the sound of skin slapping made him dizzy. the occasional babble accompanied by a pitiful hiccup that came out of you did not help his situation, making him fear that he might cum before you.

"let- let me just get my finger there- yeah, fuck. just gonna rub that tiny little clit, okay? shit, you just tightened around my cock so fucking good ..." he groaned, thumb circling your clit to accelerate your orgasm.

"g-gonna, fuck, gonna cum ... p-please ... with me? cum with me?" you begged, barely able to get a single coherent word out while jungkook showed no mercy against you.

nodding, he kissed you, promising he'd cum – begging you to cum. counting you down, he whispered against your ear while his hips stuttered messily against your own, now completely overtaken by both yours and his orgasm.

the sounds shared between the two of you were nothing short of shameful, consisting of whines and cries filled with desperation. it was a depraved scene only meant for the two of you to enjoy.

pulling out of you proved to be a challenge, as jungkook would happily remained inside you until his last breath, but the thought of holding you innocently in his arms as you caught your breath was something he did not want to miss out on.

and so he held you against him, crowding your face against his chest so you could lay your head right by his heart.

"that was-"

"yeah," he breathed with a chuckle before turning to you with a boyish smile on his face, "i have a confession to make."

you turned around too, unable to not match his smile, "what is it?"

"i lied earlier. i, uh, i did like you when you were seventeen, but ... i kinda still like you."

it was impossible not to feel your face warm up at this, scrunching up your nose at how cutely he had confessed, "what if i said it was mutual?"

his smile somehow got bigger at that, "then i'd say i'm gonna have to steal you away from my sister," he pulled you into his chest again, enjoying the vibrations of your laugh.

a/n: this was rushed and not proofread sorry</3

[neil-gaiman]

hey mr gaiman. i saw that this post got revisited and wanted to address it.

i submitted this ask over a year ago on my old account and it was one of the stupidest things i ever did. it was my first tumblr account. id only been really online for a few weeks. i was 13. i was just coming back to school after a global pandemic.

ive been a fan of good omens for years and a fan of yours for longer. i was brought up reading odd and the frost giants and fortunately the milk, and as i got older i fell in love with your norse mythology book, good omens, snow glass apples, the sleeper and the spindle, and more.

i was excited to see one of my favorite authors on tumblr and tried to come up with the most bold and interesting ask i could think of.

i was rude and misinformed and it was a stupid choice of me to send it in with no thought.

but i got feedback. some in the form of kind suggestions. quite a few in the form of death threats and people telling me to kill myself.

while those specific messages were rude and hateful, the point got across. i educated myself to the best of my abilities, and eventually came back online.

not only did i misuse the term queerbaiting but i also implied that you were not an amazing supporter of the queer community. that’s absolutely incorrect. you’ve done so much for us with activism, representation, and overall kindness.

i wanted to address this ask that got so much attention because despite moving accounts i still feel guilt and shame every time i see it, or even when i interact with any of your posts at all. i need to actually address it.

also, i wanted a proper apology to be made. by no means am i now a saint. but im trying to be more thoughtful about thinking before i speak.

whether or not you decide to make a public response to this, i think ill find some peace knowing you’ve received this. ive needed closure on this for a long time.

im overjoyed and thrilled that season two is so close. thank you for tolerating the dumb questions of pretentious kids and thank you for helping to create a world where we can grow to be better than we were.

First of all, and most importantly, I'm really sorry that people were mean to you. That's awful. And nobody should ever have to deal with death threats or online threats and attacks, let alone a thirteen year old.

And secondly, you do not owe me an apology. I figure I have a Tumblr account, people ask things. Mostly they'll get nice replies, occasionally (normally when I'm being asked the same thing over and over) the replies will be terser. There has to be a certain amount of rough and tumble though, and occasionally I'll grab an ask that represents all of the asks I've had on that subject, and try and reply to all of them. That's what happened to you. I was getting tired of being accused of Queerbaiting for the occasional answer about a Season that was not yet released and about which nobody knew anything. And I needed to tell everyone who was doing this that they had to stop now. You had the misfortune to be the representative of all of the other people.

If you are not making mistakes you are not human and you are not learning anything.

(I wish there was tone of voice on the internet.)

And I think you are growing and learning and will make a fantastic adult.

I really hope you enjoy Season 2 when it drops.

[strangersteddierthings]

Sequel to Good People - The fic in wherein Wayne doesn't like Steve and overheard a conversation he shouldn't have. Here's the aftermath of that :3

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

-

Wayne had stayed in his bedroom long after he heard the boys leave. Eddie had knocked on his door to let him know he'd be staying at Steve's and to not expect him back until late tomorrow, a courtesy he'd never shown until after he'd been the victim of a manhunt back in spring. Wayne never asked him to do that but he thinks Eddie picked up on how worried Wayne would get if he were gone for any amount of time.

Eddie's always been good at reading people when he bothers to pay attention to them. Maybe that should have been enough reason for him to give pause to his dislike of the Harrington boy, instead of needing to overhear the boy crying about how he thinks there's something rotten deep within him that only Wayne can sense.

He'd been so sure he knew what kind of person Steve Harrington was. Eddie had been hung up on boys just like him pert-near his whole life, Wayne thinks, and it's never ended differently.

It's a Tuesday night and his friends usually gather at the bar on Friday nights, but Wayne needs to get out of the trailer to think. A beer might help. So, he grabs his keys and heads out.

He's been a regular at this bar since before he was even old enough to drink. Used to come with his pa, may he rest in peace, just to get out of the house. He's been a patron longer than any of the staff have worked there, he realizes.

"Hello Linda," Wayne greets as he takes a seat at the bar instead of at his usual table. He'd done a cursory glace when he came in and confirmed none of his drinking buddies were in before choosing the bar.

"This isn't your usual day," Linda says, leaning a hip on the counter, "but it's always a pleasure to see you."

"I got some thinkin' to do," Wayne replies and Linda nods and moves away, returning soon with a bottle of his usual beer. She picks up the bottle open and removes the cap before setting the drink down in front of him.

"Need a sounding board, hun?" She asks.

Wayne does a quick survey of the bar again but it's pretty quiet so he returns his gave to Linda and says, "if you wouldn't mind too much hearin' about how an old man might have messed up."

Linda laughs. "You aren't even half a decade older than me, so you best not be sprouting that 'old man' nonsense around me, 'cause I am not some old lady."

"Terribly sorry, Linda. I'm just really feelin' like an old fool."

A small frown comes to Linda's face then. "Now what could you have possibly done?"

"Well, I guess I'm tryin' to figure out if I did mess up. Eddie's got a friend and I don't trust 'im. Thought I had good reason not to, but, well, I overheard somethin' I wasn't supposed ta and now I'm not sure."

Linda hums, "hmm, that doesn't sound like you, judging someone unrightly. You are usually a good read about people."

"I'll admit, I haven't bothered to spend enough time with the boy to, uhh, judge him."

"Wayne Munson," Linda scolds, "you best not be telling me you judged that boy because of other people."

Judging by Linda's raising brow line, he thinks his guilt must be clear on his face. "You know Eddie, and how people have treated him. And with what he just went through- I just want 'im safe. Sure, his new friend graduated last year, but he was on the basketball team his whole career. And I'm jus' supposed ta believe this one boy didn't side with the group who started the manhunt?"

"Unless you've got evidence otherwise, yes," Linda says, brows furrowed.

Wayne sighs. "I ain't got proof. I got a lot of people sayin' he's good, actually. But it's the Harrington boy. The same boy Eddie would come home and complain 'bout. Harrington, Hagan, Hargrove, though I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. All them boys treatin' Eddie like he wasn't worth nothin' until they wanted somethin' form him."

Linda's mouth is almost a perfectly straight line with how much she's pursed her lips the more he talks, but she doesn't interrupt and no customer calls for her, so he continues.

"And you know what Richard Harrington was like. I know y'all only shared one school year together, but Janice wasn't any better, and she was your year, wasn't she?" Linda gives him one nod in response. "That boy's a product of them. I- You can't fault me for thinkin' differently."

"So, when do you expect Eddie to end up in prison?"

The question throws Wayne and fills him with anger at the same time. "Now, Linda, I ain't likin' what you are implyin'."

"I ain't implyin' nothing," she says, using the same tone with him that he did with her. "I'm applying your logic. Eddie's a product of his parents, ain't he? Al's in prison, and his mama's long gone, bless her soul. And since Eddie ain't sick, last I heard, he must be following after his daddy."

The anger leaves him then, and all he's left with is shame. "Point made. And if I'm bein' fully honest with ya, I don't even need ya to defend that boy. That thing I overheard. That what's eatin' at me. He called me good people."

Linda softens, shoulders dropping, "you are good people, hun."

"That boy told my Eddie that I'm 'good people', and that his parents are bad ones, and I. I don't know what to do about that."

"He thinks his own parents are bad?"

Wayne nods, "is what he said. Thinks I can somehow sense he's also rotten just by association."

"There's nothing to it, then," Linda says, like they've already talked out the tangled mess that is Wayne's thoughts on Steve Harrington and have reached a conclusion. Well, perhaps Linda already has. She's always been bright, and she's usually right. "You, Wayne Robert Munson, need to apologize to that boy. The guilt and shame's gonna put you into your cups otherwise."

Wayne nods slowly, though he isn't even sure if he agrees or is just acknowledging what she said before he takes a long pull from his bottle before lowering both his arms to rest on the counter as he replies, "You're right as usual, Linda my dear. I just gotta let go of the fact he's Richard Harrington's son and try and see just Steve."

"Damn right. Eddie might be Al's by birth, but you raised him and he turned out alright. Maybe Steve got the same treatment. Had his own Wayne around to raise him right."

There might be a bit of truth to that. He's heard enough talk about Steve Harrington over the years to think that. One of his drinking buddies used to be Jim Hopper. He's heard about the amount of parties he'd had to go shut down at the Harrington's house, with no parents to be seen. (Always Jim's biggest gripe back then. "Where's this kids goddamn parents!?) Wayne always assumed their kid just took advantage every time his parents were gone, but maybe it's the opposite. Maybe they were always gone, and Steve had parties to not be alone in his house.

Linda's right. There is nothing to it. He needs to talk to Steve, properly apologize, and go from there.

"It ain't an easy thing, admittin' you might be wrong," Wayne sighs.

Linda reaches across the counter and places a hand on Wayne's arm just below his wrist. Wayne looks up from where he'd ended up staring at his bottle, making eye contact with her. "If your boy is friends with this boy, it's for a reason. Just give him a chance. You are one of the good ones, but even we can have a lapse in judgment now and then. Doesn't make you bad, makes you human."

"Ain't no one perfect but the good Lord," Wayne says and Linda nods in agreement.

"Alright. I'll leave you to your beer and your thoughts for now, but you best keep me updated on your situation. I wanna know how it goes," Linda retracts her hand and heads down the counter to check on the few other people sitting about nursing drinks.

Wayne sits in his thoughts more than he drinks, so by the time he's done with the beer it's warm but that's fine. He will talk to the Harrington kid, but he wants to talk to Eddie first. He owes his nephew that much, and he does recall Eddie saying something to the effect of 'he'll come around' to Steve, and Wayne wants to tell Eddie he'll try.

Also he doesn't want to just corner the boy after he's been somewhat intimidating intentionally. He's going to get Eddie to ask if Steve'll talk to him.

True to his word, Eddie returns home late the next day. The clock says it's almost 6 when Eddie finally comes through the front door. If he's surprised to see Wayne awake, he doesn't show it. He does work the graveyard shift, and he's got a shift at 10 tonight, usually wakes up two hours before his shift. He'd wanted to make sure he caught Eddie, though, so he's been up since three.

"Eddie, you got a minute?" Wayne says.

"Sure. What's up?" Eddie says as he pulls off his jacket, depositing it on the nearest surface before plopping sideways on the couch so he's facing Wayne.

"I gotta come clean. I overheard some of what you and Steve were talkin' about," Wayne says, because he's a man of his word and he's always been good at doing the hard thing if it also turns out to be the right thing. He's got to be honest with Eddie, so he can be honest with himself. "Heard Harr- Steve talkin' 'bout how he thinks I'm a good person, and his parents aren't."

Eddie's quiet for a moment, blinking owlishly back at him while he thinks. "Oh. Umm. Sorry. I just- I think this is the first time I've heard you say Steve's name."

"Not the part I thought you'd focus on," Wayne huffs a laugh, "but I owe your boy an apology and I was hopin' you could help me make it happen."

"My boy- what is happening," Eddie drops his voice to whisper the question to himself.

"What's happening is I'm doin' the thing I always told you ta do. Taking accountability and fixin' my mistake."

"Oh. Oh!" Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne, "you've made an ass out of me. All those times I assured Steve you were just being standoffish and you were- what were you doing?"

"Intentionally keepin' the boy at a distance 'cause I thought he was gonna hurt you. I sure as hell ain't been friendly. I been judging him because I knew his parents, thinkin' about how an apple don't fall far from the tree," Wayne stops, giving pause to see if Eddie will speak but he isn't. He's just staring at Wayne like he's a puzzle. "It was brought to my attention that it's mighty unfair to judge someone 'cause of how their parents act."

Eddie's brow furrows and his lips purse. It makes him think of Linda. She'd made the exact same face. "I- Jesus fuck this is weird, but I. I think I'm mad at you. Disappointed."

Eddie doesn't say it with an angry tone, and his face still looks more puzzled than mad, but the sentence feels like a kick to the chest anyway. Eddie and he have never been mad at each other, not in the eight years Eddie's lived here with him. They've been worried and scared for each other that, or mad at someone or something else that they take out on each other, but never mad at each other.

"You've every right to be."

Eddie stands from the couch, paces down the hallway, and Wayne thinks this might be the end of any conversation tonight, but instead Eddie comes storming back up the hall. "So, what, did you take me in expecting me to be my dad!?"

"No. He mighta contributed to your birth, but we both know that man ain't nurtured you a day in his life."

"Yeah, well, Steve's parents didn't raise him either, so all this has been bullshit! You made Steve think he's, he's broken and a bad person! And," Eddie's eyes are wet and he's angry but also about to cry. Wayne hasn't seen him like this in a long time. Not since the day they learned Al was in prison, fifteen years with a chance for parole if he's on his best behavior. Eddie had been so angry, and sad, and hurt by the news. Eddie's like that now, worked up so much he's repeating himself as he hiccups his words out around the lump in this throat, "And, and you made me help him feel that way! Because I didn't take him serious when he said, said you didn't like him! I thought you were being, being a dad, all fake gruff to intimidate the guy I like but it's- you were- FUCK!"

Wayne lets him yell. He deserves it, and Eddie needs it. Eddie's not saying anything untrue. He takes in what Eddie is yelling at him; Steve's parents didn't raise him, and how Wayne's cold shoulder must have added to whatever else Steve has going on in his life.

"I, I h-held him while he b-bawled into my shirt last night! He, he thinks- and you, you didn't even trust me! T-trust my own j-judgment of, of Steve! I, I need- I can't-" Eddie doesn't finish the sentence. He turns on his heel and storms back down the hall, the slamming of his door finalizing this conversation.

To say that Wayne feels terrible is inadequate. He's hurt his boy, and he's hurt his boy's boy, and he's got no one to blame but himself.

Now he's got two apologies to make.

I tried to tag as many people as I could remember that expressed interest in a follow up fic. I am SO sorry if I missed you. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in the final part. I will only be tagging people who ask to be tagged going forward 'cause it's a lot of people to remember and my memory is garbage.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @itsthestrangestthings @emofratboy @devondespresso @finntheehumaneater @loopholesinmydreams @yourmom-isgay @wrenisflying @emsgoodthinkin @messrs-weasley @madigoround @jackiemonroe5512 @gutterflower77 @zerokrox-blog @eriquin @samyuck @lunarmaruna @mugloversonly @kaij-basil-lionelli88

[disneyprincemuke]

oscar's girl * ls2

logan never thought he would meet the girl that broke oscar’s heart

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

notes: guys ive been writing this since 10pm girl it's mf 4am now please sue me i'm sorry this was a long wind up im sorry but dont worry i will be writing a part two HELL YEAHHHH

(logan's girl) // |(f1 masterlist)

oscar and logan, logan and oscar. that's how it's been since they had run into each other during a karting weekend in the uk a couple of years ago. oscar had approached him with a toothy grin and a packet of candy after seeing logan walk around by himself for weekends at a time.

maintaining the friendship isn't the easiest of feats: logan lives in south florida, while oscar lives on the opposite side of the globe in melbourne. they don't see each other for very long, and very often in a year. but, it always feels like no time has passed when they get together after months of separation.

but being apart for the majority of the year means the window they've got to keep an ongoing conversation is small. but their string of texts has always come in consistently every day, responses from the other flooding in the early hours of the morning and sometimes in the dead of the night.

that was, until, logan woke up one warm thursday morning to an empty and dry phone. he brushed it off, taking it that oscar just had a long day at school. perhaps too much had happened in the day to simply text at the end of the day. so he went to school as he usually did with his best friend in the back of his mind.

but one day turned into two, and suddenly he hadn't heard from oscar in almost a week.

logan had sent one follow-up text. a simple 'hey' to nudge oscar into a response. which did help, because him and oscar surprisingly texted for a short thirty-minute window before the australian called it quits on their conversation to get some sleep for the next school day.

until oscar goes radio silent again for the next three days. so, he goes to the one other person in oscar's life that he knows personally.

"hey mum," logan starts, walking into the kitchen hesitantly. he's been dancing around the idea of asking his mum for help to see if oscar's even still alive and has not been replaced by some clone that's somehow less chatty than the one he said goodbye to at the airport four months ago.

"yeah, baby?" his mother stands up from her prior hunched-over position at the fridge to smile at him. she opens her arms as he approaches her hesitantly, fiddling with his thumbs. "what's wrong?"

he hums, second-guessing his decision to bring his mother into the situation. perhaps oscar just no longer wants to be friends with him anymore? but if that were the case, oscar definitely would have said something to his face and he's just been quiet. "um, it's just oscar," he starts softly, dropping his gaze to his feet, "can you ask his mum if he's alright?"

"of course," she smiles, letting go of him. she walks around the kitchen counter to find her phone. "why, did something happen to him recently? break another wrist?"

logan shakes his head, pressing his lips together. "no, we haven't been talking as much as we used to. i'm just worried that something might have happened to him."

a blush creeps up his cheeks when his mother's lips pout as she tries to hide her smile. "aw, logan! that's very cute of you. and very thoughtful," she teases as she starts to type on her phone. "i'm texting his mum right now. you hang tight and i'll tell you when she gets up to text me, okay?"

"okay."

he tries not to linger around his mum's circle of personal space for very long, afraid to let on that he's more concerned than he should be for the status of his friendship. to combat the anxiety of potentially losing one of his best friends, he locks himself in his room and plays video games all afternoon.

he had been in the middle of a game in call of duty when his phone started to ring. he glances at from his position on his bed and perks up with oscar's picture taking over the screen of his phone.

he immediately pauses the game, tossing the controller to the side of his bed. he slides his finger across the screen to pick up the call and oscar, visibly tired, pops up on his screen with a small smile.

"hey! my mum just got off the phone with your mum," oscar whispers with a smile. "said you missed me, mate?"

"no, i was just concerned cause you've been off the grid for a while," logan scoffs with an eye roll. "i never said i missed you."

"well, i'm sorry for disappearing on you, mate," oscar drops his gaze and a small smile creeps up on his face. in the dim orange lighting of his bedroom in melbourne, logan can almost make out the redness coming through on oscar's cheeks. "there's a reason for that. it's not because i don't wanna be friends anymore. i've just been a little... preoccupied."

logan tilts his head. he rolls over to his stomach and holds the phone up to his face. "what do you mean? more preoccupied than usual?"

"yeah," oscar giggles. "i uh... i've got-" he clears his throat, the slight embarrassment getting the better of him. he lifts his eyes from his thighs and moves the phone slightly further away. "i got a girlfriend."

logan furrows his eyebrows, throwing his head back slightly in shock. "what?"

"yeah," oscar repeats with a hint of a giggle in his response. "i've been seeing her for a while. do you mind if i tell you about her a little bit?"

"really?" logan smiles, squinting an eye. truthfully, he's finding it a little bit hard to believe that oscar's suddenly got a girlfriend. they're literally always on the phone with one another, texting and updating one another on things that they've got no idea about in their day-to-day lives.

not once has oscar come up to him about a girl before, much less developing a crush on somebody. "this is a bit sudden, isn't it? like, where did this girl come from?"

"she's new," oscar smiles. "so, do you wanna know about her or not?"

"alright, fire away, lover boy."

they talk - no, oscar talks - for the next hour about the girl that's recently enrolled into his private school. all logan can do is giggle and smile with oscar at how their relationship had gone down.

even after oscar has hung up, logan still doesn't really know much about the girl he's spent the better part of the past hour talking about. oscar simply refers to her as 'my girl'.

the next time oscar and logan reunite in the uk is at the end of the year. their mothers made an effort to get flights close to one another, letting them run into each other at the mcdonald's in the airport unknowingly while getting food before heading to the hotel.

"dude!" logan cheers, smacking oscar on the shoulder roughly.

"huh?" the smaller boy ahead of him looks up from his phone, turning his head to be greeted by a familiar pair of green eyes. he immediately locks his phone and slips it into his back pocket as realisation slowly dawns on him. "logan!"

"too busy texting on your phone to even notice i was behind you the entire time," logan scoffs jokingly as a hand comes up to pat him on the shoulder.

oscar presses his lips together as a blush creeps up on his cheeks. "sorry. i was texting my girl!"

"my girl this, my girl that," logan rolls his eyes with a smile. "did she not come along with you?"

"no, mate. she's off for a holiday with her family," oscar shrugs, biting down on his lip.

for the rest of the trip, logan will often catch Oscar cheesing at his phone. it doesn't matter when or where: they could be in their hotel room watching a movie, on the track waiting for the race to start, or while they're having a casual chat before they go to bed.

one question haunts logan for the rest of their stay in the uk: who is this girl?

though, it seems that logan is never destined to meet this girl that his best friend spent an entire year gushing about. because at three in the morning on a random saturday in may, his phone buzzes with oscar's picture taking over his entire screen again.

"we broke up."

logan would stay up all morning with oscar that day, letting oscar choke back on tears for the next thirty minutes about the girl that simply packed her bags and moved halfway across the world from him. they would never speak of this day again, even after they both relocated to the uk together to start their junior career.

oscar never speaks of the girl he once devoted his entire self to, but logan often finds himself thinking of her whereabouts and how their relationship had changed oscar.

oscar never uttered the phrase ‘my girl’ when he started dating his long-time girlfriend, lily zneimer. now that they’re in f1 together, logan has at least gotten to know this girlfriend.

he is very well aware that she exists: he’s talked to and touched lily. but the question still lingers in the back of his mind about the unnamed girl, even years later.

the thought of her pops up randomly in his mind as he approaches the paddocks for his sophomore year in the sport. that was prompted by the sight of oscar also making his way into the paddocks slightly ahead of him.

“mate, i heard you’ve got a special guest in your side of the garage today,” oscar teases, stepping away from logan as he reaches out to tap his card into the reader.

“what? who told you that?” logan scoffs, passing through the gantries as he throws his head back in disbelief. “ugh, alex needs to shut his trap. i bet he told lando then lando told you.”

“no, your mum told my mum,” oscar laughs. he nudges his friend with his shoulder. “why? are you shy?”

“piss off.” logan giggles as he drops his head, shaking his head as he bites back a smile. “i’ll see you later, mate.”

“oh, i’ll see you later alright. i’ve got to see who’s making you blush like that,” the australian giggles, shoving him in the direction of the williams racing home.

logan chases his shoulder, managing to land a soft smack before he completely walks away. sure, logan had been seeing somebody for a while, and this weekend was the one he had singled out for you to come out and watch his race.

you were scheduled to come in about thirty minutes for now, about twenty minutes before he is supposed to disappear from the garage for an interview panel.

and he’s excited. this is his first time having his personal guest, who isn’t his mother or brother, in his side of the garage. sure, getting halfsies of alex’s girlfriend from the garage next to him is still something, but it’s just not the same.

so, he tries to pass the next thirty minutes as well as he can. and he does everything: he terrorises his team in the garage, then james sitting his office, then alex in his driver’s room.

still ten minutes left on the clock.

kinda early, but i’m here! :)

logan almost jumps out of his skin at the notification that pops up along with your name. he swallows back the excited scream as he runs down the stairs, pushing himself past alex and his girlfriend who were gathered downstairs with james.

logan swings the glass doors open, slumping his shoulders and feeling a wave of happiness in his chest when he sees you standing shyly by the stairs.

you look very cozy: wrapped in a dark puffer jacket and your bag barely hanging onto your shoulder. he almost wants to disappear with you into his driver’s room and cuddle all day. to hell with his commitments, even if it means fighting off his pr officer.

“hey, you!” logan beams, perking up as he jogs down the few steps to where you were. “you should have texted me when you reached the paddocks. i could have picked you up.”

immediately, he bends down to take your bag into his hands and then he pulls you in for a warm hug. “thanks for making it out this weekend.”

“of course. how can i decline a chance to watch you in your element?” you smile, leaning back slightly and wrapping your arms around him. “thank you for reserving a pass for me.”

“absolutely!” logan cheers, pulling away. “let me bring you inside and introduce you to the team. you don’t mind, right?”

“it’s my pleasure,” you smile.

he puts a hand on your back as he guides you up the racing home, pushing the door open and beckons for you to walk in before him.

“ah, lily, you were right! it’s neither his brother nor his mum that’s making a special appearance this weekend!” alex booms from deep inside the hospitality, throwing his arms in the air. “mr american man got a girlfriend over the winter break?”

“shut up, mate,” logan scowls, moving his hand up to hold your shoulder protecticely. “but, yes. this is… my girlfriend.”

he shyly looks down at you, catching your eye as you glance up at him. you’ve only recently gotten into a relationship with logan; fresh, only six weeks into the title.

“oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” lily steps away from alex’s grasp and holds a hand out to you, “i’m lily. welcome to the paddocks.”

“hi, i’m (y/n). it's so nice to finally meet you,” you smile, taking her hand. “and alex! logan talks about you guys really often. i’m a big fan.”

“oh, logan talks about me,” alex teases in a laugh, also extending his hand out to you. “good things only, i hope.”

“hey, i told you not to tell him that,” logan says through his teeth, giving you a warning stare with wide eyes.

“it’s my first time meeting him, babe,” you laugh to logan, taking his hand in yours to shake.

"oh, can i tell you about logan's antics last year in the paddocks?" alex asks you excitedly, hopping one step toward you.

"or," lily laughs, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend to steer him away from you, "let's let her settle down with logan. you can terrorise her after the day has ended, alex."

"aw, but i've got lists of embarrassing things about him," alex sighs with a frown, though he lets lily guide him away from the new couple. he cranes his neck and grins at you. "i will see you later! i'll prepare a list!"

"so we're avoiding him later," logan smiles at you, now guiding you towards the steps that would lead you to some privacy. "have you run into anyone yet? have you seen liam yet?"

you shake your head. "not yet. but i hope you'll bring me to him so that i can get to say hi? i haven't seen him since we bumped into them at disneyland in december."

"yeah, i know. he's been asking about you." he opens the door to his driver's room to let you in. "so, i've got to run for a bit. i've got an interview panel. it really shouldn't take too long. i'm sorry."

"sorry? what are you sorry for?" you giggle, taking a seat in the corner of the room. your eyes scan the small room, taking note of the endless shirts riddled with williams' logo hung in the corner.

"i don't wanna just leave you here by yourself," logan slumps his shoulders with a frown, resting his hands on his knees as he bends over to meet your eyes. "i feel bad."

"oh, i'll be okay." you wave off his concern and lean in, pressing a chase kiss to his lips. "just text me when you're done. i'll go downstairs and find lily and get to know her better."

"that's a good idea! you guys should really go around the paddocks. there's a concert somewhere too, make the best out of my pass, okay?" logan smiles, his hand cupping your chin. he brushes his thumb over your cheek as he towers over you. "text me if you get lost."

"i won't get lost," you smile, standing up from the seat. "i actually haven't had my coffee yet. do you know anywhere i can get a cup of coffee?"

"oh, lily should know where," logan hums, tapping his bottom lip as he heads for his door. "let me get her for you."

"logan." the firmness in your voice stops logan in his tracks, turning around with curious eyes. "i can find lily on my own. i'll be okay - i'll see you later."

"are you sure? i just feel bad that i'll leave you all by yourself," logan whispers, leaning in to kiss your cheek. "i'll miss you."

"i'll miss you too. but you've got a job to do," you giggle, walking out of his room with your hands wrapped around his arm. "i won't disappear. i'll meet you wherever when you're done. just text me."

"fine."

so logan goes and does his media commitments with alex in tow. and lily clearly had the same idea as you, meeting you at the front doors as alex walked away with logan.

"logan mentioned you were looking for coffee?" lily beams, quickly finding herself by your side as she leads you around the paddocks. "i know the best racing home to get a good cup of, but we might have to sneak in."

"sneak in?" you tilt your head. "is that even allowed?"

"yeah, carmen will get us in! mercedes has got the best cup of coffee to offer around here," lily giggles. "and, you should meet the rest of the girls. what are you going to do for the rest of the evening while the boys are out doing their jobs?"

"i suppose you're right," you shrug with a small smile. "but it's my first time here. should i really be caught sneaking into another team's home?"

"ah, you're with me," lily smiles. "i've got you."

so you actually get your cup of coffee in the back of the mercedes' racing home, now finding yourself huddled together with carmen and lily. they had asked you how you had come to meet logan, especially after the driver had spent most of it behind closed doors and rarely showed himself to the cameras.

it was a pretty simple story. you had been on vacation in new york with a group of your friends, minding your business in the corner of a crowded bar. truthfully, you didn't even want to be there, but it was your best friend's birthday trip. you couldn't say no even if you insisted.

logan had caught sight of you pretending to drink shots your friends were handing you towards the end of the night. eventually, you wound up with about six filled shot glasses hiding behind you, desperately hidden from your friend's prying eyes.

he thought it was funny, and had offered to finish them for you. in exchange for a promise that they were not laced with poison.

you had hit it off, and logan asked you out on a date. while you were unfortunately flying off to another state in a week, he had taken up the challenge and took you out on a date the very next night in the heart of new york city.

the rest is history, as they say.

"does logan actually ever say no to free alcohol?" carmen jokes, blowing into her cup of hot coffee. "wait! there's a concert happening not too far from here. do you guys know who's performing?"

"it should be on the race's instagram page," lily sighs, swiftly taking her phone out of her pocket. "but aren't the guys finishing up their interviews by now?"

"it's a long weekend. would they really notice if we weren't here for one break that they have?" carmen points out knowingly with a smile. "and we've got to show her," carmen gestures towards you, "around. is this your first race weekend?"

you nod shyly, taking a sip from your coffee. "but it's okay, really! don't go out of the way for me."

"that's silly." lily runs a hand through her hair and sighs, resting a hand on her hip. "okay, so, let's meet the guys near the pit building. when they're called in for their driver's briefing, we make a run for the concert area, okay?"

"that sounds like a much better compromise." carmen turns to you with a playful smile. "we will teach you how to make the most out of logan's race pass. you're going to have so much fun with us."

"after the concert, we'll head upstairs to the viewing pen and get a couple of drinks," lily smiles. she glances down at her phone. "oh, seems like they're already done. you guys wanna head there together?"

"sure!"

you start backpedalling from your position, ready to follow the two veteran paddock enjoyers. that seemed like a good idea until your back collides with something - someone - and suddenly you've got mildly hot coffee all over your top.

this is the one time you regret unzipping your jacket to let a bit of the cold in.

"i'm so sorry."

"it's fine," you say with a soft whine, turning around before being flashed by a bright orange jacket and a pair of brown eyes. "it's..." you tilt your head. "do i know you from somewhere?"

the shape of his polite smile and the way his brown eyes look into you are all very familiar. but you just can't quite place a finger on it.

perhaps it's because he looks a lot different from the last time you saw him. you were a wee fourteen-year-old the last time you had seen him before you were forced to pack your bags and move away because of your dad's job.

but, as a kid, you generally did a lot of moving around because of that said job. now you're just trying to single him out by geographic location from the many friends you've made and lost contact with over the years.

"(y/n)?" oscar's eyebrows shoot up, your name coated thickly with an australian accent as his hand lingers on your shoulder.

"oh, you two know each other?" lily excitedly asks, looking between the two younger individuals.

who seem to be very caught up in their unexpected reunion. you'd be shocked too if the girl you had thought was the love of your life shows up at your big boy job with your colleagues' girlfriends with a mercerdes coffee cup in hand.

"yeah, we uh," oscar takes a step away from you and puts his hands in the pockets of his team jacket, "we used to go to school together. in melbourne."

"right," you sigh in relief, finally being able to place him in a particular timeline of your life. you finally remember him: oscar piastri, the school heartthrob with a charming smile and friendly eyes. he had even asked you to be his girlfriend at some point, dating for the better part of a year before you had to leave melbourne with your family. "oscar, right? i'm sorry, my memory's a little bit hazy."

"no, yeah," oscar agrees, scanning you head to toe. "it's been... how long has it been since we last saw each other?"

"very long. it's been years since i left melbourne." you lower your cup and readjust your jacket, trying to hide the prominent wet patch of coffee at the collar of your inner shirt.

but the longer you stare at him, the more the memories come rushing back to the time you spent with the best friend you had made in melbourne for those years. you can vividly remember oscar picking you out in pe to be his teammate, sneaking out of homeroom to grab a juice pack together right down the hall.

you had completely forgotten the tears you shed that day you had to leave melbourne. you swore that you would keep in contact with the warmest brown eyes your eyes have ever seen, but you had simply gotten too busy settling into the new environment that had been thrown at you.

before you knew it, you had dropped your phone into the lake when you were out with your friends and you lost oscar's phone number. you never found a way to reconnect with him, and eventually, he had joined the long list of friends that you had forgotten about.

"i," oscar laughs, "what are you doing here in the paddocks? are you friends with them?"

"no," you straighten your back with a polite smile, "i'm with somebody - logan."

and oscar's never wanted to ever tear apart the paddocks' walls with his own hands before. what do you mean his girl is here with his best friend?

[rafeschicana]

𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚ just like her mama/daddy 𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘

dad!rafe x mom!reader

the constant beeping woke you from your afternoon nap. only given birth three weeks ago naps with your newborn baby were routine. you blinked, slowly bringing your hands to your face and rubbing your eyes. it’s only when you hear a shriek, do you sit up in bed panicking. you quickly look to the left of your bed where your daughter’s bassinet is, finding it empty. after struggling with removing the throw blanket that was tangled between your legs, you leave the room in search of your newborn daughter and her father.

“i’m sorry baby i know, i know mama is smarter than daddy, please be patient” rafe whispers to the fussy baby who whines in his arms. “Just let me put you down for one second!” he pleads to a fussy ari. that is when you decide to help. “i got it” you giggle walking towards the bottle warmer rafe couldn’t get started. “sorry we woke you, babe, she’s hungry and i couldn’t get that shit on.” he mumbles.

“that’s okay, our baby is like her father very impatient..when he wants something.” you smirk making him shake his head. the sound of his raspy laugh calming the little bundle in his arms. “how are you feeling?” the simple question warming up your insides. rafe was already a loving husband before becoming a father. now seeing him as a dad almost brings you to tears every time. “im okay i needed that nap” you whisper running a finger down ari’s nose.

“she's so beautiful” you now understood what everyone says about moms believing they have the cutest newborn in the world. “just like her mama” rafe bent down placing a gentle kiss on your lips. he never fails to make you feel beautiful even though you thought you looked a mess. wearing one of rafe's shirts which now had spit-up stains. his own sweats were also covered in dried-up milk. it was all part of the new parent life. you'd get adjusted soon enough.

ari squirmed in her father’s arms. bottom lip forming a baby pout. “my princess don't you start i hate seeing you cry.” rafe cooed rocking back and forth. “it’s coming ari girl” pulling the bottle from the warmer you tested out the temperature on your wrist. “just needs a couple of seconds to cool down” your girl was very picky when it came to her milk temperature. if it was room temperature she wouldn't take it, spitting it right out with a whine. It needed to be the perfect in-between. “mama’s got milk okay let's go sit down” rafe moved towards the living room with you following behind.

immediately snuggling into both of your loves as they rested on the sofa. “it should be good” you smiled passing rafe ari’s bottle. “only three ounces lets see how fast she drinks this shit” rafe joked knowing his baby was a hungry little thing. “We might have to change her schedule to a bottle every two hours.” it'll be hard but maybe she'll sleep a little longer through the night.

“hey, hey slow down princess it ain't going anywhere” rafe gently removed the bottle from ari’s mouth. ari let out an angry breath, furrowing her eyebrows. “i think she's mad at you daddy” you giggled craning your neck to kiss his nose. rafe threw his head back in silent laughter “she looks so funny when she's mad” he brought the bottle back to her mouth. ari immediately going back to drinking her milk in slow gulps. “still cute though”

“just like her daddy” you whispered before letting your eyes close into slumber.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 26] || [Chapter 27]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 500~ (in the video + picture) cw: accidental exhibitionism/voyeurism, good natured teasing Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: This chapter is **different**. You can read it OR watch it live! So sorry btw that the video is not embedded 😭😭🙏 a/n #2: Also this chapter is 100% inspired by this fanart by @ramvur but with Simon, instead of Price.

Chapter pre-27: Away (UPDATED!)

If you'd rather watch their text convo: CLICK HERE

It's 6 A.M. when your phone start buzzing repeatedly on the night stand next to you.

You paw at it languidly, blinking away the sleep as you attempt to unlock the phone and rub the sleep out of your eyes.

johnny: baby guess what!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11 johnny: baby johnny: babyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy johnny: if ye dont answer my texts 🙄 you: jesus christ johnny its 6am what are you doing up??? 😑 johnny: good morning love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! johnny: weve got training today 😙 johnny: guess what happened you: what simon: Good morning sweeheart. johnny: WAIT WHAT ARE YOU DOING ANSWERING? you: good morning si 🫶 you: wait what do u mean u were calling for me no? johnny: I MEANT SIMON HES IN THE INFIRMARY HES NOT MEANT TO BE ANSWERING johnny: HOW DO YE EVEN HAVE YOUR PHONE you: i feel like u need to stop asking how he does things you: uve known him for longer than me and im not surprised anymore you: also IN THE INFIRMARY? johnny: thats what i was coming to tell you!!!!! 🙄🙄🙄🙄 you: why did u frame it like its a good thing?????????? johnny: because he got put there by Kyle during training johnny: we were practising chokeholds and he passed out you: I STILL DONT SEE HOW THATS A GOOD THING JOHNNY johnny: HES FINE YE DON'T UNDERSTAND johnny: HE GOT ROCK HARD WHILE KYLE HAD HIS LEGS WRAPPED AROUND HIS THROAT you: WHAT??? you: tell me more 👀 johnny: 😏😏 johnny: he was wearing shorts and his cock just popped out you: LIKE OUT OUT? johnny: out out 🍆 you: wow 😮‍💨 you: did u get any pictures? 👀 johnny: i did bonnie do ye want them? 😏 johnny: even caught the look in prices and kyles faces when it happened you: send me send me send me you: wait it happened in front of them???? johnny: worse happened in front of everyone 🥴 we were training with other units you: oh shit you: that has to have been embarrassing you: is he okay though from passing out? you: johnny? you: wow imagine ignoring me kyle: johnny's a little occupied at the moment lovie! kyle: good morning btw! 😚 you: good morning ky!! 🫶 you: occupied? kyle: ghost's chasing him for telling you everything and johnny's running for his life 😭 you: 🙃 you: normal day then? kyle: normal day 🥴 you: okay then well hope the training went well kyle: it did! 😏 anyway got to go kyle: pls go back to sleep need you well rested lovie you: i will i will.

Sighing a bit, you set your phone down on the charger again and attempt to go back to sleep... unsuccessfully so.

After half an hour of tossing and turning, you find yourself grabbing the phone again and your thumb clicks on John's name in your contacts.

You don't text him often, the last time having been nearly a week before, but, right now, you felt like you should.

you: the lads just woke me up you: johnny more specifically 🙄 you: now i cant get to sleep again john: if it's any consolation john: I told him not to john: need help? you: how would u help? john: can call you and sing you a lullaby? you: pls dont john: then I'm out of ideas darling you: u could help in another way john: and what's that? 😏 you: remember how u said u had a house of ur own you: and if i ever needed a break we could go there? john: i see 😏 john: want me to take you away for the weekend darling? you: yes please

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taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx

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[nyyrami]

WHEN THEY HAVE A NIGHTMARE . . . synopsis. sleep was meant to be a break from the terrors of the normal day world. but even sleep is not escape for your lover and nightmares plague the crevices of their mind…

tags. satoru gojo x reader, nanami kento x reader, toji fushiguro x reader. angst. hurt/comfort. nightmares. mentions of wounds and battles.death duh.

a/n. i love this trope sm i genuinely don’t know why lol. if you enjoyed a like or reblog would greatly be appreciated ty <3 dk why gojos one is so long, sorry I got carried away with it… this is not proofread so don’t come for me sfter spelling errors this was rotting in my drafts.

GOJO SATORU was no stranger to nightmares. as much as he would like to say he was unaffected by his battles. he was human at the end of the day and like a human he would suffer trauma from it. it was only when he’d met you and he first slept in the same bed as you that the nightmares ceased. wrapped in your warm, soft arms. it was as if he were being protected by some unknown force and the horrid dreams were driven away. but they were never gone always and some days his mind would recollect what occurred during the day—or even what happened years ago…

‘‘—suguru, stop—wait.’’

satoru runs through the crowd pushing past mindless civilians. they all have the same look on their face. that they have somewhere to be, and that this pesky boy pushing them was dreadfully annoying. he wouldn’t have cared. only that suguru wore the same face as them. he doesn’t know why he ran after his criminal friend. maybe he wanted an answer? or a reason on why he would leave behind everything. leave him, Y/N, shoko. he couldn’t fathom a reason on why he would do such a heinous crime—

‘‘what satoru? what’s done is done, we can’t turn back time and change it. im done trying to.’’

the world fades to black like spilled ink on parchment, his dear friend with it but sugurus purple eyes remain. a stark light in the darkness he can only hope to hold on to. but like sand it slips through his fingers and away and he curses. at himself or suguru? he doesn’t know. only that he wishes he were so much stronger. he knows he will never be.

satoru is somewhere else again. this time a familiar alley. the sun is setting the distance casting a beautiful glow. satoru has grown. he is no longer the boy he was years ago. he’s a man now and he has a family. one he can call his own and cherish and love. but now looking at the person sitting infront of him, he doesn’t feel like a man.

suguru sits on the alley flaw, clutching his now lost arm. blood is everywhere. his robe is torn to shreds leaving his chest bare and exposed but satoru can care less about that now. now he’s focused on his dying friend who he wishes to say a million things to but he doesn’t know where to start.

should he tell him he’s now married? that he’s so happy now? that he misses him? that he wishes he could come back? satoru cant bring himself to say anything.

‘‘…at least curse me a little at the end..’’ his purple eyes are twinkling in the low light and satoru realises he’s never realised how beautiful sugurus eyes were until now. how ironic in that moment he remembers you commenting on them one summer evening. saying how they were prettier than even gojos blue eyes. how they speak a million things in no words. the world slips away and all turns white for a split moment and satoru is suspended in time. he is everywhere and nowhere.

he is seeing all his memories at once rushing past him like birds in flight. he wishes to hold onto the good ones but they escape his reach.

soon he is another place again. this time it is unfamiliar. he sees you. standing in a train station, your back is turned to him but satoru can sense something is wrong. he could sense your problems a mile away no matter how hard you try to hide them. he calls your name and you turn.

slowly but surely you look at him and your eyes widen, arm stretching out to touch him. to feel him. he walks toward you, like a magnet. a bang echoed a throughout the quiet hall and it takes him so long to realise the bang is from you.

it happens so quickly satoru doesn’t even react in time. he stand frozen in his step arms reaching out to touch your saying figure, but the light has gone out in your eyes for some reason and your looking at him but your aren’t.

you fall to the ground with a loud thud and you can’t help but remind satoru of a dead body. he hopes you aren’t one but the hole in the back of your head suggests otherwise. your fingers twitch for a second and satoru holds onto the hope that you may well still be alive but it dies with you too.

he cries out, screaming your name to no avail. shaking your shoulders in an attempt to wake you up from your sleep. ‘‘—‘toru.’’ satoru is blinded by grief, his blindfold off and his blue eyes out he takes in the world with hyper awareness but it does nothing but reaffirm that your—

‘‘satoru—’’

satoru is shooting up. the covers of his bed falling to his waist revealing his bare chest to the cold but he couldn’t care less. his body is trembling and for the first time in what seems to be forever, he’s scared—

‘‘satoru, darling—its okay, I’m here.’’ yes you are. you are untouched snd unhurt. satorus six eyes confirms but the lingering feeling of believing you were dead haunts him. your arms are around him in seconds, his head now laying on your chest.

for the next few minutes, for the first in time in what seems to be forever, satoru cries. his arms wrapping around your waist he digs his head deeper into your chest, his grip turning hard but you couldn’t care less. your attention was on your husband.

for a few minutes you sit there. satoru relying on your heartbeat to keep him calm, he slowly regains his composure but the dull tremble in his limbs is still there and no matter how much he tries to breathe in and out it remains. you rub soothing circles into his back and he looks up at you from where he lays, you finally see the whites of his eyeballs have gone red from crying and the blue seems to be shining even more than usual.

‘‘’toru. wanna talk about it?’’ he shakes his head. later. you would speak about it later when he was more comfortable but now he would rest. after what happened it seems the energy has finally left his body and he yawns. despite what had just happened you can’t help but find your lover cute. sliding back under the covers, he once again wraps his arms around you. this time entangling his legs with yours. his feet are dreadfully cold. ‘‘i love you, satoru.’’ you whisper into his hair. you can practically feel his smile through your shirt.

‘‘’m love you too.’’

NANAMI KENTO was a busy man. during his time as a normal working person he didn’t encounter things he would say were, traumatising. it was only when he returned to the jujutsu world that the nightmares returned. the last time he’d ever had them were following the death of his friend, haibara.

nanami walked through the streets of Tokyo. eyes roaming the many people and shops. nothing seemed out of the ordinary. everyone was on their way either to work, school or some place else. it was the perfect day. the sun was out and the cloud was littered with bright white clouds.

summer had always been the best season in his opinion. not for the great feeling it brought or even the great weather. but the fact that it reminded him of his long gone friend. haibara. he’d died back in his jujutsu days. hat’s why when nanami stopped in the middle of a bustling crowd, eyes hooking on a familiar figure, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

haibara stood a few feet away from him. in his usual jujutsu uniform he wore all those years ago. he looks unchanged. still the young boy at school. unawares of his fate. nanami swallows the lump in his throat away and he wants to say something.

say what exactly? he thinks, say that he was sorry? for not saving him? for not finding some way to save him? for not being strong enough? he knows what happened wasn’t his fault in the slightest but survivors guilt stands strong.

haibara speaks and his voice is surprisingly the same. the passage of time brighter dulling it not evolving it with growth. it’s a haunting reminder that in-fact he is dead. he always will be.

‘‘…why didn’t you save me, nanami?' you could’ve. you should’ve.'’ yes he should’ve. no, he couldn’t. but the guilt is a never ending well and nanami has fallen down it once again and he can’t find his way out. he runs to his friend but he can’t be stopped. he falls like water to the ground and the scene switches.

this time nanami is standing infront of haibaras body. or what’s left of it at least. his friend is cut in half, a thin trail of blood leaking out of his mouth and sliding down his chin. in another world he would’ve scolded him for his mess. in another world it would’ve been drool, but the bright red is obviously blood.

the pain is a dull throb this time. he has felt this pain already before, the feeling is nothing new.

the body changes and to his shock, it becomes you. your staring at the sky, eyes dull and unresponsive. you looked beautiful. with the way your hair spilled around your shoulders like pools or maybe it’s the slight upturn of your lips that hint a smile is coming.

what were you laughing about? he wouldn’t ever know. maybe that’s why he’s calling your same, begging for an answer. begging you not to leave him like haibara. he can’t afford to lose you too. the one who’s laid claim on his once broken heart. sown together the broken fabrics of his heart. with you he felt complete. the only person since haibara who ever elicited the feeling out of him. nanami opens his eyes and he is no longer looking at your dead body.

instead he is on his bed, in his home. throwing the covers off his sweating skin, he sits on the side. head in his hands in order to calm his breathing.

minutes pass before he hears the rustling of the duvet and your warm arms wrap around him from behind. he can tell you’d just woken up from your sluggish movements

‘‘—kento.’’

you take in his slightly trembling form and all sleep leaves you. you proceed to sit next to him quiet but a reassuring figure. you don’t ask him what caused him such distress but you can guess by the way his hands hover above the scars he gained all those years ago.

nanami finally relaxes. his heart calming, he lens into your touch. featherlight and soft. it doesn’t take him long before he’s in your arms, lying on your chest and sleeping once more.

TOJI FUSHIGURO had a hard job. one many would definitely die on but he was different. and as cliché as it sounded, he was built different. for all those years he lived with the zeni’in clan he acquired a cold heart of stone.

a defense mechanism to stop himself from getting hurt. that was until he met you of course. it seemed for the first time in his life he wasn’t living on his feet all the time. he relaxed in your presence. laughed and even cracked jokes.

he didn’t know how much of a lover man he was before he met you. he thought he wasn’t capable of such love. how you turned his life around, he didnt know.

hed just come back from a mission one he’d gained a few injuries in but nothing bad. you still fretted over him. making a hassle when you saw his blood soaked shirt. he wouldn’t deny it, he did love you hassling him about his safety, it was quite endearing. you’d went to sleep not long after, toji following suite.

toji stood in a familiar house of tradition Japanese architecture. everything screamed, money, wealth and power. something the zen’in clan prided themselves on. power brought you more money and wealth in the jujutsu world, toji was no stranger to it. ‘‘—you don’t even have any cursed energy, you mistake.''

toji had not seen the members of his clan in years. their faces now blurred in his memory’s so much he believed he had gotten over what they did to him, but now their voices always made little toji stiff backed and immediately sweating.

the man behind him had white hair and a pointed moustache but his face was a blur of colour. it seemed he’d forgotten what exactly they looked like but their voices were as clear as the day.

the harsh slap through toji off his feet and to the ground with a loud thud. a few specks off blood flying out of his now bruised lip. he’d also apparently forgotten that they beat him on the regular. ‘‘—you stupid monkey. look how weak you are—cant even fight back.’’ the man’s harsh words were followed with a brutal assault of kicks. toji cursed himself, he’d never be strong enough to fight back against these demons of the zen’in clan, no matter what he did so he took the abuse. the man kicked for what felt like hours, only stopping when he was breathless and toji was bruised all over.

‘‘you should’ve died in the womb.’’

he should’ve, he thought. he should’ve died as an infant rather than face the shame of having no cursed energy. he’d never amount to anything in there eyes other than a filthy monkey. suddenly, the man became enraged. he yanked toji up by the collar of his robe, bringing him close to his blur of a face.

‘‘your no son of mine—’’

the world faded to black and toji opened his eyes to a quiet room. he wasn’t in the zen’in estate. he wasn’t in the—

he shot up. arm reaching for the knife he kept in a daw on the bedside table. unbeknownst to him, the movement stirred you from your sleep. you awoke, groggy eyed and confused, the space where toji was once sleeping was empt, him now standing by the balcony of your apartment.

‘‘toji, what happened—’’

your words cut off when you saw the glint of something sharp in his hand. a knife. he was holding a weapons, but why— had someone come? questions flew around your brain score your eyes caught the glint of clear liquid on his cheek. you pieced two and two together and came to the conclusion he’d woken from a bad dream.

sliding out of bed. you walked up to toji, making sure not to startle the tensed man before you laid a warm hand on the expanse of his back. toji still didn’t turn, his face dutifully turned away from you. to hide what you already knew, you guessed.

trailing your hand down his arm, you hovered over his rock hard grip on the handle of the knife. coaxing him to let the weapon go. it didn’t take long before the muscles relaxed and he allowed you to take it away.

you didn’t speak for a few minutes before toji turned to fully face you. dried streaks of tears on his cheeks. he wasted no time in gathering you in his arms. his head hiding in the crook of your neck. you rubbed soothing circles into his bare back and before long you guided him back to bed whispering sweet nothing into his mop of dark hair.

©SATURVUE do not copy, repost or plagiarise my work. likes and reblog sre greatly appreciated <3

[tremendum]

heyy, can you write din djarin x reader where she's smth like a princess and he's hired as her bodyguard by her father or brother whatever you want (I know this is basic plot but can't help it 😭) tysm❤️🥰

i got u babes! its cute ive never written something like this but i hope u like it!! <3 its fluffier than anything ive really written to tysm for the request! also this is NOT PROOF READ im sorry

after midnight

(gif not mine!)  pairing: din djarin x fem!reader (afab, use of terms like princess/duchess/daughter)   rating: explicit.  (18+. mdni.)     word count: 6.2k summary: “you were... a princess. you were untouchable, and he knows better than to fall for one of his jobs. so he'd made a tower of armor to protect him from any attraction; but with every passing day he spent in your company, you happened to slip through those cracks like you were made for it.”  warnings: mentions of political unrest/uprisings, reader resents their parents/family because monarchy is BAD folks, threats of death, but smut (PiV, unprotected), mutual masturbation (m&f), teasing, light themes of possession at one point, mentions of eating. cumplay/creampie. i think that's it.

★  

YOU are no stranger to fear. 

it's been a gently lived life for you, in your several decades orbiting the power of your parents' suns.

the duchess of your family's system, the 'Prize Jewel' your mother loves to say; the one who got the love of the people but sought none of the power. 

you weren't the heir, not to the throne: that duty fell unto your younger brother, as per custom tradition. so you were coaxed into a life of sitting around, humming as your ladies in waiting braided your strands, staring longingly as your brother wielded blasters and vibro-blades; as if that is what constituted a good ruler. 

so perhaps the fear you've grown accustomed to is the fear of the mirrors that so delicately lined your chambers; the mirror that appears on your own face as any noble speaks to you, as your father commanded you to embark on diplomatic missions that should be left to those who have any stake in the future of the system. the mirror which constricts any true personality or truth from presenting you to the galaxy. you were the duchess, your parents' daughter; you were not yourself. 

you'd never gone off world, to either of the other planets in the crown's domain - until the day you did. 

that kind of fear was different. 

the tumultuous tracks of your heartbeat when that creaking drop ramp was sealed, those days ago; the footsteps that rang out like funeral chimes as the tall Mandalorian bowed his head to you before escorting you upwards into the cockpit of the ship that was to take you to the other side of the system.  

you were not, though, afraid of him. 

Mando had been your shadow for several months before you left on your enterprise - you were no longer frightened by the cold, sharp angles of his body, the dark rumbling of his scarce voice. now, that same low hum as he listens to you is welcomed. encouraged. sought for. 

no, the fear was from something else; there was a scratching, a slow but insistent simmering that tightened the muscles of your lower back and your upper neck until you woke up in sharp gasps of discomfort.

maybe the fear was in the winding hills that turned into mountains, jagging up and into the sky; your fear clung to you even as you lifted your legs and climbed over top of them - those towers to the sky - and settled yourself with the acknowledge that your parents had sent you on this diplomatic embarkment to a hostile insurgence group with nothing more than the Mandalorian bodyguard and a datapad containing an ultimatum which was surely the fuse to the ticking bomb of your family's dominating sovereignty. the crashing of a scepter, or the squashing of a bug. 

thankfully your father, in all of his Majesty's grace and wisdom, had offered you a full set of your Ladies of the Household on your journey - as if they'd protect you from blaster fire, or kidnapping, or whatever joys may have lied in wait for you once you reached the rebel territory. 

and he knows you are highly mistrusting of those parasitic Mynocks he calls the Kingsguard; that was in fact the sole reason he'd hired the Mandalorian to be your personal guard.

so your father at least had the sense not to call upon the lord commander to escort you, as it would be likely you'd either be dead come nightfall or your cot would be empty come morning rise. 

so he'd insisted on only the Mandalorian instead. 

a fiercely dauntless man, a walking shield, as clever as he is dangerous. 

after seeing him fight, there was no doubt Mando could protect you from hundreds if he needed to. 

there was a stint by another insurgent rebel group, of which your family was battling many currently; they'd made threats on your life, so Mando has shown up with a personal arsenal and enough intimidation to make any man fall to his knees.

it took all of thirty seconds of staring at his figure, hearing his voice, to decide you'd fall to your knees for him, too.

and just before you were ordered to visit the duke of the defecting planet, you were informed he would be replacing the four kingsguard subordinated to Mando who usually escorted you around the kingdom.

one man instead of five? you were sure the King was finally sending you to your death, punishing you for his lifelong regret that you'd not been a son. 

but you soon came to like Mando and his stoic, taciturn presence. 

and at least your instructions were simply to deliver the ultimatum and leave the atmosphere within the hour; the insurgent's strategists would not, as your father and his Hand had believed, have enough time to read through the full terms before deciding they should just break into the duchess's chambers and slit her throat anyways. 

you escaped the planet with nothing but a blaster shot grazing Mando's side and the hate of an entire species of oppressed constituents hurling insults at the Crown.

no slit throat for you - but in the end, you wouldn't even blame them if they'd tried. 

you know, now, that your fear clouded your eyes, as bright as they may have been back when Mando was hired as your bodyguard. but they grew thick, the clouds lifting into the stratosphere and slipping into Mando's helmet with the modulated, quiet inhales you've come to know almost as your own. you don't think he ever intended to frighten you.

he was there to protect you. and he has. 

he has not left you since arriving to the midway planet, where you'll stay for a few days before returning back to your kingdom planet.

here, there is fresh air, the salt of the sea, deep ripe fruits, and warm breezes. there is no fear here, only heat. 

Mando helps with that, though he won't let you admit it. 

as you stare at that unwavering gaze, surrounded by the gilded intricacies of the farewell feast, all you can do is imagine him. Mando, his body on yours, that cold, heavy metal against the thrill of your heated bare skin. he tilts his head slightly at you; you wink at him over your cup of wine. the man next to you makes conversation about your father's latest agriculture subsidies.

you look back to find the relaxing - bone chilling- gaze on you still. you wonder if he'll crack before you do. 

there have been close calls; once, when you'd drank a bit too much ale in the city square and Mando had carried you back to the keep, tucked you into bed as you tried to pull him in with you - you should stay, Mando - the time he'd agreed to teach you to spar and you'd ended up wide-eyed and pinned beneath his very sturdy frame. 

you've seen the pressure on his flightsuit beneath those layers when you'd teased him - his own admission of guilt, that he feels something for you, too.

when you'd asked him to help you shoot a blaster, when you'd left the fresher open to shower, or not particularly covering up when you prepared yourself for the day. though he was always there, always at attention for the slightest danger. 

even last night, you felt the stuttering in his breaths when you'd sat on your bed, staring down at him - his hand in the nook of your knee, the other unlacing your sandals that'd crawled up your supple calves the entire day. you'd felt his leather hands brush against the soft skin of your thigh, the way that helmet had stared up at you from between your legs. at your service. 

you know he could see the way you jolted when he'd place his hands on your hips in passing, or how you'd get particularly flustered at the flip of a blaster trigger, the flex of a muscle under a flightsuit. you didn't try to hide your attraction to him. 

but all of those things; those moments you had - even the subtle brushes of his hand just low enough on your lower back, the smiles you'd share even with the barrier of his cold beskar, the soft conversations you'd hold just between the two of you: all, under the soft shadows of the moons which orbit you. 

never in the broad daylight.

those souvenirs, the ones which you held close to your heart in the last few weeks, high up in the pews of your heart's cathedral; all idolized yet forgotten with the mornings that rise in clean beskar glinting and sleep rubbing from your eyes.  

-- 

DIN is sure you're looking straight through him.

those eyes; you're coy the way you look at him now, over the meal you eat at the table. 

swirling with mischief. 

that trouble-making look, the one he's studied for months as your personal guard. to the constituents of your family's crown, you were the sweet, young girl destined to marry away and sire many noble children. but behind palace doors, you were alive, you were a bolt of electricity that was never to be tamped down.

Din remembers how fiery you'd been when the King had ordered Mando to escort you to the insurgents with your Ladies of the House. you'd requested they not accompany you in this formidable expedition because, as he recalls you'd said, 'how can my bodyguard spare to protect not me but also ten others? shall we just get it over with and behead us all right here?' 

he'd smiled behind that helmet when the King and Queen had heard your snippy tongue.

and so it was just you and him, as it'd been for months. and he likes it that way, as much as he would never admit that; you're a kind woman, much too old to be under the reigns of your parent's power but too caught in the web of bureaucracy to untangle yourself from it. 

Din sees you tilt your head at him, blatantly ignoring the conversation at the table. heat courses through him at your adamant, keen attention on him despite him likely being the least worthy of your thoughts in this room. still, as always, you tease him. 

a drop of a wink; syrupy, sweet, and much too indecent for the public space; much less for you to deliver towards your personal guard. he burns red under the helmet, heat rushing down towards his groin at the way your lips move around the spoon in your mouth. 

you know he's watching you, of course; he's always watching you. it's in the job description. 

maybe that's the problem: he watches too much. it's always been hard for him to remain simply professional with you, but it's been much more challenging the last few nights as he's tried to get a few hours of shut-eye in the dead of night; with your sweet soft breaths on that large, plush bed that nearly swallows you whole. 

it's been excruciating - watching, as you run your hands over your bare legs, kissed by a sweet silk nightgown. massaging your plush skin, slipping just above the hem before dipping down - your lashes fluttering up at him as he stands tall and at attention over you. 

he was a dead man, and he'd known it the moment he laid eyes on you.

you were... a princess. you were untouchable, and he knows better than to fall for one of his jobs. so he'd made a tower of armor to protect him from any attraction; but with every passing day he spent in your company, you happened to slip through those cracks like you were made for it. 

he wonders if the true tragedy after all was his not watching: although you'd left the crack in the door when you'd stepped into the fresher last night, toweling off your soft skin as steam curls round the doorframe and pulls at him like the tentacles of some lust-ridden beast. you'd given him one of those coy smiles last night as you'd slinked out of the fresher: "thought you said you were always watching, Mando." 

you had him wrapped around your dainty, manicured finger and you knew it.

your brows raise at him as you look back up to where he stands, just on the other side of the table, as the diplomats around you at the table buttering you up with a glass of wine, a divine feast, and fancy political phrases. 

it doesn't suit you, as you've claimed to him countless times as you strip the bangled gold from your neck, ears, fingers, thighs and slip into something a little more comfortable and a lot less modest. it doesn't really suit you, he guesses. he likes you much more in the throes of your casual time; wearing trousers and a tunic, blaster strapped to your thigh though you don't quite know how to wield it. when you have no handmaidens to primp you and pluck you, to comb their fingers through your hair or paint fancy colors onto your eyelids. you were heavenly like that, in your most comfortable state. 

that word; heavenly. the word sounds adolescent, when he looks at you.

you transcend beauty; you're alive, you're nothing but yourself, a woman with life and regret that her world bore her name long before she was born. you told him, as he escorted you through the war-torn scrappings of the insurgent city the day before, that you wished to be free from the chains of royalty. to the royal court, you were nothing but a mirror for them to project their desires. 

when you look up at him with those tempting eyes, smirking at him when nobody at the table is looking - Maker, Din swears he will throw away everything he's worked so hard to keep professional. 

-- 

YOU had pulled the best of the feast onto your napkin once you bid the hosts thanks for the feast, hiding it under the layers of your gown as Mando walked you back to your chambers. 

"I kept you some." you offer meekly now, heat painting your face as you offer the spread to him, having taken off your shoes yourself this time. he'd kept his sight on you the whole time, the visor of his beskar piercing you with each movement. 

his helmet tilts in question; you spread open the napkin to reveal the small feast of delicacies you'd packed for him. you wonder how he'd missed it, when his eyes were always on you. 

"you shouldn't have." he's demure in tone, shifting from his casual position leaning against one of the stone pillars near the intricate dressing screen to standing evenly on both long legs; you smile gently, heart fluttering. 

"I thought you deserved some of the feast." you reason, "you did more work than I did, after all." you grin, shrugging a shoulder. you feel the fabric slide over your bare shoulder and it brushes against you like a feather; a ghost of lips that could never be blessed upon your skin. 

cursed to always lie in weight under the heavy support of beskar. 

but his fingers; they're a different story. 

they're gentle, tingling as they brush up the expanse of your deltoid, cascading with a buttery kind touch to return your dress to its rightful place. his hand, swallowed by the leather that protects you so devotedly, trails down your arms, soothing every goosebump that rises in its path. your hand catches his wrist before he can pull away; the tantalizing, intoxicating air in the room rendering him languid as you pull, gently, until your lips press gently to the tip of his thumb.

his breath falters in a staccato as you gently, tenderly press kisses to the tips of each finger; each, a promise. an unnamed affection for the man who does nothing but protect, nothing but exhilarate. the movement feels like the stretch of a plastic band, stretching the tensile strength of your aptitude for waiting, for restraining yourselves. 

you wait with baited breath for it to snap in your faces. 

it doesn't, though. his hand falls away gently, leaving you to still orbit around each other like lonely stars, crossing paths every few blue moons. 

when he speaks, he sounds almost strained. "thank you, ner cyar'ika. you are kind." 

your cheeks are warm and they heat up more when you smile up at him. and this time when you step away into the fresher, you make sure the door is fully closed. 

the water is warm, curling tendrils of milky sweet oils that bathe your skin in a sweet, plush aroma. you return to the main room slowly after you bathe, ensuring he'll have enough time to return his helmet to its proper place before you see. you wring your hair out with your hands as Mando rises from where he sat on the loveseat; his full height shining that reflective metal against you. your warped, clean, scrubbed reflection stares back at you. 

he.... he sees you. 

you've always noticed it; maybe that's why you'd commanded your father's men to leave you at the first sight of the Mandalorian's skills - you see a lot of yourself in him. a life concealed behind the preceding reputation: a princess - young, beautiful, generous, stagnant. a Mandalorian - bounty-hunter-turned-guard, sturdy, resourceful, rough. 

mirrors follow you no matter where you go. they've been thrust upon you your entire life, every snaking hallway of the kingdom winding down reflective images of your youth, bouncing you from person to person, nothing but a blank canvas for the aristocracy to paint their whims upon. 

you suspect, as you stare at Mando's unwaveringly reflective armor, that he understands that more than either of you could know. your heart soars with affection as you pad up to him, craning your neck to take in his entire height. 

"did you enjoy it?" you ask with a small smile, combing your fingers through your wet hair. he nods, "yes, cyare. thank you." 

you shake your head, unburdened by the gesture of gratitude. "let me guess- your favorite was the..." you pinch your chin with your fingers, scrunching your nose as you pretend to think. "chocolate cake." you say finally, tilting your head as you try to gage his reaction. 

a tilt of a helmet, flickering in the candlelight of your chambers. "yes." he sounds surprised; as if you didn't know just as much about him as he knew of himself. it sparks butterflies in your stomach. 

"I know you like it sweet, Mando." you tease, sending him a soft wink as you set your face cloth down on the table he leans against; you stare up at him from this angle, your movements molasses as you smile, hand sneaking around his ribs to hold him lightly. his hand rises tentatively to steady your waist, thumb rubbing the satin of your nightgown. "don't worry, I do too." you whisper. 

he sighs. 

it's a soft, gentle thing; one that nobody would dare imagine your big, bad Mandalorian protector to ever release. but you know him. you see him - Mando is many things, and one of them is hesitant. not unwilling, or shy: hesitant. 

(you'd wait a thousand lifetimes for him.)

"cyar'ika," he starts, tone slipping into that gently warning one - the kind he gets when he's feeling bashful. "I don't like it when you tease me." he chides, and it's - kriff, it's playful. you can almost see the grin behind that helmet; his fingers pinch at your sides gently and you screech with laughter, swatting away his touch but hoping he'll soon return it, much like a magnet. 

"you do, though." you defend, emboldened by the privacy and the budding tenderness that coaxes you into his arms. his hands soothe over your hips as you stare in silence.

warmth surrounds you; coaxes you to mutter it-

"stay with me, tonight?" you whisper, eyes wide at your own words, shocked you'd finally given in to all of the hunger that has swirled between you for all this time.  his helmet tilts. "I am always here with you. my job is to watch you." he says gently, the lilt of guilt ever present in his voice.

you shake your head, eyes shutting in frustration - not at him, never - at who, then? your father? your mother? the last name you've been cursed with for your life? the privilege, the restraint? 

"Mando." you say, pressing your palms flat against his chest. "you know what I mean." your eyes swirl with emotion: please, Mando, I can't keep waiting like this. 

he waits. "it would be wrong." 

you tilt your head, "it wouldn't." but you, much like him, are at a loss for words. a life of inoculation has rendered you unable to express any semblance of amorous emotions, even to this man - the one who is your confidant, your protector, and possibly your only true friend in this world. "I need you. I will-" you swallow, your heart thundering with desire, "I will do anything for you, Mando."  

you can't resist the growing wetness in the apex of your thighs as his helmet moves over your figure, wrapped in a silky robe and still wet from bathing. he hums lowly, a long and slow sound, his head tilting ever so slightly as you clench your thighs in search of relief from the growing pressure. 

"I have wanted you since I met you." he sighs, hands falling from your shoulders. "but... I shouldn't touch you." 

-- 

DIN can see your eyes flicker down as he says it. 

maker damn you; you've always been too clever for him. he sees the hunger swirl in your blown out pupils, the same hunger that plagues his mind and has sent blood rushing downwards. he feels himself throb as you grin up at him, lashes fluttering as a droplet of silky water trails down the expanse of your bare, awaiting neck. 

you know him, you see him. and he thanks all of the stars that you know how badly he needs you, too. 

"well, if you can't touch..." you tilt your head to stare up at him through your lashes, loosening the robe which covers your silk nightgown; each inch that slips down your body, Din feels himself stiffen and heat with desire. "...you can at least watch." you whisper, letting the robe drop before you step back from his figure; his eyes trace over every curve, each smooth line and jagged bump. 

when you're far enough away, he lets out a shaky breath. "gar Kelir ruin ni, dala" he mutters to himself, swallowing thickly as your figure slinks away from him, traipsing onto your plush bed.

his heart thunders in his chest; you lie on your back, gently, eyes meeting his somehow through the shield of beskar as you move your hands slowly, slowly up your legs. silk catches on your deft fingers as you tease yourself, sighing in relaxation. 

Din, standing rigid as a pole as he watches you, cannot look away. you seem flushed, even as your fingers trail over your breasts, toying with the pert nipples which poke through the smooth fabric of your dress. a whimper; high-pitched, breathy as your eyes splinter to Din again. "fuck," you whisper, one hand dragging down to torturously drag the hem of your gown upwards, up, up- 

he's salivating. 

your thighs, plush and welcoming, spread as you spread your glistening cunt for Din to see. for him, he realizes, only for him. a dark wash of possession shudders his whole being as you let out a whimper, the cool air hitting your wet, hot heat as your fingers start to spread your juices; it takes every ounce of restraint from Din to not just pounce on you, take you right now. 

your finger finds your swelling clit and your strangled groan sounds too much like his name - your eyes are hooded, littered with desire and pleasure as you lie out on display for him. 

he can't help but watch; his cheeks, hot. his hands, clenched - his heart, thundering, beating hard as Din watches you touch yourself with hungry eyes. your moans are smooth, melodic to his ears as you slowly dip one finger into your heat, whimpering as the stretch as your greedy little hole swallows you up. 

he can't stand it. 

Din takes a step forward, a staggering, desperate step towards the bed- your eyes snap up from where they'd watched you take your own fingers, eyes blown wide. you whimper, you goddamn whimper it, "M-Mando." 

--

YOU almost pass out when he mutters it, low and baritone. 

"take it off." Mando mutters darkly. 

you stop your languid pumps as you stare up at him, eyes wide as you see him, now looming just over you, eyes trained still on your heat. 

slowly, you sit to peel the dress off of yourself, the material catching on your nipples and sending a shiver down your body. 

you're soon bare; laid out for him, your entire body on display for him as you stare up, chest heaving with desire. his helmet does not leave your form as he watches your hand snake back down, toying with your wetness as it pools out of you, dripping onto the mattress below you. 

there are thousands of things you wish to say; nothing escapes you except whimpers and moans, the muted, heated pleasure swirling through you as you slip your fingers into yourself, pumping languidly. if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine the bite of cold beskar on your bare chest; the thickness of a warm cock slipping through you. 

your eyes stay on him instead, though; the reflection of your squirming, pleasured body on his beskar. you feel sweat sheen your forehead. 

your heart nearly stops as Mando slowly starts to palm himself; his cock, hard and strained against the fabric of his flightsuit as his hands pull himself out of the pants. your eyes widen and your fingers start to pump into you quicker, moaning out Mando's name as his hand slowly starts to pump himself. 

his cock, skin golden and veins prominent as he pleasures himself to the sight of you. arousal floods around your fingers as your other finger falls to lazily toy with your neglected clit. one hand grasps your breast and pinches a pert nipple, your back arching as you whimper. 

you need Mando, you need him. 

"fuck, fuckfuckfuck M-Mando, I need you. i-it's not enough, need more." you groan, the dam breaking as the low high you've been riding simmers. 

he stops his own movements, his chest heaving beneath the beskar. 

"I don't-" you swallow around your dry throat, "I don't think I can cum without you." you admit, heart thundering as you stare up at the beskar wall. "please." 

he pauses and your words hand in the air; suspended by a string, one that is tight and ready to snap. 

"stand up, princess." he orders.

--

DIN almost smiles at the speed at which you scramble on eager legs, to stand up, staring up at him with wanton need. he takes a deep breath before one hand reaches out to graze the swell of your breast; the plush give of soft skin, the goosebumps that trail behind his touch. his cock twitches as your hands find him, pumping slowly as you bite your lip. 

he groans at the soft feeling of your gentle hands around his thickness; your lips grazing over his beskar chestplate. 

his hands tug you as he falls to the mattress; a squeal leaves you as your hands grip onto his shoulders, "Mando!" 

he grins beneath the helmet. 

the smile slowly fades into a grunt of pleasure as you eagerly find your place straddling his hips; your wet hot cunt envelopes his cock with your slick, rubbing him as you whimper. "fuck, cyar'ika." he grunts. "gonna fuck you nice and good. promise." he mutters. 

you smile as you nod, "maker, Mando. I've-I've dreamt of this." you mutter. he smirks- he knows you have. he's heard it. 

but the pride is soon washed away with shock and pleasure as you line his head up at your entrance, easing onto him gently; his hands squeeze your bare skin and he wishes he could pull his gloves off and really feel you. 

dank ferrik, you are so tight around him; swallowing his thickness in your greedy cunt as your breath stutters, gasping at the stretch. you're hot, wet, and Din's eyes shut tight at the feeling. kriff, he won't last long. 

you take him gently, slowly, and all Din can do is breathe through it and resist his hips from bucking upwards and spearing you into two.

his brain is a puddle as you fully sheath yourself on him, thighs plush and shaking as you swallow him. 

"that's good." he mutters, breath shaky, his hands guiding you to move against his hips, "how does it feel, princess?" 

"Mando, fuck, y'so big, filling me-" you're moaning and he thinks he may pass out; heavenly, heavenly, you you you- 

you groan as you start to fuck yourself on top of him, your gummy warm walls coaxing Din towards his high, having been spurred along by the pleasure you'd been giving yourself earlier. 

you shudder at the curling sensuality of his words and he can feel you gripping him tighter and tighter, pulsing around him and dragging him down with you into the depths of pleasure. shivers of pleasure coast down your entire body as Din starts to piston up, his thick length, smooth and hard, spearing into your hot cunt. your desire drips down and smothers the fabric of his flight suit; briefly, he thinks he will never wash them again. your breath is laborious as you near your high- Din chases his, too, because this has already gone on for too long and he's greedy, as greedy as your tight, pretty cunt is and- 

he lets out a splintering moan when you cum with a scream; your legs quivering, weakening as you slump against him. Din fucks you through your high with a moan of his own, pushing up into your pulsing pussy, the wetness easing him to spear into you with a fire of ecstasy. 

"good- you're so good, y'feel so good, Mando," you whimper. that's it for him - he cums with a long groan, release snapping through him with a moan of your name. 

he sees colors, shapes of you in a meadow, spread on a blanket with him taking you from above; with you riding him in the cockpit of his ship; you, thighs spread on your father's throne while he delves his tongue through your plush folds. 

you are his. you will always be his, nobody else's. he will consume you.

he fucks up into you as he rides through his high, his seed smearing your chanel as he holds you close. "fuck," he mutters, rolling you both onto your sides as his hand caresses your cheek. 

"s'good." you mumble, smiling at him. 

he smiles back. you can't see it, but he knows you can feel it. 

"m'not done with you yet, princess." he promises, tugging you towards the edge of the bed, spreading your legs to see his own seed leaking out of you, mixed with your own wet, sticky spend. it's a sight better than any he's ever seen; shivers of desire roll down Din's spine. 

and then Din spends his time on top of you, pulling orgasm and orgasm from you until you're crying, shaking and heaving breaths; he's shaky, drunk from the pleasure of your wet arousal. he aches to taste you, to coax you to sleep with his tongue lapping up your spend; he needs to taste you. 

perhaps, another time. 

he soothes himself for now with his fingers, his cock; another time, he will taste you. 

--- 

YOU are exhausted. you can barely stay awake; but as Mando lays with you between the sheets, you can't help but feel so alive. the sun starts to creep towards the horizon line, over the shimmering sea; the gentle breeze of the world flowing through the faint curtains. 

"Mando?"

he cranes to look down at you, his thumb tracing over your spine.

"in the morning," you start, your hand trailing over his beskar. you figure it isn't comfortable to don this armor in the plush of your mattress; he stays no matter, willing to give you what you want. always, whatever you want. forever.

him.

you chew your lip, "will we- I mean, I just..." 

a thumb, warm though marred with old leather, pulls your lower lip from the clutches of your pearled teeth, soothing over the plush, bitten skin. a shiver runs down your spine as he coaxes you to stare up into that endless helmet. 

"what is it, mesh'la?" his voice is deep and soothing in its modulated baritone. you preen at the nickname in his native tongue and though he has willingly taught you words and phrases of his language, you are unsure of this one's translation. it sounds lovely coming from him. 

"please don't take me back." you whisper. 

he tenses under you; you can feel it. you wish you didn't have to plague him with your burdens of asking him such a crime; to take the duchess, the girl made of nothing but stardust, and give her the life she deserves. 

a whisper of your name. quiet, an exhale gentle and barely picked up by the modulation function of the helmet. 

--

DIN has been waiting for you to say it.

he wonders just about when he realized you were going to ask him to take you away. was it just now, after you'd finally connected in bliss? was it last night, when he'd taken a blaster shot to protect you - his job, of course, but a lifetime of debt to repay to him, you'd claimed - or, perhaps, was it all those months ago? 

your words pull him from his shock as you mutter softly.

"would you take me with you? away?" 

all the moments shared between your two souls wait with baited breath as Din tries to find his words through his thundering heart. 

"in the morning..." he parrots your words from before, but with a different tone. regret. his heart thumps as you tilt your head, bare shoulder glinting in the light of the moons. "will you still want that? will you want..." he doesn't finish the question, but he doesn't have to. not with you.  want me? 

you look at him with eyes so soft he almost melts. "I've always dreamt of leaving my life. it's not who I am." you're firm in your words, hand curling over his shoulder as you blink, "I never thought I would act on it. I had nothing to do, nowhere else to go. but now..." you shrug and he starts to feel hot at the implications in your voice. 

Din's heart thuds importunately under your sweet palm; could you feel it, under all the layers that separated his body from your bare one? 

"if-if you'd have me... it'd be a dream to stay with you. wherever you go." 

Din can't breathe; so many words burst to the forefront of his mind, but all he does is stare in awe. 

you'd been watching life through the jail of your parent's grasp your whole life; and what is the princess of a mid-rim planet to the rest of the galaxy? 

stardust.

"wasted dreams?" you ask softly, shaking your head, "that's worse than death, Mando." 

-- 

YOU fall asleep with Mando's arms wrapped tightly around your middle; the weight of beskar pushing you deeper into the comfort of knowing you've spent your last night ever in this system. 

his words echo in your head. 

in the morning, mesh'la, we will leave here. wherever you'd like. 

it's illicit; the things you're about to do, the traditions which will be seared. your eyes, bleary with exhaustion and hope, looks to the mirror across the room.

you lie in the arms of the Mandalorian, bare besides the plush sheets which wrap around your figures - and when you stare into the reflective piece of decor directly across, it's you who stares back in the reflection. you smile to yourself.

stardust.

those moments, you hope, will shine in broad daylight now in tandem with the sweet secrets after midnight. 

-

taglist: @silkiers @toobsessedsstuff @millersdjarin @tizylish @cloufire @kalea-bane @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis @hello-th3r3 @bbyanarchist @ponyboys-sunsets

-

requests open. message for Din's taglist or Joel Miller's!

-

[roosterr]

i've known war

john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader wc: 9.3k (whoops) summary: you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. warnings: established relationship, angst and sadness and depression, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, graphic description of injury, mentions of torture, eventual happy ending, military and medical inaccuracies, pls ignore any plot holes i beg

requested here! follow up to love you from afar, but can be read as a standalone. im so sorry this took me so long to write lmao.

it always feels like the first time when you kiss him. even now, years down the line, the sparks, the warmth, the daze that you leave him in; he truly believes it will never get old.

the way you look, standing in the open doorway of the helicopter, silhouetted against the bright blue sky, it makes his head feel so fuzzy he almost forgets why you're all here in the first place.

it's the sweet sound of his name passing your lips that pulls him back to the present, your voice sending his stomach fluttering.

"earth to johnny," you chuckle, turning to face him and resting your weight against one side of the open door, "what're you thinking so hard about?"

he can't help the smile that breaks out at the sound of your laughter. "just you." johnny replies, closing the small distance between you and snaking an arm around your waist. you smile as he leans in closer, murmuring low in your ear, "and, how i cannae wait to get ye home."

you laugh again, placing a hand on his chest but not quite pushing him back. "we've got a job to do first."

he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. "then we'd better get a move on, eh?"

"i'll race you," you grin at him, haloed by the light of the sun so beautifully he has to snap himself out of his reverence to respond.

"oh, you're on." 

perhaps it was slightly irresponsible the way he was rushing the others along for his own gain, but within a matter of minutes they're breaching the facility and well on their way to being done with this.

it's only when he's stalking along a dimly lit corridor that he slows down. something was bothering him, an off feeling in the back of his mind that he just can't ignore.

before he can think about it any further, a boom shakes the walls, filling the air with dust and obscuring his vision even more. it was close enough to start a faint ringing in his ears, coming from back the way he came; where he'd split up with ghost and, more importantly, you.

he should stay on target, continue with what they're here to do, his job – but what if you were in trouble? if there's a chance you need his help, he couldn't risk it. it takes less than a second for him to turn back, making the decision to check on what caused the explosion before continuing.

quietly stalking back down the corridor, it takes him slightly longer to register the fact that he hasn't heard anything over the radio; no updates, no clever remarks from ghost, nothing. they worked not fifteen minutes ago, just after you'd split up and checked them. surely nothing could've happened in such a short space of time?

he does his best to push through the sinking feeling that tries to drag him down, but it's stubborn, creeping in from the corners of his mind.

he reaches where he left you in half the time it took him to walk away, the intersection of two corridors just as empty as the rest of the halls. he points his flashlight in the direction you went, and the feeling in his gut gets worse.

something glinting in the light catches his attention. the end of the corridor is collapsed, when it definitely hadn't been before, but it's what lies in front of the rubble that he zeroes in on. partially obscured by the layer of filth and blood coating it, there's no mistaking it when he kneels down, dropping his rifle to the ground beside him, and carefully takes the metal in his trembling hand.

it's a pair of id tags.

he numbly calls your name. it bounces off the walls and echoes back to him. the blood runs through the creases of his hand, staining the flesh. the letters of your name are clear through the dirt.

no. you can't be gone.

he looks up to the rubble, shrouded in darkness, back down to your tags, back up to the rubble, and there's a hand just visible under the concrete that looks sickeningly like yours and–

he tears his gaze away, back down to your tags. the chain is snapped, like it had been ripped off in a hurry, as if you'd known you were going to die and wanted to make sure he would find them–

no, no no. you're not dead. you can't be. he just saw you fifteen minutes ago, he bumped his helmet against yours in lieu of a kiss like he always did before you parted ways. you were fine and you were smiling at him. it was only fifteen minutes, you were right here, he can still hear your voice taunting him about the race between you, it was only fifteen minutes–

a heavy hand comes down on johnny's shoulder, startling him out of his panicked daze and instinctively he jumps up and swings his arm at whoever stuck up on him.

ghost catches his forearm easily, his eyes moving between your tags clutched in johnny's fist to the wreckage behind him. when he meets johnny's watery eyes again, the coldness in his gaze seems to soften as he arrives at the same conclusion.

the ringing in johnny's ears hasn't left. in fact, it's gotten worse.

"we– we gotta find 'em," johnny's breath comes out shallow and ragged, the panic slowly rising in his chest through the initial numbness. "fucks sake, they cannae– we– we–"

"johnny." ghost interrupts his sputtering short, bracing both hands on his biceps and giving him a gentle, grounding shake. "...come on."

"no! simon we–" his breath catches in his throat, heart constricting painfully beneath his sternum as he grips the front of ghost's vest in desperation. why was ghost giving up so easily? didn't he care? didn't he want to find you?

ghost lowers his gaze, tearing away from the distraught expression on the sergeant's face. "they're gone, soap."

"shut the fuck up!" johnny growls, despair seeping into his voice with every second that passes without you. he tries to shake ghost's hands off, but he doesn't budge. "ye dinnae ken that! they're still here somewhere, we cannae leave without 'em!"

he's gripping your tags like a lifeline, the metal searing against his palm and heavier than anything else he'd ever carried. he shouldn't have them, they shouldn't be in his hand, they should be around your neck, you should be here, with him, and not…

it's too much. his knees give out from under him and, despite ghost's firm grip on his shoulders, he sinks to the floor with his head in his hands.

"simon, fuck– please…" it's a whisper, under his breath, but he knows ghost heard from how he crouches down beside him, laying an arm over his heaving shoulders as he steadily begins to sob.

it's not real. it can't be real. he wants this to be a nightmare so fucking badly, but the pain in his chest is far too real, his tears burning tracks down his face, the weight of your absence pressing down on him and crushing him under the pressure.

he barely notices when price and gaz appear in the hall ahead of them, just about registering the sound of the debris crunching under their boots as they approach. the pair don't say anything as they take in the scene, looking down with furrowed brows at where johnny and ghost are crouched on the floor.

the captain opens his mouth to ask, but ghost cuts him of with a solemn shake of his head.

words are exchanged, but johnny doesn't hear them. his head feels impossibly light, an expanding pressure beneath his temples that makes it hard to think. the ringing keeps getting worse.

the sound of gunfire makes it through the fog. gaz and ghost each take one of his arms, hauling him to his feet and essentially dragging him after the captain as they make their way back out of the building. he can't bring himself to fight them. he blinks, and finds himself strapped into his seat, the one next to him hauntingly empty.

price is talking into the radio, to laswell he assumes, but johnny doesn't register anything he says – anything except the last two words:

"...one k.i.a."

the air is thick with a kind of tension he's never felt before, a shroud of numbness that he can't seem to shake. when they land it follows them, seeping into the air on base and pushing down on whoever crosses their path. none of them have to ask to understand what happened.

johnny keeps your tags, clutches them close to his heart, and practically bites the head off of anyone who tries to take them from his white-knuckled grip, even as he gets checked out in the medical wing. his quietness puts the medics on edge, he can tell. something about the way he doesn't even flinch when they cleanse his wounds, the polar opposite to his his usual talkative nature, it tells them there's no use trying to console him. they try to convince him to let the tags go, but he doesn't acknowledge their words.

the broken chain stays firmly wrapped around his palm until he's staring down his own hollow face in the bathroom mirror. he'd turned the sink on fifteen minutes ago to wash the blood away, the water so hot it fogs up his reflection, but he can't bring himself to put his hands under the stream.

because it's your blood, not just the usual grime from missions. if he washes it off, he's washing you off, and he doesn't want to do that, no matter how disgusting it is.

there's a knock at the door, and only then does he realise how long he's been staring at the red that decorates his hands. he still makes no effort to move. 

despite his lack of response, gaz opens the door and meets his eyes in the mirror. there's a pause as he waits for johnny to say something, but when he only lets the silence go on, he takes it upon himself to approach.

"soap…" he utters, brows tilting in concern watching his friend continue to stare absently into the mirror. with a deep sigh, kyle takes his empty fist and pries his fingers from his palm. johnny's eyes gravitate to the fresh blood that wells up in the crescent indents. watching the red droplets fall, disappearing into the running water, the pain finally registering in his mind when kyle presses a cloth to his hand.

the sting of the hot water is there, a distant feeling as johnny allows him to wash the blood away, never saying a word as he watches kyle's efforts, like an observer of his own form, right there but looking in from the outside.

kyle reaches for your tags, but his fingers barely brush the metal before johnny is shoving him back with a rush of anger that happens so fast he doesn't even have time to process his own reaction.

with a thud, kyle's back hits the wall and for a moment neither of them dare move. they watch each other in silence, wide-eyed shock mirrored in both their expressions.

"i…" i'm sorry. the words catch in his chest, falling into the void there and never escaping for gaz to hear. he can't let him touch your tags. it's the only part of you he has left. "...don't touch 'em."

kyle squeezes his eyes shut, breathing a deep sigh through his nose. "alright, i'm sorry, i won't touch them." his tone is low and careful as he steps closer again, hands open so johnny can see them. he feels like a feral animal, being coaxed to let kyle approach. "but you need to rest, mate."

the weeks blend together after that day. some days johnny feels like the shock will never wear off, like he's living on autopilot. others, it all comes crashing down on him and even dragging himself out of bed becomes a challenge.

his dreams are plagued with images of you, lifeless and cold. it stops him from sleeping most nights, but others are filled with memories of your life together playing on loop, a constant reminder of what he can never have again.

the room you used to share is always filled with flowers; gardenias, gladioli, forget-me-nots, and anything else he sees that he thinks you'd like. when they wilt, and eventually die, he presses the petals in the pages of his sketchbook, keeping them in a box next to the very first flowers he ever got you, the memories preserved forever under your – his bed.

that same sketchbook that's filled with page after page of your image, some from the multitude of pictures he keeps of you, and when he inevitably runs out of references, he draws you from memory. it gets to the point where he can't pick up a pencil without your face haunting him; you always did love his art, even if he didn't think it was any good.

he knows he's not the only one taking it hard. the others are different too; gaz is quieter, something more serious in his eyes now. the captain doesn't appear moved on the surface, and neither does ghost, but when they look at the empty seat where you used to sit, the memory of you is evident in the way their shoulders deflate ever so slightly.

once word spreads about what exactly happened, the never-ending condolences and pitying looks from the people around base gets old very quickly. they tell him how they're so sorry for his loss and what happened to you was so tragic, and it shouldn't annoy him as much as it does, but he can't help the anger that bubbles up in his chest when they talk about you.

he doesn't want to hear it, and every time he has to listen to their pitying comments it only makes him resent them more. they didn't know you, they didn’t care, they probably didn't even know who you were before you died. they could never hope to understand what you meant to him, to the taskforce, the gap in their team that you left behind.

it's when someone suggests moving on from you that it all finally bubbles over.

six months later, a long time since that day but somehow no time at all. he'd gone out for drinks for the first time in a while, after some gentle coercion from simon, along with another group of soldiers staying on base.

he didn't even want to go, not really, but something in him knew he couldn't carry on like he had been. he needed some form of normalcy, one night where he can pretend everything is fine and you're just waiting for him back home, to just forget.

it didn't take him long to realise going out with them was a mistake. almost immediately he was dragged into a conversation with a few guys from another unit, and despite his many attempts they just wouldn't leave him be.

somehow, after about an hour of mindless chatter, they land on the topic of their love lives and recent conquests, and johnny immediately felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. he wanted to slip away, avoid what he knew was coming at any cost, but he couldn't get away fast enough.

one of them brings up your name, they all look to him with a sort of curiosity that makes his skin crawl. they ask him if he's planning on staying hung up on you forever. johnny says it's only been six months. one of them laughs and tells him it's just sad, and from the looks of it you weren't anything special.

johnny smashes a glass over his head. price benches him for a few weeks after that.

it's hell, being left behind, alone, while the others went on like usual, and truthfully he starts to resent them all, bit by bit from the first time he's left on the tarmac. it felt like they didn't care, that johnny's heart, his life, his soul has changed but they carried on without looking back once. he isolates and shuts them out in a fit of misplaced anger, building the walls around his heart higher and higher and letting that resentment fester.

the day of your funeral brings it all crashing down. after all those months of waiting, johnny didn't even make it more than five lines into the speech he'd prepared before he's breaking down and stumbling out the side door in a hyperventilating mess. simon follows behind like his shadow, sitting down with him when he slides down the wall with a hand clutching his chest. he cries into simon's shoulder for rest of the service, releasing all the pent up anguish he'd been trying to keep inside in a catharsis he didn't realise he needed. 

when they get back to base the next morning, johnny’s practically begging to be allowed back in the field. he found himself missing the chaos, the unpredictability of the battlefield was where he was in his element. this job was how you met, how you got together, how you lived. he never felt closer to you than when he was out in the field with adrenaline pumping through his veins.

it takes some convincing, but price gives in and everything feels like it's back to normal. missions are quieter than they'd ever been, but johnny finds it doesn't bother him anymore. he feels your presence by his side like the sun on his back, always with him, like his guardian angel.

it's six more months before anything changes.

in the back of the helicopter, a few minutes out from the landing site, an oddly comforting sense of déjà vu washes over him. the bright blue expanse of the sky, the warmth of the sun on his skin, he almost feels that if he turned to his left, he'd see you sitting there with that same smile lighting up your face.

his fingers tighten around your tags.

"you watchin', bonnie?" he presses his lips to the cool metal, feeling your name under his skin as he mumbles to himself. his gaze finds the roof of the helicopter, and even without looking he knows the others are watching him, that familiar solemn look on their faces.

they were doing this for you. everything johnny did was for you. he puts your tags safely away in the pocket if his vest closest to his heart.

the helicopter jolts as it lands, and with no more than a second's hesitation he's shooting up from his seat, a renewed energy flooding his body to the tips of his fingers. they step out into the biting air, a chill than not even the afternoon sun could stave off, and quickly begin their march into the small facility.

"you two, take that side. gaz, with me." price commands, and with a sharp nod from the three of them, they split up and begin their canvassing. they were here for intel, but there was no guarantee they were alone, despite the emptiness of the halls they move through.

their footsteps echo off the walls, only the distant howling of the wind outside to accompany them. the hairs on the back of johnny's neck were on end, an unease setting off alarm bells in the back of his mind following behind ghost.

the déjà vu from earlier isn't comforting anymore. he doesn't feel you watching over him, and the feeling only gets stronger as they approach a doorway ahead, bathed in a red light.

ghost pauses in the entrance, looking back at johnny and waiting for his affirming nod before pushing forward. the room is empty, the same as the rest of the building, save for the table sitting against the far wall.

there's something else there, he notices as he creeps closer to get a better look. a frown darkens his expression. it's a laptop, untouched and central on the table, a strange contrast to the almost methodical emptiness around it.

"oi, check this." johnny calls, turning around as ghost stalks over with a similar confusion on his face.

"that what we're here for?" he asks, examining the laptop with a deep frown casting shadow over his eyes.

"looks like it." johnny replies, slowly and carefully picking it up as his frown deepens. he was half expecting it to somehow blow up, but when he lifts the screen it lights up to the desktop with no issue. "that's convenient."

"very convenient..." ghost grunts, jerking his head in the direction of the door and speaking into the radio as he walks ahead of johnny. "price, we've got it. headin' to exfil now."

back on base a few hours later, the four of them with the addition of laswell sit around the table in a meeting room with the doors firmly shut, eyes locked onto the laptop with rapt tension as gaz opens the only file they could recover from the device.

the video starts abruptly with 'the mask' – the pretentious alias of man that heads the organisation they've been steadily eliminating all this time – in front of the camera, the dingy room behind him barely lit, the walls splattered with what johnny could only assume was blood.

"i trust that my message has found you well, task force one-four-one." his voice comes through the speakers, crackly and distorted by the low quality recording. "you have been relentless in your pursuit of us, and i applaud you for your efforts, but it's time to put an end to this."

johnny looks back at price, watching as his expression hardens and his fingers dig into his arms where they're crossed over his chest. it's obvious they've been set up, but it's too late to be concerned with that now. the problem now is how they're going to continue knowing the enemy has information on them that they shouldn't have.

the sound of something being dragged brings his attention back to the video, facing the screen again to see another masked man dumping a person with a bag over their head onto a chair in the centre of the room.

"i have something i believe you will be interested in." the chuckle is audible in his voice even beneath the mask and through the screen.

their wrists and ankles are tied together, and if it weren't for the laboured rise and fall of their chest, johnny wouldn't be sure if they were even alive.

"fuck– a hostage?" price spits, and even without looking he knows laswell is already working on finding a location, if the sound of her rapidly typing is any indication.

"something very… precious to you."

the figure moves to stand behind the person in the chair and yanks the bag from their head. he grabs their jaw and forces them to look up, a sickening laugh meeting johnny's ears as they make eye contact with the camera. 

it's…

it's you.

you're beaten and bruised and covered head to toe in blood, but it's undoubtedly you when the faceless man yanks your head up.

johnny's sure his heart stops.

you're alive. you've been alive all this time. in the hands of a terrorist, and within an inch of your life, but…

you're alive.

"drop your investigation of us, and i will let them live." the masked man stalks back around to your side, still holding your jaw in a vice grip. the way you cower, as much as you can with that man's filthy hands on you, it breaks something in johnny. how long have you been in their hands, how long have you been abused by them?

how long have you been waiting for him?

he feels sick to his stomach, but he can't tear his eyes away. the lacerations on your face, the endless bruises littering your skin – when he spots the ones around your neck, he has to swallow down the bile – and how you just seem so tired, barely even fighting to keep your eyes open.

the masked man looks down to you again, pausing as he directs you to look at him through what seems like a black eye. the five of them watch, frozen by shock or anger or both, as the man rears his hand back and slaps you across the face so hard your head whips in the other direction. a pained, defeated sound escapes you, and johnny’s sure a knife to the chest would hurt less.

"do not disappoint me, captain price, or your sergeant will regret it."

the video cuts to black.

the sight of your face is burned into johnny's retinas, every time he blinks your features are there, dripping in your own blood, the only thing he can see.

"kate, tell me you can find this." price growls behind him, his words sounding distant to johnny's ears.

she hums distractedly. "working on it."

their conversation doesn't register, floating in one ear and straight out the other. you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. it's like his prayers have been answered for once in his life, and it may be some cruel trick from god to find you like this but johnny finds himself praying his thanks anyway.

"johnny…?" simon lays a hand on his shoulder, turning him in his chair to make worried eye contact with his shell-shocked expression. it jolts him out of his thoughts, the energy of the room a controlled kind of frantic as he comes back down to earth.

"that's– it's them, they're–" johnny sputters, gripping ghost's forearm with an absent desperation in his glassy eyes, "simon, they're alive."

he can't stop thinking about how empty your expression looked, the way you didn't have any fight left, and the gravity of what's been happening to you since the moment he lost you slowly creeps up on him.

have you given up hope of them finding you?

"we'll get 'em back, soap, listen to me," price drops a heavy, grounding hand on his other shoulder, halting his spiralling train of thought, "they're comin' home." his voice is resolute, no room for argument where he speaks it almost like a command.

johnny can only nod. 

his head is still light as more rushed conversation happens around him. simon's hand is still on his shoulder, and that might be the only reason he hasn't completely fallen apart yet, but the thread is pulling taught enough to snap. his nails carve dents into his palms but he doesn't have the mind to unfurl them.

"sir, we've got a hit." gaz speaks up from where he's leaned over kate's shoulder, a determined glint in his eye when he meets the captain's gaze. johnny’s head snaps in his direction, his pulse quickening with every word that sparks new hope in his chest. "two hundred klicks northeast of where we found the laptop."

"good work, you two," price is pacing back and forth, scratching his beard with a calculating look on his face. they watch him for a moment, waiting for his command on what their next move will be, but johnny finds his patience wearing incredibly thin.

"the fuck we waitin' for? let's get out there'n go after the wee bastards!" he growls, his narrowed gaze darting between price and the others as he steadily grows more and more restless.

simon shakes his head from beside him, "hold your horses."

"this is delicate, we have to do this one right." price pauses, his eyes losing their hardness as he meets johnny's desperate face. "i know how much this means to you, but you're too close to this, soap."

the pause that follows that is so thick with tension it makes it hard to breath. a boiling type of rage bubbles up in his chest, extending to every trembling limb and turning his vision red. there was no way in hell he wasn't going to be there for you every step of the way when – not if – they rescued you.

"ye can get yersel' right tae fuck!" he spits, his face contorted with anger as he shoots up from his chair and points an accusatory finger at the captain. "that's too far, price, ye cannae keep me outta this!"

"johnny, sit down." simon warns, using the hand still on his shoulder to put some space between him and price, but johnny doesn't budge; this was far too important.

"yer aff yer heid, both of ye's! if ye won't let me come, i'll go mysel', ye fuckin' hear?" he growls, shaking free of simon's hand. his glare travels between him and price, hands wound into fists at his sides.

the air turns heavy as they stare each other down. if price thinks he'll back down on this, johnny would love nothing more than to prove him wrong.

he's moments away from meeting his fist to price's face when gaz stands up and gets between them. "that's his other half, sir. respectfully, he deserves to be part of this." he reasons, giving price a firm look and a small nod to johnny. "you'd be the same in his position."

the tension is palpable. he watches  over gaz's shoulder as the captain deliberates, clearly having an internal battle over the decision, but eventually he sighs and fixes johnny with a stern look.

price closes the distance between them, patting gaz on the arm as he passes. "screw your head on, mactavish. we only get one shot at this, i need to know i can trust you not to fuck it up."

a spark of hope makes johnny's heart race, and he gives price a single resolute nod of confirmation. "i won't, sir."

laswell stands and walks around the table to stand beside price, a similarly firm expression. "we have to play this carefully. they wanted us to find that laptop, i have no doubt they wanted us to find where they are too."

"so what's our angle?" gaz asks.

laswell and price share a look.

"this has to be off the books, there's no way we'll get clearance for this." laswell answers, her expression turning noticeably darker, looking over to price as she continues, "if we want them back alive, we'll have to act fast. that means we're on our own."

the captain nods with no hesitation. "we are getting my sergeant back. i don't care how we have to do it."

they're loading into the back of a helo not even an hour later. the five of them, along with two field medics and the pilot, with the strict instructions in johnny's head to bring you home or to not come back at all.

there's only one coherent thought racing through his mind for the entire; you. getting you back, taking you home, finding the man that took you away from him – and hurt you – and making him pay.

he fishes your tags out of his pocket and presses them to his lips in a lingering kiss, just like he always does. soon, he thinks, it would be you he'd be kissing, not just a remnant of you.

the flight passes by so quickly it's almost as if he'd blinked and they were landing again.

the air is glacial as they ready themselves, preparing for the mask to put up a fight that they fully intend to win. the plan was decided on during the journey; kate and ghost would provide support from a distance while price, gaz, and johnny would confront the bastard head on. his focus is razor sharp, marching through the trees and underbrush, blood rushing in his ears and jaw clenched painfully tight.

the sky is just as strikingly blue as the day he lost you.

bring you home, or don't come back.

they reach a break in the trees, surrounding the small facility they tracked the video to that looked more like a derelict warehouse than a base. either way, the dark figure of their target is visible against the brick wall, surrounded by a number of his own soldiers – johnny counts six as he, price, and gaz make themselves known coming through the treeline. they share a quick look; they know how this will end.

"well met, captain," the mask calls, slowing to a stop and leaving a few metres of space between himself and the three of them, "will you make the right choice, or will your sergeant suffer for your pride, i wond–"

his monologue is cut short by a shot from the darkness of the treeline and lodging mercilessly into the base of his throat. his deadweight hits the ground with a thud that echoes, and in less than a second bullets are flying.

soap tightens his grip on his gun, raising it to glare down the sights and firing at the soldier nearest to him and dropping him with one well placed bullet to the leg and another to the face once he was on the floor.

another shot from the treeline drops one more; four left.

gaz and price take out another two between them in a similar fashion to soap, leaving two still standing – one of whom was advancing fast with the barrel of his gun pointed at soap while the other backed away.

one more shot rings out from the trees and one more body falls, but the last hostile was far too close for comfort now, johnny had no choice but to tackle him to the ground, narrowly avoiding being shot himself on the way down.

a few seconds pass as they wrestle on the ground, both trying desperately to gain the upper hand but falling just short because of the other. from his peripheral soap can see price running to his aid, but his momentary distraction allowed his assailant to take the upper hand and roll on top of him.

hands constrict around his neck, cutting off his airflow, but a well timed shot from price sends him falling over sideways, sputtering blood from the wound in his side.

soap heaves and cough, pulling air back into his lungs and glaring at the body of the man who almost got the better of him. this only meant they were one step closer to getting you back; he was one step closer to having you in his arms again. it didn't matter if he got hurt in the process.

price's outstretched hand suddenly appears in his vision, "get up soap, we've got a job to do."

his daze melts away and he takes the captain's hand, allowing himself to be pulled upright with an affirming nod shared between them.

"good aim, ma'am." gaz calls over the radio, looking down his nose at the steadily declining state of the mask; his infamous facade now cracked and broken, revealing the agonised face beneath.

"bring 'em home, boys." kate replies, and though he can't see her face johnny can imagine the commanding look she's undoubtedly wearing.

gaz backs away as johnny crosses the mess of crimson and dirt to where the mask lays, sprawled out and immobilised by his injuries but still very much alive, giving the fellow sergeant a respectful nod as he goes. "he's all yours, mate."

johnny stands over his fading form, watching with a detached look in his eye as the blood spills from the gaping wound in his neck with every struggled breath, his disjointed intake of air and the pathetic sputters as he inhales his own viscera. there's not a shred of mercy in him as he gazes down at the man, every bit of agony was completely deserved for what he did to you. the death that claws at him would be a blessing.

he gurgles to johnny, raising a weak arm to brush the hem of his trousers as he attempts to expel the words, "pl–ea– plea-se–"

johnny scoffs, dry and venomous. he has half a mind to leave him to suffer until the life finally bleeds from him, but the pure rage he feels listening to this bastard plead for help after putting you through hell for a year is far too strong for him to restrain.

it's unconscious, the way johnny's arm raises to point the barrel of his pistol squarely at the centre of his forehead. he pauses for a moment, if only to see the fear creep into the bastard's expression before his fingers squeeze the trigger and the light is gone from his eyes.

his chest stops heaving and his hand drops back to the mud,  leaving nothing but a few bloody fingerprints in his wake.

johnny pulls the trigger again.

and again, and again, and again, until his face is nothing more than a cavity of gore and lead and the ringing in his ears blocks out everything else around him.

a firm hand comes down on his shoulder and it’s only then does he notice the tension in his muscles and the fierce sneer pulling at his features. his eyes snap to the dark figure in the corner of his vision, meeting the bone white of simon's mask and the frown underneath.

"that'll do, johnny." simon murmurs, his own darkened eyes glaring down at the mangled corpse laying at their feet. he nods, somewhat absently, and turns away from the offending body.

there were more important things he needed to keep his head on straight for.

neither him or simon spare the remains of the mask another glance as they leave him behind. price and gaz are waiting by the entrance for them, and as soon as they're close enough they head together into the dark corridors of the building.

as the creep through the abandoned building, now deep in the cold basement, weapons poised and on high alert, there's a new sense of dread that forms in the back of his mind; what if you're not here after all? what if the mask was bluffing and you're already dead?

johnny grits his teeth and shakes his head to rid himself of that damning train of thought. he couldn't afford to think like that, he wouldn't, but another corridor of empty rooms has his heart sinking like an anchor to his stomach. he's trying to stay hopeful, but every dead end only makes him feel worse.

price grips his shoulder, firm and comforting, with a look in his eye to match as he catches johnny's gaze. "we'll find 'em, soap." 

"i know." he replies, but there's a waver in his voice despite the certainty of his words. price doesn't release his gaze or his shoulder until he moves to follow the others.

he doesn't say much else as the search continues. the ringing in his ears is back, amplified by the eerie silence of the halls. he can feel the air getting colder after each empty room the clear.

the time passes arbitrarily, until there's one last room to check. johnny watches gaz and ghost pry it open, the sound of the lock breaking only just reaching him through the fog over his senses.

gaz pauses once the door swings open, his eyes locked onto something in the room as they widen dramatically. he still doesn't tear his gaze away as his jaw falls open, something frantic in the way he yells, "soap!"

a spark of hope strikes his heart and travels to the very ends of his limbs, a new burst of energy filling him as he shoves past his teammates to stand in the doorway and look into the room himself.

it's you.

curled into yourself in the corner of the damp cell, shivering with your face buried in your knees with your hands clamped over your ears. it's almost uncanny, how small you look. the tremble in your limbs, the fear in your quickened breaths, it was the exact opposite of how you should be, but despite it all…

it's really you.

johnny feels his heart swell painfully with relief, and without another second of hesitation he's skidding to his knees beside you and gripping the cold skin of your wrists. you let out a muffled sob at the contact, and johnny feels his blood turn cold when it meets his ears.

"don't!" you cry, weak and desperate. johnny's caught off guard with how you try to rip yourself away from him, the shakes that wrack your body only increasing when he keeps his hold on you. "get off! please– please don't!"

his heart cracks anew at the distress in your hoarse voice. he feels his eyes well up with hot tears that he has to fight to keep from falling.

"hey, it's me! it's johnny, it's your johnny! look at me, sweetheart, i'm here!" he tries to calm you with his words, keeping his voice low between you both, but you keep your eyes screwed tightly shut.

johnny lets go of your wrists to cup your face in his hands instead, gently turning your head towards him and using his thumbs to stroke soft shapes into your cheeks. the gesture makes your breath hitch audibly, and your eyes slowly open to meet his. "that's it, I'm here, i got ye, yer alright."

"don't– i don't– i can't…" whatever you're trying to say is broken up by the effort it takes you to keep breathing through your sobs. you still try to lean away from his touch, but johnny doesn't let you move far. he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his own breakdown.

"no-one's gonna hurt you again, darlin', i promise ye." he murmurs, searching your glassy eyes while he continues to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your face, wet with your tears. "c'mere, i've got ye…"

with little more resistance from you, johnny gathers you into his arms and presses you close to his chest, they way he'd been dreaming off all the time you'd been apart. he pays no mind to the way the hard ground digs into his knees, and instead focuses on feeling the rise and fall of your ribcage against his own, your heartbeat under his fingertips, and the very real sound of your voice.

"you– j-johnny…" you stutter, your hiccuping sobs gradually fading away as you grip the bulk of his vest like a lifeline. "are you… real?"

"i'm real, darlin'," his voice cracks despite his efforts to stay strong for you. he presses his lips to the tip of your head in a lingering kiss, partly so you won't see the glossy tears in his eyes as he tries to stamp them down. "i'm here. i swear, i'm never lettin' you out of my sight again."

the simple feeling of your weight leaning against him is so overwhelming he's worried he might faint. he lets you calm down, rubbing soothing patterns up and down your arms and back and wherever he can reach, even when the position becomes uncomfortable and the dampness from the floor has seeped into his bones.

eventually though, he does pull back, softly shush you when you protest in the thought that he's leaving you, and cups your head in his warm hands.

"let's get you home, eh?" he smiles. your uncertain eyes dart between his for a moment, searching, before you nod. it's weak and hesitant, but the gesture makes his grin stretch a little wider all the same. "c'mon then, think ye can walk?"

johnny sighs when you shake your head, looking down and seeming almost embarrassed by your frail condition as if any of this was your fault. if he could kill that bastard again, he wouldn't even hesitate.

it's no bother to him to haul you up with him, holding you carefully against his chest with an arm under your knees and the other around your back. you still gingerly grip the top of his vest, your free arm looping itself around his neck and pulling yourself as close to him as you can muster. he gives a concise nod to the others, crowded in the doorway, and they begin the trek back to the helo.

the sunlight causes you to bury your face in the crook of johnny's neck, shielding your eyes from the blindingly bright rays. he allows himself a moment of distraction as they cross the clearing to revel in the feeling. he'd feel the sun on his face again, but he'd never again take for granted a single moment he spends with you.

they're almost to the edge of the clearing, almost departed from that haunted place with a graveyard of mangled bodies in their wake, but he doesn't quite make it to the treeline.

a single gunshot echoes through the clearing and before any of them can react, the shell has found its mark in johnny's leg. the force and shock of it sends him tumbling to the floor, scrambling through the blossoming pain to brace his fall on his arms so he won't land on top of you.

there's yelling, returning fire, but johnny can only focus on covering your body with his own, shielding you from any harm that might find you. even through the agony travelling up his thigh, even when the air is still again, and even when his own eyes are threatening to follow yours in falling shut and succumbing to the weakness that drags him down.

when did you shut your eyes? johnny slips his hand under your hand, grunting in his chest as his weight shifts, and to his horror his fingers come back red.

no, no no. he only just got you back, he cannot lose you again.

he doesn't even register that he's shouting – for help, a medic, something – until his weight is being heaved over ghost's shoulder and you're being taken by price, the cracks in his stony expression only fuel the sick dread making its way up johnny's throat.

back in the helo, in no time but he doesn't remember the journey, he tries to push the medic away who starts working on his leg, slurring for them to help you first. they ignore him, obviously, and if he had any energy left he would've berated them for not listening. ghost holds him down as they secure the tourniquet, and as his vision finally begins to fade, he turns his head to the side so you can be the last thing he sees as he slips into unconsciousness.

for once, he doesn't dream of you.

there are no images of your body, laying motionless under the rubble. he sleeps in blissful oblivion, his head completely silent, and wakes a day and a half later feeling more rested than he ever has despite the wound in his leg.

simon is by his bedside when he finally opens his eyes. it's late, the room dark apart from the fluorescent light bleeding in from the gap under the door and simon's phone highlighting his balaclava. he notices the moment johnny turns his head to watch him, because of course he does, and reaches over to turn on the lamp on the side table without a word.

"mornin', lt…" johnny mumbles, voice hoarse and eyes heavy as he pushes through the tiredness clinging to his senses to sit up in his bed. the light is abrasive to his eyes, but he blinks through the sting and manages a lazy smile towards simon.

"evenin', more like." he replies, a trace of humour in the way his eyes lift at the corners. "been asleep nearly thirty-eight hours."

johnny baulks at that, suddenly feeling a lot more awake from the cold shock that passes through him. "thirty–? jesus wept, i need'ta–" he sputters, wide-eyed as he throws the blankets from his legs and starts to get up, "i need'ta see 'em, how–"

before he can get his feet on the ground however, he's pushed back by simon's hand on his chest, forcing him to sit back and acknowledge the pain radiating from his thigh.

"they're fine, johnny." simon tells him, punctuated with a roll of his eyes before he continues, "been in and out of consciousness, but they're stable."

johnny sighs deeply, relief flooding through his body as he slumps back against his pillows. you're okay, you're alive, you're here, and you're home and safe. his thoughts have already begun racing and despite how much his wounds are aching, he's already set his mind to how he's going to see you as soon as possible.

as if sensing his plotting, simon leans forward to catch his gaze and even through the mask johnny can see the look he's sending him.

"i'm goin' back to bed, so don't do anythin' stupid." simon begins, pushing himself to stand using the arms of his chair and narrowing his eyes as he leans even closer. "if you rip these stitches, i'll put 'em back in myself, clear?"

"crystal, lt." johnny nods, and simon holds his stare as one last warning before he turns to leave – but not without giving him a firm pat just below his bandages that makes him wince, feeling the silent threat behind the gesture as he watches simon exit silently out into the hall.

johnny swings his legs over the side of the bed the second the door swings shut again, a sharp intake of breath following the movement as his weight shifts. surely he could get to where you are without making his wound any worse, he hard could it be?

he makes it two doors down before he realises that this might've been a bad idea. the muscles of his thigh burn and his breath comes out in heavy, stuttered huffs, but despite the strain on his injured body he refuses to give up before he's seen that you're okay with his own two eyes.

the fourth door he peeks through is where he finds you, the sight of your sleeping form instantly overpowering the pain in his leg. he shoulders open the door and beelines in a limp to your bedside, his gaze never once leaving your face until he's close enough to grasp your hand in a slow, featherlight touch like you'd disappear if he made a wrong move. you don't react as he strokes your knuckles, but johnny is more than content to just sit with you, perched on the edge of your bed and taking in the way your breath fills your lungs, the gentle thrum of your pulse under his fingertips on your wrist.

time passes easily like this, until the minutes have gone by and he can find the strength to lift himself into the bed beside you, snaking his arm around your neck and shoulder to hold you close as he settles in, careful not to agitate any of your own injuries.

"i missed you, my love," johnny whispers, dragging his fingers up and down your arm, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, "i missed you so much…"

your fingers twitch in his hold, the steady rhythm of your breathing hitching as a shaky sigh leaves you. johnny freezes, his hand stilling on your bicep and his eyes growing wide.

"john–" the sound of his name passing your lips pulls him out of his shock, and he pulls back to watch your eyes twitch and flutter open. your voice is raspy and still weak, but not even an angel choir could sound sweeter to him. "johnny…?"

"i'm here–" his voice breaks, but he continues anyway, "i'm here, i got ye." he murmurs, careful to keep his voice low despite how much he wants to cry from joy. "how ye feelin'? you comfy, sweetheart? any pain?" he asks, shifting the both of you to sit against the pillows and keep you nestled against his side.

"i'm okay–" your hoarse response is interrupted by a cough that devolves into wet hiccups, your hands curling tightly into his shirt as you look up at him, "it– am i– it's–"

"shushsh, i'm here darlin', i've got ye." he coos, his eyes welling up to match yours, resuming his soothing touch over your arm. you stay like that, for minutes that could've been hours, gazing into each other's eyes while you softly cry and johnny comforts you.

it aches him to see you cry, but he can't help but awe at how beautiful you still manage to be, with cuts and bruises and tears littering your face. his heart swells in his chest with the love he holds for you.

your hand finds its place on johnny's cheek, your staggered breaths calming down at last. he covers it with his own to feel more of your skin on his. a wince crosses your expression as you try to lean up towards him, but he stops you before you hurt yourself any further and leans his forehead against yours.

you pull his face even closer, digging your fingertips into his cheek in an almost uncomfortable sensation, before brushing your lips against his in something like disbelief. "am i dreaming?"

"no, my love," he utters against your skin, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, nudging your cheek with his nose, "this is real."

your breath hitches again when he closes the little space left between you and presses his lips to yours, encapsulating you in a kiss that holds every ounce of desperation he's been holding on to. it's passionate, all-encompassing, and it reminds him of the first time he kissed you all those years ago. your free hand travels up to his hair, tangling the longer strands around your fingers and drawing a groan from deep in his chest.

he's reluctant to let you when you pull away for air, tasting the salt from your last stray tears as he chases your lips.

"say it again…?" you ask in a murmur, your eyes fluttering open again. the look you give him, one of pure hope that you won't suddenly wake up alone, it makes johnny's heart miss a beat.

he squeezes your hand, turning slightly to leave a kiss on your palm. "it's real, bonnie. i'll die before i ever let you go again."

your mouth opens to say something, but you stop yourself just before you can choke the words out, fresh tears building in your eyes again. johnny gives you an encouraging nod, holding your gaze while you muster the courage to voice what you're thinking.

"i–" you begin, your words catching on a lump in your throat, "i watched you leave without me, i had to watch the helicopter disappear and, and you…" your voice fades, eyes darting between his while they gloss with unshed tears once again.

"sweetheart…" he frowns, his heart breaking anew from the anguish that he never wants to hear in your voice.

you swallow thickly, your hold on his hair tightening ever so slightly. "i thought– i didn't think you'd ever find me…"

"i'd always find you." johnny replies, his resolute tone leaving no room for argument. he touches his forehead to yours again and lowers his voice to continue, "even if i had to go tae the ends of the earth, i'd never stop lookin' fer you."

his words release the fresh tears you've been holding back, and with a quiet sob you drop your face to the crook of his neck, gripping his hair and face tighter still. johnny softly shushes you, rocking the two of you back and forth as much as he can with you held close in his arms.

"you're staying with me tonight…" your voice is muffled, spoken into his neck and sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. a comforting nostalgia follows your words, one he can't help but chuckle at.

"would'nae have it any other way, darlin'."