#and I hope this helps y'all feel better after the *last* chapter

[harmonictechnicality]

Memory Log: Day 52

part 1 here | part 2 here | part 3 here | part 5 here | part 6 here (ao3 link here)

After seeing his ink-smeared biography all over Eddie Munson’s arm, Steve becomes extremely motivated. Obsessed, even.

He assembles a makeshift army. Eddie’s Memory Soldiers, he calls it. Okay - he doesn’t call it that out loud, only to himself (because even Steve is self-aware enough to know how deranged this all sounds).

Steve compiles a ragtag group of Eddie’s friends to nudge his brain along faster. Band mates, theater dweebs, potheads that can carry a tune. All of them bring mixtapes on their visits. After two weekends, there’s already a fuckload of thrashy melodies for Eddie to choose from.

He lets them take the reins on this music-healing plan because there’s no fucking way Steve will be helpful in that department. It means less visits that include his presence, which sort of sucks, but it’s worth it. Worth it to get Eddie back to where he used to be.

Before Steve heads out for one of his morning visits, Robin interrogates him. Asks him the question he’s been ignoring for weeks.

“Steve… not to sound harsh, but why do you care so much?” 

Yeah. Why does he care so much? 

She quickly follows it up with, “I just didn’t know you two were friends now. So I’m just curious, I guess.”

They’re not friends. They’re lukewarm tolerators - tethered together by monster hunting and Dustin Henderson.

They’ve flirted, sure. But who doesn’t? Steve would flirt with half of the leggy cartoon characters that appear on Saturday Mornings if he could. So that’s a weak argument to assume they’re more than just friends. Tolerators. Whatever.

So he lies. To Robin. To himself. Lies so much that it sits in his stomach like motion sickness.

He answers the exact same way he’s been answering since day one:

“I’m just doing this for the kids, Robs.”

He’s pretty sure neither of them are buying that statement. He tries again. Stamps the words onto his confused brain. Considers writing them on his arm just like Eddie might do.

“I’m doing it for them.”

Eddie is always on his Walkman (Steve’s Walkman) now that he has skyscraper of cassettes on his desk. Pretty much every time Steve returns, Eddie is head banging. Won’t stop until the nurses scold him.

Or Steve. He’ll stop if Steve scolds him too.

“You can’t keep jostling up your brain, Munson.” Steve whips the headphones off of Eddie’s ears. “Gonna undo all of our hard work.”

“Our hard work?” Eddie attempts to grab the headphones back. Gives up as soon as their hands make contact. “And who might be included in this our that you speak of?”

“You know…” Me. “The doctors and nurses and your friends.”

“Right.”

This is how things have been going lately. Eddie teases him mercilessly and Steve bats it all away. Doesn’t encourage it for a second.

Which blows so hard because he wants to flirt back. Steve wants to know what Eddie feels like beyond tubes and bandages and hospital gowns. He wants way too much after watching Eddie fall asleep smiling that night. After finding out that Eddie scams his own mind into remembering Steve in technicolor details every day.

But it feels wrong. Deep down, there’s this part of Steve that worries that Eddie only likes the scribbled notes, the good qualities of himself. The non-prickster qualities.

He doesn’t scribble the bad qualities on his arm. Eddie lets himself forget about those every night. 

So it seems wrong. Unfair to let Eddie only remember the good parts of him and take advantage of his weak mind.

Life was a fucking breeze before Steve cared about not taking advantage of people. Shit, he used the world’s biggest advantage-taker before all of this evil wizard nonsense.

“Quiz me, Harrington.” Eddie insists.

So Steve does. Steve goes down the list of questions. Things that Eddie’s memory typically hesitates to recognize. 

Music helps Eddie remember his childhood memories the best.

That’s the biggest discovery they’ve made over the last fourteen days. Tapes that include songs from the early to mid 70’s have the biggest mental impact on his memory skills. Every day, he recalls more moments from his past.

Winter birthday parties. Recess and tire swings. Nineteen chickenpox. A pet hamster named Sterling.

“Can’t believe Wayne trusted you with a living creature.” Steve sneers.

“Never said he did.”

He always gets fuzzy with stuff from the late 70s though. And the early 80s is just a jumbled-up shit show. That’s when Eddie really starts failing his quiz.

“What year did you get the tattoo on your chest?”

“You mean this one?” Eddie pulls down the wrinkly hospital gown, exposing way too much of his collarbone. “Or this one?” He pulls the fabric down even further.

They must’ve finally turned the heat on in this place. Or maybe Steve’s sweater is just extra itchy, scratching his skin all splotchy red. He rubs furiously at the collar, spreads the flush all over by accident. 

His eyes dart up to the fluorescent lights. Away from Eddie’s chest. “Um… the… creepy guy.”

“You’ll sprain your neck looking up like that.”

“Good thing I’m in a hospital then.”

“Okay - seriously, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure.” Eddie snorts. His heart monitor beeps faster. Steve hates that laughing must be a bit painful for him. “And he’s not some creepy guy. He’s a creepy demon. Please respect the body art and get your facts right.”

“Fine.”

Not flirting back makes Steve feel like he could break out into hives. He has a fucking stockpile of pickup lines. He hoards provocative catchphrases like a horny pack rat. Talking is becoming increasingly difficult when he can’t banter back the way he wants to.

“Don’t remember what year I got it.” Eddie admits. “Sorry.”

Steve pulls his focus away from the ceiling and scribbles that down:

Eddie still can’t remember when he got his tattoos.

“Gee mister,” Eddie imitates a very masculine Shirley Temple voice. “Am I failing the pop quiz already?”

Eddie remembers who Shirley Temple is (weird, but okay).

Eddie does a really shitty impression of Shirley Temple.

Steve just keeps writing. Not even writing words anymore, just moving the pen to stay focused. Stay distracted from flirting.

The energy starts to feel swampy and stiff as he continues to give short responses with lifeless enthusiasm. Steve can tell that Eddie is picking up on the weirdness too. 

He’s so fidgety. Drumming his fingers, twisting the one ring he’s allowed to wear on one of his less busted fingers. Bobbing his knees and kicking off his blankets. 

Eventually, Eddie puts his (Steve’s) headphones back on and closes his eyes. A nonverbal surrender. A borrowed Walkman instead of a white flag. Why does it feel so shitty to see that he is just as defeated as Steve?

Once Eddie is asleep, Steve peaks over at his arms.

The notes are still there. Fading, but there.

It shouldn’t jab him in the heart the way that it does every time he checks, but christ. It’s so fucked up.

Slowly but surely, Eddie is gaining pieces of his past, but never his present. Why the fuck is that? Steve is so selfishly pissed about that because he’s a main role in Eddie’s present life. 

He’s the one that’s here most days. He’s the one that listens to Eddie’s rants and incessant complaints. He’s the one that calls the nurses when Eddie is too prideful to admit when he’s in pain.

Steve should be remembered without smudgey reminders and foggy recollections.

Steve should be un-fucking-forgettable.

After an unhealthy amount of moping, he comes up with an idea. Well, Dustin comes up with an idea, actually. Steve bribed him with nougat and R-rated movie rentals to construct a gameplan.

“And you need Eddie to remember your favorite sweater…why?” Dustin’s mouth is full of chewy candy as he asks.

Steve chucks a raisinette at his dumb hat. “I thought we agreed this was a no questions asked request.”

“You suggested that.” Dustin points at Steve. “I never agreed to it though.”

This is the part Steve despises. If he admits it to others, he has to admit it to himself. And while he’s come a long way since that first day with Eddie, he’s not there yet. His pride can only take so much vulnerability before it fractures completely. “Just… I’m testing a theory I have on his newest memories.”

“Right. And what theory would that be?”

That he thinks about me in kissable ways. “That he remembers more than he gives himself credit for.”

Dustin chugs back his soda and scrunches the can in his grasp. “Okay. Well, the mixtape theory is working decently well with older memories, right?

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“So maybe it can work with newer memories too.”

Steve is lost already. “Meaning?”

“Find songs that relate to you.” Dustin shrugs like duh. He must sense Steve’s hesitation, so he sputters back into his brainy explanation. “Think about it: you’re there all the time -”

“Not all the time, but -”

“Shut the hell up. You’re there all the time, so he must remember the essence of Steve Harrington.”

Steve fake gags. “Don’t say essence, that’s fucking gross.”

“Will you stop interrupting? Jesus christ.” Dustin yells, scrunching the soda can even more with his irritation. “Just make a mixtape with stuff that relates to you. Get his current memories to stick with lyrics and shit.”

Steve twists his mouth to one side. Then the other. “That’s…”

“Genius?”

“I was gonna say worth a shot, but sure.” Steve agrees. “We’ll go with your conceited analysis.”

Dustin finally picks up the raisinette from earlier. Throws it back at Steve. “You should be nicer to me. I possibly just solved your dilemma.”

“I should be nicer to you?” Steve tosses the raisinette into his mouth, despite its questionable duration on the floor. “Dude, you’re never nice to me.”

“Yeah, but it’s affectionate hostility.”

“And that makes it better?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Fine.” Steve rolls eyes, offers a hand to Dustin. “Thank you for the hostile affection.”

Dustin accepts the handshake. He’s overly smug about it too. “You’re very welcome.”

Memory Log: Day 53

Right away, Steve determines it’s a Kathy Day. Eddie is a verbal nightmare already, whining about the dead batteries in his tv remote.

“I’ll get Sam to grab some batteries when her shift starts.” Steve reassures the bitchy entity possessing Eddie Munson’s body at the moment.

“Why don’t you just get the damn batteries?” Eddie bites back. “You have legs, don’t you?”

“You have eyes, don’t you? Of course, I have fucking legs.” Steve can play it this game. Doesn’t want to but he can be just as obnoxious if Eddie keeps going with his attitude. “Please don’t pull this Kathy shit today.”

That simultaneously shuts them both up for a while. Steve begins flipping through one of the outdated magazines on Eddie’s desk, avoiding the escalated atmosphere. At this rate, there’s no fucking way Steve is going to bring up his mixtape. Kathy/Eddie will probably smash it. Roll over it with the wheels on his imprisoning hospital bed.

Eddie clears his throat, speaking softer than he did at Steve’s arrival. “You know… you were sort of a Kathy yourself yesterday.”

Eddie remembers Steve’s weird mood from the day before (needs to check Eddie’s arm notes to make sure he didn’t write that down).

“Yeah well… I’m allowed to be the pissy one sometimes.” Steve doesn’t look up. He just keeps pretending to read the fossilized magazine in his hand.

“Whatever you say, Harrington.” There’s another pause. Just as awkward as the last one. Their dynamics today are clashing harder than their music styles. Eddie breaks through the awkwardness once again. “So… what’s on the brain agenda today?”

Eddie remembers their pop quizzes.

Right. The quiz. The quiz that Steve has no intention of administering today because he’s supposed to give Eddie this stupid mixtape. 

And look, Steve is pretty good at avoiding shit - homework and phone calls and extended family members. He’s good at dodging shit too, like the relentless one-night stands that can never seem to take a goddamn hint.

But this situation is different because Steve would clearly like to avoid the potential weirdness of giving Eddie Munson a gift. However, he’s innately aware that this particular gift could be helpful. Maybe more to himself than to Eddie, but who knows? If Eddie gets his memory tank back on track and Steve gets someone that reciprocates his affections? 

The payoff might be worth the weirdness.

“I actually wanted to contribute to your…” Steve gestures apathetically at the stack of tapes.

Eddie looks over at them and then back to Steve. “Oh you mean, Munsonopolis?”

“Boooo.” Steve heckles him immediately for that.

“You think of something better then.”

Steve thinks about this way too hard. “The Ed-pire State Building.”

“Boooo.” Eddie imitates Steve’s heckling.

“Better than yours.”

“Says who?”

“Says anyone with a sense of humor.”

“Brave of you to call that a sense of humor.”

“What can I say?” Steve clicks his mouth twice and does the most douchey finger-gun bit, blowing out the nonexistent smoke from each index finger. “I’m something else.”

Eddie bites down over his lip, hard enough that it goes white for a second. Doesn’t take his eyes off of Steve while he bares down.

“You sure are, Steve.”

Oh shit - did they just mindlessly segue onto Flirtation Boulevard without even trying? Is it really that natural with Eddie? Damnit, Steve needs to get his mind on the task at hand.

“Here.” He walks over, lays the tape on Eddie’s lap.

“Is this another one from Gareth?” Eddie flips the tape over, studies the back. “Cause I already assured him that I remember the concert we went to back in ‘84.”

Eddie remembers one of his closest friends.

“No, this one is actually…” Just fucking own up, Steve. “Well, I made it.”

Eddie’s eyes do that sequin thing again. Almost turn into disco balls. “You made me a mixtape?”

Ugh. “Don’t get too flattered, Munson.” 

“Too late.”

Steve was afraid that might be the case. So he does his damndest to channel Dustin Henderson. Provide a scientific explanation to his crush-driven theory. “It’s just an extension of our little music experiment. Some stuff that will help you remember me.”

“And why exactly do you want me to remember you?” Eddie does the same lip biting thing from before. He bites harder, and the color stays white even longer this time.

Steve involuntarily glances down at Eddie’s arm, giving himself away.

“Oh.” Eddie stops biting his lip, swiftly lifts the blankets over his arms. Hiding what Steve already knows is there. “Look… that’s just -”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, really.”

Eddie looks down, nodding in agreement. “Right. But it’s not-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a firm hand on Eddie’s shoulder because he can’t. He can’t listen to whatever Eddie is about to confirm or deny. “It’s okay. I mean it.”

He’s not ready for it, for whatever barricade that’s between them to come crashing down. Steve didn’t bring the proper tools to shield himself from raw emotions or desperate declarations of true feelings. And from the way Eddie goes breathless and tense under Steve’s shoulder-grip, he doesn’t think Eddie has the proper tools for that either.

“So you uh…” Eddie peers down at Steve’s hand. Catches a glimpse then abruptly looks away again. “Do you want me to listen now or…”

God no. Steve releases his grip at that thought. “Wait till I leave.” 

“Got it.”

The rest of the visit goes both fairly smoothly. There are only a few lingering particles of awkward tension left behind. It doesn’t bother Steve, not necessarily. The whole day has been kind of all over the place, just like Eddie’s Literary Behavioral Scale. So this uneasy atmosphere is to be expected.

They talk about movies while Steve packs up his things to leave. Eddie asks about all the new movies that have come out since he’s been in the hospital. Steve tells him to make a list of the ones he’s interested in seeing. Tells him that they’ll have a marathon at his place once they’re released to vhs. Eddie says he knows a guy that sells bootlegs before the vhs release date, but Steve shoots that idea down so fucking fast.

It’s not their usual banter, but that’s okay. At least they're talking. Getting along. Tolerating one another at a lukewarm temperature again.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve is met with the most anxiety-ridden face. Eddie’s whole forehead is covered in wrinkles, like that one fancy dog breed that his next-door neighbor used to have. There’s no shimmer in Eddie’s eyes, no disco balls. It’s all just dull. Fearful.

“Sorry if the arm thing made you...” Eddie trips over his words. He pinches the skin between his eyes, makes his even more forehead wrinkles. “I don’t know what’s the word I’m looking for.. Uncomfortable, I guess.”

“Don’t worry. It didn’t.” It made Steve a lot of other things: gutted, determined, confused, sulky, smitten. But no. Worried did not make Steve’s grocery list of Feelings.

“Don’t forget to tell Sam about the batteries on your way out.”

Eddie remembers bitching about the batteries.

Yeah, Steve’s memory isn’t the faulty one here. Even so, Steve reassures him:

“I won’t forget, Eds.”

Day 56:

Wayne had a couple days off from work and took over Steve’s Wednesday and Thursday shifts in the hospital. It’s probably for the best - especially since Steve decided to do the most high school shit ever, and gift Eddie a fucking bouquet in the form of radio hits and plastic.

He’s breaking out from the stress, just marinating on what Eddie’s thoughts might be of the mixtape. It can’t be good. None of the songs are his typical riffs of eternal damnation or whatever. But it certainly sounds like Steve Harrington in a Speaker. So it better help him picture Steve dressed in the tackiest, most burnable sweaters imaginable, goddamnit.

But like, why is he breaking out from thinking about Eddie Munson? Absurd. All of it. The feelings and the acne. His weird little crush is making him regress into adolescent woes and it’s pissing him off.

After popping the zit and crossing his fingers that it’s not outrageously noticeable, Steve sucks in a deep breath, and heads into Eddie’s hospital room.

“There’s my favorite Material Girl.” Eddie lowers the headphones, smiles bonus-level wide.

Steve’s gulps. His face feels like a fucking toaster. “I take it you listened to the tape?”

“I didn’t just listen to the tape.” Eddie picks up the Walkman and smacks it against the side of his head. “I practically absorbed that bubblegum bullshit. Think some of it is still stuck in my teeth.”

Steve plays along, hoping that his face will return to its usual complexion. “You should see a dentist about that.”

“With what insurance?”

“That’s fair.” Steve slides his hands into his jean pockets. He’s so rigid. “So?”

“So?”

“Final conclusion?”

“Oh, I hated it.” Eddie says bluntly. “In a very stick-that-syringe-in-my-neck kind of way.”

“Shocker.” Steve actually expected a meaner response than that.

“Why did you put so many songs on there that use Girl in the title?”

“Hey - it’s not my fault that all of the rich poster child songs are about women.” Steve gets defensive about that one. Honestly, it’s true. There needs to be more music about wealthy guys with genetically flawless hair. Somebody needs to get on that shit so Steve can have more songs that apply to him.

“Whatever you say, man.” 

“So did it…” Steve is still standing. Hovering a bit. “Did it help?”

Eddie sticks out both of his arms, flipping to reveal his forearms to Steve.

They’re blank, besides the usual tattoos and contusions. They’re as blank as Eddie’s arms can be at the moment. No more Steve Cheat Sheet to be found.

Steve exhales all of his relief. “And you remember me?”

“Remembering you was never the problem, Steve.”

“It wasn’t?”

Eddie shakes his head. “But if I ever allowed myself to forget, I…” He taps rapidly over the Walkman. Steve’s Walkman. “I just didn’t wanna risk starting over.”

“Oh.”

“With you.”

The metaphorical arrow, the one Steve has alway seen on department store Valentines Day cards, goes straight through his chest. Eddie aims the words with you directly for Steve’s heart. Punctures that wall he built up after Nancy Wheeler.

The monitor connected to Eddie is beeping faster again. It’s not like that day Eddie was writhing in pain. No, it’s a different tempo.

It sounds like his nerves are conducting the pattern. He’s nervous. Steve is making him nervous.

Or Steve’s lack of response is making him nervous.

But how does Steve respond? Is this Eddie giving him permission to flirt back again? To keep driving down the detour of attraction, take the scenic route?

Eddie’s heart monitor is screaming, ‘say something, Steve.’

But Steve’s archive of failed relationships is screaming, back, ‘don’t fuck this up, dickhead.’

Steve tries to meet the two in the middle. Say something inviting yet keep it simple.

“So… do you wanna make fun of the shitty soap operas together?” 

Steve puts a little emphasis on the together part, hoping it’ll tame the monitor. Make the tones evenly paced. He lets his hand tap once against Eddie’s arm. Right over his newly blank wrist. So clean. No more scribbles.

“I don’t know, I’ll have to check my schedule.” Eddie teases with his words, sure. But his hand lifts up. Tapping Steve back. Twice. “I’m a very busy man, you see.”

Steve shoves him away, laughing as he does it. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re not wrong.”

His monitor is ballad again.

One of Eddie’s (many) doctors walks into the room during their third hour of mocking the Home Shopping Network. Eddie has developed an elaborate backstory that they’re all cyborgs who are taking civilian money to grow their army of killer robots. Steve is surprisingly on board with this theory after the second hour. Some red headed lady twitches her eyes way too much to be human.

The doctor runs a few tests, looks over Eddie’s chart, the typical procedure. However, at the end of the visit, he decides to put Eddie on a new medication for his headaches. 

Headaches…

Steve flips back to that first day he started visiting Eddie. Finds the note he passive-aggressively took back then:

Eddie has a headache (that’s not a memory thing - he’s just told Steve a thousand times now).

He fans through the other pages as well. At least two-thirds of them mention Eddie complaining about headaches. How did Steve miss this? How could he be so stupid? He was too busy fantasizing about Eddie’s chest tattoos and making shitty mixtapes, that he glossed over something so significant.

Dustin wouldn’t have missed this. Robin wouldn’t have missed this. Nancy definitely wouldn’t have missed this - hell, she would’ve already cracked the Case of the Missing Memories by now. 

Steve is the wrong man for this job. Not enough brainpower to fix a broken brain.

“Uh oh.” Eddie says. “Where you’d go, Harrington?”

Steve glances up to see Eddie pointing his finger at Steve’s head. “Just.. thinking.”

“Share with the class, please.”

Steve struggles to make his voice sound causal about this. “I should’ve known about the headaches. Paid better attention.”

“Are you joking?” Eddie asks. “Because if you are, we need to work on your delivery.”

“Not joking, no.”

Eddie’s tone is mildly annoyed, still gentle though. “Stevie… that guy gets paid a shitload of money to figure out my problems. Truly - the reason there’s no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is because it’s going straight into that guy’s pocket.”

Steve snorts. It’s even funnier to visualize because the doctor is kind of short.

“What I’m saying is, it’s his job to have a big brain.” Eddie’s eye contact is sharp. Broken bottle to his neck sharp. “And your job is to be my eye candy. Sit there and look cute while I try to not hack up my dinner.”

Steve’s hearing went crackly at all of the compliments. “Eye candy, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

Steve no longer has an excuse not to flirt back. Eddie has his mixtape; his arms are bare. He’s obviously encouraging it, even with the knowledge that Steve is a spoiled brat. He likes Steve, not just the good stuff. Eddie is still willing to pursue this even with Steve’s bad qualities.

So fuck it. Steve is gonna delve into his stockpile of pickup lines. He’s gonna rummage around his hoard of provocative catchprashes. Be the horny pack rat that he was born to be.

“Is the sitting part of my job description mandatory?” Steve leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“Oh, I’m very lenient on that detail.” Eddie’s voice drops lower. “The cute part… not so much.”

“So you’re only keeping me around for what? My great hair? My symmetrical bone structure? My biceps, maybe?”

“Definitely not your humility, that’s for damn sure.”

They share a smile as Steve gets up, inches closer to Eddie’s bed. He reaches out and pinches the sleeve of Eddie’s hospital gown between his fingers. He cautiously rubs it over a few times, waiting to see Eddie’s reaction to this droplet of affection.

Eddie catches Steve’s wrist with his other hand. Mirrors the rubbing motion Steve set in place with the material.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Steve nudges Eddie lightly. “Is this okay?”

And before he can even get a response back, Eddie’s face starts turning grayish-green. 

This happens. Eddie throws up biweekly, so it’s not a big deal at all. It’s just that Steve is usually not laying on the moves when Eddie is about to blow chunks. Honestly, it knocks Steve’s astronomical ego down a few notches.

He probably deserves it.

Eddie is really sick. He pukes three more times, and he starts running a fever after the second time. He’s all clammy and curled into a pillow, clutching it with shaky fingers.

It’s all side effects from the new medication apparently. Yeah, Eddie’s head is no longer splitting open, but his body is rejecting all of the cardboard hospital food.

Steve keeps an eye on him, not that he can do much about it. He gets a styrofoam cup of ice chips so Eddie can chew on it whenever his temperature spikes. He wipes the sweat off Eddie’s temples because one - it’s a nice gesture, and two - it gives him an excuse to be nearby.

The shivering is driving Steve crazy though. He’s so on edge just watching Eddie like this. Eddie keeps making jokes like ‘at least I’ll remember your stupid worried face in the morning’ or ‘damn, my past better be worth all of this.’ And Steve will chuckle halfheartedly each time.

The heart monitor is all jumpy now. Even, uneven, even, uneven. If Steve focuses on it for too long, it starts to sound like he’s driving by a highway collision. A pileup of beeps and tones.

He gets another cup of cafeteria coffee. Hopes the bitterness and chalky creamer will be enough to muffle his hearing. Steer his mind to an empty exit lane.

“What? No coffee for me?” Eddie is under an extra blanket now.

Steve scoots his chair even closer to Eddie’s bedside. “What’s the point? You’d just puke it all up.” He’s pretty lousy at supportive words, isn’t he?

“Aren’t visiting hours almost over?”

“You trying to get rid of me, Munson?”

“Never. Just figured you needed to catch the bus or whatever.”

Eddie remembers Steve taking the bus.

“Robin finally gave me my car back.” Steve conveniently leaves out how he demanded  for it to be returned to him. “So, I’ll stay until they kick me out… if that’s cool with you.”

He places his non-coffee holding hand over top of Eddie’s open palm. It’s sort of instinctual. Doesn’t give his mind a moment to wonder if this is crossing a line. 

Holding hands in a hospital doesn’t mean romance. It never has. People do it all time, no one bats an eye at them either. It’s just a gesture of helpless support. It’s what people do to signify, ‘I can’t heal you with medicine, but I can warm your under-circulated skin just a little.’

But when Eddie’s fingers curl around his own, Steve’s stomach swells like its romance. It swells with hot air, helium maybe. It swells and stays swollen. Stays thermal and full.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to pay my eye candy overtime.” Eddie’s face rushes all pinkish-red. Almost as if he’s trying to combat his blush with humor, but it’s not working. He’s all the colors now. And with or without them, he’s attractive.

“You don’t pay me at all.”

“You got me there.” Eddie shakes a frizzy curl in front of his cheek. A poor effort to hide his flushed face. “I’m a terrible employer.”

Steve traces the grooves of Eddie’s palm lines. Pretends that they form a railroad track. “The worst.”

Once his fever finally breaks, Eddie falls asleep. His body unfolds, his fingers uncurl. It’s a heavy sleep, one that makes him all languid and soft. Any traces of bones are questionable now.

And even though Steve is about to pass out from exhaustion, he doesn’t move his hand from Eddie’s. He’d rather give up his whole arm than move it.

Sam peaks in just before Steve nods off. She lets in the bright hallway light, not too much though. Not enough to wake Eddie. Honestly, not a lot of things wake Eddie up these days.

“Sorry.” Steve yawns. “I overstayed my welcome.”

She shrugs, checks the fluids in one of Eddie’s IV bags. “You know, you can stay the night, if you’d like.”

“Really?”

“It’s pretty late… you shouldn’t be driving on the highway at this time of night.”

“Won’t I…” Steve reworks the phrase. Tries to be less selfish about it. “Won’t you get in trouble for letting me stay?”

“Oh no.” She winks. “Because I never saw you here.”

Steve smirks. “Got it.”

“But if I did see you here,” She gestures her head to the door on her right. “I would tell you there’s extra pillows in the linen closet over there.”

Sam deserves a fucking raise. Steve would become a goddamn patron of this hospital just to give her more money. Let the godsend of a woman retire early for christ’s sake.

“Thanks, Sam.” Steve whispers.

“Thank you for keeping him company.” She whispers back. “He’s lucky to have someone like you.”

Steve doesn’t know if that’s true, if Eddie is lucky to have him, but he nods anyway. Gives a gentle wave as Sam heads back out of the room.

He sets the pillow next to Eddie’s leg, keeping their hands connected as he dozes off. Steve falls asleep the same way he used to fall asleep in class. All bent over in his chair, one cheek flattened out on the desk. It’s very reminiscent of that.

Only better because he’s with the guy that makes his chest swell, even when he’s being sarcastic or melodramatic. Even when he���s cobwebbed himself into a maze of cords. Even when he’s bitching about batteries and Steve’s vomit-inducing fashion sense.

Steve thinks maybe he likes the undesirable traits of Eddie Munson just as much as the desirable ones.

And once he’s knocked out entirely, the rhythm of his heart matches the beeping monitor hooked up to Eddie’s chest.

Day 57:

It’s been a long time since Steve has had a decent dream. And this dream he’s in right now? It’s fucking luxurious.

He’s at the hair salon, because of course he is - it’s his home away from home. 

His head is reclining back in that giant sink thing. The one that’s like a soup bowl for hair or whatever. The stylist is shampooing his scalp, scrubbing all of those foamy products into his roots. This is Steve’s favorite part of getting his hair done, he always feels blissed out of his mind afterward.

They keep washing it for the whole dream, digging their nails into his head, dunking water over his hair every so often. It’s downright perfection. A dream he could stay stuck in forever. 

The scenery of the dream flickers out, but the sensations linger as he gains consciousness. His squints both of his eyes open, immediately greeted by too much brightness, too much sunlight. Steve shuts them again, soaking up the remnants of his dream. The hair scratching that’s ongoing even though he’s awake.

Awake.

Steve is awake and can still feel all of that salon paradise. His brain finally wakes up enough to realize it isn’t a dream. It’s Eddie’s hands in his hair, combing it thoroughly.

Fuck, it feels so good too. Steve wonders if Eddie is aware of what he’s doing or if he’s also in that suspended place between awake and asleep.

It doesn’t matter, not really. It all feels way too incredible to care about the logistics. Steve nuzzles deeper into the pillow to hide the happy little hums that keep escaping through his mouth. 

Eddie doesn’t stop. He keeps moving his hand around. Twirling strands and releasing them. Ruffling strands and smoothing them. Massaging the pads of his fingers in all the right places. Every bit of it is dreamy. Better than the dream Steve initially believed to be unbeatable.

Being Eddie’s own personal petting zoo is way better. Miles, light years better. Is there any form of measurement longer than lightyears? Because it’s bigger and better than that too.

Eddie tugs a little harder, just once, but once is all it takes to make Steve melt. He open-mouth sighs into the pillow, hoping the fabric mutes the neediness of it. There’s drool on the pillow and it’s unclear if it’s from when he was asleep or if it occurred just from that one hair tug. 

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice still sounds coated in sleep. “Is this weird?”

Steve shakes his head no, still unable to lift his face from the pillow.

“Should I stop?”

Steve shakes his head much faster. Absolutely not. Stopping should be banished from Eddie’s vocabulary. The word ‘stop’ should be homeless as far as Steve is concerned.

Eddie tugs again, more firmly this time. The tug goes straight to Steve’s dick, which yikes. Humiliating. Yeah, it’s morning and this shit happens, but not this kind of boner. Not one brought on by hair salon fantasies and a metalhead with magical fingertips. This can’t be the reality of Steve’s life right now but somehow, it is.

“I think I combed through all of that cake-up hairspray.” Eddie talks as his hand continues to roam around Steve’s scalp. “Feels like cashmere now, so you’re welcome.”

Steve sighs again, pretty sure it’s much more audible this time because Eddie laughs.

“Embarrassing.” Steve mumbles. That’s all he can muster out without becoming a puddle of humiliation.

“The sounds you’re making?”

Steve nods.

“Oh that is not the adjective I would’ve gone with.” Eddie claws his fingers all the way down to Steve’s neck. “Not even close.”

Steve is all hormones now, all slurred speech and thoughtless words. “So good, Eddie.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie whines, sounds breathier than Steve. “You cannot say my name like that when I’m in a tissue-thin gown.”

Steve wants to sneak a peek, see if what Eddie is suggesting holds any truth. He resists, only because he’s trying to sort out his own tent-pitching problems at the moment.

He gradually lifts his head off of the pillow, back cracking as he straightens his spine out after hours of being shaped like fucking tetris piece. It’s the last thing he wants to do because it means Eddie has to take his hand out of Steve’s hair. But as Eddie pulls away, his knuckles brush against Steve’s ear, awakening this newfound urgency to not let this moment fizzle out.

Steve hops up onto the bed, sitting side-saddle next to Eddie. He looks through Eddie’s eyes, the ones that remind him of shimmery dresses and the backseat of his car on prom night. He looks through to find a reason to stop his actions. Stop his need to touch Eddie’s jawline or thumb over his lips. He’s searching for a reason to stop and finding none whatsoever.

“Do you remember me?”

“You’re Steve Harrington.” Eddie kind of stutters as he says it. “Hometown Slut extraordinaire.”

The nerdy bastard is never going to let that one go.

Steve gives a quiet laugh, leaning in to his impulses. He slides his thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip, curving around, mapping invisible outlines. A blueprint for his imagination when they’re apart later. “Am I reading this wrong?”

Eddie’s gaze is glued to Steve’s lips as he shakes his head no.

“Good.”

Steve uses his free hand to lift himself up, get closer. Breathing in the same stale oxygen, sucking up the same early morning courage, existing in the same dizzying climate.

He can feel Eddie exhale softly over his skin when there’s a knock at the door.

Steve has never stood up so fast in his damn life. Gets a head rush that’s so overwhelming that his vision speckles out momentarily. 

It’s Sam. Thank god it’s only Sam. But also, screw god for interrupting what almost happened just now. Not cool, sky man.

“Just a heads up,” she starts, shutting the door behind her. “You have another visitor that just arrived.”

Right. It's the weekend.

Steve and Eddie say it in unison. “Dustin.”

Sam hums in reply. “I can stall him for a couple minutes. Give you time to sneak out the stairs that are tucked in the back hallway.”

“You’re the best.” Steve says. “I’ll be quick.”

She leaves, cracking the door on her way out.

Both of them just look at each other for a moment. There’s no time to even discuss the events that just took place. No time to recover the kiss that is already sneaking out the back hallway stairs.

Steve nervously whistles. “So…”

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Monday.” 48 hours apart seems insane. “Yeah.”

Steve hurriedly makes his way to the door - refusing his horny impulses the opportunity to kick back in and ruin everything. “See you later, Eds.”

Eddie licks over his bottom lip - the one Steve mapped out with his thumbprint. “Later, sailor.”

Um. What?

Steve’s eyes go large. “What did you just call me?”

“Go.” Eddie flashes the wickedest grin. “We’ll talk all about your ocean of flavor on Monday.”

This can’t be happening. “Ocean of -”

“Get out of here already!”

Steve flings himself out of the room, sprinting down the hall. Does Eddie actually recall Steve working at Starcourt? How can that be possible? Steve doesn’t remember seeing Eddie outside of school ever. 

Plus, they’ve never even talked about his job at Scoops Ahoy. Family Video? Sure, that’s more recent. But Scoops? Steve tries to forget just about everything from his time at that seaside shithole.

Goddamnit, this is confusing. The hair foreplay. The almost-kiss. The nautical nickname. Confusing is an understatement. Steve needs to go back to high school and learn a better word for what this is. Confusing isn’t cutting it anymore.

If Steve can make it till Monday without spiraling into a bucket of nerves, he deserves a fucking trophy.

And a kiss on the lips.

Mostly the second option (although a trophy would be nice too). 

[pinkyqil]

Struggles | a.Putellas x j.Hermoso

Hidden secrets series

Hidden secrets Masterlist

Warning: mention of pregnancy,

Four months into her pregnancy alexia whole body and perceptive had changed she thought that she could handle the changes that her body made.

but that came with a lot of over thinking and stressing about what could happen to her career.

Alexia knew not to be into her head that much but with everyone and everything spectating about her injured leg her mind couldn't focus on anything but that.

She tried her best to not focus on the negativity from the media but sometimes she just couldn't escape her own mind. she hated how the media started getting into her head.

Has it ever happened before ? Yes. but it had never gone way too far where she thought that she wasn't good enough.

if anything she was one of a kind but now she felt like a nobody.

alexia couldn't bother jenni with all of this, having the love of her life thinking she was pathetic would hurt way more than any other online comments about her.

Plus they've been redoing alexia whole places trying to make it accommodate with her needs and along with setting up the baby's room.

the only time she found comfort apart from jenni would be when she found herself spending time in her unborn child's room just the little things they've done in there gave alexia a bit of peace.

Currently resting in the rocking chair that had been placed in the room. Alexia had her head heavy in the clouds of thoughts.

were she hadn't heard jenni footstep especially when she called out her name.

Jenni on the contrary had rapidly noticed the swift changes in alexia behaviors.

She noticed it after alexia came back from her appointments and where they had barely spoken.

Normally the blond haired woman would have let her know anything that happened throughout the whole thing but on that day she barely spoke a word the moment she step foot into the house and just headed down to bed ignoring her.

So today when she found her sitting alone, she would make her talk cause she hated how the past few days had been for both of them.

After tapping alexia shoulder for what felt like forever getting the other woman's attention since she wasn't aware of her surroundings.

"Ale is everything alright?.

"mhm everything is ok".

jenni felt the emptiness from her voice she wanted to know what was going on but at the same time didn't want to stress out her beloved.

She would now find herself caressing her cheeks pulling her closer forming a hug between them.jenni could feel alexia tense body relaxed in her arms now.

"Wanna talk about it now".

Alexia slowly nodded her head finally deciding that she couldn't hold her struggles in anymore and needed someone.

Taking a deep breath before she stated speaking.

"I don't know jenni everything just feels frustrating not being able to do stuff on my own always needing help or assistance especially way more now I don't even feel like myself anymore"

Jenni felt herself pulling alexia into another hug as she couldn't utter a single word to comfort the woman right in front who was struggling.

she now made it a mission to make her feel better without making it seem like a chorus taking care of her.

Reminding her how talented and amazing she was cause no matter what she'll always be.

The Alexia putellas who doesn't let any obstacles get in her way.

Promising her that she'll always be by her side no matter what

Alexia obviously noticed jenni's effort in making her feel better but something in her heart felt a little empty that she couldn't explain but alexia wouldn't let it get to her head and just enjoy the moments.

Her heart truly belongs to jenni she thought thinking that her happily ever after would forever last.

A/n: hope y'all enjoy this chapter ik I promised longer chapters but I just can't seem to make it work but the other chaps coming would definitely make up for it. and has always ask ideas or any tips you have for me are always appreciated

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Shades of Red - Chapter III | 5k

chapter one | chapter two ao3 | masterlist

✦ Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x civilian f! reader ✦ Summary: The sole survivor of a terrorist attack that killed over a hundred. The soldier responsible for saving her. He wants to help you, but his own trauma make him withdraw when he wants to get closer and intoxicate when he wants to remedy. He kisses your scars and hopes you’ll runaway. He wants you to run away. But you won’t. ✦ TW: NSFW, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, canon typical violence, mentions of abuse and trauma/PTSD, bit of gore, mental illness mentions, slowburn; ✦ Chapter TW: trauma mentions as always, slight mention of obsessive behavior just again! bit of stalker!ghost

A/N: Hi girlies! I'm proud to say the story is finally about to begin for real and I'm hoping for some feedback on pacing, how you guys thing it's going so far and any tips on how to get better if there's any. Thank you for reading me and I love y'all ♥

taglist: @simpinginthecorner; @ghostlythots; @fine141; @dmitriene; @maviee

Chapter 03 - Foolish Girl

“Can you handle more, fecker? I’m pretty sure he can.” a voice asked, and he felt another kick hit his head; there was blood everywhere, he could barely feel his own mouth but the taste of metal that kept dripping through his teeth, the open wounds on his lips. 

He didn’t answer. Not a single word came out of his mouth, not a single whimper; it was like he was made of iron: he would flinch, but his sole skin seemed quite tough, hard; made of something other than human matter. It was impossible, they thought. Doesn’t this guy suffer? Is he dead?

No, he wasn’t dead. There were still heartbeats, he was still breathing. How was he breathing?

“Drown him.” the same voice ordered and they made a move around, three guys carrying him. He could think of nothing at all. How do you survive torture?

There’s a moment your body reaches complete numbness. You stop feeling pain, you stop feeling anything at all; it’s like it just awaits for you to give in. If a rookie asked Ghost how he manages to be unbeatable, to be beaten up fourteen times in a row and keep himself awake, he’d simply answer: refuse to give in.

When his body reaches complete numbness, he absorbs it. He does nothing. He resists, doesn’t close his eyes. He couldn’t deny he wanted, so badly, so many times to give up - but it wasn’t under his jurisdiction, to give up. 

It had been days. Eight, to be more precise. 

Eight days since you last saw or heard anything about Ghost or his squad. And also eight days since you finally decided to put some effort in yourself. 

Just throwing aside all of your insecurities, your fears and the emptiness that overcame you ever since the incident wasn’t the most clever decision, you knew it very well; but the government assigned a team of health professionals to look after you: a psychiatrist, a therapist and of course, Doris, the nurse - your most recent friend.

Things were starting to catch. You started talking a little more and now you could get out of bed with a wheelchair. Your leg was still looking like jelly - but that didn’t stop you from getting dressed up that day, tuck yourself in the wheelchair and all on your own for the very first time, ride through the hospital hall. There was someone you needed to talk to; didn’t know exactly how that would go: it had been time since you last saw this man. The situation wasn’t the very best on your side, too much trauma, too many memories, and now, facing something you avoided from day one.

You stopped in front of his office door. Getting the elevators without your legs wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, and there you were: your destination. Didn’t take you twenty minutes; that was good.

You took a deep breath and reached for the dark wooden door, big, beautiful: the type of office belonging to a very high pattern person. You knocked.

In not more than twenty seconds, the man’s form showed up in front of you; grey-ish hair, his white coat seeming to be perfectly cut and sewed to be his and his stethoscope hanging from his neck. A yellow smile awkwardly showed up on your face.

“Doctor Miller.” It was a mutter, almost inaudible. He seemed tired, sad, depressed. It’s how you expected him to be, if to be honest, and even so he had that tiny gentle smile printed on his lips.

“Well hello, little miss. I didn’t expect to see you so soon.” He admitted, before gesturing his hand towards you; you took it in a handshake. “I’m glad to see you’re getting better. Come in, please.”

“I’m trying.” You said, grabbing onto the wheelchair’s wheels and pushing yourself inside his office as he opened some space for you. The door was closed behind you, and your face gyrated, noticing the motion.

“I can imagine it’s not going to be so easy, right? I’ve been doing all efforts I can to push the media away from you, getting the best doctors I can involved in your treatment, et cetera.” He motioned with his hands as his hips laid back onto his wooden desk - same wood as the door - and crossed his arms. “Are they being nice to you?”

“Yes- god, yes. They are, I have nothing to complain about…” You responded quickly, feeling somewhat like a burden for hearing those words. “They’re great, yes.”

He nodded with his head, fixing his glasses from the tip of his nose and let out a sigh, finally. His eyes went down to the floor. “I’m glad then, missy. I’m glad.” 

Silence fell over the two of you like the big elephant living in the room was taking over all the space that should belong to your air. The air you had to breathe - it was caught up in your throat. You felt your heart sinking and your body tensing up a little, and closed your eyes.

“I’m here for another reason, as you can possibly imagine.” You muttered. 

Anthony interrupted you, “Please.” he closed his eyes, and his words got caught up in his throat. A lump there, you knew he was struggling to even think of a less painful way of doing this. “If you’re going to blame yourself then you should know that-”

“Anthony.” You said, your lips already trembling with the tears that formed in your eyes. “I’m really sorry.” You said simply and bluntly, not being able to hold back those painful grieving tears of yours. 

He kept silent, and his face turned aside, the stern look on it never leaving but you knew it: in his deepest mind, he could not possibly blame you, but in his heart, seeing you was seeing the only remaining thing of the incident that killed his only child, his daughter - your best friend. And sometimes you couldn’t blame yourself either. For the past eight days, you’ve been avoiding thinking about Amelie. She, who gave off all the opportunities you needed to succeed in med school. One of the best people you ever met, now, had her name written as one of the first ones in a list of 102 victims of a fatal terrorist attack. 

To his gut wrenching silence, you spoke again. “She didn’t deserve this.” you muttered, but didn’t dare talking about your own position on all this.

Nobody would like to hear someone else saying they should have died in place of your own child. Especially with this short spend of time - his grief was fresh as a recent stab in the heart.

“None of them did.” He said, and his voice was nothing but a wind whisper on a cold night. “It was a fatality. It’s nobody’s fault but those bastards who did this.” He kept on, swallowing dry and you could almost catch in the air the moment his feelings gravitated from sadness and sorrow to anger and hate, to pain; the glow in his eye changed and he didn’t dare to look at you. “So don’t blame yourself.”

You chewed in false, bite your tongue in an attempt to stop yourself from crying and speaking out everything in your mind. 

Silence.

“I’d like to go to the memorial today.” You raised your face to him now, silent tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’ll drop it, Anthony. I just want to see her face again, say goodbye, and then I’ll vanish. I’m promising, I’ll vanish, I-” you tried to keep up, but Anthony turned to you abruptly and a gesture with his hand stopped your talking instantly.

“Drop it? No.” He shook his head, and his tone grew even more stern by the time he spoke. “Are you going insane, lass? Have you lost your senses, no! You won’t drop college because my daughter died.” He said in such a harsh tone it made you flinch a little. You didn’t expect such crude sincerity. “She would want you to continue.”

You shut your eyes tight, shook your head, trying to hold back the painful cry you had stuck in your throat, but this time no - you couldn’t.

“But it is not fair. It’s not fair.” You stuck your face between your hands and started gasping. It was impossible to hold back. The grief he felt was obviously stronger, harder than yours - of course losing a daughter wasn’t the same as losing a best friend.

Amelie had done for you more than anyone else in your life, but still, she was only a dear friend of yours. You didn’t have the right to cry this much, did you? 

He lost his daughter. You survived the attack, she was supposed to have gone buying those donuts that day. You offered to go in her place.

It was your fault, wasn’t it? 

Only survivor. The only survivor. 

Anthony hugged you, tears streaming down his face as he almost lifted you from the wheelchair just to be able to hold you a little tighter in his arms, a fatherly embrace, like he had the opportunity of hugging his own daughter one last time before seeing her slip through his hands like water, dying in such a cruel, vile way. You never had a father, he’d occupy this spot for you ever since you arrived for the first time in this damn country. 

He missed a daughter now; that was something else the two of you had in common now: grieving for Amelie.

━ ⟡ ━

There were way too many people there - more than he could ever count. Lots of pictures spread across the beautiful grass in the cemetery, the media recording every single movementation. The UK Intelligence leader was speaking, a speech - a coordinated, very planned and wisely written speech; one made to cause commotion, to stop spreading panic and to slightly criticize the media’s insistent attempts to make the population desperate.

Ghost took a look around, his eyes gleaming through the mask and scanning the surroundings of the immense park-cemetery. Wasn’t too hard finding you, standing with the help of two crutches in front of your wheelchair, siding with the podium in which the man spoke fluidly to the public. Your eyes were lost in the pictures by the floor, surrounded by flowers and candles, preaches for the peace of those who perished.

You were wearing a long white dress, covering your legs - he couldn’t tell the size of the scar but given the fact that you were standing, Ghost supposed it was getting better quickly. Good.

“I’ll walk a bit.” He stated, before giving his back to Gaz and starting to walk away. It was not that a man wearing military gear was precisely discrete among a big crowd of normally dressed civilians, but he for one was a very silent, smooth operator. He kept his distance from the inner part of the crowd, started walking through the surroundings. A slow walk, he kept looking at you, drinking in your emotions.

You were crying - nothing but silent tears, but substantial ones he could notice by the way the light moved and gleamed across your face. Thought to himself if that was only because of the awful colloquy, or if anything else happened in those eight days. 

Well, a person in your situation didn’t need a precise reason to cry. 

You wouldn’t notice, and in fact nobody else would - but the SWAT team designed to keep the area safe, that there was a man behind you. In distance, in long distance yes - but behind you .

He wore full dark clothes, a hoodie, his face was almost invisible from the distance the people in front of you were. And from even further behind them, Ghost noticed.

His posture changed by the moment he locked his breath on his lungs and tensed up; for a moment, he stopped listening to everyone around. The sounds went quiet, almost mute; the man in the podium had his mouth moving, but no sound coming out of it. Nothing.

In nature, a good predator approaches its prey from the blindspot. From the opposite direction where the cameras are, and if he further knows better - distant from the other animals as well. In the army, you get to learn that position, agility and attitude are three vital points to be considered before attempting an attack. Learning the enemy’s position and with a good aim, before he even tried to do any harm, Ghost could’ve had him on the floor, a bullet hole in his forehead and a crowd of horrified people around the man’s dead body.

Come on. You won’t get closer to her, will you, mate?

He was walking towards you. 

You won’t try something. Won’t give me a reason to cancel your bloody name.

Was he grabbing something from his shirt? Something from the pocket of his hoodie, a little something? 

Look at me.

He did. 

His eyes catched up with Ghost’s, and almost like he could read his own future or in simple lack of courage, he took a step back. And then another. And another, and within seconds, he had his hands stuck in his hoodie pockets again, a straight up posture and nothing on his face anymore. Seemed to be enjoying the ceremony.

Ghost didn’t buy it. He glanced over at the other squad members, trying to see if anyone else but him had noticed the movementation - apparently, not.

He thought of reaching for the man in the crowd; they’d have a interesting chat if he got to lay hands on that cheap looking disguise of his. But when his eyes got back to the place where he was, the man had vanished like thin air. 

━ ⟡ ━

Doris held up your wheelchair, folded, around one of her arms. You were walking towards the cemetery, and although you could simply let her push you around, you were enjoying walking by yourself with some help of your crutches. 

“At least there was a ceremony. They could have let that pass, like they do to thousands of attacks around the world.” Doris mentioned, while you were concentrating all your energy in your own walking.

“You’d be a fool if you thought they’d let that pass, Doris. Look at where we are.” You argued, conscient of the fact that if you weren’t in such a favored country, perhaps things would be different now. Perhaps you wouldn’t be receiving so much help and attention from the media, or from the government itself. Proof of their selective worry.

“You’re right.” She nodded in a sigh, and looked over at you. “Are you sure you don’t need any help, dear? I can hold your arm at least-”

“No. Thank you, I’m doing well here.” You replied quite fast, without opening space for her to insist much. Even so, you expected to hear her voice in a grumpy complainment about your stubbornness, but instead, a deep charged voice came out and startled you.

“Girl.” He said, looking at you. His stature so tall it startled Doris off a little, too, although she seemed a little less surprised than you for seeing him. “May we talk for a bit?” He looked at Doris, like he was asking for her to excuse the two of you.

You kept two seconds of silence looking into the masked man that now towered over you, before Doris spoke out.

“I’ll be waiting back there in the car, okay, dear?” She asked, and in a nod the woman walked away leaving you with Ghost.

He offered an arm to you, which you eyed and promptly refused, waving your clutches. 

“I’m fine with those.” 

“Alright.” He nodded and walked a bit, standing by your side and keeping pace with your slow walking.

It wasn’t weird that he was in that place; it was a big event, being televised nationally. A ceremony to the dead, a mere way the government found to redeem themselves for being unable to keep harm from its citizens. Ghost was involved in all that, he of course would be there - but you didn’t expect this conversation to happen.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again. Ever, actually.” You admitted, while your eyes seemed focused on your feet while you walked.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.” He replied, simply.

“That’s not what I said.” You quickly redeemed yourself, looking at him and stopping the walk. Ghost was looking at you too. “I just meant to say I thought you wouldn’t come back.” 

“We’ll hope you never need to see me again, won’t we, miss?” He reasoned, and you raised your eyebrows in agreement.

“Don’t think your company is entertaining?” You gave some other suffered steps through the dirt path between the cemetery’s tombstones, and so did he.

“That’s not what I said.” 

You smiled.

“Gotcha. So, should I suppose you have a reason to be here then?” you turned to him once again, holding your hair from flying away with the violent wind that took over the place in a matter of seconds. The clouds were moving - it seemed like it was about to rain.

“I’m here for the same reason as everyone else. The ceremony.” Ghost calmly replied. It seemed weird for you to not be able to read his reactions from the mask, but for some reason, you felt like he was being considerably less stern this particular day.

Maybe he felt bad for you.

“I mean talking to me, Simon. Not here in this place.”

You feared he’d correct you from calling him Simon. He didn’t.

“I know what you meant. Your answer is yes, girl, I have a reason.” He finally said, bluntly, and you kept silent waiting for the next sentences. “Did you receive any visits recently?”

“No one but you a week ago, and the doctors. Why?” 

He didn’t answer your question, he simply placed his hands behind his back and straightened his posture. Then, silence. 

“Simon?”

“No one. Are you sure?” He insisted.

You frowned your eyebrows slightly and stopped walking once again, putting yourself in front of him this time. You used your healthy leg as a support on the ground to pivot around yourself, and one of the clutches as the other support so you’d stand. 

Something in this very calculated and conscient motion failed and you felt your feet step in false; the leg that shouldn’t be carrying weight did, for a second, fast enough for you to feel yourself almost collapse.

Ghost’s hands were quick in grabbing your arms and supporting you against his chest as you almost fell against him, with a small ‘ba-dump’ sound, and your hands now palming the big waistcoat of his tactic gear. You cursed under your breath.

“I’m sorry. And yes, I am sure, why.” You asked a little less patiently this time. His eyes were looking down at you, his hands still swallowing your thin arms like he feared you could fall from the least movement now. 

You looked up at him only to meet his dark eyes through the mask and the black eyeshadow that surrounded his face around the eyes and nose, glaring at you. 

It occurred to you that if you could possibly live under Ghost’s watch, then you wouldn’t be scared of anything in the world. But it was a quick though that left with the wind that moved your hair and shivered your arms.

“You can let go now.” You murmured, assuring him that you wouldn’t fall now that you had the clutch's support. He did.

“You received suspicious calls, no? Nothing weird that comes to mind?” He kept with his questions that seemed to be turning into a small interrogation. 

“Why are you asking me those things?” You finally asked, with a confused shook of your head. “Should I be worried?”

“No. No, you shouldn’t.” He closed his eyes in a sigh, and took your arm around his. Before you could complain, he predicted you. “Don’t complain, I’m doing a courtesy here.” 

“I don’t need help, I’m doing well with the-” 

“Stubborn girl, aren’t you?” He said, and you could sense a smirk from his voice.

“Well you’re very stubborn yourself, gentleman.” You grumbled, using his help to walk a bit faster now. 

You couldn’t see the expression in his face and how amused he seemed to be by watching your movements, and how funny he actually found it that you were slightly mad at him for the time being. You wouldn’t notice the little sign of a laugh on his face, and you’d never suspect there was one - you thought the last thing you’d see him doing in the world was smiling. 

After giving you silence as a response, you kept quiet, silently accepting his help through the way. Your eyes scanned the surroundings for a bit like you were looking for a particular tombstone. 

“Who do you want to visit?” He risked asking, quietly. 

Silence, as you stopped in front of it. There she was. You found it. 

The candles were still burning and her face was happily smiling in the picture they chose to put over her gravestone; there were countless flowers, while you held one sole rose in your hand. Doris bought it for you earlier, as you asked.

“My roommate.” 

Silence. He was keeping himself a little behind you, his eyes drove from the gravestone to your back. The way the wind started blowing your hair and that white dress fell over your curves perfectly made you look like an angel. 

“The one you asked for, what was her name again? Amelie.” He muttered. You gave him a nod.

“Amelie.” You said, as you bend your body as much as you could just so you could reach the top of the beautiful granite that now, layed over her body, and deposit your only flower at the top of all the others already there.

Ghost didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to say anything, but before that could turn into overthinking for him, you spoke.

“She was my only friend in this place. The only true one.” You explained, even if unsolicited. Somehow, you felt like talking to Ghost was therapy to you; he would almost never answer, and hear it - truly hear it. Maybe you were being delusional to think with this level of detail about him, but so far, you haven’t spoken to someone who made you feel heard quite like him, so it was a win. “I only moved here because her family offered to pay for my expenses. She was in med school too, you know?” You glanced at him, as if he was supposed to know that already.

And he did. He knew every detail that was spoken about you on television. He knew you were in med school; he knew you were originally American, from a very poor family that basically got you living by yourself at a tender age and that you were here for a scholarship you achieved with merit, studying to become a doctor. To become a person, one very much better than him.

You were here to save people.

He had been killing people for quite his lifetime now.

How ironic.

“Do you feel guilty?” He asked. 

You thought he was some sort of fortune teller. There it was - the fear. The fear of that man, of his gazing eyes, of his capacity of reading through you like a good book; one he had read before, and he did. He did in his tender age, when he’d suffer at the hands of his father; furthermore, when he got into the army; once again, when he was caught… 

Can he take more? I’m sure he can.

Ghost knew guilt like his very own hands. At this point he could feel it no more - he only knew he was doing his job as he could, saving the lives he could and taking the others he needed. Choices have consequences.

“Everyday.” Your voice came out as a blow.

He closed his eyes. 

“Do you relate? Looks like you do.” You continued, your eyes locked on his now.

“If I were in your place,” he started, walking a bit closer to you. “I’d make the most of it. I won’t bullshit you with the ‘be grateful for being alive’ rubbish. But want it or not, you’re alive, aren’t you?” He looked over at you, and met your gaze once again.

“Simon’s pep talk… Another surprise for today’s day.” You raised an eyebrow jokingly trying to enlighten the mood even the slightest you could. 

“All I’m saying is, foolish girl, that you deserve no less than her to be alive. It’s not a matter of deserving. It’s a matter of luck, you were lucky and she was not.” He turned himself  to you, and you felt his eyes burning through your side although you weren’t looking back at him. “There’s no such thing as deserving. If anything, I’d deserve to be bombed twice as much as you.”

“Isn’t that such a cruel thing to say?” You asked with a sole, weak smile on your lips, knowing damn well he was right about every word and every positioning right now. Even though it hurts.

“The world is a cruel place, and although many think, God doesn’t have his favorites… You were lucky. Do not feel guilty about something that didn’t depend on you.” He stated, sternly this time like his advice was a life rule to himself. 

For the rest of the way back to the car where Doris waited patiently for the two of you, you kept yourself silent. You wanted to ask more about him, about Simon. About that man you saw such a small flash, a little piece, today; unlike Ghost, Simon was an entirely different person and an entirely different idea to you. Somehow, the two of them seemed to be too attached for you to seek precise duality, and it went as far as to your feelings too: curiosity upon the mystery, fear of what you could learn from the unknown.

“Oh, there you are, finally.” Doris celebrated while opening the car door to you, and rushing fast to help you in. Simon kept himself on the back, watching the whole operation to get you inside the car, amused by how annoyed you got to the excessive help being offered to you.

“I can do things on my own.” You said in gritting teeth.

“I know, dear, but why do things on your own when you can have help” She argued, after tucking you in the car, and turning herself to Ghost. “Thank you for the help, sir.”

“It’s no problem.” He said gently, before nodding his head to you and closing the backdoor for both of you as Doris got in. The car started moving, and you started trailing your way back to the hospital.

In a sigh, you closed your eyes and rested a bit.

━ ⟡ ━

He pushed the mask off, threw it aside. The toned muscles of his back were pumped to the extreme, blood flowing through his veins as he stood, shirtless with a towel around his shoulders, hands by the sink sides, curved only enough so he could reach the mirror and stare at his face. One of his fingers ran through a big scar, almost a crack across his own cheek. Many stab scars ripping his back off, his belly, his stomach, his chest. There were scars everywhere. 

He pulled the towel off and poorly dried his hay blonde hair, threw the towel aside in the laundry basket, and fixed the one hanging around his waist; a few drops of the hot shower water still glowing through his body. 

He sat on his bed, and took a quick look at the notebook screen. The U.K intelligence system was open, of course he had access to it.

A part of himself was cursing under his name for doing this. The other one knew it was for the greater good; somewhat, deep inside, he knew that wasn’t all. There was more to it. Something almost personal, maybe something growing slowly inside of him. 

He didn’t get this sense of need from someone. It's been so long, it’s even weird for him now. No, he didn’t want to awake this monster, give it space, feed it, no.

But he needed to. Because if someone was after you, then he’d hunt it, and he’d put it down. 

He put on the password and typed; slowly, the screen started showing off your name, your files, your information, pictures. You.

And he started hunting.

[thetriumphantpanda]

Cruel Summer | Javier Peña (Chapter Five)

Series Summary | Javier Peña is back in Laredo, this time for good. He hadn’t banked on you still being there, especially not with a wedding ring on your finger. A complicated shared history and plenty of unresolved feelings between the two of you should make for an interesting summer.

Pairing | Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word Count | 5.2K (oooops, I got carried away)

Warnings | Descriptions of domestic abuse (not from our boi Javi), talk of injuries, infidelity, cheating, SMUT, oral (f receiving) and unprotected PiV sex (please don't do this, be smart and safe), mentions of alcohol, cigarettes, and pregnancy.

Authors Note | Thank you all for being so patience with me whilst I got my head back into writing this. This took me ages to figure out in my mind but I'm so proud of what I've managed to produce. I really appreciate hearing what y'all think of this series, comments and reblogs really do make my day with this - so if you enjoy it, let me know!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Ethan is furious. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so angry before. He’d arrived home late last night from his business trip, falling into bed sometime past midnight. He’d tossed and turned for a while as you pretended to be asleep next to him before he turned over, pulled at your arm to turn you onto your back and then crowded on top of you. You’d let him because it was easier than denying him, but when he pushed himself inside of you all you could think about was Javier. 

What would he do in this situation? You’d like to think he’d at least take some time to make sure you were enjoying yourself. Was he the type of man who would spend hours with his head between your thighs just because he liked the way his name fell from your mouth? You think he would be. Would he whisper sweet nothing’s into your ear in Spanish whilst he was buried deep inside you? God, you hoped so. By the time Ethan was spilling himself inside of you and rolling over, leaving you, as he always did, completely unsatisfied and feeling completely used, all your brain could focus on was the animalistic need to know exactly what Javier would do to you in bed. 

Now, as Ethan stands in the kitchen, fuming after he found the wads of cash from your farmer’s market sale, all you wanted to do was run. Run from this pathetic life and into whatever it was that Javier could give you. 

“I fucking told you I would get around to sorting it out!” He shouts at you, “And you had to go and completely disobey me! How does this make me look?” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “Ethan, it’s been pushing one hundred degrees the entire time you’ve been away, I need that new AC unit because otherwise I’m going to die in that shop, and I think a little bit of embarrassment is better than admitting to the town that I’m dead because you couldn’t be bothered to fix it.” 

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic,” He fumes, his skin flushing red, “I bet that asshole Peña had something to do with this.” 

“Because now every time I do something you don’t like it has to involve him?” You raged, “Newsflash Ethan, I’ve been doing things you don’t like since before we got married, and that certainly had nothing to do with Javier and everything to do with the fact you can’t stand me.” 

“Did he have anything to do with it?” 

You don’t know why you don’t lie in this moment. Maybe it would have been easier, less of an argument to deal with, but you can’t help yourself, “Maybe he did.” 

“I fucking knew it!” Ethan slams his fist down on the kitchen counter, “That asshole, trying to worm his way into my family, walking around this fucking town like he’s some sort of king because he took down Escobar,” You can’t help yourself but think that you might actually be able to see steam coming out of his ears soon, “And you!” He’s pointing a finger at you as he rounds the counter, “How many times do I have to tell you to stay the hell away from him, or are you just too fucking stupid to understand me?” 

It all happens at once. You’ve slapped him hard across the face and in this moment, you can’t tell which of you is more surprised. He’s stood inches away from your face with a look in his eyes that has panic settling in your stomach. He could kill you if he wanted to. It’s the first time you’ve thought he might, with his chest heaving and his eyes like daggers. You’re scared. 

“How. Fucking. Dare. You.” He spits out into your face, he’s got wide hands placed around the tops of your arms and before you know it your back is pressed against the wall, he’s squeezing the skin so hard that you’re crying out, “Someone needs to teach you some fucking respect.” 

If you weren’t so frightened, you’d have some stupid retort about the fact that it certainly couldn’t be him, because even with a ring around your finger you could never respect this man in front of you, but you keep your mouth shut. 

“Ethan please,” You whimper, “Please let me go, you’re hurting me.” 

“Oh, I’m hurting you, am I?” He jeers into your face, squeezing his hands around your arms even harder, “You should have thought about that before you fucking slapped me, stupid girl.”  

He pulls you back from the wall slightly before slamming you backwards again, the force of it causing the back of your head to hit the wall behind you, “You better lose the attitude or I will take us so far away from this place you’ll never see your stupid friends or your precious Javier Peña again, do you understand me?” 

You nod, sniveling through your tears, then he finally lets your arms go and steps away from you, “Get out of my fucking sight.” 

You don’t waste any time in doing just that, stopping just long enough to grab a thin cardigan and your car keys before your hurtling to your car with nowhere really to go. Your immediate thought is Javier, but it’s the middle of the day and he’ll be out helping Chucho on the ranch. You don’t think you can bare the heat of the shop, or the fact that you might have to interact with a customer, so that’s out too. There’s only one person left – Gabriela. There’s an internal battle you’re having with yourself, she’s so close to having her baby that you don’t want to intrude on her, but she’s the only person you can think of who will know what to do right now. 

You’re not really sure how you manage to make it to her house unscathed with the amount of tears that are dropping from your eyes and the way your hands are shaking, but you’re pulling up in front of her house in no time. 

“Good God alive, what on earth is the matter?!” She exclaims when she opens the door, pulling you into a hug, protruding belly crushed between you. 

“Oh Gabriela everything’s gone so wrong and I don’t know what to do.” You cry, sniffing into her shoulder, you pull away and briefly apologise for getting her shirt wet, to which she gives you a look that says ‘don’t be so fucking stupid’ before she’s ushering you inside. 

She waddles in front of you, clearly uncomfortable, and sternly tells you to sit at the breakfast bar whilst she boils some water to make tea. In no time at all there’s a steaming mug placed in front of you, and she’s sat herself down on the chair next to you with her own mug. 

“So, where do we start?” She’s coaxing you, hand holding your own. 

“I’m fucking miserable Gabs,” You speak softly, “And I don’t know what to do.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” She scoffs, “What’s he done this time?” 

“He found the money,” You’re looking into the amber liquid of the green tea in front of you, “Lost his mind that I’d done it without him, got cross because it was Javi’s idea and then told me to get out and leave him alone.” 

“Did he hurt you?” She asks, “And I swear if you lie to me once more about this, I’m actually going to lose my mind.” 

You nod, it’s small, but she catches it, and you can hear the inhalation of breath, “But it was my fault, I slapped him first.” 

“Did you slap him first all the other times he’s clearly hurt you?” You shake your head this time, “Show me.” She’s asking. 

You slowly slip the cardigan off your arms. You look down and there are perfect red welts on your skin where Ethan’s fingers had been digging into your arm earlier. No doubt in time they’d bruise, “Jesus fucking Christ.” Is Gabriela’s response. 

“I’m sorry Gabs, I didn’t wanna burden you with this I promise, but I didn’t know where else to go.” 

“You think this is a burden to me?” She’s imploring, catching your eyeline when you try to look away, “Cielito, this is nothing like a burden, it’s a bloody relief, I’ve been wanting you to tell me this for years.”

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew, dumbass, all those times you cancelled on me last minute and disappeared for days? You had to be hiding something, and the longer you’ve been with him the longer I’ve known he’s a horrible man – doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.” 

“What do I do, Gabs?” 

“Only you can answer that question, but that,” She points to your arms, “That’s assault, so you can go to the police, and then there’s always divorce.” 

“I don’t want to be with him anymore, but I can’t do this on my own Gabriela, I’m so fucking scared, he’s got everything, he’s going to take everything, I won’t have my shop anymore, I’ll be homeless, where do I even start?” 

Gabriela bites at her lip whilst she thinks, “You won’t have to do this alone, I promise you,” She’s got your hand clutched in hers again, “Can you give me a few weeks?” She’s asking, “I know it’s a lot to ask, but let me get this gremlin out of me first, and then I promise we’ll get you out, okay?” 

You nod in agreement because it’s more than you thought you’d get. The idea of freedom could surely see you through the next couple of weeks, “If it gets too bad then you let me know and we’ll sort something out, I promise, okay?” 

She’s hugging you then, the kind of bone crushing hug that only she would be capable of, and you can feel yourself crying again. What on earth had you done to deserve her? 

“I’ll get out of your hair soon, but can I borrow your phone really quickly?” You ask. 

“Of course, I need to use the bathroom again anyway, so I’ll give you some space.” 

Once she’s out of earshot, you’re dialing the number that you’d had memorized since high school, even with his years of absence. After a few rings someone picks up on the other end. 

“Hi, Chucho, it’s me.” 

“Ahhh Mija, how are you today?” 

“I’m well thank you, how about you?” 

“Not too bad thank you, just come inside to beat the midday heat for a while.” 

“Ah yes,” You smile, you’ve always loved the sound of Chucho’s voice, calm and stoic, reminding you of your own father, which is probably why you like it so much, “I hope you’ve got plenty of ice-cold lemonade,” You bite at the side of your thumbnail, “Is Javi there?” You ask, hoping it doesn’t sound like you’re trying to get rid of him too soon. 

“He is, let me just pass you over.” 

There’s the sound of shuffling on the other end of the phone and you can hear Chucho telling Javi it’s you on the other end, then there’s silence before he’s speaking. 

“Hola querida,” God his voice is like butter, “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” You reply quietly, “I just wanted to hear your voice, I hope you don’t mind me calling in the middle of the day.” 

“I wouldn’t mind you calling in the middle of the night, querida, don’t worry,” You can hear him drinking someone on the other end of the phone, “You sure you’re okay?” He asks again. 

“I was wondering if I could see you tonight?” You ask meekly, not wanting to make yourself a burden to another person today. 

“You can,” He’s replying, “Where?” 

“Can I come to you?” 

You can hear him shuffling a little on the other end of the phone, you can hear the shifting of paper, he must be looking at the calendar that’s hanging near the phone – his mother had insisted on it when she was still alive, and Chucho makes sure there’s a new one there every January 1st. 

“Yes,” He replies softly, “Pops has a poker game in town tonight according to the calendar, he should be gone by seven, is that okay?” 

“Yeah, of course, I’m happy with whatever is best for you, I’ll see you then.” 

“Alright, querida, take care and I’ll see you later.” 

“See you later, Javi.” You whisper softly before you’re hanging up the phone. 

You put the phone back on the receiver and rub your hands over your face, trying to ignore the pooling of nerves in your tummy. If Gabriela could sense all these years that something was off, then there’s no doubt that Javi will know as well. He’s the most perceptive man you’ve ever met. The dull ache of Ethan’s fingerprints on your arms were ever-present now, there was no way you’d be able to hide them from him. 

“You can stay here for a while if you want,” Gabriela’s voice calls from the living room, “I would only be folding baby clothes on my own.” 

You spend the rest of the afternoon helping Gabriela like she suggested, folding baby clothes, setting out diapers and toiletries in the bathroom and eating her famous enchiladas for dinner. Diego comes home sometime after five, giving you a hug, before he’s pulling out two beers which you enjoy with your friends in their back garden. The sun is setting and it’s nearing six in the evening when you bid them both farewell. 

“Please let me know if you need us, okay?” Gabriela whispers into your hair as she hugs you goodbye, “There’s isn’t a thing in this world that would stop us from helping you.” 

You bite back tears before you nod your head, giving Diego a similar hug, before you’re hopping in your car and driving out of town towards the Peña ranch. 

It doesn’t take as long as you’d anticipated but when you drive up you can see there’s only one truck parked outside which means Chucho must have already left for the evening. Javier is stood on the porch before you’ve stepped down from the truck. You make sure the cardigan you’d worn was buttoned up before you head over to him. 

“Evening, querida.” He speaks softly, dipping his head to kiss you on the cheek. 

Before he can fully pull away, you’ve got a hand on the back of his neck, pulling his lips to yours. His hands weave around your waist and you wrap your other arm around his neck to press your body more firmly to his own before you’re pulling away from him, breathless. 

“Evening to you too.” You smile, and it’s genuine. This man has done nothing but make you happy since he came back. 

“You want a drink?” He asks, giving your waist a squeeze, “I bought that wine you used to like drinking, although thinking about it now we were young so your tastebuds have probably matured.” 

You giggle and follow him inside, “They definitely haven’t, is it the white one that we used to drink out of the bottle against the tree?” 

He nods as he leads you to the kitchen, dipping into the fridge to pull it out. It is indeed the exact same brand of wine you’d get drunk on together when he was still around, “You want a glass, or shall we drink it like old times?” 

“Old times,” You reply with a smile as he undoes the screw top, “Can we sit outside?” 

He’s taking the first swig from the wine, pulling the same face he used to all those years ago, as he motions for you to head out to the back porch. You always loved this ranch at dusk. The way the sun set and bathed everything in gentle orange light, the fact there was no noise from the town to distract you, the sound of the crickets chirping. It was peaceful. 

Javi settles onto the bench, and you sit across from him, he leans his arm across the back of the bench and moves his head to tell you he wants you closer, so you shift your body to lean against his chest, head placed on his shoulder. You hope he doesn’t catch the discomfort when you lean too hard onto your arm and shift slightly, but if he does, he’s not mentioned it, instead, he’s passing you the wine which you take a drink from. 

“You sounded upset on the phone, querida, are you sure you’re okay?” 

You take another drink before you pass it back to him, “Ethan came home last night,” You’re speaking as you look into the distance, “Guess I just realized how much I enjoy it when he’s away.” 

“I’m sorry,” He says softly, bringing his hand to your arm to squeeze him into his side, it’s stings as he grips to the sore skin from earlier, but you think you manage to play it off, “What can I do to help?” 

He takes a long drink of the wine and then hands it back to you, watching intently as you do the same before you place the half-empty bottle on the floor, “Just kiss me Javi,” You speak, “Make me forget about it for a while.”  

“You want me to just kiss you, querida?” He asks, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “Or do you want more?” 

You shift to look him in the eye, “I want it all Javi,” You lean up to press a chaste kiss to his lips pulling away before he can take more, “I’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?” 

He untangles himself from you and stands up before he stretches out his hand for you take, he must see the confusion on your face because he’s talking again, “If you’ve been waiting then I’m not going to fuck you on the porch, querida, come on.” 

You slip your hand into his and then he’s dragging you through the house and up the stairs. He opens the door to his room, which you don’t really take in, he’s motioning his hand for you to sit on the bed, which you do. 

He walks over to you and pushes your chin up with one of his fingers. He’s looming over you and if this was anyone else it would make you feel uncomfortable, but he’s looking at you like you were about to give him the world, before he’s leaning down and pressing his lips softly to your own. In the back of your mind you can feel him unbuttoning the front of your cardigan, it’s a relief because it’s so fucking warm in here, he’s pulling back from your mouth to push it off and then he stops. He’s not pulled it all the way off, the material bunching in the crook of your elbow because he’s seen. He’s seen the marks on your arms. Perfect red indentations of fingertips. 

He's kneeling in front of you now, between your thighs, as he takes one arm in his hand, “Did he do this to you?”  

“Javi please…” You beg him. 

“Did he do this to you?” He asks again, slower and with a register that tells you he isn’t messing around, you nod at him, “I’m gonna fucking kill him.” 

He’s standing like he’s going to get in his car and do it. You grab at his wrist, “Javi please, don’t,” You pull him back to you, “It was my fault.” You say softly, just like you had to Gabriela. 

“This?!” He’s back on his knees again, clutching at your arm, “This is never your fault, do you understand me?” He’s looking into your eyes again, then he softens, “It doesn’t matter what you did, you don’t deserve this.” 

“Please, will you just come back to me,” You plead, taking his face in your hands, “I need to forget him, just for tonight.” 

In the back of his mind he knows it’s not right, it’s just a distraction, and all he really wants is to know what’s going on, but the way your eyes are pleading with him, he can’t say no, “Only if you promise to talk to me after?” 

“I promise.” You reply almost immediately, and then he’s crowding you, he’s settling between your thighs but this time his lips are on yours and it’s overwhelming. 

You widen your legs as your mouth opens to him, tongues mixing together. You can taste the cheap wine and the cigarettes he swears he’s trying to give up on. He can taste a sweetness he’s never felt before when he’s kissed a woman. It fast and it’s messy, and you don’t understand why you’re moaning into his mouth when he’s not really touched you. Without breaking the kiss, he’s moving, you’re pushed back onto the bed and he’s settled between your thighs, and then he’s pulling his mouth from yours to trail hot, wet kisses over your throat. 

God, he wants to sink his teeth into your skin. Wants to mark you so that when you go home, he knows, knows that there’s someone out there who’s going to cherish you until his dying breath, going to protect you from men like him. He knows better, knows that you’ll be going home alone and any mark on your body would mean more marks from him, and Javi doesn’t think he can bare the fact that it’ll be his fault, so he sticks to kisses. He can feel your hands on his shoulders, sinking in through the material of his shirt and he wants more. 

He's pushing himself back from you, taking a moment to take his shirt off before his attention is back at you. You’re spread out on his bed, hair splayed out underneath you and the look in your eyes almost makes him cry. It’s admiration, that he’s sure of, but there’s something else in your eyes too, maybe it’s lust, maybe it’s happiness, he doesn’t know, but he isn’t sure a woman has ever looked at him like that. 

“God you’re beautiful, Javi.” You whisper as he leans back down to you. 

The feeling of your cool hands on his hot skin electrifies him, and he can feel his hands working your tank top up to expose the skin of your tummy. You lift yourself up a little so he can take it all the way off before he continues the trail of his lips over your collarbone and down between the dip in your breasts. He’s gently moving the straps of your bra down and takes the opportunity to undo the clasp at the back when you arch up into him. It’s discarded to the floor without a second thought and then his mouth is on you again. 

He uses the flat of his tongue to run hot stripes over your peaked nipple, whilst his fingers take the other peaked bud and starts rolling it between them. A whine drops from your lips, and you can feel him smiling into your skin and you arch up into him. He’s taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking and then using the tip of his tongue to run circle around it and all your head can think is how much you want his mouth doing just this further down your body. 

“You tell me what you like, querida,” He mumbles into your skin, “Wanna make you feel good.” 

“Your mouth,” You breathe out, head thrown back as he’s sucking your nipple into his mouth, “I need… fuck… I need it lower, Javi.” 

He’s lifted his lips from your tits and you’re moving your head to meet his eyes and he genuinely looks hungry. Like a man starved, with a smirk splayed across his lips, “You want me to eat your pussy, hmm?” 

He’s pushed himself back on his knees and for a split second before he’s pulling at your shorts to take them off, you can see he’s half-hard under his own denim. You’ve barely touched him, and this is how he is? It’s got pride swelling in your chest. 

He makes quick work of your shorts, throwing them to the ground along with your underwear. He takes a second to look at you, spread out and bare for him, and he thinks that if he died right now, he would die a happy man having seen you like this. He takes his thumb and runs it gently along the seam of your pussy, watching as your eyes close and you let out a breath. 

Javi stands briefly before he’s dropping to his knees on his floor. His hands are on either side of your hips, dragging you forward. He pulls you with such force that you bump your thigh into his face, but he’s not complaining. You expect him to tease you, but it turns out that he’s been waiting just as long as you have for this. He wastes no time in using the entire flat of his tongue to lick a hot, wet stripe from the bottom of your pussy to the top, which has an obscene moan dropping from your lips. He could listen to you make those noises for him all fucking day. 

One of his hands moves from your hips, he uses it to spread your pussy before he makes the same motion with his tongue as before but focusing its entirety on your clit. You think you might see stars. Once he’d started, he doesn’t stop. Spurred on by the obscenity dropping from your lips like, fuckjavi that’s so fucking good, and please don’t stop, he’s eating your pussy like it’s his death row meal. He’s lapping at the slick that gathers at your entrance, he’s suckling on your clit, or flicking it with the tip of his tongue, but it’s when he pushes two of his thick fingers inside you that you’re truly coming undone. 

You’re bucking your hips up into his mouth, grinding down on his fingers and then it’s all coming undone with that bright burst of pleasure you hadn’t felt in years. You can feel your pussy clenching around his fingers, and you can hear him suckling your clit through the aftershocks as your legs shake around his head. He slips his fingers out of you and finishes with one chaste kiss to your clit before he’s pulling at your arm to sit you up. 

You’re jelly until he kisses you. You can taste yourself on his mouth, sweet and sour with the mix of his cigarettes and it’s intoxicating. You can feel his slick fingers on your thigh as he uses it as a crutch to push himself off the floor. When he stands, his groin is right in your eyeline and now he’s not half-hard. Fuck, he’s bulging. You watch as his hands undo his belt and tear it through the loops of his jeans before he’s unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans right in front of your face. He steps back a little to let the remainder of his clothes pool on the floor, but then he’s stepping out of them and back towards you and you can’t help but reach out and take his cock in your hand. 

You look up at him, head thrown back with his eyes closed in pleasure. Your name drops from his lips as you continue working him with your hand, you’re just about to take him into your mouth when he speaks, “How do you want me?” 

It’s a crime that he’s making you choose because fuck, you want him in every way. You want him to fold you in half and pound into you, you want him to take you from behind whilst he uses his fingers on your clit, you want him to wake you up in the morning with kisses to your neck whilst he buries himself inside you from the side. 

“Can I ride you?” You ask quietly. 

“Querida, there’s a gun downstairs,” He speaks, settling himself down on his bed on his back, before he’s guiding you to straddle his hips, “If I ever say no to that, I want you to use it on me, okay?” 

You’re laughing, because it’s dramatic, but it cuts the tension with a knife. You’re both still laughing to each other when you’re shifting your hips and using your hand to line him up with your tight heat. He’s big, there’s no beating around the bush here, and as you sink down slowly onto him, his hands on your hips to guide you, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so full. 

You’re throwing your head back and breathing out his name as he bottoms out, hearing a similar moan from him as you start grinding your hips. He’s using his hands on your hips to guide you and the friction inside of you in addictive. You think if you could spend the rest of your days like this then you would give up everything to do so. 

“Fuck, hermosa, you look fucking incredible like this.” Javi purrs from underneath you, it makes your heart swell because no-one ever said things like this to you before. 

You continue to grind against him until he’s holding your hips still and bringing his knees up, settling them against your backside. He lifts you up a little off his cock, with a strength you’d never witnessed before, and then he’s fucking up into you, cock punching as deep into you as you think you can take it, his balls slapping against your ass. 

“Ohmygod, fuck Javi,” You’re squealing, putting your hands on top of his knees to keep you steady, “I think you’re… oh god… I think you’re gonna make me cum again.” 

You look down and he’s looking up at you, grinning like a devil, because he’s got you so close to the edge, cock hitting a spot within you that feels like heaven and hell mixed into one, “Go on, querida, come for me.” 

His husky voice is what does it. You’re clenching down on him as you call out his name. His hands on your hips keeping you upright as dark spots cloud your vision, “God, what I wouldn’t give to hear that every second of the day.” He groans as he flips you onto your back in one smooth move. 

He’s still buried deep inside you, one hand brushing sweat-soaked hair from you face, the other gripping to your ass as he lifts your hips to meet him. He’s slowed but you can tell from the way his hips stutter into your own that he’s close. 

“Where do you want me?” He whispers into your ear. 

Everywhere, is what you want to say. Paint me, cover me, mark me as yours, is all you can think. What you say is, “Wherever you want.” 

You think you see his mouth open to answer you, but it’s too late. He’s pulling out of you, fisting his cock two, three times, and then he’s painting your skin with his spend. Thick ropes of cum cover your tummy as he's growling into your ear, collapsing next to you when he’s given you everything he’s got. 

When you lie there next to him, his cum drying on your abdomen, his mouth still kissing at the skin of your neck, you think you should feel guilty. Guilty that you broke your vows, guilty that you’ve let a man other than your husband touch you. Guilty that you did so without a second thought. Guilty that he didn't once cross your mind. There isn’t an ounce of guilt within you. You lean into his kisses and thank the Lord for bringing him back, for bringing him back to you, because you know this right here? This is happiness. 

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[milkywaydrabbles]

He who was found in chains, set free. | VII.

A/N: Another chapter ahead of us, and it's starting to get more to the plot of S4! Things will still continue to change, of course. And now I'm going to have to watch each episode as I write this to make sure it stays true RIP to me. Not as long as I would like it to be but more drama to come in the coming chapters

Hope y'all like it mwuah.

Can be found on AO3 here!

It’s been a month. The most excruciating month you’ve lived to date. Not the month that you were assaulted nearly every day in the damned house back in Gresit. Not the first month in particular that you were out alone in the woods fighting for your life against being found by the night creatures. Not even the month that you actually got caught by the night creatures. 

Nothing could prepare you for the absolute loneliness and misery you felt after being with Adrian for the last month. For the first week you cried every night, going as far as sneaking into his room (which took a while to figure out which one was his) and started sleeping on his bed, on his sheets. Now, you still sleep there, but you’ve learned to manage a bit better without him. It’s still hard, however it might have helped you prepare more for the outside world. Since he’s been gone you’ve had to  fend for yourself, and not in the normal way you normally would. You’ve had to go to the village alone to for fresh herbs and vegetables. On more than one occasion you’ve had to leave in the middle of shopping because your chest grew tight and you began to panic. You tried to console yourself in the same way Adrian would. Tell yourself it was okay, no one would touch you. Just like he did the time he came into your room. Like he did when he cradled your face in his hands. Like he did when your foreheads touched and he filled all of your senses. 

And now you were alone.

You continued to push the thoughts behind you, and went out to try and catch fish for dinner, which was fairly easy for you to do. You got very good and being on your own in the woods. You’ve grown so accustomed for cooking for two that sometimes you make too much, and you sigh frustrated with yourself. I’m wasting food you chastised yourself. But it was hard to break the habit, always wishing he would come back home. It never dawned on you what to call the feelings you’ve been having. You assumed it’s because he was protecting you from the outside world. And that he would always teach you how to read or teach you magic. Hell, you assumed you felt miserable because now you have to go out on your own to the market.

You wouldn’t think overwise. Even if you knew better.

Frustrated, you went back to the library like you have every night since he left to study more magic. 

-

Another month, and Alucard still wasn’t back. There’s no sign of his return, and you couldn’t help but feel nauseous. Maybe something happened to him, maybe he was terribly injured and he couldn’t make it back. Maybe he’s gone forever. 

Or, maybe he’s fallen in love, and ran away with his soulmate. 

That thought hurt you most of all.

You’d gotten quite good at magic now, within the two solid months of studying, along with the first month spent with Alucard. You started growing more out in the homestead, practically refusing to continue to go to the market. The herbology you’ve learned, infused with magic, has come in handy. You’ve been able to recreate certain plants for your benefit, being more self-sufficient than before. You’re also learned how to almost entirely heal the lacerations on your body. Some remained, deemed too deep for your restorative magic to do the trick without you passing out. And you’ve tried, wanting to get rid of any and all markings of the wretched man in Gresit. You’ve also grown some flowers just for the decoration of it all. 

Along with your loneliness came productivity. You started tidying up the castle as best you could. The large holes weren’t something you could ever dream of patching up on your own, but for the most part you did take care of any debris, dusting that needed to be done around the rooms, and organizing the cellar as best you could. There were many broken bottles strewn about, but you wanted more than anything for Alucard to return to a clean home. Your heart still aches every time you think of him, but it was more bearable. 

One day you’ve decided to traverse to the Belmont Hold, looking on all the knowledge of killing monsters and whatever else bumps in the night. It was centuries of books, tips and tricks, even more magic of different variety. You’re not sure why it took you so long to explore down there, almost as if it was an invasion of privacy. It was Trevor’s things, you mused, why would you feel comfortable going down there? But as time went on, you wanted to learn more, so you continued to go down and read up on monster killing knowledge. Some things were easy to read, others difficult, some downright impossible for you. You had even found some books in different languages, and other books to help translate those books. Overall you became a sponge, passing the time with your studies and notetaking (you had run out of paper in the first four journals Alucard had gotten you, only one left). You felt more comfortable than ever knowing you can defend yourself a bit better, if you ever had to. 

You hoped you never had to. 

But in any case, you could. 

-

“Hello? Earth to Alucard?” 

Alucard blinked, looking over to Trevor as if he hadn’t just been daydreaming about lord knows what? “What is it, Belmont?” He already sounded disgruntled. Pay more attention.

“You haven’t heard a single damn word I’ve said, have you?” He deadpanned. 

“No, I usually don’t, since you never have anything good to say anyways.”

The two men stare at each other for a moment, before breaking out in small chuckles. Sypha sighed, shaking her head with a smile.

“I think that wraps up as much as we needed...we can continue on our own after tonight. You can get back to your friend in the morning.” Sypha mused, sneaking a glance over to Alucard to see if she’s gotten a rise out of him. 

His brow twitched, and a slight curve of the lips to a frown. But otherwise, he stayed stoic as always. 

But of course Trevor wouldn’t let it go. 

“Seriously who is she? And why does she call you Adrian?” 

“Outside of the obvious reason that it is my name?” Alucard rebutted. “She...she was escaping from the night creatures one night. Came across the castle, passed out on my doorstep. She’s been there since.”

“And you didn’t kick her out?” An elbow from Sypha to Trevor’s ribs and an oof following.

“No...I didn’t.” He didn’t continue.

The last two months have been just as excruciating for him as it’s been for you. He wanted nothing more than to return home to you, whatever that meant he wasn’t ready to digest yet. He wondered if you’ve been doing alright. He wondered if you’ve gone out to the market or if you completely gave up and started starving yourself, or going back to eating the same way you did before you showed up at his door. He frowned to himself at the thought.

He wondered if you were still there at all. Wondered if you stopped waiting for him. 

He thought of you throughout his sleepless nights. Thought of you as he fought night creatures. He thought of you...just because. He didn’t want to talk about you with the others, didn’t feel comfortable doing so. He didn’t know how he felt, or what he was feeling -- and Trevor would be more insufferable than normal if he ever caught wind of anything. He just knew that after tonight he’d be able to go back home to you.

Or, just to be back home. Because it was his castle.

--

The morning came, and he bid his friends farewell, wishing them all the best on their travels (Sypha) along with a middle finger (Trevor) before he set off on his own. It was a long travel, perhaps a few days on foot. Easier if he could get his hands on a horse. But until then he’d simply go along, stopping at any towns for shelter if needed. But by the time the third night came, and he was so close to being back, he found a horse trotting along in the same direction of the castle with a dead rider. He took the horse by the reigns, and saw a letter in the hands of the rider. It was directed at him. Well, The Alucard. Hate that. Alucard read it over, and gripped tightly.

He was needed at Danesti. 

He wanted to be selfish, he really did. He wanted to wish them good luck on their own and simply go back home and see how you’ve been all this time. But he just...couldn’t. It went against all the good in him, and as agonizing as it was for him, he took himself back into the direction of Danesti.

I’ll be back home soon, I promise.

-

He had made it to Danesti in the knick of time, saving the villagers from a terrible fate with the night creatures that had made their way to the village. Alucard had rode into battle until he lunged off the back of the horse, practically flying through the air with shield in hand and magical sword by his side, landing on the back of the monster and ripping back its head until there was a crunch of bone snapping, breaking its neck while his sword plunged into the back of another. He unsheathed his sword from the now very dead monster and continued to steadily fight the third, fourth, and fight night creatures. With the first one in his sights down, he glanced over to the other two that had started making their way to the villagers armed with pitchforks. One had turned its back on them, attacking Alucard with all its might. It turned out to be a strong opponent, almost boxing Alucard with its sharpened claws. He maneuvered around it fairly easily, although it was avoiding each sword thrust Alucard had attempted. Finally, he was able to get a clear shot and sliced half its head off, brain exposed and plopping on the ground.

Now just one left.

Alucard plunged his sword into the heart of the creature he had just defeated and stepped up on it, using all his might to smash the head of the last night creature with his shield ending the fight. He walked over to the townspeople.

“You sent me a letter?”

A woman smiled at him. “Yes, welcome to Danesti.”

“I presume it’s seen better days.”

“Quieter ones. I’m Greta, the village headwoman.”

“Call me Alucard. No ‘the’.”

He continued on to inform Greta that ‘Marius’, the rider, in fact did not survive the trip. “He was attacked en route and bled out from his wounds. His horse carried him the rest of the way with your message in his hand.”

They continued on with the conversation on what’s been happening to the village, how they’ve barely been surviving, how Alucard happened to be the only advantage Greta could think of. Even though he ‘reeks of wine’. After her what he would deem dramatic speech, Alucard spoke.

“All done?”

“Did it work?”

“Yes.”

Greta smirked. “Then I'm all done. Thank you. And that was one hell of an entrance.”

-

Conversations continued, along with quite the annoying man known by the name Saint Germaine. It was a back and forth of what would happen with the village, as more survivors from different towns along the way poured in. And then Saint Germaine opened is fucking mouth again.

“Perhaps, just until we all find out what’s going on, perhaps the remaining persons in your charge might be moved to a more secure location, like, uhm... your castle.”

Alucard gasped, and then turned to him with practically a growl. And then he stopped to think about it again. And groaned. 

“And God shits in my dinner once again. Oh, no, I really am turning into Belmont. Is life even worth living now?” Dramatic.

And then he thought of you. How would you take to having entirely too many strangers in your presence once again? He couldn’t imagine you’d be very happy with him. But...he couldn’t leave them all defenseless like this. 

Oh Goddamn it.

[fadingdaggerr]

home

part one | part two | part three | part four

pairing: brienne of tarth x gn!reader

summary: every journey ends with you coming home | 8.1k

warnings: got s8 spoilers, canon-typical violence, angst, mentions of death/dead bodies (non-descriptive), injury, lesbians being lil gay creatures, making out, mini-epilogue-ish ending :)

note: tada, tis the end the the home series! thank you so much for the love on this little series, i enjoyed writing it so much. brienne holds a special place in my heart, and so does the skyforth now. god i gave it so much lore on accident. anyways, i hope y'all enjoy this last chapter. love ya

the battle of the bastards had resulted in tremendous loss for every side of the battle, but lady sansa was determined to get her home back. with her will alone, she brought the knights of the vale, littlefinger still willing to do anything and everything to keep her loyalty. sansa’s soldiers were still late, hundreds were dead, gone. rickon, her own kin. nearly one hundred skyforth, and wildlings too. the boltons lost more, sansa saw to that. you couldn’t help but admire her strength, she had grown from the ‘little bird’ as the hound called her into a bird of prey.

the move from castle black to the lands around winterfell had allowed for better hunting, as well as more space to spread out the village. the battle has left you with varying injuries, broken ribs and arm, lacerations across your entire body, but this meant nothing when it came to the loss of your men. larkin and brienne hovered over you for weeks, bringing things to you, taking things you held, offering arms to help you walk. my ribs are broken, not my legs! you had finally shouted at brienne, quickly muttering an apology. she was just happy to see your personality return after weeks of conversations that were meek and quiet from your pain.

brienne had felt selfish for missing you while you recovered. she missed your fireside conversations, your compliments, your voice, you. gods, you had several broken bones, injuries galore, and you were grieving the loss of so many friends, and here she was missing hers. she missed you and you were just outside the castle. she could only bear so many nights of this until she had forced you to leave your bed and walk around with her. you spent most of your time in your tent, not letting anyone in and only leaving when no one was around. this had been the first time she had seen you again.

sitting together at the fire, there was a comfortable silence. you had leaned your head against her shoulder, and she was sure nothing was better.

—

preparation for the long night was starting to feel like a lost cause, it felt like the only saving grace were daenerys's dragons, but you couldn’t admit this. no matter how many daggers landed in the bullseye, or how many arrows split into one another, it hadn’t felt like enough. larkin was training for hours on end, practicing with podrick and the others as much as possible, but brienne knew. she saw the look in your eyes every time he’d trained as of late.

“he’s not going to fight, is he?” she asks you quietly, keeping her gaze on the training in front of you both. the sun was coming down now, meaning the night training would begin soon, but larkin was an overachiever much like you.

“no. i intend to keep my promise to his mother, i’m not letting him get himself killed. he’ll stay in the catacombs with the others,” you reply, you’re stern in your tone but your rapid blinking gives you away. she knows that you’re going to feel bad when he finds out. you love him and hate to disappoint him, but you’re not sacrificing him, not a chance. she only nods in response.

you nod to the right, silently asking her to follow and she does, she always does. she can tell there was more you wanted to say, something you didn’t want anyone else to hear. when you stop next to a fire, she feels happiness bloom in her chest. this was your spot. you and her next to the fire, discussing anything and everything. it was a welcome pattern in her world, and one in yours as well.

you exhale deep breath, “i don’t want him to have to watch me die.” brienne’s eyes dart to you, she can see the tears in your eyes threatening to glide down your cheeks, but your face remains cold, unphased. she doesn’t know what to say to you. she didn’t have a child, she couldn’t imagine what you were feeling.

“you don’t know that you will,” she says, mostly for herself. the thought of you dying is not a welcome one. she thinks that she would kill death if he came for you.

“you’re right, i don’t know that i will, but i do know that it’s likely. he doesn’t need to see another parent die, once was well more than enough.” brienne almost smiled, she hadn’t heard you refer to larkin as your son, or you as his parent before. perhaps it was the impending doom that softened you to the title, but more likely you just stopped lying to yourself and accepted that you were a parent. something that you hadn’t thought you’d be or dreamt of, but something that you had accepted. 

“then you’ll just have to survive then,” brienne finally smiles once she says this. 

you turn to her, returning the smile with a faint one before replying, “i’ve got a reason to try.” your lips form a tightline, forcing you to keep whatever you wanted to say back into your mind. brienne pretends not to notice.

—

tormund giantsbane was a massive walking headache that seemed to follow you around. when the tents had been set up, extra tents were given to the free-folk. this worked well for everyone, except for you it seemed. being friends with brienne only meant that talking to you about her was all the man seemed capable of. he commented on her body, her skill, her eyes, her height, for hours and hours. was he wrong in what he saw? no, not at all. were you glad someone else saw her beauty? of course! but was the fact that someone else wanted her making you dream of cutting him limb-by-limb? oh, absolutely. he had yet to talk down upon her, so you were forced to listen to him until your ears bled.

“i wish to make babies with her,” tormund says bluntly. all conversation halts, everyone either looking at you in fear or at him in humor. larkin fake gags next to you, making ragnall chuckle. you elbow the boy while staring at your plate, biting your tongue to keep the venom from spitting.

“you were thinking it too,” larkin whispers.

“which part?” ragnall says with a quiet laugh. your arm reaches around to smack him upside the head, motherfucker muttered under your breath.

you hurry the rest of your food into your mouth, before standing to leave. you could not bear to listen to another second, killing him was getting too tempting. larkin asked where you were going, only to be met with a grumbled outside. you make your way through the snow to the targets, hoping you could channel your aggression elsewhere.

my woman, you’ve returned to me. center target. my blonde beauty. center target. do you think she’d like to know why my name is giant? center target. you pictured his face in each one. his comments made her uncomfortable, she didn’t have to say anything for you to know that. you lied to yourself and told yourself that was the only reason he angered you, you also tried this lie on ragnall who promptly told you he wouldn’t “work for liars and fools.”

“did that post do something of offense?”

you nearly jump out of your skin, hand over your heart, “fucking hell woman! warn me next time.”

brienne laughs lightly, “i tried, but it seems you were too heavy into quite the assault on those targets. what’s wrong?”

“i respect the free-folk, but god damn would muzzling that red one do the world some good,” you sigh out, it’s as close to the truth that you can offer, “he’s lucky he isn’t harmful in his words, that’s about the only thing saving his ginger ass right now.” brienne nearly cackles at your word choice.

“are you starting to regret having them move into the village?”

you shake your head, “not at all, maybe just him. the rest are normal people who don’t talk about who they want to ‘make babies with’ while i’m eating. cultural differences or not, who needs to listen to that over and over again?”

brienne’s eyes are wide as ever as she blurts, “making babies?”

“you’re biggest fan apparently has very big plans for your future together, it’s all i hear about these days,” you say as brienne’s face screws up in disgust and embarrassment. you can’t help but smile at her, finding the face she was making to be quite cute. she groans to herself, a muttered fucking gods under her breath. “i take it you don’t share his appreciation?” you joke, earning a smack to the arm in response.

“i’m only joking, no need for violence,” you both laugh, “what brings you to my humble and irritating abode?”

“i was going to get a drink, but you weren’t there. i was not in the mood to deal with all of them alone,” you chuckle and nod in agreement at her statement, “feeling even more proud of my decision knowing the topic of conversation.”

you cringe, hearing tormund’s words in your head again, “men have seemed to have only mastered cruel words and incredibly uncomfortable ones. unfortunately, i think your groupie may take the top prize for the second one.”

brienne’s face goes from playful to thoughtful, almost insecure, “i thought something other than callous words would feel better, but it still feels like mockery all the same. It’s just mockery with a goal of a quick fuck.”

you can only nod at her words, you hadn’t experienced her life. even as a noble woman of a respected house, she had been belittled, only her father saw her potential for so long. others only saw her as a fighter, the great brienne of tarth, the very same they would sing horrible songs about.

you take a deep breath before asking, “do you remember what i said the first time we met?”

“those suitors were fools?” she offers, “the whole lot of them, if i remember correctly.”

you smile to yourself, “yes. i’d like to amend my statement and say that men are fools, every last one. especially the ones who don’t see you, actually see you.” these words seem to render brienne speechless. she silently thanks the night’s darkness for covering her warmed cheeks, a part of her wanted to ask what you saw. her bravery seems to fold when it comes to you, and her question dies in her throat, waiting for another day.

—

rangers come back with news that the night king will be upon winterfell by sunrise. jon snow delivers this information to everyone with clenched fists and teeth. the king of the north spoke of preparations, orders given to each faction of his army, he spoke with house and group leaders to give direction for troops. brienne stood behind sansa, facing you. she watched as you listened to jon, eyebrows furrowed, eyes fixed on the man. she had never truly seen you in commander mode, only ever being with you in the calm between storms until now. she noted larkin’s presence, you had finally told him he would not be fighting once the rangers returned.

“skyforth archers will join the wall, swordsmen and riders will be on the ground. our climbers are archers and dagger throwers, they’ll be best suited in towers and high points,” you relay to jon, “i’ll stay on the wall as well, i’ll have access to my archers and climbers from there, section leaders can handle the others.” he agrees with your plan, glad he had waited for your eyes to stop scanning the air as you painted the layout of the troops in your mind.

“maybe this one is a real commander after all,” tormund jests.

“exactly, the commander, not the placeholder. unlike yourself for mance rayder,” you snap back as you rise from the table, a “follow-me” motion sent over your shoulder to ragnall. he follows with a silent laugh and a shake of his head. he looks back at brienne as he leaves the room, raising his brows before stepping out to follow you.

some hours later, a rider approaching winterfell was announced. no one else was expected, making everyone’s hands subconsciously hover over their weapons. a brown stead with a single rider comes through the doors, dismounting the horse and lowering his hood, his face finally comes into view. jaime fucking lannister.

you just about groan when brienne vouches jaime at the hearing. she trusted him, would fight with him, the same she said about you. what felt like a personal nod of trust, and for you, devotion, was stripped away of any real meaning. larkin stepped back slightly and held the crook of your elbow, “breathe slowly, commander.”

at his words, you realize your breathing was erratic at best. your mind finally came back to your body, clammy palms and ears ringing. you kept a straight face the best you could, looking more angry than calm, but it was better than the anguish that bubbled up within you. a moment you had held onto for months, one that comforted you in dark nights, ripped away. ripped away by the very person who gave you the memory. you hear the murmurs of bullshit and is she fucking mad? from the men behind you. the slightest turn of your head silenced them, the sharp stare told them all they needed to know. no fucking around tonight.

when the meeting was dismissed, you turned immediately, ale was the only thing on your mind now. you told oskar you were going to be alone, and to tell men to enjoy what would be a last night for many. you roamed the halls of winterfell, finding a quiet room with a hearth and some lounge chairs. a grateful smile for the inviting quarters passes your lips as you start a fire and sit on a couch while cradling your drink. this wouldn’t be a bad last night, you’d be warm at least. you couldn't tell how much time had passed, only snapping out of your comforting dazeat the door creaking. opening one eye, you turn to see ser davos in the doorway.

“apologies, i was just looking for a quiet place. i’ll leave you,” he says kindly as he turns to leave.

“don’t be foolish, ser. you can join me in my silence,” you say with a little waving motion. he smiles a little, coming to sit across from you.

“not one for the larger festivities down stairs?” he asks.

“we can celebrate when we win, i’d rather a more relaxed night if it’s to be my last,” you say calmly, death was not a foe. it was an inevitable force, the least you could do was greet him with slightly less malice. ser davos nods in understanding, he’d known death’s door, he was as well acquainted as you were.

another finds your small, warm sanctuary. this time, there’s no apology, no leaving. looking back you see blonde hair slicked back, blue eyes looking between you and davos. you nod to the seat next to you, and she moves over to sit there. she looks into the fire for a moment, eyes scanning the flames for answers to an unknown question before looking back to you.

“larkin was looking for you. i told him i would find you for him. did i, or will you find him later?” she asks, knowing that you’re still grappling with leaving him.

“he’ll find me, if he doesn’t podrick will find you, and here i’ll be,” you say, tilting your head towards her. she huffs a small laugh, and this makes you smile slightly. your prediction seems to come to fruition as podrick steps in the room, eyes landing on you. he steps back out and you hear a muffled told you they’d be in here before larkin comes in.

he perches himself on the arm of couch, leaning into you with an arm around your shoulders, “i’m sorry i was a dick earlier.” he didn’t need to say more, you knew why he had exploded on you. you’d never been yelled at like that before, let alone by him.

“it’s forgotten. thank you for coming back,” you respond, leaning into him as well. he wasn’t your son by blood, but by the gods would you love and protect him as if he were. you smack his hand as it reaches for ale, “one, one singular, cup. hear me, fool?”

you miss how brienne smiles at the scene, how your love for the boy was stronger than any need to uphold your image as a mighty commander. she saw how there were very few things that had lowered your guard, she had observed them all over the last few months you’d spent in winterfell together. larkin was always a soft spot, and most children at that. you would always squat to their heights, you spoke to them all like they were adults. you had an odd soft spot for lyanna mormont, who had said she thought you were one of the few decent leaders left in westeros. brienne liked to think you had a sort of soft spot for her. you never joked about her appearance, or anything she talked about. you always looked her in the eyes when she spoke, full attention, like nothing else mattered.

loud voices disrupt the peace you both found in this moment, only now noticing that both lannister brothers and tormund were now in the room. brienne notices now larkin looks at you, then her very briefly, before muttering something to you. whatever he says makes you swat him away, making him slightly topple off his perch.

as the night carries on, happier chatter turns to reminiscing on journeys and triumphs. you talk about your first victory in skyforth, then the first when you became commander. upon podrick’s request you spoke of how you went from fighter to strategist to commander, and the fates of the two men who thought they could easily disrespect you. brienne chuckles as she watches all the men in the room gawk and sit a little straighter in their seats, you just look at her, appreciating the sight.

tyrion discusses the victories of ser davos, podrick, and jaime. his eyes freeze on brienne, “ser brienne of tarth, defeated the hound- pardon me, lady brienne.”

“she’s not a ser?” tormund turns to her, “you’re not a knight?”

“women can’t be knights, it's tradition,” she responds dejectedly.

the wildling quickly says, “fuck tradition.”

you raise your glass, “that has got to be the most intelligent thing i have ever heard you say, tormund. damn right, fuck tradition.” tormund clinks his horn against your cup with a loud laugh.

brienne rolls her eyes, “i didn’t even want to be a knight.” you and podrick both look at her, faces screaming liar!

tormund leans into brienne’s space, you grip your cup tighter. “i’m no king, but if i were i’d knight you ten times over.” the intelligence apparently leaped out the window after one comment.

“aye!” larkin says quickly, “respect for the lady, you moron.”

you shove back a chuckle, “meathead is right, watch yourself,” you ignore brienne’s gaze, “and any knight can make another knight, it’s not just the king. is that correct or am i making that up, tyrion?” you point your question to the man next to davos.

before he can answer, jaime turns around, “no, you’re right. i’ll prove it.”

he unsheaths his sword, commanding brienne to the center of the room. she’s apprehensive, her eyes move to you without much thought. you’re already looking at her, your eyes in hers. she watches you with shaking breath as you mouth go. 

you watch as brienne bends to one knee in front of jaime. her head rises to face him, azurite eyes looking towards him. her left shoulder, “in the name of the warrior, i charge you to be brave,” her right, “in the name of the father, i charge you to be just,” her left once more, “in the name of the mother, i charge you to defend the innocent.” brienne’s tears are visible from your seat, your own forming in your eyes because gods, they’re finally starting to see her. “arise, brienne of tarth,” jaime’s words feel golden, “a knight of the seven kingdoms.”

you can’t contain the joy inside of you that overflows as you see brienne become who she truly is, a real knight, the truest. you clap quickly and loudly, the others joining. she looks at you with watery eyes, and in this moment you can’t be angry anymore. she’s smiling, a real, big, toothy grin, nothing else matters now. you raise your glass, “ser brienne of tarth!” and a chorus follows, a sea of congratulations go towards her.

you go to fill your cup, eyes closing as you rest against the wall. you brienne look around, eyes following her path until she found you. she walks up to you, her eyes now on the floor. “ser brienne, fancy meeting you here.’

she laughs shyly before asking, “can we talk? away from all of them?”

you grab her arm and start walking, “of course.”

—

you reach her quarters after following her quiet directions she gives along the way. she immediately goes to start the fire, and you sit on the edge of her bed as you watch. you watch as the flames grow, and the light warms her face, the orange hue on her pale skin was one of the few wonders in your world.

once she’s satisfied with the fire, she sits next to you, “i have a question.”

you smile faintly as you look at her, “i’ll answer anything you ask me.”

brienne desperately tries to calm her frenzied heart as she asks what had been on her mind for weeks now, “what do you see? when you say they don’t actually see me, what do you see that they don’t?”

she watches as your face drops, eyes going to your hands that were now clenched in your lap. you swallow the cowardice that rose in your throat, telling you to just say she was a great fighter and leave it at that, but lying to her wasn’t an option, not when you’d likely never get the chance to tell her by the time the sun rises. you tear your gaze from your lap and bring them back to her big, blue eyes, shimmering sapphires begging for an answer.

she deserves to know. you swallow your pride, turning to face her properly, knees knocking into hers. “i see grace, in your nobility and your movement. i see strength in too many ways to count, but i see it the most in your honor. you are the most honorable person in westeros, as i said before, oathkeeper is a name fitting of both you and the blade,” you grab her hand, forcing her to look you in the eyes, “but i see more than just an honorable knight,” you smile at her title.

“and what’s that?” she says quietly, nearly a whisper.

“the most enchanting and gracious being, one so much so that it follows my dreams. you are my dream, brienne,” her hand grips yours tightly as you continue, “when i told you that you were beautiful, i meant every word. in my eyes, there is nothing in the world or beyond more fitting for the title,” brienne is looking into you with an intensity that tells you she’s deciding whether she believes you or not. you take a deep breath, “that is what i see.”

the knight’s mouth opens and closes, not words able to find their way out. never had you seen her so flustered, you could only take this shyness as confirmation of her belief, if she hadn’t she would have already been yelling at you. you release one hand from her grasp, with a slight struggle, but a quick squeeze and a brush over her knuckles finally frees you. a hooked index finger rests under her chin, the tip of your thumb hovering just under her bottom lip.

pulling her face in, you place a soft kiss to her blushing cheek, barely a centimeter away from her wanting lips. you linger for a moment, “if we survive this war, i will spend the rest of my days telling you everything i see. i swear it.”

before brienne can respond, horns begin sounding loudly. the night king had arrived.

—

everything was a blur. fire and smoke clouded the air. blood saturated your clothes, some yours, some not. men and women, dead and gone, littered the ground, but no tears fell for them. you ran across the wall, pulling a bow and quiver with you and you found a half-way decent vantage point. the dead climbed the walls, so you could only go higher and higher, firing as you climbed. your aim was rough, adrenaline and dirt making you miss vital shots.

a cold hand grips your calf, pulling you down with sharp nails ripping your skin. you scream in anger and pain, grabbing a dagger from your back and blindly stabbing at the walker’s hands. it was nothing to it, it kept it’s assault and you thrashed and kicked powerfully, nearly knocking the grip loose.

your eyes close as the pain grows, at least i had one hell of a last night, passes your thoughts. and just as you nearly take matters into your own hands, the walker drops, and your hands frantically grip the wall so as to not fall with him. you scan around, other walkers dropped to the ground, littering the ground along with your own dead. shaking hands and legs move on their own to carry you down the tower at a controlled pace, landing you on the wall. you peer over the edge, every wight was slumped against the castle, unmoving, truly dead at last. it’s over, it’s fucking over.

a firm grip on your arm shakes you from your mind, you turn to see a now one-armed dorin. you swiftly grab him, pulling him into your arms, one hand gripping his torn jacket, the other soothing his hair. you whisper questions to him, his arm, other injuries, but he’s too tired to give you real answers, so you just hold him.

his head rises from your shoulder, “the wights… they got into the catacombs. i don’t know how many remain.” your face falls, he knows what your thinking and is already ahead of you, “go, find him.” and by the gods you run, you had never run with so much purpose. you jumped over boxes and weapons and bodies, jumping over the railing, using it to climb down and drop to the ground. larkin was the only thing that mattered, your son, your boy.

you run to the catacombs, skipping stairs and hurdled in. but it was empty of life, only walkers and victims left. not a single body was the curly haired teenager with the scar across his cheek from his own dagger. you sprint back to the yard, desperately scanning for him. “larkin! LARKIN!” you scream as you run, “BOY!” you yell again with cupped hands. the tears that had been building since you saw dorin’s face were falling freely now, your sobs were choking you as you searched.

red hair catches your attention, sansa, by the gods she was alive. you sprint to her, a hand coming to her shoulder. she turns to you, placing her hand on yours, “he’s alive.” your sigh of relief makes another sob rip from you, your hands come to cover your face.

“he ran to find you i presume, the second the wights fell, he bolted,” tyrion speaks from beside the stark girl, your hands leave your face. you nod his way, passing him with a pat on the shoulder in thanks.

you continue searching until you hear a loud cry of your name from behind you, only three people  truly knew it. you turned, eyes landing on curly hair and big brown eyes that were filled with held back tears. bodies colliding with a thud and nearly toppling over, you cradle the boy to you, kissing his head repeatedly, muttering i’m here, we’re alive, i love you. he’s shaking against you, bloodied hands seizing your shirt like you could disappear at any moment.

“where were you? why didn’t you stay with sansa? are you hurt?” you pull away from him, inspecting his hands, “what did you do? where else are you hurt?” you grab his face, his face clouded from tears that had yet to stop falling from your eyes.

“i had to stop them from getting to her, i couldn’t leave sansa undefended. i was beating it back just as they fell, i’m okay. are you?”

you chuckle, “i’m alive, and mostly intact. you didn’t answer me, where were you, why weren’t you with sansa and tyrion?”

“i was looking for you, or podrick, or brienne. i needed to know you were alive, had to see for myself,” he answers through a tear-clogged voice. you pull him in, rubbing his back, silently asking for an answer, “i found them, they’re alive. she’s alive.” a choked sob leaves you again, holding your son tighter to you before pulling away.

—

turning the corner into the great hall the next night fills your senses. boisterous laughter and conversation, the clinking of glasses, the smell of ale, wine, and smoldering fire. you watched as people laughed, threw their arms around one another, kissed cheeks and lips. all of it quickly faded, all the voices sounded like they were underwater, you couldn’t see anyone. it all evaporates, and all you can see is blonde hair and a black tunic, a cup in her hand, a smile on her lips. it’s as if a spotlight was upon her, drawing you to her like a moth to a flame. 

podrick sees you before the rest, knocking brienne’s knee with his own. she looks at his with a questioning expression, only answered by his head cocking to whatever was behind him. brienne turns with a grunt, annoyed with the lack of straight-forward answer. her world stops, similarly to yours. the second your eyes meet, her mouth drops open, then forms into a huge, toothy smile. you’re quick to return it and pick up your pace, already having a place next to her and podrick circled the table and sat next to jaime instead.

“you’re here,” brienne says quietly, but her happiness is evident.

“so are you,” you respond with a smile, placing a hand on her knee and giving it a quick squeeze under the table before grabbing a cup and pouring some ale for yourself.

brienne’s eyes never leave you, knowing that your words and actions mean more now, she can’t seem to find it in herself to look away. she watches as you talk with the others, notes how you don’t really look them in the eyes and mess with your cup when you speak, how you close your eyes when you laugh, bump shoulders with her when she was the one to make you chuckle. she especially liked how you’d look at her when she’d laugh and your gaze would linger for a few seconds before turning back to the group. she came to the conclusion that nothing could ever be as exquisite as you smiling with your eyes looking into hers, nothing would ever be as warm and inviting as your touch.

after an hour, you silently chugged the rest of your cup, then slid from your seat, “i’ll be seeing myself out. i’m glad to have you all still here with us, truly. have a good rest of your night, gentlemen,” you turn and bow your head slightly, “ser brienne.” she stares silently as you spin on your heel and leave, a small smile thrown over your shoulder. a cough pulls her from your frame.

“you gonna do something about that or should we just give you a rag for the drool on your chin?” jaime says from across the table, an amused look across his face. podrick snorts at the joke, but brienne’s glare has him covering it with a fake cough, making tyrion snicker.

“i’m afraid i don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says as she takes a large sip from her own ale, “so drop it.”

a loud laugh leaves jaime’s mouth, “sure, you’re just staring longingly into the distance daydreaming about… nothing? i didn’t take you for a coward and a liar, interesting how time has changed you.”

she promptly stands from the table, “i’m not going to listen to this. goodnight, gentlemen.” and with that she leaves, not wanting to hear what they had to say about you, or how she was leaving the same way you did, not the way that would bring her to her own quarters.

she reaches your tent within a few minutes, she wasn’t long behind you anyways. she shook away her insecurities, knocking on the post outside the tent. her heart rate picked up when she heard a gentle come in from the other side of the curtain. she steps in, knocking the snow from her boots behind her. you’re sitting up in your bed, untying your own shoes, your cloak was resting on the back of a chair in the corner. you looked smaller, less imposing, but she knew better. her own cloak was stripped from her shoulders as she moved to sit next to you, joining you in removing her own boots. she didn’t plan on leaving soon unless you asked her, and gods she hoped you wouldn’t. 

“i was wondering when you’d show up, i figured i’d see you in the morning,” you say as you pull off your last boot with a rough, man-handling grip. brienne chuckles and the grunt that escapes you and you reel back a bit from the force.

“i would much rather be here than in the hall with a bunch of drunk idiots,” she replies, removing her final boot with more ease than you had.

“i’m flattered, kind ser. you abandoned a many drunk idiots for a singular, much-less-drunk idiot, i should be thankful a knight of the seven kingdoms appreciates my company,” you laugh, laughing harder when she bumps your shoulder as she tries not to burst out as well.

she shakes her head, “i’d always prefer your company over others.”

her statement ceases your laughter, your affect becoming more serious, “i’d choose you, over all of them.” she turns to you now, eyes full of something that you can’t place, almost wonder, almost disbelief, “surely you know that by now?”

brienne’s long lashes flutter in front of her eyes a few times, you’re speaking so honestly, so truly. she has thousands of things to say and none of them were enough to describe the feeling growing in her chest as she looks at you. “i’d choose you too, no matter the cause.”

the air was so thick, you couldn’t move. her own gravitational force keeping you in her orbit, seas of aquamarine holding you close. your hand rises, pushing a lock of blonde hair back in formation, gently smoothing it down. your hand traces down, fingers tracing her left ear, gliding with a barely-there touch over the scar from your first encounter. brienne closes her eyes, bathing in the silent affection with a small smile on her lips. your fingers continue the dance over her features, hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing over her skin. this prompts her eyes to open again.

your jaw clenches as you try to get the courage to say something to her. brienne notices, hand coming up to yours on her cheek, resting on your wrist with a gentle grip. she was so gentle, so beautiful. you decided in this very moment there were no words in any languages that could capture the sight in front of you, and you selfishly loved the fact that no one would ever get to experience this moment the way you do. her whisper of your name pulled you from your daydreaming.

deep breath in, deep breath out, “i have no loyalties to any lands. not the north, certainly not king’s landing, i was torn from tarth before i could ever truly experience it, i barely travel to the stormlands as it is,” you pause, anxiety filling your throat, but brienne’s fingers tracing up and down your wrist sooth your rapid heart. “it has taken me most of my life to realize that all these places do not matter in the slightest. they are just flora and earth, we certainly don’t care about that, we care about the concept of home, family. i haven’t a relative left, yet i have all these ridiculous brothers,” brienne laughs breathily at your words, “and though he is not of my blood, i have a son of nearly sixteen. i have the family bit, but i realize after five and a half fucking years, that i finally found my home and i foolishly let her walk away, so i decided i would follow her to my death, if that is what the fates had in store for me.”

you didn’t realize tears had escaped your eyes until brienne’s hand moved to wipe them away, before letting it fall to the curve where your neck meets your shoulders. “you… you are utterly mad,” she says, but you can feel the adoration in her words, making you grin and sniffle away your tears. “gods, you are utterly mad and irrational and impulsive, and apparently have a death wish,” she takes a deep breath, “all this, yet every single night i dreamt of finding you again and never leaving. i dreamt of having a different oath all together, one that swore me to you until my heart stopped beating.”

your free hand rises to brienne’s jaw, hers rests on your thigh. time seems to for you both, taking in each other’s words. she fills your senses, her touch was so inviting, her eyes were hypnotic and deep, pulling you in like tidal waves to the sea. telling her you loved her would never suffice, it was enough, it didn’t quite reach the depth of your devotion. only one thing seemed fitting.

you move from your seat on the bed, her hands fall from your skin. lowering yourself to one knee, looking into her confused eyes. one arm behind your back, one resting on her knee, “ser brienne of tarth, i swear by the old gods and the new to stay by your side, no matter what may happen in our world or in rest of it. i will defend your honor and self, and with complete devotion i will pledge my life to yours, if you will have me.”

her hands go from her lap to cradle your face, moving to kneel on the floor beside you, “only if you’ll allow me to do the same for you. i swear by the old gods and the new, i will protect and defend you, you and your boy. devote myself to you, heart and mind.” heart and mind, heart and mind.

you instantly pull her in, lips crashing together. nearly six years of longing, dancing around each other, gone the second she kisses you back. your lips move frantically together, all desire and love. you grip the front of her tunic, keeping her flush against you as her hands hold your face closer. she’s so soft, her lips, her hands, and her gods her tongue. she was addicting, but nothing compared to the noises that came from her as you ran your hands over her stomach under her tunic. you wanted, needed more of her. she had become your life source, the hole in your chest had completely disappeared, filled with only brienne.

the knight was on cloud nine. she felt drunk off of your lips, more than alcohol had ever affected her. your hands against the skin of her abdomen had her reeling, nearly moaning at your touch alone. she had dreamed of this more than she could say, imagined the feel of your lips, how they’d feel against her own, her neck, her chest. she can only pull you in closer, toppling you both over onto the floor, but she doesn’t let this deter her. she pulls you back in, feeling you smile against her lips as you straddle her waist, one arm holding you up a bit as the other holds her face. she greedily lets her hands run down your body, lightly squeezing your thighs and hips over your clothes, running her hands along your frame. you’re real.

oxygen is less important than you and your hot mouth, much less than your tongue tracing the scar on her lip. your kisses slow much to her displeasure, you pull away but keep your eyes closed. you place a feather light kiss to her lips before pulling away, dropping to hide your face in her shoulder. you hear her breath hitch when you place a gentle kiss to the skin of her neck, only allowing yourself the one for now. her arms wrap around your waist, holding you close, loving the weight of you on top of her. it was warm, grounding.

you speak into her, “you realize you’re stuck with me now, right?”

she chuckles, the vibration of her chest making you smile, “you say it as if that wasn’t my intention.” your head rises from her shoulder to press a sound kiss to her lips, as you pull away she speaks, “are we going to stay laying on the ground?”

it’s your turn to laugh, “depends. if we get up, are you staying with or leaving me?”

brienne’s hips lift and turn, switching your position so she’s now on top of you, strong arms hold her just above you, “how foolish would i be to leave you?” she dips down to kiss you again, and again, then once more for good measure, “we won’t find out.”

you find that laying in your bed with brienne is now your new favorite experience. you lay against her side, her hand drawing invisible patterns on your lower back under your shirt. your own fingers were gently tracing her neck and down to her collarbones, following patterns of faint freckles that lost their vibrance in the cold climate and low sunlight of the north. the string up her tunic was right there, begging you to untie the top of her shirt to follow the freckles of her chest. twirling one of the laces in your hand, you look at her with a silent question, only receiving a silent nod with wide eyes in return.

brienne’s mind felt like it was stuck in a trance, your soft touch was mesmerizing, the occasional soft kisses to her cheek and jaw were clouding her every thought. your fingers slowly, gently untied the top laces of her tunic, permission-seeking eyes looking into hers with each pull of the string. when you had gotten to her sternum, you ceased your movements, then slowly dragged your finger back up to her face. she grabs your hand, bringing it to her kiss-swollen lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles. your eyes sparkle at her action, and you can feel your face warming.

brienne’s overwhelmed by the blatant love for her that swirls in your eyes, her hand drops yours to grab your face, pulling you to her lips once again. she couldn’t get enough of your lips against hers, arms wrapped around you to keep you close. she whines as you suddenly pull away from her, but she immediately takes it back as soft kisses dance down her cheek, over her jaw, dipping to her neck. these weren’t kisses of lust, she was sure of it, but ones to let her know how much you cared. she was lost in her bliss, that she barely hears your mumblings through the fog. so beautiful as you pass over her collarbones, gods i adore you before you press a kiss at the center of her chest. you quickly kiss your way back up to her lips, greeted welcomingly by her tongue and smile. she surprises even herself by pulling away first this time.

her words tumble from her mouth, “you are mine, and i am yours.”

your smile grows quick and wide, her words going straight to your heart and into your soul. “there’s nothing i’d rather be,” you whisper, cuddling your face into her neck once again. 

—

the following weeks had resulted in the death of daenerys targaryen, first of her name. jaime had left two days after the long night, riding to king’s landing for cersei, both lost beneath the rubble of the red keep. brienne said nothing, anger of his betrayal and the sadness of his death battled each other until she sobbed in your arms after a couple days of holding it all in. the leaders of the remaining houses elected bran stark as the king of the seven, now six kingdoms. the north was her own kingdom, as it had long fought to return to.

the small council was formed, tyrion remained hand of the king as punishment for the conspiracy to kill daenerys. samwell tarly was grand maester, lord bronn the master of coin, your friend ser davos as master of ships. your brienne was appointed as the lord commander of the king’s guard, which you had expected, but still kissed her excitedly when you were alone after hearing the news.

today, she had you walking with her, side-by-side in her golden armor. she had only told you that your presence had been requested by the king, nothing more. larkin was trailing behind you both, watching the way you interacted, he most definitely noted the lack of awkwardness that had previously surrounded you both.

entering the council room, you bow to bran, “good morning, your grace.”

“good morning, commander. lord commander,” he nods to each of you, “larkin.”

the boy’s head pops up, curly bouncing, “hello, your grace.”

“has ser brienne told you the reason for your summons?” bran asks.

“no, your grace. she’s been quite tight-lipped despite my pestering,” you jest.

“in the formation of my small council, i seem to have three seats available. from what i’ve been told, you have quite the number of little spies around the kingdoms,” your eyes shoot to brienne at the king’s words, “completely unnoticed, well-managed. not even varys detected their presence, which is no small feat.”

you clear your throat, “thank you, your grace. they were only here to alert me of any major changes so that we could move accordingly, stay out of battle areas.”

“they’ve done well,” bran rests his hands on the table, “i’d like to offer you a seat at this council, as my master of whispers. i trust you’ll be honest and loyal in what is reported to you, i have been told in great detail of your leadership.” brienne closes her eyes momentarily, already knowing you’ll have something to say about this later. 

through wide eyes and a shaky voice you respond, “i’d be honored to accept your offer, your grace. thank you, i will serve you loyally.” 

“i know you will, you’re all dismissed.”

walking out, larkin is practically bouncing off the walls, “master of whispers, the master of whispers. this is insane, this is so amazing. can i go tell everyone?”

you laugh at him, “please do, i have something i have to do here.” he’s already gone before you’re fully done speaking, you shake your head laughing more.

brienne speaks up from beside you, “what is it that you have to do here?”

you scan the hall before grabbing her arm and bringing her down a corridor. you push her against a wall out of sight from the world, and tug her to your lip hurriedly. pulling away, you breathily say, “i love you.” she tries to pull you back in but you push her back, “uh-uh, that’s all you get. price for not preparing me for that, you ass.”

she laughs heartily, “i wasn’t supposed to tell you, it was the king’s orders!” she kisses your cheek as you roll your eyes at her, “i love you too, by the way,” another peck to the cheek, “incredibly so.”

you lean into her lips, not being able to stay away. you mumble against her, “i’m holding you to that.”

let me know if you guys would be interested in more skyforth!reader, i actually really love writing about it! feedback is appreciated as always my little queers

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[likesunsetorange]

bodyguard au snippet

from what i have outlined, this would be from the first chapter, it's a little long (~2.5k words) but i wanted to include the whole scene, so hope y'all enjoy! (also unedited so don't fight me if there's any typos lol)

anyways, happy new year's and i'm super excited to share this au with y'all this year!

cw: mentions of drugging a person (mostly just the benadryl thing lol)

Eren hated the club. 

Strobe lights irritated his eyes because they always caused him migraines; the pungent aroma of alcohol and the sensation of sweat clinging to his body always made him feel disgusted; and the excess amount of people, bodies crammed against one another, was enough to make his eye twitch with rage. 

Eren shouldn’t be here. He hated the club. He would never be here out of his own volition. Especially after 3 AM, when he should be fast asleep, sinking into the four hundred thread count sheets of Mikasa’s guest room bed, Caro tucked beside him taking up half the bed like she was a human and not a dog. 

But here he was shoving through crowds of drunken bodies, his head pounding, his vision blurry, and he was almost certain he was borderline hallucinating all because of her.

Eren tried to give Mikasa the benefit of the doubt—he pitied her situation, how could he not? A life that consisted of people constantly controlling your each and every move, and here comes yet another person that your family is forcing to do just that onto you. He tried to give Mikasa her space—he only made polite small talk in passing, accompanied her to her destinations of choice from an appropriate distance, and didn’t bother her whenever it wasn’t necessary. But despite his best efforts at trying to maintain the peace, her disdain for him was evident, she didn’t bother to hide it—from the constant scowls, her constantly exasperated demeanor, and the frequent insults she threw his away under her breath (Re: Jersey trash)—but at the very least, he hoped that she could to tolerate him eventually seeing as though Eren would be living with her for the foreseeable future, and it would both of their lives easier coexisting harmoniously. 

But hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Mikasa had made it abundantly clear that she felt she had been slighted. And even if Eren was only a pawn in her family’s doing, she wouldn’t partake in any of their little games, and if that meant Eren became collateral in the process, then so be it. 

Eren was partially to blame, he should have known better, Levi had warned him beforehand that Mikasa was not one to be trifled with, and he should’ve seen it coming from the shift from a mere displeasure by his presence to a sudden interest in his overall wellbeing.

Eren had been easily fooled by the way her usually razor-sharp steel eyes had finally looked at him with a softness he had yet to witness from her, leaving him in a little bit of a daze. The way her perfectly plush lips mouthed his name, different than anyone else ever had—the N at the end soft, almost as if she was omitting it all together. And how could he not feel the tiniest pang in his heart when her light grey eyes looked up at him with so much tenderness when she asked: “Eren, are you feeling okay?” 

Mikasa claimed she noticed his energy beginning to run low and she heard his sniffles increase over the last few days, the adjustment to the New York City air probably weighing heavy on his body—assuming it would only be a matter of days before he drew ill. And Mikasa seemed so sweet, so intensely saccharine, when she told him she’d cancel all her plans for the rest of the day, not wanting to force him out the house. 

Mikasa went the whole nine yards— ordered takeout for the two of them, even making conversation with him that was more than their usual small talk, seeming genuinely interested in Eren for once. He couldn’t help but admire her newfound amicability, hoping that at the very least they could be cordial despite her overall displeasure with the circumstances. He even found himself enjoying her presence, finally getting to take her in outside of the few glances he ever got in passing. Mikasa truly was something like no other—even in her cute pink silken pajamas, he couldn’t deny she had to be one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. But she was technically his boss, so he'd tuck those thoughts away and at least be thankful that God had taken his time to make someone like her.

Eventually, after a bit of arguing on her part, Mikasa sent him to bed with a handful of pills Eren didn’t bother to ask about the contents of, insisting he take medicine before he got any worse, even if he did feel okay. She bid him a good night and well wishes, placing a gentle caress to his arm, a soft look on her face before she even offered him an apology for how bad she had treated him over the last week. It seemed like things were finally looking up for the two of them, so Eren returned her kind looks and thanked her for all her help, going to sleep with the faintest hint of a smile on his face, lulled quickly to sleep by a medicine-induced haze despite it only being 8.

And so Eren couldn’t even be that mad—she had truly put on a class act—Mikasa had played him, and she had played him well. His mom always told him he was so easily flattered—a sucker for pretty women who bat their pretty lashes, gave him sweet smiles, and made him feel good—and Mikasa Ackerman had done so little for him to melt like putty into her hands. 

He found himself waking up in the middle of the night, almost incoherent, his vision plagued by small black spots and drenched in sweat. Eren struggled to maintain his balance as he stumbled through the house, Mikasa nowhere to be found, locating a box of Benadryl Extra Strength tucked away in one of the cabinets of Mikasa’s kitchen. Three tablets were missing, contrary to the recommended one tablet dosage, and Eren was certain that Mikasa had all the hopes those three little pills would have knocked him out for the remainder of the night.

It took all the concentration in Eren’s body, fighting against the exhaustion that plagued his body from all the medications coursing through his veins (how he managed to wake up he was still unsure) and the small black dots that danced across his vision, to try and figure out where Mikasa was. He somehow managed to log into her MacBook (her password thankfully being her birthday) and managed to track her phone to some club in SoHo. 

The anger began bubbling up within him as Hannes drove him to where Mikasa was, enraged at the fact that not only did she try and drug him, but she had put on a front, pretending to be nice, for the sole fact that she wanted to go out and party. Eren regret giving her the benefit of the doubt—Mikasa was exactly who he she showed herself to be, a spoiled rich girl who would do anything to get what she wanted.

So as Eren threaded through the crowd of people, scanning the masses for her. It was only a matter of time before he caught wind of her signature ribbon at the bar, the strobe lights making it gleam different shades of the rainbow. She turned around shortly after, his eyes meeting her gaze, her lips turning up in smugness at the sight of him before taking another sip of whatever pink concoction she had in her perfectly manicured hands, as if she was almost taunting him. Years of attending Catholic school lead Eren to have a preconceived notion that the devil was this depiction of all things evil—something that was worth cowering in fear at the sight of. After years of seeing depictions on and portrayals on TV and all the stories from myths and legends, Eren always believed the devil would be vicious and scary, but no, the devil isn’t some demon, or succubus alike.

No, the devil is 5’6”, wears shiny satin ribbons in her hair, drinks fruity pink cocktails, and sports a smile that’s so sickeningly sweet it could convince a man to do anything. And if Eren hadn’t been seething with anger, through vision that was clouded with Benadryl-induced hallucinations and scarlet colored anger, hell, he’d even say she was cute.

Eren was in front of her before he knew it, his larger figure caging her in between the bar, Mikasa looking up at him innocently, feigning on the side of ignorance to the situation.

“Hi, Eren,” she quipped, her lips still upturned, the pink of her lips sparkling under the strobe lights from whatever gloss she happened to be wearing. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” she added innocently, stirring her drink as if Eren’s presence was taking away from her fun.

Eren could feel his eye twitch, it had been so long since he had felt so angry, but it seemed as if in the week since she had met him, Mikasa had become an expert of just exactly how to get under his skin. He took a deep breath before he spoke, his jaw clenching through every word, wasting no time for her silly games. “We’re leaving, Mikasa.”

“You’re no fun, don’t you wanna stay a while? C’mon, Eren, loosen up a bit. I think you could use a break,” her free hand running along the slope of his arm. Eren could feel the chills run down his spine, but this wasn’t the time—he was angry, and he needed to focus.

“First you spend the entire week insulting me and treating me like absolute shit, then you pretend to be nice to me even bothering to give me a sorry ass apology, and then you drug me? And you couldn’t even bother to use something useful? Benadryl? Your parents are drowning in money, and you decide to knock me out with over-the-counter drugs?” His words coming out more in disbelief than in anger, his voice growing louder as he tried to speak over the music blaring through the speakers.

All Mikasa did was roll her eyes, setting her drink on the counter behind her, apparently growing bored of all her little games. “Sorry for being considerate and not drugging you with actual drugs, Eren. Next time I’ll remember to go for the hard stuff—don’t worry.”

“Glad you’re so sweet, Mikasa. I should be so thankful I have a boss as considerate as you,” he glared. “Now let’s go.”

“No,” she responded, crossing her arms, her eyes returning to the signature glare Eren had grown accustomed to over the past week.

Eren could feel the migraine settling in, the noises and lights being the starting point, and Mikasa’s failure to comply being the cherry on top. He closed his eyes and took one last breath, trying to prevent the anger from getting the best of him. Eren took one step forward, putting only a few inches in between him and Mikasa, forcing her back against the bar counter. His face was anything but amused, but Mikasa seemed to not be relenting.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Mikasa, your choice. Now let’s go,” he repeated, but Mikasa only doubled down at his words, standing firm in her place, steel eyes locking with green, her mouth pinched into a scowl.

Eren shook his head, upset about the circumstances as a whole, but also that it had come to this. With a swift movement, Eren had his arms wrapped around Mikasa’s waist, lifting her up onto her shoulder. His arms moved to secure her legs in place, her head and arms hanging behind him.

Mikasa let out a shriek as Eren made his way towards the exit a string of expletives coming out of her mouth. Bystanders watched in confusion, unsure whether or not to interfere in the pair’s altercation. Eren simply waved off their concerned looks, mouthing She’s drunk, to which most people nodded in understanding and resumed their drinking and dancing.

“You fucking jackass—let me go!” Mikasa yelled from above him, squirming in his tight grip as he approached the club exit. “Plus I need my fucking coat it’s fucking freezing outside!” 

“Should’ve thought about that before you fucking drugged me. And tough shit, you have daddy’s credit card, just buy yourself a new one, princess.”

Eren readjusted her on his shoulder, his grip only tightening through Mikasa’s attempted escapes. He gave the bouncer a nod as he walked out, the man apparently unphased by Mikasa’s antics. “I swear to God, Eren. Put—” Hit. “Me—” Hit. “Down—” A final blow. 

He winced in pain as Mikasa’s small hands threw punch after punch against his back, her hits stronger than he could have anticipated. But Eren could see the car, only fifty feet away, and he wasn’t willing to let her win, at least not this round.

“What did we learn today? We don’t do what? C’mon Mikasa, enlighten me. Please,” he replied, ignoring her requests, and pretending she wasn’t leaving palm shaped welts along the length of his back. He took her silence as a means for him to continue, “We don’t sneak out of the fucking house when there are active hits against our family members, and we don’t drug our body guards, just so we can get drunk at the fucking club. Hope this could help.”

“You’re a sick bastard, go back where the fuck you came fro—” her words cut off by Eren roughly placing her back onto the ground. She stumbled as she tried to regain her footing on her heeled boots, her hands instantly going to shield herself from the cold New York air. Eren lugged off his jacket, roughly placing it on her, not wanting to hear anything else come out of her mouth.

“Are you done with all the insults, or do you wanna stand in the cold and keep yelling at me?”

“Fuck you, Eren.”

“You’re not really my type, princess.”

Mikasa scowled before releasing a pained huff, throwing his jacket onto the floor. She stomped the few feet to the car door Eren held open for her, sending one last glare his way before she slammed the door in his face. 

The entire drive home, he could hear her muttering how much she hated her family, how she was pissed off at the fact they hired him, and how much she hated the pathetic excuse of a mall cop they hired from sorry ass Jersey to be her bodyguard. And rather than take offense to any of her insults, all Eren could think about was how much that feeling of hatred was beginning to feel extremely mutual.

[delphi-dreamin]

I Just Wanna Be (The Girl You Like)

[Stream 8]

It's time~

Characters: MC!Delphi, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Lucifer

Relationships: Delphi x Asmo, Delphi x Lucifer (mutual pining)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Series typical warnings

Notes: Guys, I'mma be honest, I don't feel like going through this again for warnings. It's nothing that y'all haven't already seen here. I was gonna wait to post this until I had the next chapter done, but I don't honestly know when that'll be. The big sad has hit hard, so...

Prev | Next

Saturday – Evening

OracleDelphi and AsmoBaby are online

“How are you feeling, darling?” Asmo asks, rubbing her arm.

Delphi sits at his vanity, her heart racing as Beel finishes up the last checks on their lights and cameras. It doesn’t help that the lingerie she chose for the actual stream is a sturdy corset. She’d worn it a couple of times to try to relax the fabric a bit, but it still does its job admirably. At the moment, it feels like its cutting off her ability to breathe. Or is that the nerves?

“I feel like I can’t breathe,” she admits, trying to adjust the corset.

“Do we need to loosen your laces?” the Avatar of Lust muses, his hands drifting to her back where the corset laces are tied in a neat bow.

Delphi shakes her head. “I don’t know if it’s the corset or the panic attack I feel like I’m going to have.”

She feels herself breaking out in a cold sweat, her stomach churning and her vision beginning to darken at the edges.

“Okay, the corset is coming off,” Asmo says, nimbly undoing the bow and beginning to loosen the ties. It takes more time than he’d like to get the garment loose enough to remove, but when she undoes the busk, he can feel her relax and slump beneath him.

“Is that better?” he asks, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I think so,” Delphi replies, placing a hand over her chest. “I can at least get in a full breath now.”

“Take some deep breaths, okay, hon?” Asmo soothes, gently rubbing her back. “What do you need?”

She sighs, looking over to Beel who gives her a thumbs-up. She then turns back to Asmo and asks, “Do we have to do an intro? Could we just…start fucking and then start rolling? I think if I have to talk, I’ll puke.”

Asmo grins at her, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilting her head back to look at him. “I love it when you’re direct, darling. How about I record an intro that Beel can play at the start of the stream, and then he can go to the live feed after it’s finished?”

“But wouldn’t Beel have to be here during the stream for that?” She hopes her wavering voice doesn’t sound as uncertain as she feels.

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” the Avatar of Gluttony chimes in, giving her a kind smile. “I’m gonna be watching the stream anyway as a mod. I can stay and play Asmo’s intro, then leave after.”

“Aw, Beel!” Asmo croons. “Wouldn’t you rather have a front-row seat?”

Delphi watches with a sly smirk as Beel’s face reddens.

Delphi sighs, violet eyes rolling back as long, slender fingers slide out of her and are replaced with the blunt, leaking tip of Asmo’s cock.

“Hi-hi! Asmobaby here! Welcome darlings, kittens, and new friends to the special collab stream between OracleDelphi and yours truly! It’s going to be a treat for you all! So grab your favorite toys and settle in! We love you all!”

She’s faintly aware of the soft tapping of Beel’s fingers on the keys of her laptop and the blinking of the red indicator lights on the cameras, but all she can focus on is the slow, sweet drag of Asmo’s shaft against her fluttering walls. He pushes into her so slowly that she can feel the pulsing vein that runs up the side of his thick cock.

She has goosebumps by the time he’s fully sheathed inside her, lowering onto his forearms to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Are you ready to put on a show, darling?” Asmo whispers next to her ear, grinning at her shiver.

“Oh, baby,” she croons, “let’s make it one they’ll never forget.”

Almost by reflex, Lucifer opens his laptop and follows his desktop link to Delphi's stream. He puts away the document he was working on as it loads, completely missing the banner with his brother’s face on the page. He's ready to settle in when a loud moan catches his attention and his gaze flies to the screen.

There, in HD, is Delphi with her back to the camera straddling Asmodeus and riding him like her life depends on it. Heat floods his cheeks and Lucifer considers briefly closing the stream out and going to bed. But then there's a quiet click in the background of the video and she turns to face the camera. Her expression makes him throb.

Her violet irises are rolled back, her usually neat brows pinched, and her swollen lips parted as whines and moans slip from them, honey-sweet to his ears. The way she rolls her hips, the jiggle of her ass as they meet his brother’s, the way her shoulders squeeze together as she holds Asmo’s hands where they’re kneading at her breasts, it’s mesmerizing. And as much as he hates himself for it, as much as it churns his stomach to do, he finds himself settling back in his chair, his hand resting on the buckle of his belt.

“Oh fuck, baby,” she moans through his laptop speaker, and Lucifer can’t help the choked groan that rises in his throat.

Beel snaps his fingers as quietly as he possibly can, just trying to get her attention as subtly as possible. Delphi disguises the look over her shoulder by throwing her hair back and running a hand through it. She smirks when he gives her a thumbs-up, her eyes rolling back and a moan spilling from her delicate throat.

The sixth-born sits back in his seat, the flush rising in his cheeks and spreading its warmth down clear to the pit of his stomach. With the message passed on that Delphi’s mystery admirer is watching, his job is done. He runs his hand down his chest, fingers toying at the waistband of his joggers. He hadn't been sure if Asmo had been joking about the front row seat, but actually being in it?

Her moans echo through the room, going straight to his cock. He doesn’t think as he undoes the drawstring of his pants and slips his hand inside.

“Oh, fuck-! Baby I’m gonna-“

“Come for me, beautiful,” Asmo breathes into her ear, dragging her earlobe between his teeth with a soft growl.

She cries out his name as she’s blinded by white-hot pleasure coursing through her veins. And it doesn’t stop. He continues his agonizing pace, caressing that spot deep within her that sends sparks shooting through her every nerve, lighting her synapses on fire as the waves of her orgasm only intensify. She reaches back for the headboard to steady herself, but Asmo catches her wrists and pins them above her head, angling himself so that he can snake his other hand between their bodies and circle her puffy clit with one long finger.

The force of her multiple orgasms brings tears to her eyes and she arches into his touch as they roll down her cheeks. She can barely catch her breath, she can’t even form words through the haze of bliss.

Lucifer growls deep in his chest, disgust and shame roiling hot in his belly as he fists his cock to the sweet sounds of her ecstasy echoing through his otherwise quiet office. But he can’t look away. He’s completely absorbed in every little sound Asmo pulls from her, cataloguing and filing away what he did to cause each one.

Lucifer so desperately wants to be the one making her make those sounds. He imagines it’s his lips on her neck, kissing and biting her until she’s writhing and begging for more. He pictures the glow of her skin in the firelight in his room, the warmth of her body beneath his hands, the way her lips would form a little pout as he brings her to the very edge of bliss only to deny her release. He can see the shimmer of tears on her lashes, the wet glisten of her lips.

She cries out once more and he’s spilling all over his fist, his release nearly scorching as it splatters messily on his abs and slacks. He rests there for a moment, catching his breath, until the warmth turns to bitter regret on his tongue. He closes his laptop, his hands shaking slightly.

He shouldn’t have done this. He should have left when he said he was going to. He should have cancelled his subscription, deleted his account, and blocked the streaming site in his browser. He runs his other hand through his hair, dragging it down over his cheek and neck. He should have done a lot of things.

Instead, the memory of her moaning his name in the shower echoes in the back of his mind.

The indicator light for the camera goes off and Asmo collapses onto Delphi, both of them giggling like schoolkids. He peppers her face with kisses, squeezing her tighter when she squeals and tries to get away. He rolls her over onto her side, falling into bed behind her and holding her close.

“That was amazing,” Beel mutters. His eyes are dark with hunger and he pulls his hand out of his waistband, cheeks burning.

Delphi grins over at him. “Did you enjoy the show, Bub?”

He shrugs, a dark smirk on his lips. “I’m not the only one. You more than doubled your combined view counts and the tips are still coming in.”

“Holy shit,” she giggles, turning to glance back at Asmo. He has a serene smile on his beautiful face as he nods.

“Did we hear anything from Delphi’s admirer?” he asks.

Beel’s smile falters. “No comments, no DMs. But he did watch the whole stream.”

Asmo nods. “That’s about what we expected, right, hon?”

“I guess,” she agrees, curling into the blankets. “Still stings, though.”

“I know, my darling,” Asmo croons, gently stroking her cheek with a single knuckle. He kisses her shoulder and squeezes her just a little tighter.

“Maybe it’s time to be more direct?” Beel suggests. He’s chewing on this thumb with his brows furrowed. “Maybe you should just…ask him about it? Who he is?”

“I can’t do that,” Delphi sighs, pulling a pillow to her chest. Her heart races and she feels a cold dread rise in the back of her throat at just the thought of confronting Wolf. She buries her face in the pillow with a frustrated groan.

Taglist: @sassykattery @bite-sized-devil @sparkbeast20 @kyungjoon-do @attic-club-sandwich @rensphilia @consolationblog @yourboyhack @syren201 @flemmingbamse

[andreafmn]

Speak | Chapter 13

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: Bella Swan was a disaster when Edward had left. Deciding she needed a little help, Charlie Swan receives with open arms his younger daughter (Y/N) Swan. She helps Bella during her depression and becomes inseparable from her long-lost friend Jacob. What she didn’t expect was falling for a hotheaded short-tempered silver wolf.

A/N: I know I didn't post anything last week, but I wasn't feeling the best or very inspired. But I am posting this long awaited chapter early 😬😬 and y'all should know, we are getting closer to the long awaited truth reveal 🫣🫣 TAGLIST CLOSED check notes below as to why

<- Previous | Next ->

Paul didn’t know what his plan was. Storming into the Black house and wolfing out would not have been the most ideal situation, but he needed to do something. Jacob had done an unforgivable thing, and Paul would make sure he knew he had.

But anger was running through him too fast to be contained. As much control as he had mustered with (Y/N), Paul could feel it running out. And he knew the worse thing he could do was reveal the long-kept secret of the reservation to Jacob before his time. As much as he wanted the wolf inside him to rip the other boy to shreds, he knew better now than to let that kind of anger control him.

Still, he found himself putting his car in park on the long dirt road that led to the red cabin, his body shaking as he tried to keep the wolf at bay. He knocked on the front door harder than he had anticipated. The sound reverberated deep inside his ears, echoing the quick beat of his heart. If Jacob was the one to open the door, it was more than likely that his fist would collide with the boy’s jaw.

“Mr. Lahote,” Billy smiled, opening the door wide. “What a surprise to see you here. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Is Jacob around?”

“He is not,” the man responded. “He is most likely with his friend Quil still. But if there is anything I could help you with, please let me know.”

“I don’t think this is something you should know,” Paul struggled. “It’s… I don’t know. I don’t think you want to hear this.”

“Try me, Paul.”

The boy kept quiet for a second, mulling over whether telling Billy was the right thing to do. It was stupid and juvenile to speak of the problems between two people that –technically—had no business with him. It was not his place to air their quarrels out. “I think you need to talk to your son, Billy,” he sighed. “I don’t know what’s going on in his head, but he can’t keep doing what he’s doing.”

“What has he done, Paul?” Billy asked sternly, his fist gripping at the sides of his chair. “Something tells me this has to do with (Y/N) Swan. And I know my boy has not been the kind of person I raised him to be. So, please, do not sugarcoat things for my sake.”

“I really wish I could say that it is not my place to speak about this, but I can’t just stand by and let him hurt her.” Paul took a steadying breath, the coldness in the air stinging his lungs as it filled them. “Jacob went by to see her today, to get her to find a way to get Embry back into his group. But we both know why he has felt the need to take a break when it comes to their friendship. Now, I don’t know how he came to the conclusion that (Y/N) would be able to do anything, but he basically told her that if Embry didn’t come back, that he would break up with her. For good. And maybe it was an accident like she says, or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. But he either pushed her, or he let her go, and she got hurt, Billy. The skin on the palms of her hands is completely broken, and she has a massive bruise that covers her entire hip. So, I am hoping that it was an accident and he didn’t see her. Because if I find out that he drove away after she got hurt and left her there, I might just take matters into my own hands.”

Something like a mix of anger and disappointment flashed across Billy’s face. A gaze that chilled even Paul. “I can’t believe this,” Billy scoffed. “That boy has truly lost his mind. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Paul. Believe me when I tell you that the wrath of the gods will rain down on him. But I do want to ask you one thing, and I hope you answer truthfully.”

“Uh, sure. Anything.”

“Did you imprint on the girl?”

Paul felt his throat tighten at the mention of the bond. He had managed to get the pack to stop pestering him over telling her, and in two weeks, they had yet to mention the supernatural link that tied him to (Y/N). But, for some reason, he didn’t think that he was that easy to read.

He could have lied to the man. Tell him that (Y/N) was nothing more than a friend. That he didn’t want anything more than to make sure she was safe.  “I did,” he confessed. “But I haven’t told her about it.”

“I gathered as much,” he chuckled. “Would you care to indulge this old man for a quick chat?”

“I should be heading back,” Paul said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Patrol and everything.”

“Sam will excuse you for being late just this once,” the man smiled. “Please?”

“Uh, sure. I guess I can spare a few minutes. I'm already late as it is.”

He followed Billy inside, his steps tentative behind him. The elder pointed at his couch, inviting the boy to sit and listen. Something he was not good at. Listening to things he didn’t want to hear.

“First thing’s first, why haven’t you told (Y/N) about the bond? I figure it would make it a lot easier on everyone if she did.”

“I just…” Paul stammered, running his hands up and down his thighs to calm himself down. I don’t want her to be in the middle of this screwed-up world. I couldn’t live with myself if she ever got hurt because of our secrets. Much less because of me.”

“Doesn’t it hurt her more to keep her shielded from things that involve her?” Billy retorted. “(Y/N) is a special girl, and she has been stuck in the shadow of her sister for as long as I can remember. Unfortunately an afterthought to the Swans. I thought that my son would be the one to help her see her worth. That he would care for her in a way I don’t think she believes she deserves.” He took a second to sigh deeply, calming the anger that was bubbling inside him. “I will admit that I had hope that those two would work out because –between you and me—I’ve always had a soft spot for the girl. Having her be a part of my family in a more permanent way would have been great. But I can see that I was wrong about that. Now I understand that the affinity I thought she held for this land was because of you.”

“Getting closer to her will only hurt her in the end,” Paul said, his gaze dropping to the hands on his lap. “She needs someone that can be good for her. Good to her. I don’t think I am that person.”

“And yet the universe believes you are,” he offered. “I can’t say I felt the effects of the imprint bond. I didn’t even shift. But I’ve known love. And when things are meant to be, the universe finds a way to make it rightfully so. (Y/N) deserves to know there is someone out there that is on her side. Someone that will care for her unconditionally. Someone that only wants the best for her, even if it hurts them. She has a right to know about the things happening around her. Because at the end of the day, she is already in this world. Her sister ran with the Cullens and is friends with my son, who –given his behavior—might be getting closer to his shift; she is your imprint; she is still my Jacob’s girlfriend. This world is already happening to her. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

“What if that just pushes her away?” Paul worried. “It has been hard enough to build a friendship with her. I can’t lose that. I won’t lose her.”

“And what if it doesn’t? What if it brings her closer? She deserves the truth, Paul. And you know it can only come from you. I wouldn’t like to see what would happen if she was made aware by anyone else.”

“I… I’ll think about it,” he said, trying to convince himself that he would. Because everything Billy had said was true. She deserved everything and more, and maybe he could be the one to give it to her. At least a fraction. “But I do have to go now. Sam will probably have my head if I am another minute late.”

“I’ll give that boy a call,” Billy chuckled. “But I do hope you decide to tell (Y/N) the truth. It might open roads neither of you thought to walk down.”

Paul felt his head buzz with the words Billy spoke. As they joined the endless talks given to him by Jared and Sam, he knew avoiding the topic could only hurt them both in the long run. But the demons that breathed down his neck were too close for his liking. They held him in their grasp, their claws sinking into his skin every day that passed. He wasn’t sure if he could keep them at bay or even fight them out before they could make their way to (Y/N).

When he got to the Young cabin, he felt exhausted. Definitely not in the best shape to run around the woods in search of nothing. All he wanted to do was lay down and be done for the day. Or better yet, to run back to Forks and hold (Y/N) once again. For the first time since he had shifted, he wanted to avoid his responsibilities and put someone else first.

“Paul,” Sam’s voice broke through the silence of the night, surprisingly startling him. “I just received a call from Billy Black. Seems like you two had a talk.” 

The alpha joined Paul on the bench he sat on, not a single drop of anger in his demeanor. “I’m sorry for being so late tonight,” he sighed. “I’ll go on watch now.” 

“No need for that. Embry took your shift,” he said. “You should thank him for his beginner’s can-do attitude.” 

“I will,” he sighed. “Thanks.” 

“So, what happened?”

“(Y/N) got hurt, and she called me,” he shrugged. “We actually… well, we were together when you called. And then my anger took me to the Black residence.”

“I already knew all of that, Paul,” Sam reminded him. “I’m asking about all the things that happened that I don’t know about.”

“I don’t…”

“So, you’re all talked out for tonight? Or do you think you’ve heard enough?” 

Paul’s gaze fell onto the night sky, staring at the twinkling stars above. “I don’t think there is anything else to say about the matter,” he sighed. “It’s just me and my messed-up head to work through.”

“Well, I know a thing or two about messed-up heads,” Sam chuckled softly. “And there’s always something more to talk about, Pauly-boy. But only if you’re ready to confront those things that you fear so much.”

“I… I don’t think I am, Sam. Not right now.”

“Well then, can I ask the same question I have been for almost two months?��

“I haven’t decided yet on telling (Y/N) the truth. I just need a bit more time to think. To make the best decision for her. At the end of the day, all I want is the best for her. Even if it doesn't include me, Sam.”

Jacob walked into the house late that night, as carefree and nonchalant as ever. He was ready to shower off the day and lay down to rest, hoping that when he woke up the next morning, everything that had gone wrong would resolve itself. But he wasn’t expecting to find his enraged father waiting for him in the living room.

“Dad?”

“Sit down, Jacob,” he said sternly, his tone sharp and pointed. “Now.”

“What’s going on, dad? Why are you so mad?”

“I think you can guess, son. But I won’t make it too hard on you. This is in regard to (Y/N). The girl you claim is your girlfriend.”

“What about her, dad?”

“Acting dumb is not a good look on you, Jacob,” Billy said through gritted teeth, his cheeks growing red in anger. “But since that is how you want to play this. I’ll let you know that it had come to my attention that you have physically hurt her.”

“Look, I don't know what you think you know, but I didn’t do anything to her, dad. All I did was talk.” 

“Let’s say it was an accident, then. That she did slip on the ice, and you didn’t notice that she was hurt –which is a very unlikely scenario, boy. But you dangled your relationship in front of her like it meant nothing. You wavered it like a bargaining chip over something she had no control over. I don’t know who this is sat before me, but I can say this is not the son I raised.”

“And you’re gonna believe her over me, dad? I didn’t do anything like that,” Jacob whined. “All I did was go over to my girlfriend’s house to rant about my best friend avoiding me. Anything else is a complete fabrication. I…” 

“Enough!” Billy exclaimed. The man rubbed at his temples, his anger settling into his head, creating a pounding headache. “(Y/N) didn’t tell me anything. But I know a lie when I hear it, son. And I know that you have been dragging that poor girl along in hopes that something might happen with Bella. I turned a blind eye because I hoped you would fall for her in the same way she had fallen for you. But you have done nothing but break her down. That girl loves you, boy. And you don’t deserve that.”

“How can you say that? I’m your son.”

“My son would have never treated her that way. My son would have stayed to make sure she was okay when she fell. My son would not have used that poor girl’s feelings against her,” he reprimanded. “I told you to let her go if this was what you were planning. You have hurt (Y/N) enough, and I will need you to man up and tell the truth.”

Jake was at a loss for words. He was sure he had never seen his father with so much anger running through his eyes. But he couldn’t admit the mess he had made of everything. How things had gotten out of hand and had blown up in a way that he never expected them to. He couldn’t admit that everything he had done was wrong.

“I didn’t hurt anyone, dad,” he said instead of the truth. “Why don’t you believe me?” 

“I think it’s best if you head to bed now, son. I’ve heard all that I needed to hear.”

“Dad?”

“I need some time to cool down, Jacob. So, whenever you feel the urge, to tell the truth, you know where to find me,” his father said. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Back in the Swan residence, (Y/N) was finding it hard to fall asleep. Her hip felt like it was on fire, and her hands pulsed in pain. But it was the warmth that had been rushing inside her since Paul had been there that kept her up. She decided to tire herself with the TV, but it was the images in her head that she had been paying attention to. Her fingers were on her lips, trying to imagine just what would have happened if that call hadn’t come in.

She was back in the bathroom. Paul’s hands were still warm on her skin, her heart hammering on her chest. He’s right there. Only centimeters away from her. She can almost feel his lips on hers. She could already feel the warmness of his breath. Only this time, she does kiss him, and it makes sense. Kissing him feels right.

“(Y/N)?” Her father’s voice startles her out of her dreaming. A live representation of how much time had already passed. “What’re you doing still up?” 

“I couldn’t seem to find sleep,” she shrugged. “Figured the TV would fry my eyes into slumber as it seems to do for you but no such luck.”

“Very funny, kid,” he chuckled. Until his laughter died when he saw his daughter’s bandaged hands. “(Y/N), what happened?”

“I lost my balance on the driveway after Jake left and crashed onto the pavement,” she said. “I tried to catch myself with my hands, but I forgot I have Swan blood running through my veins, and clumsiness is in our genes. I scratched them up good, so I covered them up.” 

“Why didn’t you call me, kid? Are you hurt anywhere else? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“God, dad, no,” she chuckled awkwardly. “I’m okay now. It’s all taken care of.”

“Are you sure? You know the hospital is open twenty-four hours.”

“I am sure, dad. I’m okay. Just a little banged up.”

Charlie slumped onto the armchair in defeat, exhaustion taking over his body. “Sometimes I feel like I am failing you girls,” he sighed. “I’m so over my head with this whole parenting thing, and you two are the ones paying the price.”

“No, dad…”

“You don’t have to guard my feelings, (Y/N). I know I’m not father of the year. I’m sure there are so many things I’ve missed since the time you’ve been here, just like there were so many things that I missed with Bella. And I can’t help but wonder if it would have been better if you had gone back home with your mom like it was originally planned.”

“As much as I love and miss mom, I don’t regret for a second coming here, dad. In the short time I’ve been here, Forks became home. It’s not perfect, much like no place could ever be, but it is home. And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

(Y/N) didn’t understand her feelings. She didn’t understand wanting Paul to kiss her. The complexity of liking to people at once hadn’t even crossed her mind because she didn’t think it was possible. Not in its entirety. And for the first time, she felt an ounce of relief at the prospect of Jacob leaving her. Maybe then she wouldn’t have to confront these confusing feelings and she could follow what felt right.

But it was only an ounce.

Next ->

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[chaotic-on-main]

Chapter 5: March

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world

☾ Summary ➼ Due to childhood trauma, you find yourself an adult without the ability to speak. After years of working on it, you have found ways to live without a voice. Now here in your late 20s, you are 5 months in getting used to a new town. On a fateful day in late November, you and your adopted sister visit a local bookstore-café, unaware of the friendships about to blossom. Throughout the months, one friendship in particular develops into something more.

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, oblivious feelings, romance, angst, mention of minor character deaths, trauma, illness, adoption, mentions of fire, disabilities, alcohol use, very light nsfw mentions, references to child abuse, smoking and alcohol abuse mentions, domestic violence (to be continued as writing is ongoing)

☾ Author's note ➼ Hey guys! So uh, this chapter is a lot. In a lot of ways lol. There's some fluff, there's some slight angst. Overall, there's finally some explanations that I hope ties the whole story together. I hope y'all like it because I've been kicking myself over this chapter ALONE. If you missed the last chapter, you can catch that here!

☾ Word Count ➼ ~9.1k (please don't hurt me

You can’t help but tug at the thin fabric that scratched at your skin as you pull yourself out of the driver’s side of Hange’s car. The red dress trailing down your figure sat pretty loose, but it was not comfortable to you in the slightest. Come to think of it, it wasn’t just the fabric that made you uncomfortable, it was the fact that Hange had talked you into dressing up in the first place. While Hange spent many days gathering the things needed for her costume, you opted for something you already had shoved in the back of your closet from a Halloween party a couple years ago. And now, you were about to meet Erwin and Levi in said costume when you didn’t even know if they were into this kind of thing. You pull on your flowing sleeves in anxiety as your sister gets out of the passenger side, fixing their eye patch to sit better on their face.

“We made it!” They shriek in the cool, early spring air. They were donned in a casual pirate get up with a loose brown tricorn resting on their ever-frazzled hair. A fake cutlass hung from their hip as well as other colorful bits and bobbles. They look confident and energized as they look over to you with a wide eye.

“Well, let’s go find them! Erwin just texted me that they’re waiting by the admission booths.” You both close the car doors at the same time and you make sure to lock the car with the keys before shoving them down into your small cross-body purse. Your heart flutters as you're reminded again of the two men waiting for you, of the specific one you were nervous about seeing again. Or was it excitement? You weren’t certain. Yanking on your dress again, you follow on Hange’s heels as they trek to the front gates of the Jinae Renaissance Faire.

Not long after do the admission gates show themselves to you both. As you step up to the line, you start to open your purse to pay when Hange grabs your arm and tugs you out of it, muttering something about it already being taken care of. When you give her a disgruntled look, she’s looking off to the side as she screams.

“There you are! I barely recognized you two!” They start pulling you in that direction as you struggle to zip your bag up through the rough bouncing of your running. When you look up, you see two figures, one tall and one short. Erwin and Levi. Your heart practically stops as you realize why you didn’t recognize them at first.

Erwin is dressed as a knight, his helmet tucked under his arm. You’re not sure if the silver reflecting off the sun is from real metal or not, but it’s quite the look regardless. He’s grinning down at you, and it made him look like a very handsome, well, knight in shining armor.

Levi stands next to him, arms crossed over his chest and he’s staring straight at you with a look you couldn’t discern, you don’t notice the way his eyes widen in recognition for a second. His stark gray eyes are covered by a black mask. He’s also wearing a solid black pirate-esque costume, gloves included. You gasp because you knew this costume. You knew it because you had dressed up as his character’s counterpart.

“Well, well, well. Look at what we have here!” Hange exclaims as they stop short in front of them. You wave to them with a wavering smile and then point to Levi’s get up, flicking your finger up and down his body with a furrowed brow as a way to ask, ‘Did you know?’

“I did not choose this.” Levi states briskly. He curls his right hand around the sword hilt that rests on his hip, the sound of leather squeaking as he does so.

“You can blame me for that,” Erwin’s deep voice cuts in, amused. “He wasn’t going to dress up, or even come for that matter, but I finally talked him into it.”

“Oh yeah? What did it?” Hange’s eye widened in faux surprise, a smirk playing on their lips.

“Are we going or not?” Levi starts walking in the direction of the entrance, not bothering to look behind him to see if anyone was following. Erwin chuckles and goes after him, and you and Hange are quick to follow.

The fair took place in a campsite deep in the forests of Jinae. The afternoon sun peeked its way through a canopy of tall evergreens. Fresh early spring air breezes through the trees as well as your flowing hair and you can’t help but breathe in deeply. What a gorgeous day, you think. Fallen foliage crunches underneath you as you all make your way deeper into the festivities. Plenty of people mill past, many of them dressed up to the nines and chattering away happily. You pick up the pace in excitement as your eyes wander.

The smells of smoked meat and various vegetables filled the air as you drew closer to the heart. There also lie a variety of stalls selling trinkets, fake weaponry, and leather goods that lined up parallel to the path you walked on. You couldn’t keep the grin off your face as you stare at it all in awe. An elven woman with antlers covered in sparkling gems bounces up next to you with a big smile and holds out a white lily for you to take. You hesitate but take it from her fingers delicately and sign a ‘thank you’ at her with your other hand. Her eyes go wide and enthusiastically signs back ‘You’re welcome.’ You can’t help it, you giggle in delight. She waves goodbye and flounces away, the assorted chains that littered her body twinkling in the sunlight as she does. When you turn back to your group, Hange and Erwin are already far ahead, but Levi has stopped and is staring at you.

You inhale the flower’s scent as you saunter up to where Levi stood; he hadn’t moved an inch as he waited for you to catch up. His eyes are dark as they study your face. His mouth opens like he’s about to say something but then immediately closes it, turning away from you swiftly and starts off in the direction of the rest of the group. You purse your lips as you trail behind him, slightly annoyed.

Ever since Hange’s Valentine’s party last month, Levi has been really strange around you, even through your text messages. It’s not like how it was after the gala, it felt more isolating. Like he wasn’t allowing you into his space. Which granted, is pretty normal for anyone trying to get to know him better. But it didn’t really feel like you were just anyone, at this point. After that night on the patio at his apartment, it really felt like you two were getting along better. But now it felt like he was shutting you out again. It was all so frustrating.

Your group spent the next few hours bouncing around different activities; Everyone took turns deciding. Erwin had chosen a jousting match to kick things off. It wasn’t really your thing, but Erwin was captivated the whole time. Even Levi’s eyes never left the rough sport for a second, but his face didn’t give off a single emotion. It ended when one of the riders got knocked off so hard that they didn’t even get up from the dirt. Considering the lack of urgency to get him off the field, it must have not been a life-threatening injury. Still, you can’t help but feel bad for the guy.

After that, it was Hange’s turn and they decided on a play that was showing in the amphitheater. They were doing some sort of homemade play about a princess being held hostage from bandits and a knight that goes on a journey to save her. It wasn’t half bad, you thought. Your favorite part was when the savior got their almost doll-like blonde-haired princess to safety, they took their helmet off to reveal it was actually a lady knight; She has choppy brunette hair that was pulled into a low ponytail and freckles that dotted along her nose. The way the knight and the princess stare toward one another makes you really feel the love that they held for each other, and you had to admit the ending got to you because of it. You applaud loudly as the cast takes a bow, the knight and princess both holding onto each other with wide smiles.

A half hour later, you all find yourselves standing outside of the amphitheater trying to think of what to get for a late lunch. There were so many food stalls that it had started to overwhelm you. You fidget with your sleeves as you watch Hange and Erwin talk, while Levi stays quiet as always. You glance at him with a side eye in hopes he would meet your gaze. However, he keeps it averted from you, appearing to people watch instead. It’s not like he had ever ignored you in the past month, but his abnormal stoicism towards you was really starting to get under your skin. His guard was up, and you didn’t know why. What had changed from that night of the party to now?

“I think we passed a stall back that way that sold pizza. I want that!” You hear Hange say in excitement, pointing down a dirt path to your left.

“You are more than welcome to do so but I think I’ve decided on one down there. I saw something about meat pies, and I’m intrigued.” Erwin stares down at a map of the grounds as he speaks.

“What about you two? Does anything stick out to you?” Hange spins on you and Levi.

“Whatever.”

You just shrug with a small smile.

“Great input, guys.” They roll their eyes at you and go back to looking over Erwin’s shoulder at the map.

“Well, we could all split up for a moment to get our respective lunches and reconvene at the axe throwing and archery area in about an hour or so? I think you wanted to do that for your turn?” Erwin pipes up as he looks behind his shoulder at you. You nod vigorously at it all, mainly at the choice of activity. You’ve always wanted to try both sports and were ecstatic when you saw it on the list of available stations.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. There are a couple of other booths I wanted to check out earlier, this is a good opportunity.” Hange says as they stare down the path where the supposed pizza stall sat. You wave to get their attention.

‘I’m going to wander around myself then, if that’s cool with you?’ They give you a skeptical look and purse their lips.

“Will you be okay alone?” Levi’s head jerks up to Hange’s question then to you.

“She’s going alone?”

“She asked if she could.” They shrug their shoulders and Levi scoffs but says nothing else.

“Make sure your phones are on you and we’ll meet up in an hour.” Erwin cuts in, nodding to each of you before turning on his heels and disappearing in the crowd. So businesslike, you chuckle to yourself. Your sister grabs your hand then squeezes it before running off down the other way. Then it’s just you and Levi. You both look at each other. You’re about to offer if he would like to walk with you but he turns his back to you before you can get his attention.

“See you in an hour.” He says and walks into the crowd without looking back, leaving you alone. You blink hard at the empty space. Even after spending hours together, he’s still distant with you. You can’t help the hurt from seeping into your chest. You bite your cheek as you turn and start off in a random direction with no idea of where you’re going.

.

See you in an hour? Levi couldn’t stop the cold words from sliding out. He almost asked if he could tag along with you but he forced himself to walk away because he couldn’t dare to look you in the eyes. He’d been so careful around you in the last month but it’s like he couldn’t hold back anymore. If he put himself in a position to be with you alone, there’s no telling what else might come out of his mouth. Levi was afraid it wouldn’t come out the way he wanted. He needed more time to figure out how he would approach you about the past, your past. And how his guilt was suffocating the life out of him.

Levi shoves his hands in his pocket as he weaves through the crowd in the direction of their rendezvous spot. There wasn’t anything he needed at this place so he decided he would give his leg a break while he waited for everyone else. That is until something sparkling in the late afternoon sun catches his attention. His good eye snaps to it immediately and he can’t help but take a couple steps closer to get a better look at what it was. There hanging on a small jewelry stand is a delicate gold necklace. It was simple and modest despite its shine.

“Ah, I see this has caught your eye.” A soft voice rings out from behind the counter, belonging to an older lady that he had not noticed before. She has short blonde hair that had started to gray at the roots and light, kind eyes that crinkled in the corners. A warm smile lights up her face.

“No, I was just going.” Levi’s eyes trail back to the necklace before turning around to leave.

“It’s my last one for the day. Since it caught your eye, I’ll let it go at a special price. Who is it that’s on your mind?” Levi’s steps falter then he looks back at the woman with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry?”

“Forgive me, but you seem to have that look on your face that only someone gets when there’s a person on their mind. So, who is it?” The lady leans over on the table she sat behind, propping herself up with her elbow and stares at Levi with earnest.

“I- that’s not any of your business.” He clicks his tongue and starts off in the direction behind him again.

“Whoever it is, they must be causing quite a storm inside you!” She shouts out.

“You don’t know anything about me.” Levi digs his heels in the dirt and stalks back over to the booth where the lady sits, his hands clenched into fists as he stares hard into the accuser’s eyes.

“Oh, no? There isn’t someone in your life right now digging up your past?” Levi reels and opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

She continues, “Humor me, son. This old woman is getting bored of the hustle and bustle out there. What’s on your mind? I’ll give you the necklace as payment if I find it entertaining enough.”

“Ma’am, not to be rude but I literally do not know you. And my life story isn’t some story for you to gawk at.”

“Strangers make the best confidants I find. And you look like you’re about to burst at the seams.”

Levi considers this for a moment. He hadn’t been able to talk to anyone about what’s been plaguing him all month. Since that night in your bedroom, seeing those picture frames. It had shaken him to his core and the only person he actually wanted to talk about it with was you, and, well. This woman was indeed a stranger, what could it hurt? He’s never going to see this woman again, he hopes.

“Tch, fine.” Levi sighs heavily and starts from the beginning.

.

It had been about an hour since your group broke up when you found yourself trekking to the rendezvous spot. You had a great time wandering around by yourself, making sure to double back to a couple stalls you had passed earlier in the day. While you focused mainly on window shopping, you couldn’t help but buy yourself a tiara inlaid with the most spectacular fake gemstones. They glimmered off the late afternoon sun as you passed underneath the spotty shaded canopy with a cup of hot liquid in your hand. Even though Levi had brushed you off earlier, you were not going to let that bother you. Maybe he was going through something right now and wasn’t ready to talk to you about it, you hope.

When you make it to the clearing, you smile as you see Levi sitting at one the benches massaging his leg. There’s a small paper bag next to him. As you get closer, his gray eyes look up to meet you and pinches his lips together into a thin line. There was something different about his aura now, it didn’t feel as hostile as before. Though you could tell there was something still bothering him. When you’re right in front of him, you offer him the cup. He raises an eyebrow at you before taking a tentative sip. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Is this black tea? Where did you find this?” He takes another drink the way he does with his fingertips. You hold up a finger to him and grab your phone out of your purse.

‘A stall all the way on the other side. I did a lot of walking in the last hour.’

“I couldn’t find a drink stall that had anything I wanted. Thanks.” You give him a nod and drop yourself down next to his side on the bench to wait for the rest of your party. Levi says nothing else, but he does give you a side eye and glances up at the shining headpiece you adorned. You can’t help but smile widely at him and strike a lazy pose to show it off. You really did feel like a real princess even with the itchy dress. He turns his head away quickly and you fold your hands onto your lap, your smile slowly fading. You wish you could read minds.

“Ah, there you two are!!” A voice shrieks out. Hange comes practically skipping over with a grinning Erwin right behind her. “Sorry we’re so late. I have no excuses.” You can’t help but roll your eyes and laugh as you stand up to meet them. You hear Levi shuffling to do the same, the paper bag crinkling in his hand as he grips it tightly.

“I hope you all ate well because it’s time for some axe throwing and arrow nocking.” Erwin says with a slight chuckle. You nod vigorously and start off under the archway leading into your next activity.

Archery was not your forte, you quickly find out. You couldn’t stop holding the bow in a way that would keep the string from snapping back into your forearm. You had to stop after a couple tries because you feared if you tried any more, the bowstring would slice right into your skin. There will most definitely be a bruise there by the end of tonight. Erwin was phenomenal with the bow, and you could not help but stare in awe as he basically achieved a bullseye with every other arrow.

Axe throwing on the other hand was cathartic in all the best ways. You were not very accurate at it, but you achieved hitting the hard wood and that was an accomplishment all in its own right. Everyone had taken several steps back when it came to Hange’s turn. The wicked gleam in her eyes was enough to warn every one of her potential. Fortunately, she was actually fairly good at the sport. One of her axes only bounced back once. Levi, of course, was great at both sports, hitting the targets with deadly precision. You shudder at the thought of anyone on the receiving end of Levi’s wrath given the opportunity to use weapons like these.

The sun was just starting to lower in the sky when it was time for Levi’s choice. Like you, he went with something a little more physically exerting. He opted for sword fighting. You could tell that Erwin was just as excited for it as well because his smile had not left his face the entire time you all made your way down to the field. Hange wasn’t exactly thrilled about it because she worried what might happen even with wooden swords, so both of you decided to sit on the sidelines to watch them closely.

They must have been sparring partners in a past life because the way they moved around each other in the field was mesmerizing. Every hit was met with a perfect parry. There were dodge rolls and feint attacks. Even with Levi’s physical limitations, he was still keeping Erwin on his toes, neither one going easy on the other. You had to admit that it was fun to observe them go at each other.

In the blink of an eye, you watch as Erwin twists his body in a way that grants him access to punch Levi in the face with the hilt of his sword. You stand up quickly, about to jump over the guardrail to make sure Levi was okay but he doesn’t even falter. He staggers back for a moment but goes right back into a defensive stance. From here, you can see the left side of Levi’s face has a small dribble of blood running down it. It’s coming from a cut above his left brow, and he’s not even batting an eye.

Levi comes at Erwin so quickly that you’re barely able to keep up with it. In a flash, he’s right behind Erwin and about to kick his legs out from under him but Erwin throws himself into Levi to knock him back. And then they’re at it again. You lean over the rail in anticipation, glancing back and forth between them and the sword instructor in hopes that they would come over and make them stop before things got too rough. But they did nothing, in fact they were staring at them in awe just as you were at their movements.

“Shit!” You hear along with the clattering of a wooden sword against the hard dirt. You stare in panic as you see Erwin holding his right wrist as he grimaces in pain. You and Hange immediately start running to them.

“Oh fuck, Erwin I’m sorry. I didn-“

“No, no. We were both going too hard. I should have seen this coming.” He says through gritted teeth as he holds his hand to his chest.

‘Are you okay? What happened?’ You sign to him quickly, your face no doubt flushed with anxiety. Levi is horror stricken as he stares at his best friend, who as always remains calm. The instructor is nowhere in sight when you need him, of course.

“A simple disarming maneuver. It’s just twisted is all.” Erwin nods down at you in reassurance, adding a warm smile with it. You’re most definitely not reassured.

“Alright boys, let’s take you both to the infirmary.” Hange sighs as she grabs Erwin by his other arm and tugs him along. You take a step forward to follow but Levi just huffs behind you, no sign of movement comes from his direction.

“You all go ahead, I’ll be fine.”

“Levi, you’re literally bleeding from your head.” They snark back.

“I’m fine, just go.” Levi turns and walks back to the benches where your and Hange’s things sat currently. You look over to Hange with bewilderment but they just give you a cheeky grin.

“Stay with him, we’ll be right back.” They shout as they continue to pull Erwin away in what you guess is the direction of the medical tent. You click your tongue, a habit you accidentally picked up from Levi, and spin back around. Levi’s trying to dab at his wound with the bottom of his black costume shirt, his lower abdomen peeking through and you force your eyes back up to his face as you make your way towards him. You grunt to get his attention, cocking your head to the side when he looks up.

“What?”

Sliding your phone back out of your purse, you type quickly, ‘You’re not doing a very good job at that.’

“Tch, I can’t exactly see what I’m doing.” He looks away as he lets go of his shirt. You pull yourself up the stairs to where he sat and straddle the bench so you’re facing him. Grabbing a couple of napkins from Hange’s bag and a water bottle you had purchased at the start of the activity, you then wet them carefully so as not to spill too much. Levi’s staring hard at you.

“What are you doing?” He asks in apprehension.

You only stare back at him, softening your gaze as you lift your hand up slowly to his face. He doesn’t flinch back, which you take as a good sign of him trusting you. You use your other hand to pull his hair back a little and start dabbing at the cut carefully with the wet napkin. The gash isn’t bleeding anymore, thankfully. Most of it had already started coagulating. The spot had also started to swell with heat and when you press back down on it gently, you feel him wince with a hiss. You then rub at the dried blood that had trickled down his face. When you do so, your eyes flicker over to him and he’s staring at you in such a way that makes you falter. He looks away quickly after you both lock eyes for a second. It was only for a moment, but it was such an intense look. You’re suddenly aware of how close you are to him, so you sit up straight and scoot back.

‘Be right back. I’m going to get ice for your welt.’ You type as you pick yourself up from the bench. He clears his throat and sits back as well, nodding in acknowledgment. Tossing the blood stained napkins into a trashcan on your way out, you pick up your pace as you feel your face warm up. He was so close to you; you could smell his signature fresh laundry and body wash. And it was almost as if his stormy gray eyes were a magnet, drawing you into them. You shake your head at the thought as if to clear them out of your mind.

When you finally find a stall that would give you a cup of ice without charging, you make your way back to where you left Levi. It takes you a minute, but you finally spot him pacing back and forth frantically. When he sees you, he stops in his tracks then sprints over to you. His black mask is all forgotten and you’re able to see his full features; His face is full of fear, eyebrows knit and eyes wide.

“I- we need-” Levi breathes out. Even his voice is wavering with panic. You set the cup down and type faster than you ever have before.

‘Levi, breathe. What happened?’

“I need to get out of here, but I don’t know where Erwin and Hange went. Erwin is my ride. But I need to go.”

‘Go where? What happened?’ You grab onto one of his hands in hopes to ground him. His eyes are darting around wildly. When you squeeze his hand hard to get his attention, they finally land on your face and you take a deep breath, hoping he would follow. He attempts to but it’s fairly shallow.

“Sh-she’s back at the hospital. Something happened and she’s there and I…” Is all he manages to get out. His eyes are frantically looking around for the others. She? You grab all of your belongings as well as the things left behind from Erwin and Hange and tuck everything under one arm. With the other, you pull out your car keys and reach for Levi’s hand. He jolts back, staring at you with alarm. You reach for it again and clasp it with keys tucked in between both of your palms, then you start running for the entrance of where you all came from.

With the evening drawing near, there were not nearly as many people here as there was before, but it was still enough to be a nuisance to run through. You gripped onto Levi’s hand so tightly, afraid of losing him in the crowd. You don’t notice but at one point, he starts to hold on with both of his hands for dear life. When you finally break out, you dash down the aisle where your car was. There was no time to let Hange know where you two were going, you would have to do that when you got to where you were heading. Just as there was no time to ask Levi what the hell you two were doing, you would get answers later. All you knew was that he was panicking, and you had the power to help him.

When you eventually find the car, you toss in the things under your arms into the back seat then throw yourself into the driver’s side. Levi does the same on the passenger side and you don’t hesitate to back out before checking to see if he was buckled in. In mere moments, you’re zooming down to the only hospital in town.

.

The car ride was filled with Levi’s panicked heavy breathing as you did your best to weave around the end of day rush hour. Every once and a while, you would hear Levi cursing at a red light or a stop sign, his hands gripping the dashboard so tight that his knuckles turned white. One of his knees was shaking up and down so fast you’re surprised the car doesn’t bounce with it. Without thinking, you reach over with one of your hands and place it on top of his knee gently. It stops. You spare a glance at him and he’s staring straight ahead, but he makes no move to throw your hand off him. You both stay like this for the rest of the ride.

After what feels like an eternity, you drop Levi off at the front so you can find a place to park. It takes a couple minutes but you’re able to find a spot near the back, though you don’t get out of the car right away. Instead, you take this time to send Hange a quick text about your situation as well as collect yourself. Levi’s panic is not something you’ll soon forget. It hurt you to see him so distraught. Multiple heavy breathing exercises later, you unbuckle yourself and head out into the now cool evening, the Emergency entrance in your sights.

You deal with communication issues at the front desk but finally you’re able to find where Levi headed off too. It was the waiting room of the surgery wing and you felt your heart sink to your stomach. What happened? When you make it through the doors, you find Levi pacing back and forth with his hands tightly knitted in his hair. He looks up to you with hollow eyes but says nothing. He maintains his pacing so you decide to sit in a chair near him, watching him as he does. This continues for a bit until a woman in gray scrubs comes out of the surgery ward, a clipboard in hand and a neutral expression across her face.

“Ackerman?” She calls out. Levi stops dead and he’s quick to bound over to her with you right behind.

“What’s going on?” His voice is gravelly and dripping with anxiety. She eyeballs the two of you and only then do you remember that you both pulled up in matching costumes, now sticking out like a sore thumb in comparison to the white, sterile walls. You wrap your arms around you self-consciously and shoot her a weak grin.

“She’s in stable condition right now. But I’m afraid your mother suffered an extreme heart attack earlier this evening. We had to perform an immediate PCI. The blockage was found and taken care of in time, fortunately.” The nurse states calmly. Mother?

“How did this happen?” His words come through gritted teeth.

“I was not told of the specifics, I’m sorry.”

“Can I see her?”

“You may but she won’t be awake for a while. She just got out of surgery.” She murmurs as she takes a close look at her clipboard.

“I don’t care, I need to see her.”

She looks up from the board to take a look at Levi’s face closely, her eyes trailing up to the cut on his eyebrow before asking, “Would you like us to take a look at that wound while you’re here?”

“No. Can we go now?” Levi clips impatiently.

“Very well. Come with me.” And she starts off to the double doors behind her, pulling her badge out to unlock them. Then she sees you following Levi’s steps and stops to speak to you. “I’m sorry, are you family as well?” You don’t see it, but Levi’s eyes narrow at the nurse.

“She’s with me.” Is all he says but his choice of words makes your stomach flutter. With me. The nurse just sighs and taps her badge to the scanner causing the doors to open with a beep. You’re led down a maze of halls until you get to a room with a big glass window. As you pass it, you’re hit with a fleeting feeling of familiarity at the face that belonged to the woman in the bed. After following Levi into the room, the nurse then closes the door behind you with a click.

The room is silent all besides the beeping of the monitors next to the bed. Levi is already at the woman’s, his mom’s, side. He’s holding her hand and his expression has already gone from dread to worried relief. Your eyes trail over to the woman’s features, and you gasp audibly because this face was indeed familiar. But your mind feels like it’s hitting a wall because you can’t recall exactly why she was so familiar and it frustrates you. Taking a couple steps forward, you eye the beautiful face trying to rack your brain still. Nothing. Levi’s staring at you like he wants to say something but thinks better of it and shifts his gaze back to his mom. Not this again.

You pull your phone out of your purse and type a quick message to him. A notification ping goes off, but he makes no effort to check it. You wave at him to get his attention and when he looks over, you point to your phone and then towards him.

‘I’m glad to know your mom is okay. Are you?’

“I’m fine.” Short and to the point, as always.

‘You looked like you wanted to say something a minute ago. What?’

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

‘Don’t shut me out. What is it?’

“I’m not shutting you out.” His voice straining.

‘You are. What’s going on with you?’

“There’s nothing going on. Leave it alone.”

‘No. Ever since the party, you’ve been distant with me, and I deserve to know why. What happened that night? Did I do something wrong?’ You stare hard at Levi, but he continues to stare down at the screen. His grip on the phone is tight.

“This is not the time for this right now.” He mumbles coarsely. You huff loudly and slap your hands down to your thighs. His gaze finally cuts over to you, his eyes dark and tired more than usual. Both of you lock eyes for a moment, and you can tell he’s thinking of something else to say to you but then the room is filled with the noises of your stomach growling violently. Your cheeks are quick to flare up and you’re the first to break away from the staring contest.

“Hungry?” Levi quips in a dry tone. You’re quick to frown at him. But you are, you’re severely hungry. In the hour that you were supposed to feed yourself, you ended up window shopping the whole time. Even when you stopped to grab Levi that tea, you didn’t buy yourself food. You were just too engrossed with your surroundings.

“Just go get some food, you’re not useful here.” He’s right, but you can’t keep the hurt look from flashing across your face at his words.

‘Neither are you. Besides, I don’t want to leave you.’ Only after you hit send are you aware of what you just said and you quickly type out, ‘Since I’m your ride, and all.’ Nailed it.

“I can call Erwin.” He could, but you wanted answers and you had him cornered for once.

‘Just come get dinner with me. I’ll take you right back here after. The nurse said she’d be out for a while anyways and that she’s stable. You know they’ll call you if anything happens.’ You glance back over to his mom to study her face again. She was just as beautiful as his son, her features just the same as his. Her familiarity still itched at you.  When you don’t hear a response, you look over to Levi and see that he’s eying you with thought. You offer a small smile, and he rolls his eyes.

“Fine. But here right after.” You swear you hear his stomach rumbling as well.

.

After a brief drive, you both find yourselves sitting in red booths at a diner down the street. The smell of greasy food permeates your senses and you’re drooling already. The multitude of options were too overwhelming, so you went with a simple burger and fries. Levi orders the same without even looking at His menu. His mind was clearly far away at the moment.

‘Spill.’ You shoot at him.

“Really, right here?” He clicks his tongue and looks out to watch the cars passing on the street.

‘Yes, really. Why are you being so distant with me? What did I do?’

“You didn’t do anything.”

‘You could have fooled me.’ You use your straw to stir at your soda mindlessly.

“Tch, it’s nothing you did, okay? I mean it.” He mutters as he takes a sip of his water, eyes still focused on the street.

‘Okay, then what is it?’

There’s a pause.

“How much of your childhood do you remember prior to the fire?” Out of all the things you thought he would say next, this is not one of them. It was so out of left field; it takes him staring you straight in the eyes to be able to respond. You blink down at your phone.

‘Not much. Just warm feelings, an older brother and two parents. Why?’ You can’t help but frown.

“There’s no way to say thi-“ He’s cut off by the waitress coming over to set down your plates of food with a wide grin. You don’t miss the way she looks at Levi. There were practically hearts in her eyes.

“Anything else I can get y’all?” She asks, looking between the two of you.

“No.” Levi remarks dismissively, not even bothering to look up at her.

“Oh, well. Holler if you need me!” She chirps then walks away leaving the two of you to stare at each other. You nervously pick at your fries as you send Levi another text.

‘You were saying?’  

“We used to be neighbors when we were kids.” The fry you held in your fingers drops back to the plate as you process what he just said. Neighbors? No, you’re certain you’ve never seen him before. You look up at him and shake your head.

“We were. I used to come over and play with your brother every day. My mother adored you.” Levi mumbles as he pokes at his burger with a fork. You suddenly feel dizzy as you feel that wall from earlier start cracking. Is this why…? A memory of warm cookies and long raven hair zooms through your mind.

“I’m sure all the trauma you’ve endured for years erased many of your memories. I know for certain you don’t remember me, but I guess that would make sense. I’m not the gangly kid you once knew.” He chuckles darkly. You’re still having a hard time processing what he just said but you definitely can’t recall many memories prior to the time you were with the Zoë’s. You continue to blink hard at him, your dinner all but forgotten. After a moment, your fingers start typing again.

‘I’m sorry I don’t remember you.’

“Tch, that’s your takeaway here?” He rolls his eyes and drums his fingers on the hard table impatiently. He was still holding back.

‘Just say it, Levi.’

“I just didn’t know you were alive, is all.” Alive? Did he think… how did he…?

‘How did you find this all out?’

“The pictures on your desk. I did some searching when I got home that night and found the articles about your family. Mom and I heard about the fire about a year or two after it happened from a stranger in passing.” He leans back in his seat, eyes now falling on your pallid face. “You know, we moved when I was around nine, so it was strange to hear about something so far away. We assumed the whole family died, no one knew about a survivor. So that’s why I didn’t think anything of it. Also, because, well, you look different now compared to when you were six.” He averts his gaze and takes a drink of his water as he thinks. You’re glad for the pause because this was enough to make your head go reeling. You sit forward and shove your head in your hands to keep yourself from falling over in the seat.  

A couple minutes pass before you’re able to form coherent words, ‘Is that why you’ve been so distant? Because you remembered we had a past together?’ You look up at him through eyelashes, his gaze soft on you. He shifts in his seat uncomfortably. There’s more.

“No.” His hands that sat on top of the table are clenched in fists so tight that you wouldn’t be surprised if his nails drew blood from his palms. You reach over with shaking hands to hold on to one of his to get his attention. With pleading eyes, you stare up at him. He doesn’t shake off your touch, in fact he clasps his fingers over yours and holds on tightly. They were soft and warm and very much needed.

“My dad was a drunk, a very mean, abusive drunk. My mother worked hard to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table while he stayed home and drank the day away. I always had to clean up after him since he wouldn’t do it himself, leaving half-drunk liquor bottles and lit cigarettes all over the place. And my poor mom, she was already so tired when she came home that I couldn’t bear to see her do more work.” He grips your hand tighter as he looks away.

“One day, my mom came home while I was gone. I didn’t clean that day because I was out so late. So he starts yelling at her, screaming that she was lazy and never picked up around the house. When I came home, I see this fucker slapping my mother in the face so hard that she fell backwards, and I snapped. I threatened him with a knife and everything, telling him if he touched me or my mom ever again I would kill him. The bastard laughed in my face. My mom was afraid I would follow through with that threat so that’s why she made us move. God, you were so sad that day.” He takes a deep breath and fixes his gaze back to you. His expression is pained and so full of guilt.

“I’m the reason your family is dead.” Levi’s voice is so soft, it was almost a whisper. You knew that to be a lie considering everything he told you. He moved away before the fire even happened, so that’s not possible. You scan his face, your eyes searching for anything other than remorse and guilt but that’s all there was. You shake your head at him furiously. It’s a lie, you know that.

“I am. I don’t know how it happened, but the dirty bastard died in the house fire of his own doing. But then it caught onto yours and… I just,” He swallows hard. “I can’t help but think that if I never threatened him then my mother and I would have stayed. And I could have been there to clean up after him. I could have stopped the fire from ever happening. I could have kept your family safe, and you would still be with them.” There’s a very physical pain in your gut as you slowly understand why he was so distant with you, why he was shutting you out. Levi blamed himself for everything. The speed at which you snatch your phone and type away would have been impressive, had you cared at that moment.

‘Not your fault.’

“Yes, it is.”

‘You did not start the fire. He did. Nothing you could have done.’ You reach over even more to look straight into his stormy gray eyes.

“You don’t understand, I could have stopped it.” Levi repeats.

‘Levi, listen to me. There’s nothing in the world that you could have done to stop it. I know more than most how much I wish it didn’t happen but it did. And knowing that even despite my unfortunate circumstances, you were able to get out of such a shitty situation. And that makes me happy. No one deserves someone like that in their life. Especially not you. I’ve made peace with this. You should too.’ You squeeze his hand tightly and stare up at him with what you hoped looked like a reassuring smile. He doesn’t say anything from behind his phone screen.

‘I don’t blame you for anything and that has to count for something.’ He glances up at you again. It’s like the life had deflated from his body and he looked so small. A part of you wished you could hold him and tell him he was okay.

“Thank you.” His voice is hoarse, causing him to clear his throat. “I should have said something sooner, but I was afraid.”

‘Afraid of what?’

“That you would get mad at me or stop talking to me.” He mumbles. You’re not sure if it was the dark talk or the suffocating tension but you laugh, really hard. It feels foreign to you since you do your best not to laugh out loud usually but you don’t care, his simplicity was so funny to you. He furrows his brows at you and starts to pull his hand away but you grab onto it and don’t let it go.

‘I would never. There’s nothing to be mad about.’ Levi’s shoulder’s slump and you can tell a lot of the stress he held in his tiny frame had finally dissipated.

“That’s not funny.” He complains, but a small smirk twitches at the corners of his scarred lips.

‘Thank you for telling me. Really.’ You squeeze his hand once more before letting go of it, the warmth of his skin lingering on your fingertips. A moment of silence ensues, and you take this moment to take a bite of your surprisingly still warm burger. It was delicious and you’re reminded again of how hungry you really were. Levi hesitates but does the same. It’s like this for a while. Comfortable, yet again.

There was no room in your heart to be mad at Levi, especially for something he was not responsible for in any capacity. You were not lying; you really had made peace with it all years ago. If anything, it was reassuring having answers of what had happened that night. And you were grateful for Levi, even if he didn’t believe it. Something else stirs in your chest but you swat it away.

A couple bites later and you can’t help but ask the most important question yet, ‘What was I like back then?’ His scoff and eye roll intrigues you right away.

“You were such a troublemaker. A little shit, if I might say.” You choke on your soda and stare at him with a dumbfounded expression. “It’s true. You got your brother in trouble a lot. Always having to chase after you. There were a lot of times I had to carry you home kicking and screaming because you didn’t get your way.” He exhales in what almost sounded like content. Something flashes in your mind.

‘Was there a frog?’

“Good god, out of all the things you remember, it’s that incident?” He bites into a fry but there’s a smile behind it. It’s not big or anything but it’s enough to warm you from the inside.

‘Well now you HAVE to tell me.’

“There was a pond down the street that you loved to play in. It had started storming and your brother couldn't coerce you into coming home so I picked you up and flung you over my shoulder while you kicked and screamed. All because you wanted to take a frog home to be your new pet.” A visual of pouring rain and staring down at the wet pavement crosses your mind. You can’t help but smile at the memory.

‘Mr. Froggy.’ You giggle at the memory.

“Yes, I believe that’s what you called him.” Levi wipes his mouth and sits forward to look at you, his mouth open to say something else but he closes it just as fast. You tap your finger on the table and shake your head at him, as if to say tell me.

“Okay, okay. I saw something at the fair that I thought you might like.” You sit up quickly and gawk at him. You then point to yourself to make sure that he meant you. He pulls the small brown bag you saw earlier out of a pocket you didn’t even know existed. Clapping your hands together, you smile brightly at him. He places it in front of you. You waste no time tearing into the bag.

Inside is a thin and dainty gold chain necklace with a small pendant hanging off it. It’s a pink, crystal cherry blossom surrounded by the same gold metal. It was simple and elegant and perfect. You stare up at Levi with wide eyes and he has the brightest pink flush dusting his cheeks. He’s not looking at you. Without even thinking about it, you quickly stand and move to slide into his booth with your back to him, holding the necklace up behind you. You don’t see it, but he is flustered to no end. Though, he understands because he takes it from you and carefully reaches around your neck to clip it on. It sits perfectly and you can't help but turn to him with a wide smile. He's a lot closer than you thought he would be. Silver eyes stare into yours and your smile falters.

“Will this be one check or two?” A chipper voice rings out, making you both jump away quickly. Your face is matching the same flush on Levi’s.

“One, please.” Levi says after clearing his throat. You look back at him with your most offended expression. He just clicks his tongue and pulls out his card from his wallet to hand to the waitress. She runs off to charge it but not before making a face at the proximity of the two of you.

“It’s easier this way.” He mutters quickly. You jump back over to your side, still feeling the heat of your face radiating.

‘Thank you so much, Levi. I love it. How did you know I liked sakuras?’ You cock an eyebrow at him while you fiddled with the small pendant in between two fingers.

“Your bedroom door. It’s a fitting flower for you.” He’s fidgeting with his long sleeves.

‘Something else bothering you?’

“Not really. It’s just, the necklace reminded me of something that’s happening next month and since you love cherry blossoms so much I thought maybe you’d be interested.” He flicks his eyes over to yours quickly before looking down at his phone for your response.

‘Well, what is it?’ It feels like your heart is about to burst out of your chest. Is he asking you what you think he’s asking…?

“It’s a cherry blossom festival. You know, carnival rides, food stalls, rubber duck racing. Would you… like to go w-with me?” He pulls at his collar nervously. You pinch your lips together in hopes it would keep the gigantic grin from forming. You start typing a response but then he quickly cuts in with, “Hange and Erwin are invited of course.” Oh.

‘Yeah, that sounds like fun. Let’s do it.’ You offer him a small smile instead, afraid your disappointment would show.

“Well. Great, that sounds… great.” He sighs.

Yeah, great.

You spend the rest of the evening recalling the last couple of hours in your head over and over again. Hange and Erwin ended up meeting you both back at the hospital and after a quick overview of what happened, both parties went their separate ways with Erwin and Levi staying at the hospital for a little longer. He said he would update you on news of his mom’s status when he got any. It was a very awkward goodbye, to say the least. Thankfully Hange had not asked any questions of what had transpired but you notice their not-so-subtle glances at the new accessory adorning your neck. You had spent a couple hours of tossing and turning in your bed as you replayed every word that was said tonight until finally you were lulled asleep into the late hours.

☆AN ➼ This chapter was so long that I won't be surprised if I missed anything lol. Anyways, I hope y'all liked it despite it being so long (my b) and I appreciate you taking the time to read my delusions. ALSO We're getting closer to the end. I'm aiming to end it on June but we'll see how it goes. The next chapter is going to be all fluff and I am SO excited. Have a great day/night and as always, please like and reblog so I know I'm doing something right. Love y'all k bye. ☆

☾ Previous Chapter: February

☾ Next Chapter: April

[wishful-soda]

Speak of the Devil : Chapter Sixteen

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10.2k

A/N: I once again extend my sincerest apologies for this being a month after the last update. I also apologize for the quality? Because I feel like y'all are witnessing my downfall with each chapter here and I'm so sorry 😂😂😂Much love to all of you, your support, comments, and just love in general means more to me that I could ever express and has really helped me find my way back to living this past month. 😘🥰 Can't wait to hear your thoughts. xoxo

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Chapter Sixteen - Friends

You laid Horner’s desk for a few more moments, unable to stop hearing his words in your head, over and over. He was right. He’d already broken down several of your walls, walls that you’d thought were thick concrete, covered in barbed wire. Your mind was determined to spiral, to make all of the things that had happened this evening come crashing down around you. However before it all hit, another thought smacked you in the face. 

“Aren’t there security cameras?!” You gasped wide eyed, sitting up suddenly, nearly knocking Daniel onto the ground. You spun your head to get a look at his face in hopes he was calmer than you were at this moment.

And of course, he was. 

“I may or may not have paid off a security guard…” Daniel sat up as well, propping up himself on his hands, giving you a proud grin. 

“What?!” You half gasped, half laughed. “Just how long have you been planning this?” 

“I mean, I didn’t actually pay him, like in cash or anything. So I guess it’d be more of a bribe?” His triumphant smile turned into a sheepish grin. 

“Because the fact that you didn’t cut him a check makes it much better?” You questioned with a giggle in your voice, scooting yourself off the desk and grabbing your jeans.

“I agreed to go to his kid’s birthday party.” Daniel laughed, keeping his gaze firmly on you the entire time you dressed. You paused, shirt in hand. 

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.” 

“I’m not! I asked him what I could do and he just said that I was his kid’s favorite driver and that if I came to his party, he’d help me out, no questions asked.” Daniel chuckled again, shrugging and then moving to redress as well. 

You shook your head in disbelief, a wry smile on your face.  “And here I thought you were being wild and impulsive. Daniel Ricciardo is planned and careful, I could bring down your entire image.” You teased. 

“Wild and impulsive would be fun until we both lose our jobs and security camera footage is posted everywhere.” Daniel huffed. 

“Well at least I had the illusion of it being impulsive, appreciate that.” You winked with a click of your tongue. 

Daniel huffed out a breath in amusement and then strode towards you, patting his pocket to ensure he still had the keys. 

“Should we…” You gestured to all of the items that were on Horner’s desk that were now strewn across the office and the smudge prints from various body parts on his glass desk. 

Daniel looked as if he was mulling it over and then sighed in annoyance. 

“I say we pick up the shit on the floor and leave the desk dirty.” He looked to you to see if you agreed. 

“Alright, but why?” You agreed, bending down to start gathering pens, paperclips and other items scattered. 

“Well I don’t want to get anyone fired, can you imagine how uncomfortable that birthday party would be then?” Daniel said, following suit to help you quickly tidy up. “But also I want him to wonder how the fuck he got his desk so dirty.” He smirked villainously. 

Once everything was picked up and organized back on the desk, okay kind of organized because neither you or Daniel could really remember exactly where everything was, Daniel ensured to lock the door behind you. 

As you walked through the dark, empty building for a second time, you turned your head to look up at him in stride next to you. 

“What?” He frowned. 

“You planned all of this. You got the keys, bribed the security guard, cleaned up so no one could get fired. But you didn’t tell me any of this initially. You wanted it to seem spur of the moment and reckless. Why?” You watched his face in the darkness, scanning it for any clue as to what was going on inside his head. You felt like you knew the answer, but you wanted to hear it from him. 

Daniel was silent for several steps, his eyes on his shoes as he walked. 

“You’re mad.” He finally breathed out a loud sigh, his head shaking slightly, his expression looking as though he was beating himself up? 

“What?” You stopped, placing a hand on his forearm to stop him. 

“You’re mad right?” Daniel, turned his body to face you fully, his big brown eyes meeting yours. “Because I let you believe it was something it wasn’t.” 

You blinked. That wasn’t what you were feeling at all. You were in awe that he would go to so much trouble to plan anything for you. It wasn’t a date or even anything romantic by any means, but he thought about it in advance and took steps to make sure none of it would affect you in a negative way. He let you have a fun thrilling experience all while he’d protected you. At the same time he managed to get you to realize just how much you really trusted him. 

You looked at his crestfallen face and something inside you cracked. You were so critical of him that his go to thought was ‘she’s pissed’. And why wouldn’t it be? That was your default. No matter what he did, that’s what you fell back on so of course that would be exactly what he expected. 

When you didn’t respond, Daniel glanced down at his watch. You thought it was to be a dick, but when his eyes widened slightly and he grabbed your wrist, you knew that wasn’t the case. 

“Shit. The other security guard is about to come on, I promised we’d be out by 4am.” He explained as he began walking quickly towards the same doors you’d come in. 

You hurried along with him, slipping out the doors and glancing around nervously to see if anyone was around. Thankfully, the coast was still clear. 

Daniel took the keys from his pocket and searched for the right one, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked like he was really overthinking something and suffering inner turmoil. 

He fumbled the keys, letting out a harsh swear after the clank of them hitting the ground. 

You bent down and scooped them up swiftly.  Remembering which key he’d just been about to use, you locked the door quickly and then placed the keys back in his palm. You paused for a moment and clasped your fingers around his hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze. 

“Thanks.” He sighed as he pulled his hand from yours, looking from the door to the waiting car, not even pausing to look directly at you. Your stomach felt queasy. 

You slid into the car behind him, noting the driver was the same. He must have just sat here and waited the entire time you were gone? You were sure the cost of that never even crossed Daniel’s mind.  

The silence in the car was heavy and you knew it was your fault. 

“Hey.” You said softly, your voice so quiet in hopes the driver wouldn’t overhear your entire conversation. 

“Hmm?” Daniel grunted, busying himself with adjusting his hat. 

“Hey.” You said louder this time. “Danny.” When he still didn’t look at you, you huffed loudly and slid across the small middle space of the bench seat and practically into his, roughly bumping your leg against his.

“Geez, I said what!” He quipped back, now turning and looking out of the window since it was much harder not to look at you with you inches from his face. 

“Well you won’t look at me!” You matched his tone. “I seem to remember someone saying that they liked to look at people when they talk to them.” 

Daniel groaned and finally turned to look at you. His eyes looked tortured. Like he was absolutely tearing himself up inside. Like he had a million things to say to you that were about to burst out of him and it was taking absolutely everything in him to hold them inside. 

“I was going to say something back there but then we had to rush off all espionage-y.” You gave him a small tentative smile, hoping he’d come back to playing with you. 

“I know you’re mad at me, I don’t really want to hear it right now though. Can you yell at me tomorrow? ”

“Dan, would you please just stop assuming and let me talk?” You said firmly, though your words weren’t laced with the aggression that would normally come with a statement like that. 

He lifted his hand and gestured to say ‘be my guest’

You really wanted to say what you were about to say to his face, but as you began to speak, his eyes back you back down, your gaze glancing around from your hands to his hands to his face and anywhere else that wasn’t his eyes. 

“I’m not mad at you. I’m not even kind of upset or irritated with you at all.” You forced yourself to look at him, meeting a surprised expression from him. “That wasn’t what I meant at all when I asked you why you did all of this.” 

“Oh.” He replied quietly. “I just assum-”

“That I was because it’s my default setting, yeah I know.” You finished for him, slumping back against the seatback behind you. 

“When it involves me, yeah.” He turned to look out the window again. 

Why did it bother you so much? You had spent the past 27 and something months being mad at him. You had perfected it. That should be a compliment to you that he was assuming you were mad because that meant you were succeeding in making him realize just how much you couldn’t stand him. 

Only the idea of him thinking you were always mad at him felt different now. 

“I’m honestly impressed.” You continued. You needed to get out what you wanted to get out before you lost your nerve. Daniel’s head spun towards you so fast you had a brief worry of whiplash. 

“Really, I mean you planned all of this out and I know it wasn’t a date or anything gross like that, but I appreciated the thought that went into it. Well really I appreciated all of it actually.”  You gave him a closed lip smile. 

“A-are you…thanking me?” Daniel spoke as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth. 

“Jesus Dan, you say that like you’d expect hell to freeze over first.” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Well…yeah.” He shrugged, his body language saying ‘can you blame me?’. “You’re always pissed at me.” 

You backhanded his chest, knowing it didn’t hurt much with the amount of muscle he had sculpted there. You were right, didn’t even phase him, he just laughed, that warm smile slowly creeping back onto his face. 

“Well stop doing things to piss me off, ever consider that?” You teased, a smile tugging on the corners of your mouth.

“I thought that you were upset that I gave you the impression it was spontaneous and risky” His tone was apologetic. “Then you find out it was a sham.” He huffed a laugh. 

“Which part should I be angry about? That you planned something and ensured our careers weren’t fucked afterwards? Or that you let me experience the fun, exciting part all while still being protected?” You spoke more frankly than you usually did with him and you could tell he was surprised as well.  “It doesn’t make me angry. It makes me feel…” You cut yourself off, suddenly hearing your words aloud and realizing what you’d just been about to say to him. 

“Makes you feel what?” Daniel breathed, his eyes not leaving yours. You swallowed thickly, the sound louder than usual in your ears. You shook your head, trying to dismiss it. 

“Nothing.” You broke eye contact and looked straight ahead. Daniel groaned in annoyance. You felt his leg knock against yours. 

“Tell me. Tell me and then I’ll tell you something you want to know. Deal?” He held his hand out for you to shake on it. 

You contemplated for a moment, thinking of all the different things you’d love to ask him, trying to narrow it down. Daniel wiggled his fingers impatiently, his eyebrows raised. 

You placed your hand in his and shook. You were briefly distracted by the feel of his larger hand, the way his fingers wrapped nearly all the way around your hand, how firm his shake was. 

When you looked back up at him, he was smirking, like he knew exactly where your thoughts had just gone and why you’d been staring at his hand like an idiot for way too long. 

“You go first.” You stated, trying to calm down the heat of embarrassment in your cheeks. 

“How is that fair?!” Daniel cried out. 

Before the two of you could properly get into it, the car came to a halt outside the hotel. You reached for the door handle, only to be stopped by Daniel’s hand grabbing your wrist firmly. 

“Hold up!” He craned his neck around, looking out of all of the windows to ensure no one was around to see the pair of you getting out of a car together at 4:00 in the morning. 

You hadn’t even thought to check. You were about to just waltz right out of the car, Daniel in tow, continuing your conversation.

I need to get my head back in the game…You told yourself.  

Daniel released your wrist, he must have determined it was all clear, and you opened the door and gave a gracious nod to the driver before hurrying to the doors of the hotel, hoping to put some distance between you and Daniel.

“I’m so fucking tired of hotels.” Daniel spoke once the elevator doors closed. He wasn’t necessarily planning on speaking out loud, but it was late and the entire night had been a rollercoaster. He had all but sprinted to keep up with you after you got out of the car and yet you stood intimately close to him in the large elevator. 

“You and I both. The next two weeks at home are going to be heaven.” You sighed longingly, gazing seemingly off into space. 

Daniel wanted to ask where you planned on being for those two weeks, but that would be just too desperate of him and he knew it. He’d already given away the lengths that he went to tonight, he couldn’t come off as that clingy. Uncool. 

“Are you going to be in Monaco?” You turned towards him slightly as you asked, but your eyes didn’t meet his. Daniel bit back the grin that threatened to break loose at the fact that you basically read his mind. 

“I haven’t decided.” Daniel responded. It was a little bit of a lie. He’d already decided that if you were going to be in Monaco, then so was he. If you weren’t then he’d act like he had previously decided to be at his home in LA. He did his best to not look into the way it seemed your shoulders sunk just a fraction at his answer.

The elevator halted and he waited for you to step off first before following suit, both of you glancing in all directions to ensure you were still alone. He followed you to your room and only when you were almost to your door did he think about what was supposed to come next. He didn’t know if he was supposed to come in or drop you off at the door. With all the time you’d already spent with him, he knew it was most likely a drop at the door situation. He was already on borrowed time. 

You stopped at the door to your room and spun to look at him, leaning back against the door frame, your foot placed flat against the wall behind you, your eyes now showing signs of exhaustion. He felt a little guilty that he’d kept you out so late. 

“It makes me feel safe.” You suddenly stated. It was probably also exhaustion that caused the delay in Daniel’s understanding of what you were talking about. 

When it clicked, Daniel completely froze.

“What?” He hated himself the moment he said it, he had heard you the first time and you knew he had but he needed to buy himself a couple more seconds to figure out what he was supposed to say next. Alright and he also wanted to hear you say it again…

You gave him a look that definitely said you knew he heard you. 

“You made me feel safe. Well. I guess ‘make me’ would be more accurate. Present tense.” You didn’t shy away from looking in his eyes and for the first time ever, he kind of wished you would. The feeling in his chest and stomach was too much and your eyes only made it more intense.

 His mouth fell open, partly in shock, partly in an attempt to form some words. He became very aware of the fact that his mouth was just opening and closing and he wasn’t getting anywhere. 

“You look like a fish.” You tittered, your foot behind you resting on the wall pushing you to stand up straight, smirking the entire time. 

Daniel couldn’t help but laugh, acknowledging you were right. His thoughts were so mixed up that he still didn’t know what to say to you. There was pride in the fact that he made you feel safe, then there was shock that you’d said something that nice to him, and then there was the heaviness of a statement like that, it felt so heavy for a conversation between you and him. By just telling him that you were proving it then weren’t you?

“Sorry, forgot to lace that first statement with some malice to keep the vibes between us normal.” You hummed when he again failed to speak. You shot him a  wink and then looked down to your bag, digging through it for your room key. 

Say something. Anything. 

Daniel knew his window was closing and yet he didn’t know how he was supposed to play this. 

The sound of your door unlocking and the click of you opening it was his buzzer, alerting him that time was up. 

You smiled genuinely at him and now he just couldn’t breathe at all. “I know you have lots of nights that are fun and end up getting into all sorts of things so it was just another night for you, but I had a lot of fun tonight.” 

Daniel didn’t know if he was a complete idiot or not, but he felt like you wanted him to tell you otherwise. Like you were digging to see what tonight had meant to him. 

“I don’t have-” 

“I had no idea where you were!” 

Daniel looked up over your shoulder to see your ‘boyfriend’ emerging from the dark room behind you. Charles looked disheveled, his hair a mess, clearly having been asleep. 

So you were sharing a room with him. 

Daniel knew it most likely had to happen. It would be weird if you were dating and didn’t share a room. But he still hated it. He tried to peer over Charles’ shoulder into the room to see how many beds there were, but he couldn’t tell. 

“And you look like you were torn up over it, mate.” Daniel deadpanned, the sarcasm hitting straight to the point.

“Max was.” Charles said flatly and Daniel saw the effect those words had on you, your eyes widening. 

“What did you tell him?” You spun towards Charles, Daniel effectively losing all of your attention. He wondered if Charles did that on purpose…

“That you drank too much and went back to the hotel to sleep.” Charles might as well have said ‘Duh’ the way his tone came off so sharp. “What did you do?” He hissed, throwing a look to Daniel and then putting his attention back on you. 

“Nothing!” You shoved Charles back into the room, rolling your eyes and that was enough to put the slightest whisper of a smile on Daniel’s face.

“Well c’mon before someone sees you.” He shot another look at Daniel. 

“Alright thanks mate, but she has a mum.” Daniel cut in, desperate to get the moment back so he could redeem himself instead of you remembering that time you said something nice to him and he stood there looking like a fish. 

Charles' eyes widened in what Daniel could only call… horror? He looked to you, placing a hand on your shoulder gently, as if he was checking to see if you were alright. 

“Really?” You hissed through grit teeth, eyes narrowed at Charles. You shook his hand from your shoulder before shoving him back into the room again, only this time harder. 

Daniel shook his head in confusion, trying to figure out what had just transpired there between you and Charles that had so clearly flown over his head. Once Charles held up his hands in surrender and walked back into the darkness of the room, you spun back around to face him. 

“See you around?” You asked, only one corner of your mouth pulling upwards in a half smile. “And I’m not forgetting that you owe me, you better hold up your end of our deal.” 

“I’m a man of my word.” Daniel nodded, returning the smile in an attempt to hide his disappointment in the way the night ended, that he didn’t get to say what he should have, and at the nagging feeling in his gut that he’d just done something wrong. 

He took a step back from the door, turning to make a start down the hall to his own when he suddenly felt your body flush against his, hands on the sides of his face, pulling his mouth down to yours, kissing him firmly but quickly. 

Daniel didn’t even have time to kiss you properly before you slipped out of his grasp again, retreating back to the door. 

Which had locked again upon shutting. 

Daniel couldn’t control the grin that burst onto his face, so big his cheeks hurt when he realized you’d now locked yourself out. 

“That’s not quite how you saw it happening in your head is it?” He asked, daringly. 

You spun around to look at him and your cheeks were pinked, a sheepish smile on your face and Daniel couldn’t have held in his laughter if he tried. 

“It’s not funny!” You whined, yet a giggle broke into your voice and you jiggled the handle rapidly. 

“That’s not gonna do it, babe.” He cackled, putting his hands in his pockets, watching you search through your purse for the key you’d had moments ago, your cheeks getting redder by the moment. 

“Shush!” 

Daniel always saw you put together, confident, cunning, except on a rare occasion where maybe you drank too much. But this wasn’t alcohol, this was just a silly mistake that had ruined the smoothness of your move. 

You were flustered and Daniel fucking loved it.

He normally thought it was cheesy when someone said ‘oh they’re so adorable when they’re…etc etc’ about their partner, it was so mushy it made him roll his eyes. And yet, in his head, all he could think was how fucking adorable you looked. 

The door to your room flung open suddenly, causing you to jump in surprise and let out a cute little squeal, in turn only making him laugh more. 

“Oh my God, the entire hall can hear you idiots giggling out here!” Charles scolded in a hushed whisper-yell. You were rolling your eyes again before he even finished his sentence. 

“Night Danny.” You smiled, the traces of color still on your cheeks. Hearing you call him ‘Danny’ never seemed to fail to make him melt inside. You knew it, he knew it, but still he got a rush of thrill, like he couldn’t believe it was happening, everytime you said it. 

“G’night ma’am.” He winked, grinning widely at the rush of pink that flooded back to your face. He’d bet just about any sum that you were kicking yourself for showing him that picture now. 

“Always with a different name…” you grumbled, giving him one last smirk before closing the door behind you. 

Being home for a break was always rejuvenating. The plane, hotel, paddock, hotel, repeat schedule got old and it was always welcomed to have some break in the monotony and be back in your own space. 

You’d spent your time shopping, sleeping in, seeing friends and just decompressing from the stress and drama that was F1 and was your life in general lately. You and Charles had been seen together several times, on purpose of course. The fact that you both lived in Monaco meant that you needed to keep up the illusion while on break, especially for Max’s sake. 

However you weren’t sure the ruse would last much longer as Max was either on to you or something because he was back to asking questions about Daniel. And if there was one thing about Max that was always true,  it was that he never beat around the bush. He wanted if you felt like you could spend time with him without wanting to punch him in the face, if you thought he was a good teammate. 

The questions were pointed and honestly a little unnerving, but you held your composure. 

That was until the night that you, Charles, Max and Daniel were all together. 

It had happened by coincidence, you were at Max’s apartment hanging out and Charles had come over to play video games with Max. You spent most of the time scrolling through your phone or reading on the couch while the two boys shouted at each other. 

It was a quiet but pleasant evening, just what you wanted while on break. Until the knock at the door. 

Max and Charles didn’t even move a muscle, enthralled in their game. 

“Really.” You sighed, rolling your eyes and then resigning yourself to answer it yourself. 

And of course, on the other side, was Daniel. He wore jeans and a simple black t-shirt with an unbuttoned flannel over it. And as if he knew you’d be here, his snapback hat sat on his head. Backwards. 

You absolutely hated the excitement that coursed through you when you saw his face. It had only been a few days, but you weren’t sure if he was in Monaco or not and didn’t want to be the one to reach out first. You didn’t know what the rules were when you were home. 

So when you saw him standing in front of you, wide smile on his face, you had to restrain yourself from throwing your arms around him and hugging him tightly. You tried to school your face into a neutral expression, to hide how excited you were to see him. 

“Sorry, I must have the wrong apartment, I was looking for Max Verstappen, is he home?” Daniel feigned confusion. 

You bit back a smirk and held in a giggle. 

“Who? Yeah, sorry, you have the wrong apartment for sure.” You played back, frowning at him. 

“Shoot.” Daniel sighed, a huff of frustration. “I’m Daniel by the way.” He pivoted, holding his hand out to you, that wide mischievous smile returning to his face like he couldn’t even help it. 

You stated your name with a giggle and then took his hand and shook. “Nice to meet you.” 

Daniel’s eyes lit up at the statement. 

“The pleasure’s all mine.” He squeezed your hand in his, his eyes locked on yours intently, the secret the two of you held simmering behind them. 

He finally broke the gaze and let his eyes wander down your body and back up again, very slowly. You felt a flicker of heat, deep in your core at the intensity held in his eyes. You couldn’t help but wonder if he missed you like you missed him the past few days. 

You stepped aside to let him in. 

“Do you often invite strangers in?” He teased, stepping way too close to you. The way he smelled…god you could wrap yourself up in that scent and be so content. 

“Only good looking ones.” You responded, because you knew he expected you to be snarky. When he blinked in surprise, you knew it worked. 

“Who is it?” Max bellowed from the living room, pulling you back down to Earth firmly. 

“It’s Daaaaaa….” You caught yourself in the middle of calling him Dan and tried to recover, only to end up trailing off and making the situation even worse somehow. 

“Daddy?” Daniel asked, quiet enough that only you heard him, pure amusement in his eyes. 

You shot him a glare and raised your hand to smack him but he moved faster than you could predict, grabbing your wrist and then yanking you into his chest. He grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you firmly, his tongue diving into your mouth, rough and passionate. It was hot and messy and you knew it would be over quickly, but once his lips touched yours, you knew, you could tell, he missed you too. 

When he broke the kiss and let you go, he stepped back, leaving a space from you to him. You were about to question why he’d kiss you and then leap away, but you had your answer when Max came strolling into the foyer. 

“Who the fuck is ‘Daaaaaah’?” Max laughed and then spotted Daniel, his expression falling. “Oh it’s just Daniel.” 

You cackled. 

“Ouch.” Daniel clapped his hand to his chest, wounded.

“You can come in but only if you and Charles can get along.” Max said pointedly to Daniel, his expression holding something else unsaid beneath it. Whatever it was, Daniel understood and nodded, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“I’m just here to have a good time.” He smirked, very well knowing he had been the instigator the past few times he and Charles got into it. 

Max paused and looked at you and then Daniel and then back to you again. 

“Remember when I used to have to make you promise to be nice before you two could be in a room together?” He laughed, starting back towards the living room, you and Daniel a few steps behind him. “I would have put money on this never happening.” 

Your stomach dropped. 

“This?” You stammered, trying and failing, to play it cool. 

Max flopped onto the couch where he’d sat before, his ever present blase expression on his face. 

“Yeah, this.” He gestured between you and Daniel. You didn’t dare look at Daniel. You stayed frozen to where you stood. 

Fuck. This is it. He knows. Beg for forgiveness now before he even says anything else, just start apologizing. 

“You and Daniel being friends.” 

The relief you felt could have brought you to your knees. However before you could revel in that feeling, you really heard Max’s words. Friends. Friends. 

In any other situation the word isn’t a huge deal. It’s not something to fuss over or even argue. You had lots of friends. But for you and Daniel, it was a big fucking deal. And both of you knew it. 

Daniel looked as surprised as you did, looking to you as if he was waiting to follow your lead on how to respond. 

Denying would only seem weird and make a casual remark into something more. 

“Only took 3 years.” Charles remarked from the kitchen. 

“It was TWO.” You clarified. 

“I’m an acquired taste.” Daniel interjected. 

Max made a grossed out face at the exact same time you did, making Daniel tilt his head back and cackle. 

As the three men started chatting, you zoned out, beginning to do what you did best. Overthink. 

Friends. 

It wasn’t like it was an official title or anything. You didn’t have to announce it to the world. As far as you were concerned, everyone else would remain under the impression that you couldn’t stand Daniel and wanted nothing to do with him. Besides, seeing the two of you fight in public did enough for that image. 

But then…you couldn’t remember the last time you fought in public. When was the last time you had a proper knock down drag out like the good ‘ol days? His birthday? No. You fought in his room, no one even knew there was an issue. If you weren’t fighting any more then….

You felt like you were going to puke. This wasn’t optics or someone’s opinion. You couldn’t convince yourself it wasn’t true. 

You were friends with Daniel Ricciardo. With the devil himself. The one person you swore to hate until the day you died. You could remember actually swearing a vow on some book (because no one you were friends with would have a bible on hand) that you’d always hate his guts one drunken night when the subject of him was brought up. 

What the fuck happened?

“Hellooo? You in?” 

Max’s voice snapped you out of it, bringing you back into the moment where he stood waving a hand in front of your face. 

“In?” You questioned. 

“Poker. Did you miss the entire conversation?” 

“Sorry, I…zoned out.” You gave him an innocent smile. “I’m paying attention now, scouts honor” You held up your hand, two fingers up in a V.

“Which scouts?” Daniel chortled. “That’s a peace sign.” 

“Yeah? And now what’s it mean?” You spun your hand so the back of it was facing Daniel, fingers facing you turning it into a vulgar gesture. 

Daniel playfully smacked your hand and you responded by shoving him. 

“Do you want to play poker or not?!” Charles blurted, causing you and Daniel to both freeze like reprimanded children. 

“Yes, sounds lovely.” You smiled sweetly at him.

“Yes, sounds lovely.” Daniel responded, mimicking your voice. He grunted and then broke into bellowing laughter again at the impact of your elbow to his side.

“Jesus Christ, I forgot how annoying it is when the two of you are in the same room…” Max groaned, shaking his head as he strode off to set up for the game. Charles followed, his annoyance all over his face. 

Once they were out of earshot, Daniel turned to you, an impossibly large grin on his face. 

“We’re friends.” 

It didn’t make you want to puke when he said it…

A few hours and a few drinks later, you’d cleaned up pretty well, much to the annoyance of all three of the drivers at the table with you.

Max had been saying he was about to quit if the next hand didn’t turn around for the past 10 hands, Charles kept mumbling in French, and Daniel was convinced you were cheating. 

“It should be against the rules to smile when you have a SHIT hand!” Daniel griped, tossing his cards on the table in defeat yet again. 

“That’s literally a key factor of the game. It’s called bluffing.” You scooped up your winnings, a cocky smirk gracing your lips. “And who says I’m smiling about my cards?” 

“I’m letting you win.” Charles said matter of factly. “Because I’m a good boyfriend.” 

Max and Daniel groaned in unison.

“What! I am!” Charles cried. 

“You guys are sore losers.” You laughed, handing the cards to Daniel to shuffle and deal. 

Once the cards were dealt and you’d raised the bet an obscene amount, Max bowed out. The following time around, Charles did the same. 

When it came time for Daniel to call or fold, he pulled out his wallet and then frowned. 

“Alright you have all my cash so I’ll bet something else.” He declared, tossing his wallet onto the table. 

“What? Like what?!” You laughed.

“A tattoo.” He smirked villainously, his eyes challenging you, daring you. 

“Excuse me, a what?” 

“If I win the hand, I pick a tattoo and you have to get it. If you win, you pick a tattoo that I have to get.” 

“That is the most stupid idea! Don’t do it, he could pick anything.” Charles waved Daniel off dismissively. 

Maybe it was the smile you wanted to wipe off his face, maybe it was the way he looked like he thought there was no way you’d do it. No one at the table thought you’d do it. 

“Deal.” You blurted. 

“What?!” “Good lord.” Max and Charles protested, but the only reaction you cared about was Daniel’s. 

He looked surprised, his eyebrows raising. You reached out to shake on it and he pulled his hand away quickly. 

“There’s no getting out of this.” He explained, his tone serious. “If you shake my hand, there’s no going back, you gotta follow through.” 

You leaned in closer to him, narrowing your eyes. 

“I’m not scared Ricciardo.” You whispered before smacking your palm to his, shaking his hand firmly. 

“Does she at least get to pick where it goes?” Charles sighed. 

“Hey! Why are you so sure I’m going to lose?!” You gasped in offense. 

“Sure, it can go anywhere she wants.” Daniel grinned widely at Charles. 

“I can’t decide who I want to win.” Max looked incredibly amused, ever excited to laugh at your expense like the younger brother figure he’d always been. 

“Please win so that I don’t have to look at a tattoo chosen by another man.” Charles added one last plea, ever living up to the boyfriend role. 

You saw something flicker in Daniel’s eyes at the comment and when he faced you fully again, he looked extremely serious. 

“On 3?” You asked, holding your cards anxiously. Daniel nodded. 

“1…” Everyone at the table counted in unison. 

“2….” Max and Charles stood to get a better view.

“3!” 

You slapped your cards to the table, your eyes immediately going to the ones Daniel had laid out in front of him. It was silent for a few seconds as everyone compared the two hands. 

A silence that was broken by Charles of all people, bursting into laughter.

“FUCK YES!” Daniel leapt from his chair, pumping a fist in the air. 

You stared at the cards, your mouth open in shock. 

You lost.

How had you lost? You smacked your hands to your face, covering it in shame and despair, trying to drown out the whoops and hollers coming from the Australian. 

“Out of all the hands I won, this had to be the one I lost?” You grumbled, your voice muffled by your hands. 

“No one forced your hand, you got too cocky.” Max said flatly, not an ounce of empathy in his voice. 

“Shut up.” You snapped, to which Max only laughed in response. 

The game disbursed after that hand, Max and Charles retreating to play more video games, leaving you to wallow at the table. 

When you pulled your hands from your face, you were met with Daniel sitting in the chair next to you, waiting patiently for you to come out from hiding. His grin made you want to hide again. 

“How bad is it going to be?” You groaned. 

“I haven’t decided yet. There’s just too many options, I can’t narrow any of them down!” He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head confidently. 

“I hope you know it’s going somewhere that no one will ever see it.” You said petulantly. 

“Mm, I think no matter where you put it I’ll still get to see it.” Daniel smiled wickedly. 

“That’s what you think! The chances of you ever seeing anything will depend on what you chose.” 

“Alright, alright. What about a lifelike depiction of a Honey Badger?” He couldn’t even keep a straight face while suggesting it. 

“That would have to be huge!” 

“We never put any size restrictions on this.” 

“I would have been nice to you if I won.” You could hear the lie in your voice as soon as you said. Daniel could too, he cackled in response. 

“No way! I reckon you’d have picked something awful. Don’t pretend like you’re not still a little mean.” 

“I Hate Texas” You waved your hand in front of you like you could see the writing there. 

“You’re a lot mean!” Daniel gasped in horror. You laughed triumphantly when he had the exact response you’d expected and hoped for. 

Your conversation came to a screeching halt when Max strode back into the dining room. You could see the suspicion on his face. 

“I’d thought you’d be a lot more upset.” His tone held suspicions of it’s own. 

“Who says I’m not?” You crossed your arms, leaning back and away from Daniel. 

“The way you are chatting says you’re not. You’re not allowed to bribe Daniel to pick something you want.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on MY side?” You raised a brow at him. 

“Rules are rules.” He shrugged. Daniel snickered. 

“What rules?! Can I please get a copy of the rules?” You cried out, only to be met with laughter, yet again. 

Even with losing a bet to Daniel and your best friend on his side, you still realized you felt…happy. 

You should have been sleeping when your phone started ringing at 2:00am, but instead you’d spent your time contemplating what the hell had happened that allowed you to become friends with Daniel. And not…mad about it? 

“Hello?” 

“How’re ya goin’?” Daniel’s voice made your stomach flutter and you hated yourself for it. He was calling you at 2:00am. You weren’t an idiot, you knew what it meant. A booty call. 

“Fine. And yourself?” 

“Oh, very well, thanks. Still reeling after such a successful poker night.” 

You could practically hear the smirk on his face. 

“You lost a ton of money but won one bet and that’s a wildly successful poker night?”

“Come outside.” The playfulness was gone, replaced by something else. Something that made you shiver. 

You began to contemplate your next move and then stopped yourself short. 

No. No more overthinking. 

“Be right down.” You promised, hopping up to grab some shoes. You grabbed only your keys and phone, tossing them into the pocket of your hoodie and hurried down the stairs of your apartment building. 

When you got down to the street, you realized you had no idea what kind of car Daniel was driving. However, before you could reach for your phone, a car pulled up directly in front of you, the window of the passenger side rolled down. 

Daniel smiled affectionately at you and the world stopped for just a second. 

You quickly got in and shut the door, your eyes going to the snapback hat on Daniel’s head. 

“Backwards hat again?” You asked, buckling your seatbelt as he pulled away from the curb. “Pandering.” 

“Says the girl wearing my hoodie.” Daniel quipped back. 

Shit. This was his hoodie and you’d put it on because it still smelled like him but you were never supposed to leave the house in it! Much less let him know you wore it. 

“That’s different.” You scrambled. 

“Oh? And how?” Daniel sounded eager to hear how you were going to talk your way out of it. 

“Because you put it on on purpose so I’d see it and you were never supposed to know that I wore this or see me in it.” 

Daniel looked more pleased with that answer than if you would have told him you wore it for him. 

“Right, gotcha.” He laughed, his eyes lingering on you a little too long. 

“Watch the road.” 

“I am a world class driver, I don’t need a backseat driver alright?” 

“I’m in the passenger seat.” 

“Keep it up and you’re getting the worst tattoo I can think of.”  Daniel tried to sound threatening, but it was lost completely with the smile and laugh in his voice. 

“So a Daniel Ricciardo tattoo?” You couldn’t help it. It was too easy and too much fun. 

Daniel laughed loudly, the sound warming you from the inside out as you wore a proud smile. 

As he pulled into his parking garage you realized just how close he lived to you. And also reminded of just how much more money he had than you. 

You whistled lowly at the cars you passed. 

“What?” Daniel asked, pulling into a spot and shutting off the car. 

“It’s like a museum of expensive cars.” You laughed. 

“You do remember you’re in Monaco right?” 

“Duh. I just…nevermind, it’s not important.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car, waiting for Daniel as you didn’t know which way to go. You’d never been to his apartment. 

Daniel strode up next to you, taking your hand in his. You looked down at your hands, blinking in surprise. Your cheeks were going to actually hurt from smiling by the time this day was over. 

The door to Daniel’s apartment was barely even closed and his lips were already on yours. He kisses you passionately, the kiss feels…different…than before. Like he’s missed you. His kiss makes your head spin, even though you’d ought to be used to it by now. 

His hands are on your waist as he pulls you to him firmly. His hands then slide down, the pads of his fingers press firmly into your ass and you whimper in response, fingers threading through his hair and gripping tightly. 

His mouth devours yours, his teeth biting your lips and then his tongue smoothing over the bites soothingly. The sounds you make are desperate and needy and should be absolutely embarrassing, but you don’t care. You can’t care. You hadn’t seen him at all for a few days before today and you craved him more than you’d ever admit. 

You pull his flannel off of him, tossing it somewhere as he walks you somewhere, navigating slowly without breaking the contact between your lips. You feel the edge of his bed hit the back of your legs and you fall back, taking him with you. 

Daniel pulls your leggings off in seconds, his movements hurried and desperate. You raise an eyebrow in question. 

“Can’t drag it out, m’sorry babe.” He shakes his head. “Need to be inside you, I’ve missed it so much.” 

Your stomach flips in the most delicious way at his words, unsure of which part of his confession you like the most. 

You nod, sitting up to help rid him of his shirt, your lips finding their way back to his desperately. 

Daniel fumbles with his pants and boxers and then before you even realize what’s happening, he’s pinned you to his bed, your arms above your head, held with one of his large hands at your wrists. His other hand discards your underwear and his knee knocks your legs open wider. 

You glance down at the hoodie you’re still wearing and Daniel tracks your eye movement. 

“I want you to leave it on. I want to fuck you in my clothes.” He states as he pauses to take you in, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. 

His words make you squirm under him, your hips lifting up and pressing to his desperately searching for some friction. 

“Please” You whisper and whine. “Please Danny, need you.” 

Daniel obliges, pushing himself into you in one solid thrust. You cry out loudly, your arms fighting against the restraint he held you in. He releases you and your arms immediately wrap around him, one hand twisting into his hair. 

He always fills you so incredibly full, you’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to it. You hope you don’t, the stretch burns too perfectly. 

“Fuck…” Daniel breathes, his mouth right next to your ear. He’s still for a moment and you wiggle under him, urging him to move. 

“Hold on, I just…” He laughs breathlessly “...need a moment.” 

You laugh softly and he shudders in response, the muscles of his back rippling tight, a low groan coming from the back of his throat. 

“Don’t do that!” He whines.

“Don’t laugh?” You question, the question itself making you want to laugh. 

“I dunno what the fuck you’ve done, but you’ve turned me into a teenage boy.” He pulls back, looking down at you in astonishment. “The second I’m inside you it’s too good.” 

The way he makes eye contact with you while he says those words makes you writhe under him, you can’t help it. He smirks and slowly drags himself out of you and then thrusts back in roughly. Your eyes squeeze shut and all thoughts erase from your mind besides how fucking good he feels. 

Daniel’s hand slides between you, his fingers beginning to circle the aching bundle of nerves between your legs. You throw your head back against his bed, crying his name out loudly. 

“Missed this.” Daniel gasps, his hands holding your hips so firmly as he drives into you that you’re expecting bruises. 

You nod frantically in agreement, pulling him down to you so you can kiss him sloppily. 

“I promise I’ll take my time with you after this.” He whispers against your lips. “I’ll make you come over and over again until you pass out.” 

You moan at his words, nodding again involuntarily and begging for it before you even realize you’re speaking, not even recognizing the sound of your own voice. 

“Such a good girl” Daniel purrs, his fingers perfectly complementing his thrusts. “Always willing to do whatever it is I decide we’re doing.” 

His praise shoves you closer to the edge violently, and as you open your mouth to tell him you’re close, he speaks before you can. 

“You look so fucking good in my clothes. How was I supposed to go slowly with you when you show up in my hoodie and the sight drives me fucking mad.” Daniel leans down and nips the spot where your jaw meets your neck, just under your ear. 

“Makes you look like mine.” 

Mine.

The word pushes you over the edge. 

“Danny!” You come hard, your orgasm flooding every inch of your body with hot waves of pleasure, your vision almost blacking out for a moment.

Daniel coaxes you through each wave, and then holds you to him tightly as he comes inside you, your name and infinite praises cried into your ear. 

You’re both still for a moment and all you can hear over and over are the confusing words and titles uttered today. 

Friends. Mine. Missed you. 

For the first time, you let yourself think about what it would look like to actually be his. To spend every night in a bed next to him. To be able to hold his hand and kiss him in public. To finally get rid of the weight of such a huge secret. 

Before you can get much further, you stop yourself. Friends are a long cry from together. And the all those reasons you just simply ‘can’t’ are still there and still real. 

Daniel propped himself up on his arms and pulls out of you slowly and then flops onto his back, grabbing you and bringing you with him so you’re laying with your head on his chest, his arms wrapped around you tightly. You tense slightly. With all of your thoughts bringing you back to the very real reasons that you and Daniel would never seriously be together, the gesture now feels extremely intimate. 

So you quickly hop up and make an escape to the bathroom, which you assume can’t seem too weird as it’s something you’d need to do no matter what.

When you come back, Daniel smiles from where he’s now sitting in bed and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to him to hug you tightly, his face on your stomach buried in the fabric of his hoodie.

You tense entirely this time. 

“What?” Daniel notices and pulls back to look up at you. 

“What what?” You don’t look down, in fact you close your eyes. 

“You got all stiff and weird.” He hugs you again, like trying again will remedy it. “See?!” 

“I’m not, I just wasn’t expecting you to hug me.” You shrug. 

“You aren’t much of a hugger, are you?” He says it casually, but it lands like kind of an insult. 

“I dunno…” You frown and pull out of his grasp, crossing the room to grab your discarded underwear and leggings, relieved that you have something to do to avoid his gaze. He’s kind of right, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy hugs.

“What, was someone not hugged enough as a child?” He laughs and you can hear the grin in his voice. 

He’s joking. You know he’s joking. Teasing like the two of you always do. And yet, you freeze with your hands pulling your pants up halfway up your legs, the words catching you completely off guard, making your stomach flip and this time it’s not in a good way. 

There’s a tense silence, like he’s waiting for you to laugh or tease him back or just…respond at all. You finish pulling your clothes on and then swallow, the lump forming in your throat making it challenging. 

It’s not his fault. He doesn’t know. You try and reassure yourself but when he speaks again, your rational brain leaves the building. 

“Mommy or Daddy issues could actually explain a lot. Why you aren’t a hugger…” He kept talking, still joking and all you wanted was for him to shut up. “..why you aren’t affectionate. Might even explain that praise kink you’ve got going on.” He winks and cackles, obviously trying to get a rise out of you. 

You feel like you’re going to throw up or cry or both. 

“Not affectionate?” You snap, whipping your head towards him. “How would you know if I’m affectionate or not?” 

Daniel’s smile falls from his face and his eyes widen in shock when he realizes you’re absolutely not joking. He just blinks a few times, stuttering for an answer. 

“Maybe I’m not a hugger or not affectionate towards you because you’re a giant shitass. Did you get that from your mommy and daddy?” You can’t help it. If you don’t scream at him you’ll break down in tears and that would be much, much worse. 

When your eyes start to burn with hot tears anyway, you know you have to get out of here. Sure you got a ride, but it’s Monaco and everything is close. You just need out of this apartment, where you can breathe, where you can sit down and ease the tightening growing in your chest. 

Before he can say anything else, you bolt, slamming his bedroom door behind you. You make it to the front door and grab your shoes, not bothering to even put them on. Your hand grabs the handle and you hear the bedroom door open, your name being called out frantically. 

“No, stop, just wait! I was just joking!” Daniel hurries after you, now clad in only boxer briefs. 

“Some joke.” You scoff, opening the door and then letting it slam shut behind you without even a glance back at him. Once you exit, you glance to the left and then the right, trying to remember which way you came from. 

The door opens again and you set off, needing to go any direction that takes you away from him. 

“Will you please just wait a fucking second?!” Daniel calls from the door. You’re relieved that he isn’t wearing any clothes because it means he can’t follow you any further. “I didn’t mean any of it like that!” 

You don’t give him any indication that you even heard him, you just keep speed walking intently. When it’s silent after that, you take a quick glance back behind you, exhaling in relief when you see his door shut again and no sign of him. 

You wrap your arms around yourself as you walk in the dark, inhaling slowly to try and ground yourself, but it doesn’t work, hot tears spill down your face, a soft sob wracking your body. 

“How could I be such a fucking stupid….” Daniel grumbled under his breath as he dressed as quickly as possible, nearly falling his face as he clumsily tried to get a shoe on.

He had to apologize. No way he was just going to let you leave like this. No way was he going to let everything go back to the way it was before, when you hated him so much you couldn’t stand to even be in the same room as him. 

The fact that dawned on him was one that should have been realized a long time ago. He didn’t know anything about your family at all. Not a single detail. You never spoke about them. 

Maybe that should have been my hint… He scolded himself again, shaking his head, furious at himself. He finally ran out the door, jeans and a random shirt thrown on, a hat grabbed on the way out. 

He jogged along the route you would have taken home, but saw no sign of you. Maybe you called a ride? Or sprinted all the way home so he wouldn’t have a chance of catching up to you? 

When he made it to your flat, he pounded on your door for what felt like 30 minutes. His hand was starting to get sore. But he wasn’t giving up, he couldn’t just leave, he needed to explain, to apologize for being such an oblivious asshole. 

He had to. He had to fix it because it was finally, finally starting to go right. 

Friends. Max had said you were friends today and you didn’t correct him or sound appalled at the idea.

And I had to go and blow it because I thought I was funny…

Daniel gave his hand a much needed rest and moved to your window, trying to peer in without looking like a creeper. The lights were off. He didn’t see your shoes by the door, any other signs that you'd recently got in. You didn’t come home. 

His mind quickly tried to decide what would make more sense, going to Charles or Max’s. If you went to Max’s he’d ask questions, he’d assume Charles upset you and knowing Max, he wouldn’t let it go easily with the other. 

But were you close enough with Charles to go to him for comfort?

How is it that I don’t even fucking know a goddamn important thing about her?! 

“Fuck!” He blurted in exasperation. He’d been angry at himself plenty of times before. Baku after the incident with Max. After many qualifying sessions this year. Even after the first time he met you. But this? This took the cake. 

“Alright. Charles’ first and then Max’s.” He spoke out loud to himself, like it would help him get a grip. It didn’t.

He wasn’t going to call first. He didn’t want to be told that you didn’t want to see him or to go home. No, he needed to see you tonight.

Thankfully on the 5th or 6th knock, the door to Charles’ apartment opened. 

Daniel knew just by how unimpressed Charles looked, that you had to be here. 

“You are a fucking idiot.” Charles stated. 

Yep that confirms it.

“I know.” Daniel nodded in agreement. “I know, I just need to talk to her for a second, she didn’t let me explain.” He tried to look over Charles shoulder to see if he could spot you, wave you down, something, anything. 

“I’m not sure there is much to explain, what you said was straight forward.” Charles didn’t so much as budge from where he stood blocking the door. 

“I know, but I didn’t know about….her situation…when  I said it. I still don’t even really know, I’m guessing she doesn’t have a good relationship with her parents? It doesn’t matter, I know that I fucked up.” 

“Does not have a good relationship with her parents?” Charles sounded disgusted. He looked over his shoulder as if to make sure you weren’t around and then stepped outside with Daniel, closing the door behind him.

“This is not my place but it doesn’t seem you quite understand what you said.” Charles started.

Daniel had a feeling he was about to feel a lot worse. 

“Her mother raced, that’s where she got the love of it. There was an accident. After her mother passed away, her father gave up. He didn’t take care of himself or her. Unsupportive would be saying it lightly. She went to live with her uncle, who raised her. “ Charles huffed out a breath. “That’s the very short version, she can tell you the detailed story.” 

As Daniel let Charles’ words sink in, he was sure that he’d never ever fucked up so badly before in his life. 

“And I thought the comment you made last week was bad” Charles grumbled, his words trailing off into a sigh. 

Daniel paused, trying to remember what it was he’d said. Then it clicked. 

Thanks mate, but she has a mum.

Fuck. 

Somehow, it got worse. 

He wasn’t just angry at himself or annoyed at himself like he was in the past when he thought he’d gone too far with you. 

He loathed himself. 

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[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Shades of Red - Chapter II | 4k

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x civilian f! reader ✦ Summary: The sole survivor of a terrorist attack that killed over a hundred. The soldier responsible for saving her. He wants to help you, but his own trauma make him withdraw when he wants to get closer and intoxicate when he wants to remedy. He kisses your scars and hopes you’ll runaway. He wants you to run away. But you won’t. ✦ TW: NSFW, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, canon typical violence, mentions of abuse and trauma/PTSD, bit of gore, mental illness mentions, slowburn;

✦ Chapter TW: slightly obsessive behavior hehe.., just a hint yet; mentions of trauma and violence

A/N: Dropping chapter two because I'm excited to start the real deal of this story! Also, chapter three might take a little while to come out cause I'm working on a request I received; hope y'all enjoy! If anyone's interested in getting into a tagslist just lemme know!

Chapter 02 - Survivor

The hospital room you were in was pleasantly cozy. A large bed in the center, a considerably large television right in front of it and the big window to the left, whose blinds were closed for the time being. There were a few empty chairs next to the bed - you were sure that at some point in the last hours, someone was sitting there, as there was a small vase of flowers resting on one of the chairs. Although you could not see the world out there, you knew it was raining by the sound of the raindrops hitting the window; the sound echoed through your ears in an almost hypnotic intonation as you dissociated.

Your daydreaming was abruptly cut off when someone opened the door to your room. A lady, a nurse, whose name tag said Doris. You shook your head and quickly looked in her direction, your eyes no longer as confusing as before, but equally expressive.

“You’re awake, finally.” She pointed, as she approached her bed with some caution. “You’ve been sleeping for at least fifteen hours since you came here. I was starting to worry,” she said, sounding somewhat caring.

You raised your eyebrows briefly.

“Fifteen hours? Fuck my life…” You whispered, and her face turned into a little grimace in response.

“Language, lady.” she joked, as her hands caringly wrapped your nearest arm and began to remove the tapes that covered your venous access. “How are you feeling?” She asked in a murmur. “I don’t expect you to say ‘well,’ for God’s sake.” she pleaded.

“Well, I’m not feeling any pain at least.” you said. For the first time in those twenty-four hours in which you were silent, your mouth bitter in the metallic taste of blood and the horrible feeling of a cake in your throat, you began to speak. There was still a lot you wish you could say, but felt like you might never get to do it. You could never take the weight you felt on your back, the unsaid words, the pain that grew restless in your mind.

“That 's good. Means the medication is working; you hurt yourself pretty bad let me say,” she commented, still trying to sound as caring as possible. The care that emanated from her made you feel a little better, you had to admit. “but you will be fine. Can you move your leg?” She finally asked, finishing by skillfully exchanging your access without causing further pain.

You looked into your legs, and felt that bitter taste invading your mouth again. Fuck. You didn’t stop to think about it: that wound on your leg, previously partially buried by concrete, was well, very extensive. 

After breathing deeply, you concentrated your energies into the hurt leg. Your face shrugged in a strenuous expression, you were giving your best; your leg began to tremble and the rest of your body too, by the effort. It was as if that concrete block was still there, preventing its movement, causing you to suffer in stuckness.

“It’s okay, you can stop now.” she said, but you were negative and shaken your head with all the strength you could, small tears forming on your red face as you tried to move.

“No. I can do it.” you grumbled between your teeths and closed your eyes.

“Dear, no-” she tried to say, but nothing seemed to be able to change your mind right now.

A little move was all you got, and then the relief. Your breath accelerated, exasperated and relieved by victory, but still concerned by the fact that all you could achieve was almost equivalent to a spasm. Doris sighed.

“Why can’t I move straight?” You asked, your eyes ran into hers with some despair and impatience. "Will I lose my leg’s movements? Will I need to amputate?” You asked anxiously.

“God, girl. No!” She assured you, striking with her head and placing a new tape on your arm. Doris then walked to the end of your bed. “No one will amputate anything. Just see, well,” she started, and pulled the blankets that covered you from the waist down. 

Your expression relaxed, perplexed as you looked at the scarring on your leg. Almost like a crack, in your thigh — it started near your hip, and went up to almost half your thigh in a diagonal angle. It was a red, ugly wound, a crack in your now imperfected shell. It was sewn with the help of so many stitches that you could barely count. “you hit a nerve. It didn’t break, of course, or could barely move this leg, but it hurt and badly. It will take some time for you to recover from it. But you will.” she said.

“It’s horrible,” you whispered, your eyebrows scratched in a sad expression. “I’m horrible.”

Doris looked at you, to the tears that formed in your tired eyes. Her lips were compressed in a line.

“Oh, dear... You’d never be awful, don’t say that,” she whispered. “A scar won’t make you any less beautiful. Got it? It’s your survival mark.” she said, trying to encourage you a little.

You wanted to curse her. You felt angry at the kindness she offered you, for trying to make everything seem less heavy than it really was, but it didn’t seem fair. You knew that this should be some reaction of your mind poisoned by the depression you felt now. 

It would not be fair to discount your frustrations on the only person who had offered you some comfort so far, would it?

No.

Your face formed a smile so weak that maybe it only made her more worried than she was already, but that was all you could do for now. Doris covered you again, fitting the blankets around your body in a very comfortable way.

“I’ll bring your lunch. You’ll need to eat enough to get some energy for your recovery now.” she commented quietly by changing the IV from the support over you. Your eyes followed the whole process attentively.

Although you were grateful for the treatment you were receiving from the hospital, there was only one thing surrounding your mind. The Ghost.

The man in the skull mask who had saved your life. He was nowhere to be seen, you knew that you might possibly never see him again, but the idea that you didn’t even have time to thank him correctly tormented your mind. He was in your dreams while you were unconscious, standing there looking at you, glaring at you with those dark eyes of his. The curiosity of what was hidden behind the mask was hitting you hard this time, the need to see something human in him; the way his eyes seemed to present him as nothing but a machine. He seemed unbeatable, but when he took you in his arms, gently as he could be, like he was holding porcelain - you could only see a human being. And you wanted to see it, you craved for confirmation, that there was a human beneath the mask and that this human was just the way you pictured him to be. Or perhaps the complete opposite. You liked surprises, and fairly - you just wanted to see him.

“Where are the soldiers? You know, those who took me out of the building.” You curiously asked, cleaning your throat. The nurse's eyes wandered around the room in search of the small window that turned out to the hallway, she could not see anyone there, a confirmation that they might have been there before but not anymore at the moment. “I didn’t have time to thank him.” you whispered.

“Ah yes. Of course. Captain Price said he would call you when you were feeling a little better. Do you want me to give  them a call?” Doris asked kindly.

“Yes, please,” you agreed.

━ ⟡ ━

Soap was watching the news on TV in the town hall of the headquarters. His eyes were attentive, his ears well opened; he heard the television reciting for the thirteenth time that day those words that echoed in his mind, "hundred and two dead." The news anchor was saying something about the intelligence’s inability to detect the terrorist threat before the bombing occurred. Massive criticism of the military staff responsible for national security; people were in panic. How would you feel safe after that?

After the 141 left the building back to the headquarters, the British intelligence team searched the ruins of the disaster looking for any indication of association of some terrorist group known to the incident. At first, nothing. Bombers usually leave no traces but a blast of blood and human flesh everywhere.

But then, an agent left the building with a piece of semi-destructed cloth in his hands. It was almost incomprehensible but soon they discovered a symbol in it. And to the most absolute disappointment of all, no soul even recognized the symbol in question. A new terrorist group.

Fuck.

While the population was hiding in fear, the press was rendering a disgrace to society and introducing even more chaos by spreading information that should be confidential. Soap was too distracted with their babbling to even listen to Price and Ghost’s conversation in the background. 

“She will need physiotherapy, and a good time to recover.” said the captain, releasing some smoke from his cigarette into the air. “She apparently suffered a nerve injury.” 

Ghost had his arms crossed, resting on the wall behind himself, facing Price. His eyes were fixed on the ground, as if he was thinking of something.

“I can imagine.” he whispered, with a head nod. “I hope it goes well. What these guys did there...” he closed his eyes and snorted, seeming nervous.

“Yeah... The press won’t give anyone no peace now. I get nervous just to think.” he grumbled as he threw his cigarette butt into the ashes. Ghost only shook his head negatively, in disapproval; in accordance with the captain’s speech. 

The silence that followed Price’s last words did not last more than five seconds before he spoke again.

“She asked about you.” he said, raising his eyes to Ghost. He was looking back at him this time. It was as if his words had caught his attention now. “Said she wanted to thank you personally.”

“She doesn’t need to. I just did my job.” he argued, pulling his back off  the wall and pulling one of the available chairs around. As he sat down, he grabbed a piece of a disassembled rifle that rested on the table, and went on with his work to clean it.

“I know that, but work sometimes involves accepting a bit of gratitude from other people for what you did for them, Riley. In this situation specifically.” Price raised his eyebrows, and watched the gun as Ghost cleaned it, his concentration quickly diverted from the conversation to the work he was doing. “You should go see her.”

“With all due respect, captain, I think the job of talking to the victims is anyone else's but mine.” he replied almost instantly.

“Maybe, maybe. But she wants to talk to you.” Price insisted.

Ghost released an annoyed, almost annoyed breath. 

“She doesn’t have to thank me. I know she’s grateful,” he tried to argue again, but the captain seemed irreducible for the moment. “Bloody hell, Price, hire a psychologist for once. She needs help, not to talk to me.” he continued, receiving nothing but silence in response.

“She wants you.” Price said, simply, unfazed by his upset behavior.

Ghost immediately stopped what he was doing and left the gun aside, the hand

supported on his knee, once again an uncomfortable breathing leaving his nostrils in a surely irritated mood now.

They would not understand. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you; there would be no reason for it, no. Ghost didn’t want to see you again. He followed the whole moment the ambulance left you in the hospital along with the rest of his crew, was informed of your situation, and like all other soldiers, he was discharged after that.

His job was to rescue the victims who survived the attack. Not to talk to a victim, sketch some sort of feeling – even if it is false. He would need to say something, comfort you, or at least try to look positive. He would have to face the idea that getting in touch with your trauma could remind him some more of himself, could bring back past memories he wanted to bury. There was no good in it, no. He wasn’t a therapist, wasn’t built for it.

Although he wanted to, he couldn’t feel compassion for you. He couldn’t feel sorry – He thought it was an extremely illegitimating, invalid feeling. Affirming that someone was worthy of pity was almost like treating someone like garbage, no; he would rather die than have others pitying him, why would it be different with the people around him? He wasn’t the right person for that.

As if the universe laughed at his face, the moment the conversation between the two became silent and he raised his eyes to the television, the image of the building's debris was replaced by one of the only survivor of the attack; a recent photo you had taken in London, two months ago. You were smiling, you could still do that at that time. The screen displayed your name, while the reporter was now talking about you.

“It’s her; poor girl.” Soap said, turning a little to observe them, and turned up the volume. The news said something about your success in keeping yourself alive: you were treated as a great achievement, called a ‘miracle girl'; they were talking about you as a poor little girl, about how clever you were, in college studying to become a prestigious doctor. Ghost squeezed his jaw, his teeth gritted in a bitter taste inside his mouth. There was no miracle in what happened to you.

You were lucky. You were in the right place, at the right time. 

Two hundred people did not have the same luck.

A hundred and two people, men, women and children, were now dead. You had eternal marks engraved on your skin and soul. A miracle? He felt offended as if he were with himself — as if they were calling him a miracle for having survived all the painful events he had experienced so far.

“How dare they say this kind of thing?” he grumbled lowly. The other two shrugged their heads in denial, in disagreement.

“Fucking vultures.” it was Price’s turn to complain.

━ ⟡ ━

You had turned off the TV the moment you heard your own name. There was no reason you’d want to know, to to hear what they had to say about you. You didn’t want to hear them treat you as a mere victim of an incident, acting as if that disaster was all about you that mattered. You hated the way everything seemed to be reduced to that now: the attack.

The survivor. The only survivor. Your name didn’t matter anymore – you had become a martyr, and everyone treated you with caution, as if you were made of glass, as though it was impossible to get close to you without the risk of breaking it.

Since the silence established itself in the environment when you turned off the TV, all you heard was the static silence floating in the air, sound of little drops that flowed through your veins. Your mind had become vague, your thoughts made room for your imagination, you slowly fell asleep. There was a long time after you felt unconscious - you weren’t sure of how much exactly. Maybe two, maybe three hours. You had asked Doris to open the window before she let you rest alone in your room, and the wind was hitting your skin, still sensitive due to the excess of meds; the subtle cold you were feeling was making you feel alive.

The lights were off, and as soon as it became dark, the lights of the city reflecting through the window were no longer enough to light up the room belongings.

In that intense darkness and in the most absolute silence possible, the ghost that haunted your dreams was standing, tall as always, at the end of your bed. Haunting you. Silent like a snake approaching a possible victim, even his breath seemed to be controlled enough not to make a noise. His eyes, behind the mask, fixed on you; you slept quietly in a heavy sleep that was obviously the result of the strong medicines you were taking. He approached the bed a little, your hand was laying in your body side by the bed. So small.

Drop.

Drop.

The sound of the drops of IV falling through the bag invaded the environment as if it were the sounds of a giant walking. The big night silence had this effect on small sounds – it enlarged them. You heard the sound of the window closing inside your dreams, but that didn’t seem to wake you up. The cold wind no longer hit your skin, and you began to warm up.

How long has passed since the sound of the curtains closed you could not say; but what awakened you knew: it was the sounds of the door opening. You instinctively frightened and adjusted your posture in bed a bit abruptly, until you realized that the man who was entering — now unarmed though still dressed in his combat suit — was him. The Ghost.

He watched you in silence for a few seconds before shaking his head.

“Did I wake you?” He asked, the same serious and rough voice, the loaded British accent, different from your American one. “Forgive me.”

“You’re all right.” was all you could think of answering in the first moments. His eyes looked at you altogether; he was so tall that only his presence there made you feel intimidated, even if that was not his goal. “Don’t you want to sit?”

“I don’t intend to delay myself much.” He responded quickly, getting a little closer to the bed and sitting on one of the chairs next to him just to match your heights a little, imagining it should be uncomfortable for you, bending your neck to look at him standing. “Do you need something?”

“No. I’m fine now,” you whispered, sitting down. “I just wanted to thank you personally. I didn’t have time before, I- I just don’t think I was in good senses for it.” you admitted, holding your hands together on your lap.

“I just did my job.” he nodded, a serious air to his words. Ghost seemed like a man of few words, of few feelings too. His tone was monotone, always serious, seemingly stern sometimes. Made you feel like it was perhaps due to his habit of giving orders; he was a tenant, as Price told you. You knew little about the military hierarchy you had to admit, but the little knowledge was enough for you to know he did give orders. 

“I know, but... What you call ‘job’, to me was saving my life.” you seemed to try to remind him as if it was something obvious. “If I have any way to reward you for that, please tell me.”

Ghost closed his eyes for a moment and stretched his neck, shooking negatively.

“Again, I just did my job. You don’t have to reward me for that.” he said, looking at the flower vase that rested on the headboard table for a moment.

Simon noted that although there were thousands of gifts and tickets on the outside, sent by ordinary citizens in support of your situation - there were no balloons or any indication of a family or friendly gift inside your room. Only those flowers.

They were addressed to Anthony Miller. He assumed it would be your boyfriend.

“You don’t get it, Ghost. It’s not  about needing, it’s just something I want to do. It doesn’t have to be right now, you can tell me in the future if you need a favor or something like that.” 

“I don’t usually need favors.” he assured, snorting at your insistence, but trying to stay as polite and friendly as possible. He didn’t want to end up making you worse, did he? You were already sad enough. 

“Everyone needs favors. I also used to not need many before yesterday’s events.” You admitted, raising your eyebrows quickly and turning your gaze away.

“I didn’t do you a favor. I helped you, those are completely different things.” He shook negatively, irreducibly. “Any other decent soldier would do the same. You owe me nothing.” 

“Yes, but it was you. If it had been someone else then I’d like to thank this person.” you argued, and your stubbornness began to irritate him; he gave in compassion to your state and only sighed deeply.

“That’s all you have to treat with me, miss?” He asked, turning his head a little, and you corrected him; do not call me lady, you murmured, and instructed him to call you by your name.

You watched him in silence for a few seconds, before breathing deeply.

“Actually no. I have a request.” you said, in a whisper, and he shrugged his head as if giving you a positive one. “Can I see the face behind your mask?” You asked curiously.

“Negative.” He answered, almost immediately, without even giving you a chance to try to refute or argue. “I can’t show my face, and if it relieves you if anything, it’s not a nice image to look at,” he continued, rising up.

You were a little desperate for his sudden rising, hoping he would stay a little longer. Of all those people with whom you had talked so far — Price, Doris; he remained the one who seemed to please you into a conversation the most. You wanted to talk to him, because, unlike others, Ghost did not treat you like a porcelain doll.

He was treating you like any other person. 

“No, wait — you think you’re ugly, is that so? I don’t care.” you assured. “I doubt you’re ugly, to be honest.”

“I didn’t say that,” he raised an eyebrow, seeming to have your commentary somewhat amusing. You raised an eyebrow in response and laid your body on the pillows behind you.

“Wouldn’t you open an exception for me?” You asked, and he shook negatively. You closed your eyes, in a frustrated but accepting sigh.

“Well- you get well soon. Hear me, girl?” Ghost gently said, and walked a little further to the door, and stopped in his steps before leaving. He looked at you for a moment. “Are you here alone?”

“Yeah, I am. Why is it?” You asked curiously.

“Because your IV is running out, and without those pain meds, let me tell you...” he raised his eyebrows quickly. “Should I call your boyfriend or a nurse?” He asked, glaring at  you.

“Wait- my boyfriend?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows for a moment, and he remained silent. His hand stood up and pointed to the flowers next to the bed, as if he mentioned that the person who sent them should be your boyfriend. You eyed the flowers and let out a soft laugh.

“Ah, that... No, it’s not from a boyfriend.” You explained.

“Well, I’ll call some nurse then.” he said, his hand leaned on the door knocker and his fingers danced in unison, in a thoughtful expression. He looked at you again. “Stay safe.” he said, before his huge, broad figure disappeared through the door and the long hallway of the hospital leaving you once again lost to your thoughts, and alone.

Your eyes looked at your own hands for a few seconds, and you realized that they were pleasantly warm. You looked out the window, closed.

How strange was the fact that you didn’t remember having closed the window, thought to yourself. 

It could have been Doris. But your intuition said no.

[im-poe-dameron]

STRENGTH AMONG STARS | JEHAATIR (untruth)

a/n: i am making it a goal to post a new chapter every week for this fic. i've never done it before, but hopefully i can actually complete this goal. i'm so excited for where it's about to go (not just because i adore rogue one) but absolutely because i love rogue one. there are also hints in here revolving another star wars character i adore as well! so i hope y'all enjoy!

summary: as jedha is destroyed, you rush to escape. only to land on eadu, intent on stopping one man's mission. but when things go wrong and your mind starts playing tricks on you...you're left to uncover a defining truth about yourself.

word count: 5.1k+

pairing: din djarin x fem!reader (force sensitive)

warnings: not explicit, angst so much angst, a bit of violence, cussing, more angst, and some hints at the future.

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Stuck in a cell is not how you imagined your life would go. After years of doing your duty, of training to be a Guardian of the Whills and trying to keep the last part of the Jedi safe, it had been ruined. The Empire took over with their new need and interest in Kyber crystals and you were forced out of the temple. You could still recall the faint taste of blaster residue in the air as they took the temple for themselves, in the only way they knew how. Through violence. 

There was nowhere to go, no purpose out of life now, and so you were left to deal with the aftermath of things. To somehow find a way past all of the heartache and pain that had been caused on your home—on the people around it. Chirrut remained with you, along with Baze, but all that there would be was just the ruins of what you used to have. A former life that you couldn’t let go, and neither could he. That was all you knew growing up, all that you had to call your own, and now there would be no way to get it back thanks to the Empire and the destruction they brought with them. 

Except now you were stuck in a cell as you waited for the next great plan of the two people who dragged you into a new fight. He said his name was Cassian, a Captain for the Rebellion and while you agreed to go with Chirrut, to help them you couldn’t deny that this was a mistake overall. That old feeling, the one you pushed away over the years until it faded had returned, except now it was stronger. The tug in your body that told you to get away from Jedha, to go somewhere else, but you could no longer listen to it, because you were damned to a cell. 

Chirrut spoke to the Captain, but you weren’t listening, choosing instead to focus on that feeling again. Trying your best to figure out what it was. Only the more you pulled it towards you, tried to grasp onto it, the more that it faded away. A tempting offer of power, of hope, and yet you weren’t able to reach a single piece of it. What the feeling was you’d never be able to tell, but all you knew was that there was a part of you, somewhere deep down that knew no matter what, you had to reach it. That the feeling was both a part of you as well as everything else around you.

“You mustn’t fight it.” Chirrut had turned to face you. 

“Fight what?” You knew he meant that unknown mysterious feeling that continued to creep up the back of your spine. The one that seemed to haunt you constantly for no reason as to why.

“I can see what you are trying to do, and you must not fight it.” He motioned for you to breathe in deeply and you followed suit knowing he’d chastise you if you didn’t. “In order to connect to the Force you have to accept it.”

You shook your head, rubbing at your forehead. “I wasn’t trying to-”

“Don’t lie.” He knew; he always knew. You were raised by Chirrut, taught the ways of life, of how to protect yourself and those around you. He could read you better than you could read yourself.

Falling back against the rocky wall you could feel the defeated feeling wash over you again. Stuck in a cell. That’s how you would end up spending your remaining time in this graveyard of a home that you once held so dear to you. With the remains of what you knew strewn about the place. Things were meant to be different, but instead they continued to get worse. Continuing to take away any small piece of hope you had left within you. 

“I don’t–” Taking in a breath you felt the sting of tears that wished to fall. But you refused to let them; not after everything you endured. This would not be what broke you. “I don’t see how I can connect to it. I am not like them, Chirrut.”

He smiled slightly. “Like who exactly?”

“Jedi. I am not one of them.” 

Shuffling closer with the allotted room, he came to sit in front of you, hands resting on his knees, the staff placed across them as well. “One does not need to be a Jedi to feel the Force. It is very possible without. But do not doubt where you come from.”

“How am I supposed to doubt it if I don’t know where that is?”

“Did I not raise you young one?” he asked, bringing your attention to him fully. “Did I not train you to be like me? A Guardian? Where you were born, is not the place you come from.”

You knew he was right. Knew that you didn’t belong to the place you were born, but rather to the place that you once called home. The temple would always be your home, no matter where you ended up in this galaxy, even in this small cell it stayed that way. So, you sat upright choosing not to focus on the chaos the Captain was causing with the man in the cell next to you, and closed your eyes. 

Small faint pieces of light were in front of you and you waded through what seemed like endless darkness to get to them. The world tuned out, the chaos turned to calm, and suddenly you could feel it; that one feeling you’d been grasping for after so long. It enveloped you, breathed life into you and everything around you, but you could also see something else.

Chirrut’s voice echoed in the back of your mind, something about coming back, but you were too far out. There would be no way to return in such a quick amount of time, and so you remained where you were. Surrounded by the light as you looked up and attempted to make out what was in the sky. Stars were the first thing you could see, their light mixing with the entity that surrounded you, but then beyond that, beyond the hope sat a circular object tainted with nothing but darkness. You could feel it seep into your bones, into everything around you, and all you wanted to do was escape.

Opening your eyes with a ragged gasp, you were pulled back to reality by Chirrut’s hands yanking you up into a standing position. You followed him out of the now open cell, but after what you saw, you knew that you had to get out of there.

“We have to go,” you gasped. “Something’s here.”

He tossed you the staff you built like his long ago as well as a blaster that came from the Captain’s pack. “I know.”

Perhaps he’d sensed it, or seen it somehow. You wouldn’t be able to say, because you were already running out of the place following Chirrut and Baze. The entrance was nearby, only a few feet away, when you felt it. The tug in your gut, filling your entire body until all you could do was wait for the inevitable to happen. A slight tremor in the ground shook the place where you stood, growing larger with every wave, until you had trouble staying upright. 

“They’re destroying it,” you whispered to no one in particular. 

He heard you anyway. “We must go!”

“What about them?” Someone ran your way, one of Saw Gerrera’s men. You kicked up your staff ready to defend yourself if necessary, but he was already falling to the floor due to Chirrut slamming his own staff into his back. 

“They will make it in time. We must go.” He didn’t bother to say anything more and you were meant to follow. What would happen if you didn’t find a way to get off this moon? Would you become a part of the ruins of your home? Become dust just as the memory and legacy of the Jedi did?

“What if they don’t get out?” you shouted.

It seemed that all your questions would be answered in a matter of minutes, because the Captain and the woman he brought with him sprinted out just as you asked. They didn’t wait for you, nor should they, because you were following them as soon as they were out. If you could not be a Guardian for the kyber crystals anymore, you would be a protector for those who needed it most.

However, as much as you prepared for this feeling that had haunted you all those years. Of peace no longer remaining that way, you still lost your breath when it all came to pass. The sight in front of you shattered what little strength you had left—what hope you held in your heart, because you could no longer see the horizon. Nothing remained of it except the ground that now floated in front of you as they destroyed your home, the one thing you had left.

You nearly came to a stop at the sight, willing yourself to keep running, to get off this moon and get somewhere safe. There would be nothing left for you here, but in a way there never was. Not since the Empire stripped you of your duty and forced you out of the one sanctuary you had. Nothing held you here any longer, but the bittersweet feeling of having to say goodbye to the only place you knew broke your heart. 

“Go, get on!” the Captain shouted as he sprinted past you.

Leaping onto the ship you helped boost up those who needed it before collapsing onto the ground near the door. An Imperial droid sat up front near the controls, but you couldn’t worry about that. Instead, you turned your attention to the sight of Jedha slowly being turned to ash—to a desecrate piece of rock. You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore—didn’t want to—and so you continued to watch. Even as the ship took off into space, you watched as bits of the moon floated into the emptiness of; the home you had, forever destroyed.

What was there to do now but grieve?

You knew that Chirrut could feel the heartache, the same pain as he felt the moon vanish. No life would be left there—nothing but another graveyard that you both had to come from. How much more of this could you possibly endure? You wouldn’t know, but for now, you wiped the stray tears from your cheeks and settled in for what you assumed would be a long journey. Wherever they were taking you, it didn’t seem like a good idea. Yet none of this was a good idea to begin with. 

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head back against the metal wall and hoped for some semblance of sleep. A few hours should give you enough time to feel rested and ready to go. For now, you couldn’t focus on the pain of losing everything. All you willed yourself to do was remember that you still held onto your family—the two people who you knew most in life. Chirrut and Baze lived on and for now...that was enough. 

The same feeling from earlier tugged at your gut, pulling you towards whatever light remained and you willingly went along. Chose to follow the light rather than the dark, because the darkness was more than you could bear. It whispered its promises to you—begged you to just give into the pain—but you didn’t wish to have that for your life. Refused to subject yourself to those horrors that awaited you. 

Light flowed through you, pushing and pulling all in unison until you felt like you were floating. You supposed that sleep had finally overcome you, because images, voices, places you’d never seen nor been to flooded your mind and you allowed it to happen. Gave into it, because it seemed that only in dreams could you find your light.

“Don’t touch that,” a voice you never heard before echoed in your mind.

“Maybe he likes to play with it, because it reminds him of you...” you replied.

A blurry sight of a man wearing a helmet, turning towards you followed the voices. “He might try to swallow it.”

You were shifting to face a small green creature in a seat, holding a metal ball to his chest. Swallow it? No. You could tell exactly why he wanted it, and could hear the voice of the creature in your head. How? You didn’t know, but it echoed loud and clear as if he was talking directly next to you. He said hello in a soft voice.

“He won’t swallow it,” you murmured, tugging lightly on the creature’s ear, earning a small smile in return from him.

“And you know this how?” The man turned back to whatever he was doing. You couldn’t see beyond him, as if that part of the dream was cut off to you, forcing you to remain in this small moment of peace. 

Smiling once more you felt the calm wash over you, giving you something to hold onto. That lost feeling of hope you thought you’d never get back, finally returning and filling your lungs with air. At last, you could breathe again, and feel some part of yourself returning.

“I just do,” you said softly.

Someone tapping your foot stirred you from your dream and brought you back to reality. No longer were you sitting speaking to someone you didn’t know, nor were you attempting to talk to the creature whose name you didn’t catch. Instead, you were back on the ship, back to the reality of a lost home and a new journey on your hands. Chirrut was speaking to the woman who’s name you also didn’t get while Baze made sure you stayed awake.

“Where are we?” you asked groggily, sitting up fully and blinking the sleep from your eyes. 

“Eadu,” Baze replied.

“Eadu? I thought we were going to the Rebel base.” You got to your feet and grabbed your staff, seeing that one person was missing in the ship. “Where’d he go?”

Chirrut turned in your direction. “I believe he went to complete his mission.”

“Mission?” you asked, seeing the woman had disappeared as well. Realization dawned on you the second you saw Chirrut open the ship door and get out to follow them. He liked to put himself in the battle, to help people, just like you did, but this was different. This felt different. 

Trying to think back to what would have made Chirrut go after the pilot in the first place, you came up blank except for one thing in particular. The Force focused itself around someone who is about to kill—or at least that’s what you’ve been taught your whole life. Realization hit you slower than you would have liked but you were already moving from where you stood. Maker they were going after her father, and you seemed to be the only one with sense enough to remain there on the ship.

“I don’t like it, but Cassian said to stay put.” The droid’s voice came out of nowhere causing you to jump. “They should have just given me a blaster. I could have helped them,” he mumbled.

“He’s going to kill her father...” You knew that you weren’t the only one with that information already, and it had you reaching for the blaster you held earlier. Jumping out into the pouring rain, you didn’t bother with covering up, knowing that you would dry eventually.

The droid called after you, but there would be no point in going back. Chirrut was following the woman and you were going after the pilot. No death would be had today—not if you had any say in the matter, but just as everything happened in the universe, you never had a true say. Not even things that concerned people you cared for. You knew in your heart that Chirrut and Baze would be okay where they were. They had faced far worse. But the pilot, the woman…the fear came off of them in waves. It seeped into the air around them, just as the rain did.

“No one has any fucking sense,” you muttered out, climbing the hill. 

Except you froze where you stood, the sounds of battle echoing in the air around you and bringing you back to that feeling of dread earlier that never went away. Forget the pilot—forget the woman—you had to get back to where Chirrut was. Gripping your staff, you sprinted down the hill, trying your best not to slip on the way down and nearly failing. But the need to get to your family overruled your body's wants at this point. So you continued on your way until you saw the flash of orange in the distance, illuminating the rain and rocky towers. 

“Chirrut!” you shouted. “Baze!” 

Another explosion rattled even you as what looked like X-Wings flew over your head and towards wherever the trouble was. You shut your eyes, focusing on that feeling again, desperately trying to reach it, and hoping with everything in you that the people you loved were safe. All of the chaos around you quieted down to a low hum until you were very aware of the rain hitting your face—soaking into your clothes. Until you could see every stone and pebble on the planet, and you pushed farther, past the point of want into pure need.

“Jyn! We have to go!” the voice of Cassian hit your ears.

“No! I can’t leave him!” the woman shouted over the rain. 

“Listen to me. He’s gone.”

You could see them. See her clutching the face of the man who lay on the ground, the life gone from his eyes. You watched as she was dragged away, the heartbreak and pain in her eyes a sight that you knew far too well. The sight hit you in the chest, causing you to reach out to them, but then you felt it. The utter dread from earlier, the fear—all the things you wished to stay away from rush towards you—overwhelming your senses. You were trapped in a pit of nothingness. No longer could you feel the rain or see the planet, let alone them. You shoved your way through it; did everything you could to get away.

The feeling stuck to you, tried to sink into your skin like something that wished to own you. A gasp left your lips as you continued to fight against it, trying to untangle yourself from its grasp, but it was stronger than you could have imagined. The Force dug its way into you, begged, pleaded, pushed into your mind, to your heart. 

Just when you were ready to give in, allow it to take over you could see a faint light in the endless sea of darkness. What looked like a hand reaching out towards you? Without a second thought you grasped onto it—felt it drag you out from the darkness.

Falling back onto the ground, the breath rushing into your lungs, you tried to calm the panic that filled your veins. Whoever it was that dragged you out of that pit, they could feel you just as you felt them. Almost as if you were touching their actual hand and you raised your own, staring at the lines in your palm, hoping for answers. But just like everything else…you would get no answers to the questions locked in your mind. Instead, you’d just have to continue to push away the debilitating fear until you no longer felt it.

Chirrut’s voice called back to you as he came down the hill. “Are you okay?”

“What happened?” you asked, scrambling to your feet. 

“Are you okay?” He was demanding an answer from you, that much you knew. 

Nodding you took in a breath. “I’m okay. I went looking for you and–”

A ship descended behind you and you readied yourself to grab your weapon, but Chirrut’s hand came out to stop you. Cassian and Jyn came up behind you, running with blasters in hand and shouting at you to move—to get on the ship. What choice did you have but to follow? Spinning on your heel you rushed up the ramp, beginning to feel the fatigue from your battle wane on your body. Whatever that force was—whatever it did—you felt as if you could sleep for another day without fail.

Everyone remained silent as the ship went into hyperspace, the grief hanging in the air over everyone’s heads. You looked at Jyn, saw as she stared into space, a look of nothingness in her eyes. An expression you’d worn before. She lost her father, and you watched it happen, unable to do anything but stand there. If only you could help, could do something besides see what you did not wish to bear witness to. But that’s not how things worked.

“You were there to kill my father, weren’t you?” she muttered in Cassian’s direction.

He held no answers, but you could see it. The Force that slowly faded away from him—from his body after the ordeal that went down. There would be no going back from that. No excuses as to why he was there in the first place and even you didn’t wish to know. A pain in your head began to slowly spread its way through your body until you couldn’t discern reality from dreams again. Except you let it happen once more, because it felt better than fighting to stay awake.

“You fought well,” a voice said in your mind.

Could you respond? You weren’t sure. It felt like everything in your body was slowly being pulled apart and put back together simultaneously. But there was no pain in this action, only a tug here and there, a light flashing once in a while.

“This is just the beginning,” he said.

“Who are you?” you called out into the darkness. 

Nothing but silence echoed back, but you knew that he hadn’t left. At least not yet. No, he still remained somewhere in this place. Wherever you were. Reaching a hand out you tried to feel for something, anything that would give you a sign that you weren’t alone. That this—whatever it was—wasn't dangerous towards you. 

“You’ll figure that out soon enough.”

Figure out what? A flash of blue lit up the area around you, until you could finally see something in front of you. Except you couldn’t see his face, couldn’t discern anything except what looked like a blue sword, glowing in front of you. There was something about the weapon—a certain familiarity to it that had you reaching out for it. What was it about this that drew you closer? That had you wanting to connect to it? But then you understood.

“Kyber,” you whispered.

“A Jedi’s weapon relies on it,” he replied, giving you a moment to take all of this in. “But a lightsaber doesn’t make you a Jedi.”

You knew that already from the stories told to you by Chirrut. Growing up he regaled you with them nightly as you continued to make your wish to the stars. Kyber is what a lightsaber relied on, but you’d never seen one in person, let alone one that felt familiar. Perhaps you were truly dreaming, the exhaustion having gone to your head to a point of hallucinations. That had to be it.

“Who are you?” you asked again. “I feel like I know you...”

The saber was turned off—the light disappearing until nothing but darkness remained once more. He must not have liked the question. Where did you know him from? He felt like an old friend. Someone you should know. The more you dug in your mind for a name, for something other than just emptiness, the more you realized that there were no answers. To any of this. If you knew him, you wouldn’t be able to say how, or when.

“Protect yourself,” he said, his voice beginning to fade into the distance. “Trust only in the Force. It has the answers you’re looking for.”

The ship jolting woke you from whatever dream you were having. You could feel your energy slowly returning to your body, but you didn’t worry about that. Instead, you tried to remember the person who you dreamed of. The voice sounded extremely familiar to you even now as it echoed in your mind. Trust only in the Force? What did he mean by that? The doors opened and you shot to your feet getting ready to head off, but a staff blocked your way.

“What’s going on?” you asked with a smile. “Am I in trouble?”

He waited until the others shuffled off the ship leaving just the two of you. He didn’t say anything else—didn’t tell you what to do—just sat down slowly on one of the cargo bins that the Empire had on before. You could feel something was wrong and part of you didn’t wish for him to say it; wished for him to keep it from you. Yet there would be no keeping from you the things that you had to know. You knew that as well as him. 

“When you were born...” His words had you already collapsing onto the bin across from him. “I knew you were different.”

“Chirrut–”

He held up a hand for you to stay silent. “Your mother was young when she gave you to us. And she only had one promise that she was adamant we keep. That you know who you truly are when you are ready to choose.”

Your mother... You couldn’t even fathom the words he was saying to you, but nonetheless he continued.

“There is a reason I always told you to trust in the Force young one. I’ve known for a long time...but something tells me that you know it as well now too.” He heard your sharp intake of breath.

The tears stung your eyes as they fell down your cheeks. “Yes, I know,” you whispered. What had been speculation to you—nothing but utter dreams—was now being revealed to you as the truth. And as much as you wished to deny it, you could no longer do that. You knew that to deny it was to push away everything that made you who you are.

“Do you remember the piece of kyber you carry around with you? The one that you picked up whilst walking through the caves?” he asked. 

The same piece hung around your neck on a leather strand. When you were younger, a crystal had called out to you for some unknown reason, and you picked it up. Held it to you and felt that it was yours even before you had touched it. Chirrut told you to keep it with you at all times, to protect it as if it were the most precious thing you would own, because at the time you didn’t know that it in fact was.

“Kyber does not choose just anyone. It called out to you because of what you are. I was not meant to be your teacher for very long, but then again you were never meant to be a Guardian of the Whills.” He reached forward, searching for your hand until he found it and gripped it in his. “You are meant for much more than you know, young one.”

Letting out a choked sob, you smiled at him, gripping onto his hand for dear life. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Now it was his turn to smile. “I had a promise to keep.” He stood, pulling you up with him. “You are ready to choose your own way.”

“And what about you? Baze? What about the fight?” 

He chuckled, walking out of the ship with you in tow. “This fight will continue for many more years than even I. For now, choose to learn more about what you should be, what you always were.”

“Is this you saying goodbye to me Chirrut?” you asked softly. 

Turning towards you, he tapped his staff twice on the ground just as he always did; the sound a comfort to you now. “Goodbye? No. You only have to look through the Force to find me, young one.”

“What about what I am?”

“You are afraid.” He could point it out when you didn’t want him to, but at this point you didn’t mind it. “Don’t be. Jedi fear nothing.”

The word caused your breath to catch in your throat. Jedi. Jedi. Jedi. You repeated it over and over again in your head, but still it felt wrong to say, to even think about. You? A Jedi? Part of you expected to see Chirrut burst into laughter and tell you that he was telling another story, but even you knew that this was reality. Everything you questioned—everything you wondered about—it all clicked together seamlessly until finally you felt whole.

Another wave of hot tears spilled over onto your cheeks as one more realization dawned on you. “I’m going to miss you,” you whispered.

He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms tightly around you and giving you a comfort, you would miss. One last memory to hold onto as you did your best to find your path in life. Your path as a Jedi. You dug your forehead into his shoulder, letting a sob go as the pain from the day, from leaving, and having to say goodbye to so much hit you all at once. But he didn’t say anything against it. Instead he continued to let you cry as much as you wished, because in a way…he was saying goodbye to the only child he’d ever had.

The only child he could call his.

“The Force is with me,” he said as you pulled away. 

Wiping at your eyes you smiled at him. “And I am one with the Force.”

“And may the Force be with you always,” he replied.

Perhaps this wasn’t truly goodbye. At least that’s what you hoped. Except the truth hung in the air, finally spoken aloud for all to hear. You had a path in life, something to call yours, and as you gripped your staff in your hands, watching as Chirrut walked away towards the entrance of the base. You knew that this would be the right choice for you. The way you were meant to go.

The way of the Jedi.

[spikedsoul]

maid's worst nightmare - ch 18

damn, can't believe i'm roughly 27k words into this story and not only has it only been 3 days, but also no actual romance yet. hope y'all like slow burns...

previous chapters

@sovereign-of-succ

On one hand, your fingers were sore already, but on the other hand, the heel of your palm was getting tired from constantly kneading. You were working on the spaces between the uppermost spikes on his back, your whirlwind thoughts interrupted by how it seemed like you just barely started. You pulled your hands away, not for the first time, and stuck them in the warm water for a bit of relief.

"Again?" Bowser snorted. "Thought you were a handmaid."

"Which is a fancy name for a personal maid waiting on royalty - I'm not a masseuse," you retorted.

His head tilted slightly in what you could only assume was an exaggerated eye roll. Without another word, he shifted a bit and grabbed your hands; you squeaked softly as he pulled your chest to the edge of the tub. Instead of pulling you in, though, like you'd briefly feared, he took each of your hands in his massive paws and started to lightly massage your fingers and palms.

You flushed in embarrassment, but didn't pull away.

"What're you–"

"Hush. Let's make a deal, hm? I can get the lower half of my back without help, so you just finish up between the next set. But when I get out you oil my whole back down to my tail. It's not as intensive and you'll get a handy little cloth, like you're just wipin' off a kitchen counter really well. I may or may not make you comb my mane, too." He leaned his head back and turned to face to the side so you could meet his eyes, his big mitts still steadily massaging your hands.

The sigh you let out was a little more dramatic than it needed to be but you nodded. "Alright. Deal. I'm more used to doing laundry or sewing or cooking, not massaging a giant…" His eyes narrowed a little, warning you to be careful of your next word. You swallowed just a bit. "...Reptile," you finished.

He scoffed, "No shit? The fact you took like five breaks didn't tip me off or nothin'."

"Oh shut up," you muttered.

He finally let go of your hands, and you had to admit they felt much better. Well, you wouldn't admit that out loud to him, but it was a definite relief; you missed the way his nostrils flared and contracted as he turned his back fully to you again.

He hunched his shoulders a bit and leaned forward a little so you could access what little you had left of his skin to work on. You got to it without further complaint, kneading the soap into his skin as best you could, quietly enjoying how you could feel his quiet rumbling traveling up your arms from his back. It was almost like a cat's purr, honestly.

By the time you finished the last bit, your hands were sore again, but instead of complaining you just washed your hands free of the soap. No words were exchanged between the two of you as you took your leave of the bathroom and he moved to finish up what you hadn't done.

You almost, almost, went to peek your head back in when you heard him grumble to himself. However, you were quick to reason that if he'd wanted to say something or had an issue, he'd bring it up with you to your face. He wasn't exactly afraid to speak his mind, after all. Soon enough, Bowser was ambling his way from the bathroom with a few things clutched in his right hand: another bottle, a soft-looking cloth, and a comb.

"Remember - down to my tail," he instructed, pushing the items into your chest. You jerked your hands up to grab them before anything fell.

"Yes, your beastliness," you mumbled. He snorted softly and you waited until he turned his back to you to smile a bit. "Um, this is an awfully small bottle…"

"A little goes a long way, 'specially with that rag," Bowser replied. "Just put a little on and work until the sheen isn't getting applied anymore. Easy."

The genuine instructions were appreciated after the snarky bath you had to endure, but it left you with a question.

"So I really am just wiping you down like a wooden table?"

"You got it, little lady. Then just a brief comb through my mane, and after that you're done for the evening." He settled on his stomach with his chin on the pillow and his hands slipped under to help support his head. His knees splayed out to the side a little, like a monitor lizard or crocodilian, and you found that a little amusing.

For now, you set the comb on the bedside table closest to you, then moved to start on his left side. You dabbed a little of the oil on the cloth and started with his neck once again; sure enough, there was a noticeable sheen that stuck to his skin after just one pass. You opted to work the rag in circles to better and more evenly spread the oil. Just the little bit you used covered his whole neck, his shoulder, and just under the first couple of spikes. You had to move the spikes yourself but they weren't hard to handle.

Although it had been your decision to be thorough and rub down to the middle of his sides too, a blush crept into your cheeks as you worked lower; you'd basically railroaded yourself into swiping the rag over his hip. Despite his tummy, his hips were still relatively pronounced, and you were forced to reckon with the fact that he pretty much was all muscle - even that belly of his.

Bowser effectively had the physique of a power lifted.

…No wonder it had been so tough to massage him. Also, you could kill yourself for having this revelation because it was what got you into Rodney in the first place.

What could you say? You appreciated guys that could lift cars. It was just unfortunate that you realized this about King Bowser, your captor, who would eventually be giving you back to Princess Peach you hoped. And it wasn't like you actively sought Rodney out - you knew very well how to appreciate from a distance, but the man had seen you look one too many times and became rather persistent getting you to date him. He was sweet at first, as most abusers are, and by the time he'd shown his true colors it was too late.

You didn't intend to make that mistake again.

Your hand brought the cloth up underneath that last middle spike, over the divot at the base of his tail, and a tiny movement brought your careening thoughts to a crashing halt. Sure you had been mistaken, you repeated the action. But there it was again: his tail arched up a little at the base.

"Don't do that, you weirdo," you frowned.

"Do what?" he huffed. "Far as I know I didn't do anything."

"You're arching your tail like a damn cat when I get near the base," you stated. "So stop. It's weird."

His spikes clacked softly against each other as they briefly raised just a little and lowered again in a small wave. It was like he had to fight to keep them down, and you remembered Ludwig mentioning they were a tell of his.

"Then don't - if you don't wanna see it, just skip that part," he muttered without looking at you.

"Cool." You got up off the bed completely to move around to his other side; you didn't trust what might happen if you climbed over his legs. For whatever reason, Bowser seemed almost embarrassed by the tail arch, and you didn't care to humiliate the king.

It probably meant nothing, just a good spot like on cats and dogs and other animals. Yeah. Sure.

When you settled on his other side to continue the process, he turned his face away from you. You didn't comment. If he wanted to be a baby about it, fine with you - he was actually doing you a favor by reminding you he was a haughty man-child with the title of king. Silently, you continued your task, careful not to use too much oil and spreading it as evenly as you could, just as thoroughly as you'd done on his other side.

[meshlasolus]

House Of Memories (51/?)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!reader

Warnings: so much fluff, mentions of smut but none rlly

Summary: Awakening next to him, it has always been something you were grateful for, but especially this day, this day after.

A/n: alright ladies and gents this has been… a ✨filler chapter✨

also y'all if you like the story, maybe consider buying me a coffee :)

Words: 1.8k

Look at this gif please they are both so cute

The sun rose much earlier on Naboo than it tended to do on Coruscant, and you blinked against the bright light coming in through the glass doors. You instantly felt at ease with the warmth pressed against your back. His long, strong arms were holding you to him, and his breath repeated in a gentle rhythm, coming from his lips and brushing over your neck where his face was buried.

This was the morning after, it was your time to recall the events of the night before, and revel in the moments that they gave you. Core memories, the ones that were significant, and marked important times of your life. Last night was filled with them, beginning with Obi-Wan’s sudden proposal, which you hadn’t been expecting at all. You knew deep down that there was no other being in this galaxy for you, that there was no other person that could ever love you like he did. There wasn’t another man that even compared to him, the connection you both had, though changing throughout the years, has still in some ways remained the same and stood the tests of time. He’s always loved you, that was a constant. The way he has loved you certainly changed, sure, but it was still love in the end. When you were young, he loved you in a caring and nurturing way, wanting to help you with the problems you faced and overcome them. As you grew, he began to love you the way a dear friend would, showing you bits of affection to show that you were important to him, and he was proud of you. The day he lost you to Count Dooku, his love had come full cycle, evolving to realize he could not live without you, could not go on knowing you weren’t by his side. The first time he ever kissed you, it all came upon him, hitting his mind like a freight speeder. He loved you as a partner, as someone he wanted to share his life with. You were his little one, though grown far taller and stronger than anyone ever predicted, you adored his term of endearment and hoped it would remain always whenever he would refer to you.

You’d wondered about what being married to him would feel like. Clearly it was a far bigger step in your life to sneaking around and hiding kisses behind closed doors. It would be a far bigger arena to anything you both had experienced before, but you were ready for it, and any challenges it may offer.

You smiled sleepily, feeling those long, strong arms shift around you, bringing up a hand to thread through your hair. He may not have known you were awake, and your thoughts were confirmed when he started stroking your arm in a soothing motion to try and stir you. You rolled over, eyes half closed, and snuggled into him, all his warmth, and all his comfort.

“Good morning, my love,” he spoke, his other term of endearment for you in his words, and you realized then that perhaps you liked that one better. “How do you feel?”

You weren’t quite sure how to respond in all honesty. You felt quite a wide range of emotions, so it was hard to pick just one.

“Wonderful,” you began, searching for other words to describe your being this morning. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

“Get used to what?” He asked curiously, his brows furrowed together and his head tilted against the pillow it laid on.

“You.”

The low rumbling vibration of his morning voice as he let out a sigh in contentment filled you with ease, though you weren’t exactly tense to begin with. It just soothed you.

“I’m sure in time my charm will wear off,” he said jokingly, and you chuckled it’s a large grin. You leaned back to look at him fully. You’d woken up beside this man more than a hundred times before, but it felt different today. He was glowing, emitting a soft light from himself that could not be explained. His joy, though not necessarily shown on his calm and peaceful expression, was thickly floating in the air around him.

“Never,” you shook your head, threading your fingers through his hair, the golden strands of it were so soft, and you had remembered when he first cut it to look this way, after you’d suggested it to him on a mission. You remember not being able to pull your eyes away. IIt was the same now, although something caught your eyes that you had not before noticed. “You have a little gray coming in.”

It was a simply statement, just responding to what you saw, but he was wide eyed in only a moment, as if you’d told him horrible news.

“What? Where?” He reached his hand up to lay over your own, feeling that your fingers were only barely brushing the short layers above his ear.

“Just a little on the sides, here,” you showed him, and though he still seemed upset about it, he relaxed a little knowing his whole head wasn’t going gray.

“It doesn’t make me look old, does it?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing if you wanted to. You found it comical that he could even think that way about himself. The man who led on battalions and fought in this great war, just as any other young man did, better even.

“Obi, nothing can make you look old,” you told him, now caressing his cheek. “You’ve always had a baby face. Not even your beard could hide that.”

He didn’t want to bring it up, but while he was on his tangent, he supposed it would be fine to express his other worry.

“Does the beard look okay?”

You huffed this time, rolling your eyes. How could he not see that he was one of the most beautiful men in this galaxy? Could he really not tell?

“It does, and it suits you. I missed it when you shaved it off,” you leaned in and kissed him slowly, pulling back and seeing that he was unsatisfied with it, and had wanted more. “I like how it feels.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yes, I do.”

He rolled you over, hovering on top of you and pressing the hair of his beard against your neck, rubbing it around to tickle you. You flinched and tossed your head around at the funny sensation, giggling like a school girl over his tantalizing movements.

“If I’d known it was this easy to make you laugh, I’d stop telling those horrible jokes all the time,” he said, pulling himself back above you, leaning down to kiss your nose and then your lips again.

“I love your jokes,” you said sweetly in between kisses.

He didn’t respond, because he was far too distracted with ravishing you in kisses.

It was unintentional, the way he moved his knee between your legs, but when you began to squirm under him at the contact, he’d realized what he had done.

“Obi,” you breathed out softly when he pulled away. He was ready to appease you at any time, but so soon after last night, he had one concern.

“I want to make you feel good, little one,” he paused, turning your head to look him in the eye when he asked. “But you must be sore from last night?”

You took his words and processed them. Yes, the pit of your stomach was a little in disarray, and the parts of you that had been stretched were a bit irritated, but you would not let that stop you. You’d rather decided that you very much liked this act of love, and especially when you knew he was feeling just as good from it.

“I am,” you admitted, “but I can take it.”

-

You most certainly could not take it. You were confident in bed that morning, when you had yet to leave the confines of the sheets, but now that you were boarding the ship back home, thanking Padmé for everything she had done, you had to hide the pain on your face that it caused you to simply walk the grounds. She knew, or at least she thought she knew a little of what happened last night. You were a strong pretender, but even she could tell by your slightly awkward stance that you weren’t walking like you normally did. She was very observant, as she often had to be, and you were no different. It was obvious you were either cramping horribly, or you were exuding the after effects of a certain… activity. She dare not bring it up, at least not in the presence of the clones, and definitely not in the presence of Obi-Wan himself.

“I have been so grateful to have you all. It has meant so much to me for you to come and join with us in celebration,” she said, nodding to you both, very formally, though she would usually embrace you before you left. You were secretly glad that she didn’t, because no matter how light the pressure, you didn’t think you could handle being squeezed in a hug. You were scared you might groan or something stupid to reveal your subtle pain.

“It was our honor to attend, malady. I should hope the clones weren’t too disruptive afterwards,” he knew that he would probably have to excuse the behavior of at least one of them, for they could be a handful at a times. He even was in his own mind betting on Waxer.

“Not at all, they were a delight to have, and well entertained our other guests.”

Well that was a relief, and he even sighed out his breath at hearing it.

“I shall hope to see you both again soon, although I’m sure it will probably be under less exciting circumstances.”

The war, she meant the war. As lovely as this stay had been, the war still raged on, and brought chaos to other less fortunate planets and peoples across the galaxy, and it would be your job to try and fix it, to fight against the forces of evil that tried to ruin the goodness of the galactic republic and everything it stood for.

“I’ll give your regards to Anakin when we return, I know this celebration wasn’t the same without him,” you told her, knowing that he hadn’t been able to come on request that the council keep him on his current assignment.

“Thank you, we have missed having him here, it seems the group is not complete in his absence.”

“He will be happy to know he was missed,” Obi-Wan joked, but was also fully serious. Anakin was a drama queen a heart, and knowing his lack of presence was grieved would be music to his dramatic ears. “We must be going now, but I trust you will receive a transmission as soon as we land.”

“Of course, I wish you well on your journey.”

You caught whim of it, just as you were walking away, but clear as day, as soon as she was no longer focused, and her thoughts flitted about the air, you caught onto something. A secret. You tried your best to dig into the contents, but her mind had them tucked away securely, the only thing out in the open being the though that she actually had a secret that nobody knew.

“What are you hiding?” You let out, though not even the man beside you could hear what you said.

-

@spencerrxids @sawendel @fandomstanner24 @i-shall-abide @officialjellydoughnut @whatshxrname @darkened-writer @superavengerpotter @cutiepoo16 @hypnoash @softlymellow @howlerwolfmax @mephistominion @honestlywtfisgoingon @anakinskywalkerog @mandiiellen @je--a-n @guyinachair27 @avenger5-a55emble @amelia-song-pond @kaminanii @the-abyss-of-fandoms @queenofnightdreamland @world-dominating-kitty @mandowhatnow @ella-error505 @annahalo @infinity-witch @beetlejuice-stuff @liueski @solarbxby @sirianisrock @lxdyred @endless-warrior-always-fighter @iloveinej @msjb2002 @shoochi @itsilvermorny @gingerrosecosplay @sebschicken @loversjoy @argentinemango @1-800-vader @house-of-kolchek @marierg @graciexmarvel @ttzamara @truly-madly-nerdy @molieux @majahu @dyzlks @pancake

[hollywoodxwhore]

wanted - part 12

Woohoo I finally wrote! And I'm leaving y'all on a cliffhanger to make you hate me even more! Sorry... I am currently writing the next chapter though, so hopefully that'll be up shortly. Thanks for sticking around during my little hiatus. I hope you enjoy!

Colson x Original Female Character x Pete

Warnings: some smut (18+), swearing, alcohol usage

It’s my birthday. 

Normally, I wake up sad on my birthday. I’m not really sure why. Maybe because a birthday makes you think of who really cares, and you’re expecting messages from people, and when they don’t come, you feel like you don’t matter. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older and that freaks me out. Whatever it is, I’m glad that I don’t wake up on this birthday feeling sad.

Maybe it has to do with the fact that Colson is in bed beside me. He’s on his side, hand tucked under his head, and he sleeps soundly. I love the way that the sunlight catches his face, giving him a warm glow. He’s become so special to me so quickly. I’ve never been so happy, and I know you’re not supposed to find happiness solely in a relationship. I think Colson is just enhancing my life. A friend turned partner. It’s perfect.

It hasn’t even been a month since we made it official but I can’t help what I’m feeling. I’m at the edge of the cliff, so close to falling in love with Colson it’s scary. I won’t admit it any time soon, not until he does, but I feel it. How can I not? Colson is kind, funny, caring, and sexy. We get along great and I’m so much happier when I’m with him. 

I’m daydreaming about our relationship so deeply that I don’t notice his eyes are open until he says my name. I jump a little and meet his eyes, smiling sheepishly. “Hey,” I whisper.

“Hey,” Colson says with a sleepy grin. “C’mere.” I scoot closer, letting him wrap me in his arms. Warm lips press to my forehead and he gives me a squeeze. “Happy birthday, baby.”

I smile and nuzzle in closer. “Thank you,” I say. 

Colson told me last night, two glasses of wine in, that his birthday present was something amazing. I couldn’t get anything else out of him, no matter how hard I tried, and now that I’m remembering it again, I’m eager to find out what it is. 

“Hey,” I say, looking up at him. “When do I get my present?”

Colson laughs. “Later tonight. Probably after dinner.” He’s taking me out to dinner and then we’ll spend the night here. 

“I guess I’d better get up and start getting ready,” I say. 

Colson gives me a kiss, squeezing my ass. “Yeah. You do that.” 

Later that night, I drive over to Colson’s place in my birthday outfit, a silky red dress that hugs my curves. Sophie and Alicia helped me pick it out and I feel beautiful in it. I can’t wait to show Colson.

I park in my usual spot in the driveway and let myself into the house. Pete is on the couch and he smiles, hopping to his feet. “Hey! Happy birthday!” he says, wrapping me in a hug. He smells good and his hug is warm. I’ve stopped trying to convince myself that I don’t still feel something for Pete. It’s pointless to keep lying to myself. 

Pete pulls back from the hug and turns his head. “Kells! Alex is here!” he calls, then turns back to me. “You look beautiful,” he says, and I’m surprised to see a glimpse of what looks like pain in his deep brown eyes. It makes my heart squeeze in my chest. But there’s something else there, too…mischief?

“Hey,” I say, narrowing my eyes. 

Pete stuffs his hands into his pockets and looks at me innocently. “What’s up?”

“Do you know what my birthday present is going to be?” 

Pete opens his mouth to say something, but then I catch sight of Colson over Pete’s shoulder and my face lights up with a smile. Colson smiles right back as he saunters over. Pete steps out of the way and Colson cups my face, tipping it up so he can kiss me. “Hi,” he murmurs. 

“Hi,” I say through a smile, wrapping my arms around his waist. 

“Ready to go?” he asks, and I nod. Colson pulls away and turns to Pete. “See you later, brother.”

“See ya. Have fun,” Pete says from where he’s returned to the couch. I shoot what I hope is a menacing look at him over my shoulder as Colson takes my hand and we walk outside. Pete just winks and waves, and fuck if I don’t feel that wink right between my legs. 

Colson takes me to my favorite restaurant - Texas Roadhouse, duh - and we order drinks to start, sharing a basket of rolls. He looks so handsome, slightly dressed up. He just got a haircut - long on top and short on the sides, and it really suits him. The sides are his natural, darker color and the top of bleach blonde. “I love your hair, by the way,” I tell him.

Colson chuckles. “So you’ve said. A couple hundred times,” he teases.

I lightly kick his shin beneath the table and giggle. “Leave me alone. I just really like it, okay?” 

“I like yours, too,” Colson agrees. “And that dress. Goddamn.” His voice lowers as his eyes dip to my cleavage, and he takes his lip between his teeth as his eyes glaze over.

I blush and look around. “Save it for later, ya perv,” I joke, reaching for his hand. Colson takes my hand in his and leans in to kiss my knuckles, holding eye contact with me. My heart flutters in my chest, and suddenly, I realize I can’t deny another lie I’ve been telling myself. I’m 100% in love with Colson. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, blue eyes burning into mine. 

I shrug. “Nothing important,” I lie. 

We eat a delicious dinner and talk the entire time. On the drive back to his house, Colson pushes the hem of my dress up and rests his hand on my thigh, thumb stroking gently. Heat shoots between my legs and I bite my lip. I literally can’t get enough of him. 

He’s initiated every time, mainly because I’m terrified of rejection, and even though he’s my boyfriend now, I’m still scared it’ll happen. I glance over at him as he drives and he smiles at me. I turn my body and lean over, kissing his neck. Colson tenses up, breath hitching. “What are you doing?” he purrs.

“Nothing,” I murmur into his warm skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses all over the side of his neck. Reaching over, I untuck his shirt from his dress pants and slip my hand beneath his shirt to feel his stomach. Colson curses quietly under his breath and then his hand covers mine and pulls it back. 

“What’s wrong?” I ask, tracing my tongue over the double x tattoo behind his ear, a surefire way to make his dick hard. And it does. I watch as his pants begin to tent. 

Colson lets out a shaky breath. “I have cake for us at home. Pete’s waiting to have some with us,” he says. “Can we just hold off until after? I don’t really want to walk into my house with a boner.”

“Mm,” I hum against his skin. “Just this once.” I pull back after tucking his shirt back in. He shifts in his seat and adjusts his cock in his pants, letting out a breath. Even in the late evening light, I can see the pink splotches on his cheeks and it makes me smile. 

When we pull up to the house, Colson comes to get my door. The inside is completely dark and I frown. “You sure Pete didn’t bail on us?” I ask. “Looks dark in there.”

Colson frowns, too. “He better not have,” he says irritably. “Maybe he fell asleep.” He takes my hand and leads me to the door. He unlocks it and we step into the pitch black. Out of nowhere, the lights flick on, and I jolt, shocked to find that the living room is filled with people. 

“Surprise!” they yell in unison, and that’s when I notice the party hats, the balloons, and the sign hanging from the doorway between the kitchen and living room reading ‘Happy Birthday Alex!’. 

I laugh and swat Colson’s stomach. “What the hell! You planned this?” I yell over the commotion.

Colson grins down at me and bends to kiss me softly. “Happy birthday, baby.”

I’m immediately bombarded by hugs, and I just can’t believe Colson pulled off a surprise party. A room full of people I love, with the one who planned it all being the one I love most. I smile at him from where Alicia has me in an embrace, and I narrow my eyes. So that’s why he didn’t want to fool around in the car. I’ll get him back later. 

I’m handed a drink and then we gather around the table to play waterfall, my favorite drinking game. It’s easy to get fucked up, but it’s so fun that I don’t even mind. Sure enough, after a few rounds, we’re all drunk and rowdy. I’m in Colson’s lap laughing loudly at something Slim said, and I’m so, so happy. 

The only problem is my wandering eye. 

I can’t help but notice Pete. He sits on the couch, legs in the perfect man-spread position, big, tattooed hand curled around a beer. His cheeks are rosy and his smile is warm and his voice jolts something within me whenever he talks. Plus, he keeps glancing over at me and smirking like an asshole.

But then I feel Colson’s warm hand on my hip, his lips against my shoulder, and I smile, remembering that this is my boyfriend. Sexy, smart, funny, and kind, Colson is mine. So why am I still hung up on Pete?

“Can we play truth or dare but with only dares?” I slur, and the group laughs. 

“We pretty much already know everything about each other,” Rook says with a shrug. 

“Sure, birthday girl,” Slim says. “You wanna go first?”

“I can never think of good dares,” I pout. “You go first, babe.”

“Alright,” Colson says, looking around the circle. “Rook, I dare you to do a backflip.”

“Wait,” Alicia says. “Can you actually do one?”

Rook laughs. “Yeah, I can. Not sure how well when I’m this drunk, though.” The ceiling is high and Rook backs up away from the group. We all watch in awe as he throws a perfect backflip, landing solidly. Everyone cheers and Rook bows. 

The game continues on. We’re all coupled up, but everything always ends up sexual in nature. I return to Colson’s lap after Sophie fulfilled a dare given to her by Logan. She was dared to make out with me and she pulled me right into her lap for the dare. My heart is racing a little and it only quickens when I feel Colson’s erection against my ass. 

“That was hot, baby,” he murmurs against my ear. 

I hum in response, pleasantly drunk and turned on. I’m about to drag his ass from the room when Sophie speaks. 

“Kells, your turn,” she says. 

“Alright,” Colson says, scanning the room. His eyes land on Pete. something mischievous flickers in Colson’s eyes. “Pete,” he says. “I dare you to make Alex moan.”

The room falls awkwardly silent. Pete clears his throat, cheeks reddening. “Wh-what?” he asks.

“You heard me,” he says, eyes burning into Pete’s. “Dare’s a dare. She’s the birthday girl, after all.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, looking at Colson, who only nods. His eyes hold no jealousy, just smoldering desire, and he’s gotten even harder against me, if possible. I swallow hard and glance at Pete. 

“Shit,” Pete says, then laughs, patting his thighs. “Come here, Alex.”

It’s a good thing we’re all drunk. Colson pushes me off him and I stumble over to Pete, taking his hand as he pulls me into his lap. I glance around, and everyone’s eyes are on me. The guys are smirking and the girls just look intrigued. No one looks worried or scared. 

I glance at Colson and he nods, picking up his drink. “Go on, baby,” he tells me. 

I swallow hard and look at Pete, who’s staring up at me with dark eyes. Fuck, he looks hot. He bites his lip. “You okay with this?” he asks. I can’t speak right now, so a small nod is my only response. “Good,” he murmurs, and then he’s leaning in, wrapping soft lips around the side of my neck. I swallow hard and close my eyes, hands tightening on his shoulders. 

The heavy bass of a loud song pulsates in my body. I could moan now and end this, or I could milk it. I’m too drunk to feel guilty and I choose the latter. I let Pete’s lips explore my neck and chest, moving slowly down my cleavage. My chest heaves slightly and Pete huffs against my heated skin. I’m keeping it together relatively well until he decides to end me.

Suddenly, Pete’s big hands grip my ass hard and he drags his tongue up my cleavage and neck, and a moan slips out, uninhibited. It’s then that I remember our friends are surrounding us, and they celebrate Pete completing his dare. Pete gives my ass a little pat that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, and I get off his lap, returning to Colson. 

My boyfriend smirks and wraps his arm around me, resting his big hand on my thigh. He leans down into my ear. “Did you like that?” he murmurs. 

I look up at him, unsure of what to say. Shouldn’t Colson be jealous? He was the one to dare Pete in the first place. I’m confused. “I’ll be right back,” I say. I need to clear my head, get some fresh air. I push off the couch and walk out onto the back porch, feeling sober as soon as the cool air hits my skin. I draw in a deep breath and steady myself on the railing. What the fuck is going on?

Colson asked me to be his girlfriend. I suppose he never said anything specific about being exclusive, but I just figured that’s what we were doing. But now he’s daring his best friend to make me moan. Who does that? I’m not sure how to feel about it, but it’s hard to figure it out because my pussy aches between my thighs. I squeeze them together and let out a little helpless noise, closing my eyes. My throat tightens and the backs of my eyes begin to sting. I don’t know what to do with these feelings.

I don’t turn around when I hear the door whoosh open and shut behind me, but I do notice there are two sets of footsteps. I tense up slightly as Colson steps up beside me, leaning against the railing, but I do look over when Pete takes my other side. I blink in confusion, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What the hell is going on?” I ask helplessly.

Colson and Pete chuckle and I frown, glaring at Colson, whose smile fades immediately. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says, putting a hand to my lower back. “I should’ve talked to you about it first to see if you were okay with it.”

“Why are you okay with it?” I blurt, looking up into his intense blue eyes. “I-I’m your girlfriend. Pete’s your best friend.” I jerk my thumb towards the other man. 

Colson chuckles and meets Pete’s eyes over my head before looking back down at me. “Alex,” he says. “I like threesomes. Okay?” My body tenses, and the ache between my legs intensifies. Just then, Pete scoots closer, pushing my hair off my shoulder. I look up at him and he just watches me with his lip between his teeth. 

“I like watching my girl get fucked,” Colson continues, cupping my chin so I’ll look at him. “I want to watch you with Pete. And I want him to watch you with me.”

“I want that, too,” Pete says huskily, and I swallow hard, looking over at him again. He plays gently with my hair. “I’ve never stopped being attracted to you, Alex. Just because I don’t really date doesn’t mean I don’t still fuck.”

I stare dumbly at him for a moment before turning back to Colson. “Am I hallucinating this?” I ask. “Is this a trick to see if I’m faithful?”

Colson chuckles and shakes his head. “No, this is real,” he murmurs, “and definitely not a trick. I’ve been paying attention and I think you want this, too.”

He steps closer and grabs one of my hips, turning my body so my back is pressed to his front. His hands slide over my curves and I breathe shallowly as I feel his erection press against me. Pete steps forward, a question in his eyes as his fingertips trace down my neck. I close my eyes and whimper almost painfully. I do want this, so badly it hurts. Is that wrong?

“Here’s what I think we should do,” Colson murmurs in my ear. “Pete and I take you to my room and we fuck you, make you come until you can barely move.” My eyes are locked on Pete’s as Colson speaks, and Pete’s already dark brown eyes seem to blacken. 

“But we need to hear that you want this, Alex,” Pete says as he steps into my space. His hands find a space on my waist above Colson’s, and his thumbs graze the undersides of my breasts through my silky dress. My breath hitches. 

“Mm, she’s hesitant,” Colson murmurs. “She wants to be a bad girl, but she’s scared.” It should feel degrading, having Colson talk about me right in front of me, but it only makes me ache more. Colson snaps his fingers and I jolt slightly. “Ah,” he says. “Let’s see what her body is saying.”

Pete smirks as Colson’s hand skims up beneath my dress. The red silk moves easily as his fingers move between my legs, skillfully pushing aside the crotch of my panties, which is soaked. Colson lets out a low, raspy groan as his fingers find me dripping wet. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs. “But I need to hear you say it, Alex.” 

I’m a shaken can of Coke ready to explode and I finally do. “Yes!” I blurt, cheeks reddening. “God, yes, I want it, I want both of you, please.” My words come out in a rush of breath and the boys chuckle together, meeting eyes. 

“Good girl,” Pete says, tipping my chin up as he leans down to kiss me. My legs weaken and Colson has to hold me up as Pete kisses me thoroughly, slowly at first but deeper as time goes on. I whimper helplessly into his mouth, gripping onto his shoulder with one hand and Colson’s wrist with the other. 

“P-please,” I squeak when he pulls back.

“Come on, baby,” Colson murmurs, pulling me towards the door. Pete follows close behind. Everyone’s still partying, pretty drunk now, so the three of us are able to easily sneak past everyone to Colson’s room. Pete locks the door behind us. 

Colson sits me on the bed and kneels down in front of me. Warm hands find my thighs, stroking gently, and there’s love in his eyes when he looks up at me. “Hey,” he murmurs. “Are you drunk?”

I shake my head no. “Tipsy, but not drunk.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding. “Alex. Do you want this?”

I swallow hard, glancing at Pete who leans against the wall. I can see his erection through his gray sweats and I have to stifle a moan as I look back at Colson. “Yes, I want this,” I say firmly. 

Colson grins and pulls me in for a slow kiss. “If it ever goes too far,” he says against my lips, “you tell us and we’ll stop.”

“Don’t even feel bad about it,” Pete says. “We don’t give a fuck. We’ll stop when you want us to.” They’re both so serious and a huge chunk of my anxiety dissolves. I nod and smile at Colson, and then Pete.

“Boys?” I say.

“Yeah, baby?” Colson asks at the same time Pete says, “Yeah?”

I look between them, then get to my feet. Their eyes are locked on me as I reach behind myself and unzip my dress. Then, I let it slowly puddle onto the floor around my feet, leaving me in a lacy matching set, stockings high up on my thighs. 

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ,” Pete says, swallowing hard. 

“Yeah,” Colson croaks, staring me down. 

I put my hands on my hips and smirk. “Can you please stop being so gentle now and fuck me like you promised?”