#brief glancing reference to abby/will

[tinknevertalks]

Prompt: 1 - It's not too late, let's go.

Fandom: Sanctuary

Rating: G

Warning(s): None.

Notes: Set some time after The Depths but before Sanctuary for None, Henry & Abby friendship, double drabble.

--

Let's Go

--

"It's not too late, let's go."

Abby blinked at Henry, her eyes aching after the mega sob he'd interrupted (then remained throughout). "What?"

"Let's go? I mean, I can't stop W--" He swerved from the name under the force of her glare. "I can't stop him being a dick but…" The words trailed away.

She looked away, not seeing anything as she thought it all over. Will had arrived back from Bolivia and while Doctor Magnus warned he'd be different, Abby hadn't expected the vitriol that flowed from him. It was embarrassing actually, finding the first hidden corner away from his room and breaking down in tears. Suspects regularly said much worse to her.

But then Henry came along, sat next to her, and didn't flinch when the tears came back full force. Which was weird now she thought about it - he always struck her as a nervous 'ack, stop crying!' type of guy, not this chilled guy watching the door as her heart tried to beat again.

… She could do with going out.

"Are you sure there's an ice cream place open this time of night?" she croaked, smiling. He grinned back. Maybe crying wasn't so bad after all.

[hybridirl]

so pretty.

18+ only, please!

abby x f!reader

a/n: hi everyone!! i’m sorry that this is an abby fic cuz i’ve been getting ellie reqs!! so i’m sorry if i disappoint but i rlly needed to scratch this itch

brief summary: your dad’s co-worker is sooo cute! you hadn’t seen her in so long! tonight, a dinner is happening with his team! you just have to hurry up and get dressed, because she just caught you nakeyyyy.

tw / worship, age gap (it’s not pronounced), pet names, praise, pure smut(?), cunnilingus, cheating, slight mommy kink, rushed sex, reader gets referred to as “daddy’s little girl,” use of y/n, AU

⋆⭒˚☾⋆.˚

you let out a quick sigh as you tugged your dress up, slipping your shoulders into the straps and taking a glance at your clock.

fuck, you thought to yourself, dad’s gonna be pissed. you were late downstairs for a very important dinner your dad was hosting! this was your first ever dinner you’ve been invited - no, well, forced to go to. all the other times, your whole time growing up, they’ve been at restaurants which your dad told you you couldn’t go to. well, now they’re here. and now you have to make a good impression and have spectacular manners for these people. uh oh.

you looked at your outfit, a tight-fitted, wine red dress. it was appropriate enough, but it was definitely showing your body off. you didn’t have time to change, though, so, a quick spray of your dior perfume would be your final touch. spritz, spritz, and you’re hurriedly rushing down the steps. you don’t have to peek around the corner to know who’s there: your dad, isaac, manny, owen, mel and… was that abby? you gulped. you hadn’t seen abby in so long, yet she’d been on your mind all that time. suddenly you were self conscious, adjusting your dress and adjusting your hair if you could. you peeked around the corner, and almost squeaked at the sight. she was there. she wore a skin-tight, long-sleeve dress.

why are you covering up those pretty arms? was the first thing you thought. those arms had kept you up at night as you fantasized about them holding you, worshiping you, and vice versa for you. your cheeks were heated, flushed with blood as you became entranced by her body. your eyes trailed down to take in the rest of her, her muscular back, legs, stomach. oh, god. you might have to go back to your room.

“y/n!” your dad called, making your head perk up and the rest of his team turn to look at you. they greeted you with friendly faces, having not scene “daddy’s little girl,” as your dad would say, in a hot minute. you stood up straight, giving a stiff wave as you rushed to go sit down by your dad’s side.

everyone was staring at you. you couldn’t tell if it was the dress, or that they hadn’t seen you. you tried your damndest to never even glance at abby and you did pretty well, barely even uttering a word to her whilst you talked pretty chattily to the rest. yes, that probably hurt her feelings, but your sanity was slightly more important.

you continued to eat, your mind now focused.

“so, y/n,” abby called whilst the others chatted, “how’s school going?” you glanced up, giving an awkward smile as you swallowed your food.

“it’s, uh, going,” you replied with heated cheeks. “it’s going.” she smirked a knowing smile and brought her hand to yours. your gaze didn’t falter as it continued it’s strenuous stare at her face. you tried to hide a growing grin,

“you can always ask me for help,” she offered, “i’m pretty good at math, y’know.” you felt your lips twitching to a small smile and you nodded.

“yeah,” you said with a nod, pulling your hand away slowly. “thanks, mrs. anderson.” she gave you a small smile, her eyes so briefly flickering downward to your chest that you hadn’t noticed.

the night went on, slowly coming to an end while you dismissed yourself upstairs. it was late and you had things to do tomorrow. a quick shower was what you needed while you hurried to the bathroom. everyone had left except for a few stragglers, who you had assumed were going to leave pretty soon.

you quietly entered the bathroom and shut the door behind you. you stepped toward the mirror, giving a lopsided smile at your slightly disheveled state. you slipped out of your dress then stepped out the pool of your cloth. you stepped toward the bath, running it whilst you plugged the drain. you sat on the tub, taking off your shoes and socks to flex your feet.

you jumped, hearing a crack of lightning outside the window.

jesus, you thought. you didn’t realize the fan would be so bad. you groaned silently, turning the water off and pulling the plug on the drain. you were slipping back into your dress, the straps just above your waist before the door swings open. you yelped, covering your chest quickly.

“i didn’t know,” the smooth voice stated. your jaw was slack, staring abby in. “sorry.” but she didn’t turn away. her eyes flickered down to your chest, taking in what she could see. “…sorry,” she said once more before beginning to turn away. you didn’t know she was still here, you thought she’d left.

“well, wait,” you called before you could realize what you were doing. her gaze fell back on you, her brows raised. “i… um…” you felt your arms begin to relax, and your eyes widened as they fell to your sides, uncensoring your body for her.

“y/n,” she breathed. “your dad’s downstairs. so’s owen.” you both gazed at each other as a silence emerged. your eyes flicked down her body, especially the muscles that covered her arms.

“…i don’t care,” you spoke softly. you watched her slowly shut the door behind her as she entered. doe-eyed, you watched her approach you. she took a hold of the dress that hung around your waist, pulling it so you were close.

“daddy’s little girl ain’t so little anymore, huh?” your eyelids fluttered, gasping as her lips touched your neck. you hummed a “no” in response and your hand gripped her braid, tugging it as she bite into your neck. she let out a groan at your hair-tugs, which only fueled you. “mm, the boys would be so upset, huh? but, look how pretty you are. how’s a woman like me gonna resist a pretty girl like you?” she paused to pull away from you, “…can i touch you?” you nodded your head and her huge hands went to massage your breasts, eliciting a moan from your lips. “shhh. don’t get loud, baby, don’t get loud. just let mama touch your body.” they moved from your breasts and down to your sides and she spoke once more, “can i pull your dress down, baby girl?” you nodded, and the dress with down, down, down. her hands cupped your ass as you stood and she kneeled. “look at that,” she sighed and kissed your naval. “spread your legs for me, sweet thing, let me take a look at you.” you adjusted, spreading your legs just a tad to let her get a view of your inner lips, wet and needy.

“abby,” you huffed, slightly impatient. she smirked and squeezed your butt hard. you whined, writhing slightly.

“hush up,” she demanded lowly, kissing down your stomach. she sighed as she inhaled your scent, nostrils flaring. “mm, fuck you smell good.” your cheeks heated with embarrassment and your hand went for her hair again, pulling her closer to your throbbing pussy. “so impatient, sweetheart. you’re lucky the boys are downstairs… if they weren’t, i’d be bending you over my knee. god, look at this body…” her hands trailed back up your sides, squeezing your breasts once more. you could feel yourself drip as she began to kiss your thighs. “oh, baby,” she groaned into your thigh, bringing her hands back down. she licked right to your vulva, leaving a trail of saliva on your thighs. “should i tongue this needy pussy?”

“yes,” you gasped, nudging your hips forward. “abby, please.” you’d been waiting for this for so long, you needed her rough tongue on you. she leaned in to give your cunt a sloppy kiss, gently sucking on your clit. you hunched over, pulling her head closer to you. her hands grabbed your ass as she began to lick at you. “abby.” she smiled into your pussy while her tongue flicked against your clit, then dipped into you. “fuck…” she guided your hips along her tongue, each time her tongue found your sensitive little bud, curving right at the end to give you so much pleasure.

“it’s alright, baby, ride mama’s tongue,” she said quickly, opening her mouth wide for you. you obliged, hurriedly running yourself along her tongue.

“abby, abby,” you whined, gripping her hair to pump her head. she kept staring at you, her blue eyes boring into yours. “a-abby.” her hands soothingly ran up and down your thighs and her mouth closed slightly, suckling back onto your clit. “please!” you whimpered, the grip on her hair tightening. she groaned, the vibrations hitting your pussy so perfectly.

“shh.” she kissed your clit a few times before her fingers slipped into you. your jaw fell open and your head tilted back. you moaned her name quietly, heavy breaths filling the air. you could feel yourself, how close you were.

“please let me cum on your tongue,” you pleaded, your eyes locked on hers. she chuckled into your cunt, nodding whilst slurping up your juices. your legs trembled as you approached the edge of your orgasm. whimpers left your throat before you bit your lip, coming undone right on her tongue. she eagerly licked your nectar up, your hips rocking and grinding.

eventually coming down, you slowly pushed her head away. her face was drenched with your essence, a smug smile plastered on her face.

“that good, sweetheart?” she asked with a small kiss on your thigh. you nodded slowly, your breath heavy.

“yes,” you managed to say between labored breaths.

“let’s hope the boys didn’t hear, huh?” she stood up and guided your dress back on before speaking once more, “we’ll be doing this again.”

you bit back a smirk.

[hier--soir]

high strung

abby anderson x f!reader

pairing: abby anderson x personal trainer wlf f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: abby has seemed distracted in your sessions as of late. when you discover why, you help to ease some of her tension. warnings/tags: some tight little workout shorts, abby "i'm not gay" anderson has her first experience with a woman, r insert is a trainer but has zero physical descriptions, massage, gay panic, smut, fingering & oral [abby receiving], reference to masturbation [reader], brief mention of other wlf characters from tlou2, brief owen slander lol sorry. word count: 3.5k masterlist a/n: considering abby isn't explicitly queer in tlou2, i wanted to write a short n sharp little bisexual awakening for her. bit of a quick build up but idc i don't know anything about the gym and wanted to get to the gay sex lol, hope you enjoy!

She’s wearing these tight little shorts. Pale blue. So thin they’re almost sheer where they wrap around the bulkiest points of her thighs.  

You don’t look, don’t let your eyes roam over the reedy material, don’t glance down when she bends her knees and drops into a squat. Don’t don’t don’t. Don’t even look when she lays out on the bench, flat on her back, and those shorts bunch and pinch in the crevice where her legs meet her hips. No, you’re well-versed in this now. Adept at not looking.

“Show me ten,” you tap the bar once.

Abby grips the barbell. The skin of her knuckles turns a piercing white as her fingers flex and tighten around the metal. Ninety pounds on either end, and yet she lifts it off the rack with a practiced sort of ease. You feel a familiar rush of pride as she moves effortlessly through the first few reps, her breathing calm—relaxed. Your hands hover, useless, in the air over the bar. Ready to step in if you’re needed, but knowing that you won’t be.

The gym at the base is usually crowded. Sweat covered surfaces, muscle tanks in every conceivable direction, and plenty of shirtless assholes that think they own the place. But this morning you hit the jackpot, arriving early in the morning when there’s only a few others milling around.

“That’s it,” you mutter. “Good, good, give me another one.”

You notice it slowly. The same way it happened last week, and the week before that. The gradual progression; a tilting, wavering, descent into mistakes, into heavy breathing, into distraction. From behind her head, you watch her knees raise a little, feet arched until she’s balanced on her tip-toes, the muscles in her thighs straining.

Her fingers loosen a little around the bar. Grip faltering, failing. A muscle in her forearm flexes and spasms beneath the skin.

“Hey,” you warn, hands darting forward to rest on the metal. “Come on, we’re not even halfway done.”  

Abby doesn’t offer up a response. Doesn’t meet your eyes. She simply huffs out a breath of exertion and presses the bar upward again. Beads of sweat glisten along her forehead, snatching at wisps of loose blonde hair and pinning them to pale skin.

“Good,” you commend, fingers hovering featherlight. But then it happens again. Her face twitches, lips pursing, and she grunts. A low, frustrated sound.

“Abby,” you sigh. She allows you to grip the bar, and together you lift it back into the groove on the rack. “Are you hungover again?”

“No,” she scowls. She sits up and wipes a reddened hand across her face. There’s a patch of sweat on the back of her shirt, and the darkened material clings to her spine.

“Then what’s the problem?” you arch an eyebrow. When she doesn’t turn to look at you, you walk around to stand directly in front of her. “Manny keeping you up at night? Burnt out? What?”  

“No,” she repeats, and this time you think you catch a flash of irritation. Something angry, something heated, rolling beneath the surface of her skin, begging to be expelled.

And you’ve seen the way she can lash out. Seen how people cower and shrink beneath her steely gaze when she’s mad. Quickly, easily, you decide you’d rather not spend your morning getting chewed out for being nosy.

“Listen,” you say. “Why don’t we call it for the day? We ca—”

“I’m fine,” Abby asserts firmly. But the hard set of her jaw and the tension in her shoulders hints otherwise.

You watch her snatch a water bottle off the ground and tilt it against her mouth. Watch the way she drinks in long, hurried gulps. Watch the way her throat bobs as she swallows. Watch a dribble of water snake down her chin, her neck. Don’t.

You look away.

“You’re distracted,” you retort with an eyeroll. “If you hurt yourself in here Isaac will have my ass.”

She shakes her head and mutters something under her breath. A broad hand pushes the hair back off her face, mussing it behind her ears, and then she meets your eye.

“I’m just…” she trails off and glances away. Clears her throat a little. “I’m feeling a little tense, okay? Everyday I’m either in here, or Isaac has me out scouting some fucking Scar hot spot, and I’m exhausted, and my legs are fucking killing me.”

You feel your face soften, mouth tilting down into a sympathetic frown.

“I get it,” you nod. “Hey, I’m sorry, I know I push you pretty hard in here—”

“It’s not—” Abby shakes her head again. “You’re not the problem.”

You don’t know what to say to that. For a moment the two of you rest in a wary silence. Listen to the sounds of people working out around you; muted grunts of exertion, the spouted praise from spotters standing close by. You notice the way she flinches when someone racks a weight a little too aggressively – a little too loud.

“Let’s go in the back,” you suggest easily, already turning away. “We’ll do some physio; I’ll help with the knots in your legs.”

It’s a simple routine once you get her onto the massage table. Tucked away in a back room, door closed, her shoes off, you can set to work without so much distraction.

You start with her calves. Using the palms of your hands, the pads of your thumbs, you rub against the tightly coiled muscles there. Working out any knots that you find, any hidden strains. Moving slowly, purposefully, working your way up until you hit her thighs. And that’s where the tension becomes evident.

It seems like Abby is in pain as you dig your thumbs into her outer thigh. Her face is all screwed up, eyes closed as soft little grunts slip from her mouth. When you find a particularly tight knot and press she spits a low curse, eyes clamping shut and face turning to the side.

“You doin’ okay?” you check in, eyebrows furrowed as you watch the way she squirms and wriggles around on the table – as if she’s shying away from your touch. As if it’s too much for her. “I’m really not pressing that hard, Abby.”

“It’s good,” she chokes out. “Keep going.”

You continue with a sigh, crackling your knuckles before using both hands to work at the muscle in her upper thigh.

“Jesus,” you sigh. Your palm rolls over her quadricep, working to release the built-up rigidity there. “You’re so tense.”

“Sorry,” Abby grits out, voice hoarse and stilted as it sneaks its way out past her teeth. It’s like she’s holding her breath, the way sharp exhales rush from her nose every few seconds.

“It’s fine,” you assure her. Your fingers press against her knee, and you push it up towards her chest until her thigh is pressed against her stomach. Stretch out the muscles there, let her feel the pull, the burn as her knots loosen. “Do you need—oh.”

Because you look down and the words get caught in your throat. Musing caught like a mouse in a trap, your mouth suddenly feels like sandpaper. And you were always so good at not looking, never looking. But now… you’re almost glad you looked. Because there’s a damp splotch on the front of her shorts, shades darker than the rest of the fabric. Right in the crevice between her thighs, where the inseam of those tight fucking shorts rests against her mound.

It must be sweat, you think. It has to be. But when you look at her face you notice how flushed she is. See the blotches of deep red that stain the skin on her neck, her cheeks, and you know it’s not sweat. She’s wet.

Your hands freeze in place, keeping her leg pinned to her chest.

Abby says your name quietly, and there’s something urgent in it – a panicked tone to her voice that makes your stomach tighten.

“Is this why you’ve been so distracted?” you ask. Your mouth is dry, lips chapped as you look between her face and that spot between her thighs. Back and forth, over and over. Your fingers tense against her thigh, and the skin there is so soft. “You’re…”

“I’m not,” she rushes, face almost entirely pink now.

“It’s okay,” you soothe quietly, thumb starting up a slow movement against her flesh. Soft, small circles. And you know you must look calm – but on the inside there’s a hot, wet feeling lashing out against the inside of your stomach. “Is that because of me? S’that why you’ve been so distracted in our sessions lately?”

Abby turns her face, tucking her chin into her shoulder in attempt to hide her blush. You lower her leg back onto the massage bed. “I don—I don’t know why I’m…”

“Abby,” you laugh softly. Your palm is flat against her thigh now, fingers twitching – itching to explore. “It’s okay.”

“I’m not…” she grimaces.

“Not what?” you hum, and you’re playing with the hem of her shorts now. Curling around the thin fabric, rubbing it between your fingertips. “Do you… will you let me help?”  

Her eyes widen at the suggestion, and you feel the way her thighs tense beneath your touch. Pressing together, almost squirming at the thought of it. When she doesn’t respond, doesn’t say no, your fingers creep higher. They tuck around the waistband of her shorts and tug once, testing the waters. Again, she says nothing. Those heady blue eyes stare at your face, pink lips parting as her breathing grows heavier.

“Abby?” you urge.

“Yeah,” she breathes, and it sounds almost like a question.

Her eyes turn glassy as she watches you, and then her hips cant ever so slightly upward on the bed. An invitation.

Smiling, you peel the material of her shorts down slowly, but you don’t look. Not yet, not even as you drop the material onto the ground. Don’t look even when there’s so much white in your vision. A field of creamy skin, begging to be seen. Your thighs press together, skin hot, the muscles in your stomach tightening as you notice that she’s sweating again.

“I’m not gay,” Abby says then. So quiet, so cautious.

Your smile only grows, and you nod. Kind. Understanding. “I know,” you whisper. “I get it.” And you do.

You’ve been in her shoes before; confused, unsure. Young and always wondering why you felt so on edge around the pretty girls in those tight uniforms they liked to wear around the base. Always pretending you didn’t think about the way their clothes moulded against their chests, their thighs, as you lay in bed at night, hand stuffed inside your underwear. Never admitting to yourself that you wanted to see underneath – to see their skin; touch it, taste it.

“I get it,” you repeat, hand stilling at her hip. “But I need to hear you say you want it.”

You ruck up her shirt. Just a little, just so it rests above the dip of her belly button, and you can see the rolling hills of her abdomen. You admire the muscles there, the way they rise and fall with each laboured breath. Abs that lead to a hardened v-shape which only encourages wandering eyes to look down down down.

Her skin is pale, and you can see the elaborate network of blue veins that spread out beneath it like spiderwebs. Lifelines, pulsing with desire. For you.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” you offer, and she nods slowly, seemingly grateful for the assurance. “I’ll help you out… just have a little taste, okay?”

“Fuck,” she mutters, head tilting back against the bed. “Fuck, I didn’t realise you were—I want you to—yes.”

Finally, you look down at her underwear—heather grey with a tiny hole near the band and a dark wet patch on the front—and ask breathlessly, “When’s the last time you had sex?”

“I don’t know,” she exhales. “A few months maybe.”

“You’re so fucking wet,” you tsk under your breathe, shaking your head a little. You can see a soft thatch of curls peeking out the side of her underwear. Saliva pools in your mouth.

“When did you?” she asks.

“Last week.”

“With who?”

“Lyla,” you admit. Your hand is on her stomach now, tracing the indents of her muscles. Fingering every freckle painted across her skin, feeling the way her belly expands with every shuddering breath. “We’d had a few drinks. It wasn’t the first time.”

“Lyla?” Abby scoffs, eyes darting down to watch your fingers. “From the infirmary? Lyla’s not gay.”

“Sure,” you hum, a teasing lilt to your voice. “And neither are you, right?”

That shuts her up quick.

You climb onto the table slowly, careful not to jostle her legs too much. But they splay easily, spreading open for you to fit between. Murmuring gratefully, you look up to see her watching you.

“You do this with everyone you train?” she asks, voice breaking when your index finger snags against the band of her underwear. “Work them to the bone and then…”

“And then?” you smirk, eyebrows raised.

“And then fuck them?” she gasps. Her hands are tense by her sides, fingers curled around the edge of the table.

You bare your teeth at her and shake your head, slowly lowering until your lips meet the skin at her hip.

“Not all of them,” you breathe against her skin, marvelling at the way her frame trembles beneath you.

Unwilling to waste another second, you lick a stripe up the front of her underwear. Taste cotton and sweat and slick. Your touch is painfully light. So gentle that you wonder if she even felt it. But then she gasps – a sharp, breathy sound that has molten heat pooling between your own thighs, and you smile. Gotcha. Her legs lock up on either side of you.

“Relax,” you whisper, and settle a hand on her thigh. Rub slowly there, pressing your fingers in gently to release the strain in her muscles. “Do you want me to stop? I can stop if you don’t want this.” 

“Please,” Abby says quietly. More desperate than you’ve ever heard her sound. “Do it, please.”

“I will,” you tell her. Smile reassuringly and squeeze her thigh.

When you finally get your mouth on her, no more barriers between your tongue and the wet cut of her cunt, you’re a little mean about it. You tease her clit. Tickle your tongue around it, underneath it, never quite touching, just showing that you know exactly where it is, exactly where she wants to be touched. You use your fingers to spread her open, pressing back her folds until you can see the full spread of her; pink and glistening for you.

The taste of her is salty and heady and soon enough you can’t help swiping the flat of your tongue against her clit, and revelling in the stuttered moan that swells out of her.

“Fuck,” she sighs. “Keep doing that.”

You roll your tongue against it in circles, side-to-side, changing up the rhythm whenever you fear she might have gotten used to the feeling. Spell out your name with the tip of your tongue, and then hers. Spell out words in your own language, one that you’re fluent in and want so desperately to teach her. Like this, your tongue on her clit, is a religion, and you’re a modest missionary sent to spread the gospel.

She makes the most gorgeous sounds. High pitched, breathy moans that burst out of her and have you wishing you could touch yourself. Just slip your fingers past the band of your panties, to where you know you'd be dripping-- No. Not yet, not now. This is about her, you remind yourself.

When you take her between your lips and suck, she cries out. A hoarse, rasping shout of your name that only makes you suck harder.

“Oh my god,” Abby mumbles, voice awed, surprised. “Oh—oh fuck, oh my god.”

Lowering your tongue, you press it against her weeping hole. Taste the slick that pools there, waiting for you to drink it down, and feel a moment of sympathy for her. You wonder if Owen ever touched her like this. If he ever made her feel this good. And as the muscles in her thighs tighten and one of her hands falls against the back of your head, fingers lacing through your hair, you know he didn’t. 

“I think I’m gonna—” she gasps, hips bucking against your face. You can feel her slick on your chin, your cheeks, your nose. You lick her clit again in slow, firm circles. “Fuck, I think I’m gonna come.”

You press a finger inside of her, slowly stretching out her tight hole. Give her something to bear down on when she comes. And when she does come, it’s intense. Her fingers tighten in your hair, winding around the strands and tugging as she presses your face harder against her pussy. Your nose presses into the light curls on her mound and you groan, inhaling her sweet, musky scent.

“Fuuuck,” she gasps, the word catching in her throat. You open your eyes and watch the way her abdomen tightens, every muscle in her body going taut. Watch the way her eyes clamp shut, mouth hanging open as she gasps and moans and mumbles beneath her breath. “Fuck, don’t stop. Your tongue, oh my god don’t—please don’t stop.”

So you don’t stop. Abby’s still riding out the final ebbs of her orgasm when you push another finger inside of her. Her body jolts against the table, shaking and trembling beneath your hands and mouth. And then, tongue still moving gently, you curl your fingers inside of her. Press the tips of your middle and ring finger against that soft, spongy part deep inside and grin when she moans your name. You think it might be the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard – your name on her lips.

“You like that?” you mumble against her, the corners of your mouth twitching up.

“Yes,” she moans, hips bucking against your face. “God, yes.”

“Taste so fucking good,” you sigh, flattening your tongue to lick a broad stripe up her cunt. You can taste her come everywhere. Coating your chin, your lips, the inside of your nostrils. You groan, tongue moving faster against her clit now, desperate to see it happen again. She twitches into the table, and one of her hands falls to your shoulder. Blunt nails dig into the skin there, hot and piercing as she grinds against your mouth. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Fuck,” she cries out when you add a third finger. You moan, eyes rolling back at the way her walls stretch around you. So fucking tight.

Your fingers dig into her thigh. Silently pleading with her; tell me, tell me, tell me.

“So good,” Abby mumbles. “So—shit—so full, m’so full. Ohhh.”  

There’s something hot pooling at the base of your spine. Want – curling against your insides, begging to be satiated.

You murmur that desire into her cunt. Inaudible; the words lost in the mess of her, in the quick glide of your tongue between her folds.

“What?” she gasps.

“Say my name,” you repeat, louder, pleading.

And she does – she’s perfect when she comes for you again. Strong back arching off the table, thighs tensing around your body as she chants your name. Her hands are strong, fingers no doubt leaving bruises where she grips your skin tight, holding your mouth against her pussy as she convulses.

She doesn’t let you pull away for a minute, maybe two. Holding your head between her legs as she grounds herself, chest heaving with heavy breaths. You swear you even feel her stroke the skin at the nape of your neck. Twist the hair there around her finger and tug gently. But then she’s letting you go – strong hands falling back to clasp against her lower stomach, and you’re stumbling off the table.

You hand her those shorts—those tiny fucking shorts—and smile. Can see the way uneasiness flits across her features as she drags them back up her legs, sparing a wary glance towards the door. Probably wondering if anyone heard her; if they heard the way she cried and moaned and gasped your name as she came undone against your face.

“It’s fine,” you reassure, only half-lying. “We weren’t that loud.”

But you can tell by the way she nods that she doesn’t quite believe you. That she’s still confused, still unsure, still wondering what this all means.

So you squeeze her shoulder, thumb pressing into the dip below her collarbone, and promise – “No one has to know.”

thank you for reading! x

maybe ill write another part to this where abby realises she wants to return the favour... idk we'll see

[sadesluvr]

Freak - Mike Schmidt x Reader (Songfic)

Mike dials a 1-800 number and gets more than what he asked for.

A/N: Reader is a secret sex guru, and an unlicensed therapist, 18+ only. I'm going to abuse the FUCK out of this GIF. Based on the song 'Freak' by Doja Cat!

Word count: 2.2K

Tags: SMUT / Sub! Mike, Dom! Reader / Fem!Reader / Handjobs / Edging / Unprotected sex / Creampies / Marijuana usage / Brief mention of contraceptives (the pill)

‘Call 1-800-2323 for the answer to your troubles. Enlightenment is just a phone call away!’

Mike looked down at the card in his hands, given to him by Abby’s wellbeing officer out of concern for his personal troubles. He’d never read too much into spirituality, but considering psychoanalysis hadn’t gotten him much further than his usual dream it couldn’t hurt to try, right?

The dial rang, and he expected to hear a raspy elderly woman with a smoker's cough. What he didn’t expect was a lively, young voice at the other end of the line.

“…How may I be of assistance?”

“Uh — There’s something in my past — It’s been bothering me for practically my whole life…I need help finding the answers…”

“Hm,” the voice hummed. “Vague, but I sense you’re holding back…I like ‘em that way…Name?”

Freak like me You want a good girl that does bad things to you You never been with no one as nasty as me Spice up your life, come get a freak Freak like me

“Mike Schmidt,”

You'd heard of him from your mom’s friend.

“I’ll book you in for Friday at 8PM,”

“Okay…How much will I owe you? Money’s a little tight right now…”

“Don’t worry. It’s all free of charge,”

Tied him down to my queen bed Tease him just enough to hate me  Tied it tight enough, he can't break free  Keep him waiting 'til he try This can go one of two ways We could flip the coin, I'll be your slave  Call you daddy, give me a nickname I ain't afraid of a little pain (No, I ain't 'fraid of a little pain)

He showed up at the address listed on the card a little after 8PM and rang the doorbell, his hands in his pockets as he scanned his surroundings. You, the mysterious voice, answered the door, and you briefly took his breath away, dressed in a nude, flesh coloured spaghetti strap dress that stopped halfway on your thighs, paired with a sultry smile.

“You must be Mike,” you grin. “Come in,”

The interaction is brief, and he follows you to the couch, an armchair sat traditionally opposite like it would in a therapist office. You gesture for him to take a seat and he does, already feeling like he was under a spell. His eyes glance down briefly at your bare legs as you cross one over the other, letting out a soft moan as you got comfortable. Blood was slowly and suddenly draining from his face to his cock, and he moved his hands to cover the issue, which didn’t go unnoticed to you.

“So, Mike…What is it that’s haunting you?”

He wanted some'n else and he wanna be selfish He wanted them three rounds, DC had to come help him Look, I know your position Try to squeeze in the full nelson though Beat on it, beat, beat on it, mercy like a black belt give Daddy the grand master, daddy, I want it faster Them bitches you fuckin' with, I know they gon' need some practice So bring 'em along wit' ya, I'll teach 'em how to smash ya When I made a little mess on it, he told me to clean my act up

He told you everything; from his brother’s abduction to the breakdown of his family and his living situation with his sister. He was a tortured soul, and he just needed a bit of release. You were so, so glad he’d been referred to you.

“I empathise with you, Mike,” you sigh, leaning in. “It must be hard,”

Hard. Painfully hard.

“Do you mind if I sit next to you?” you say coyly, and he shakes his head. You notice he licks his lips as you get up, recognising how the dress is clinging to your body and beginning to bunch up your thighs. For a split second he gets a glimpse of your black lace panties, and his now fully hard cock twitches in his jeans. 

He wants you, and he’s almost certain you want him too, but a deeper part of him wants to let it play out. For once, he’s not in control of all of the decisions and he wants to keep it that way.

“What I’m hearing is that the route of your issue is frustration,” you say, eyes locked on his as you reach out to run your fingers through his messy locks. “When was the last time you ever thought about yourself?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t - I can’t — How is this going to help me find who took Garrett?”

“Because you’re thinking too hard, and it complicates things. It’s time to redirect your attention,” you purr, dragging your vowels so that it produces a tone that sends shivers down his spine. 

“…How?” he chokes, eyes wide and pupils dilated. You’re so fucking close to him now, and he thinks he might burst. You smell like weed and sex, and he can’t stop staring at the way your strap is sliding down your arms.

You slide off your dress in a quick motion, revealing your bare body. Mike is rabid now, unable to stop staring at your hardened nipples and the barely there material of your panties.

Freak like me (Tryna freak you down) You want a good girl that does bad things to you You never been with no one as nasty as me Spice up your life, come get a freak

“I’m gonna touch you, Mike,” you say simply, and it holds a thousand words. “And then you’re gonna fuck me,”

Hey, I could take a big bat, bet that he thinkin' this a game Hey, batter, batter swing, you could put it on a swing Freak like a triple XXX flick, put her on a chain This pussy off the chain, this kitty insane I could fuck him in the rain, I could fuck him in the Range (Uh) I could fuck him every day (Uh), I'ma fuck him 'til he sang (Uh) Milkshake bring the boys to the yard, I'ma need the whipped cream Ain't ever been vanilla, honey, just wait until you get a taste

He knows he can say no, but relaxes into your touch. One hand rubs his upper torso, massaging his tight muscles as the other is wrapped around his neck as you plant gentle kisses along his cheek and neck before you move to his lips. His kiss is eager, and he wastes no time in finding your tongue with his own. 

He needs this so fucking badly, and he doesn’t want to let go.

The kiss continues as you begin to claw at his body, and he briefly pulls away to tug off his jacket and shirt before resuming the make out session. His body tenses as your hands make their way down his chest, down towards the beginning of his happy trail. He desperately wants you to continue the skin-to-skin contact, but you slide your hands over his jeans instead, squeezing him through the material. 

He furrowed his eyebrows and let out a small whimper, earning a gasp from you. He was so pretty.

“That’s it, baby. Don’t hold back…”

Skirt off, fuck in the backseat Take that shirt off, baby, put it on me Got me like, "Yeehaw," ride it like a horsey Kinda like see-saw, up and down on the D, give it to him

You relieve his frustration by hastily pulling at his belt and unbuttoning his jeans, leaving him in his briefs. They were black and you could see a clear wad of precum that had been built up over the past hour. Wasting no time, Mike lets out a louder moan as you slide the material down, his cock springing up onto his pelvis. It’s average sized, but with a slightly thicker girth, and is bright pink with want.

“Kiss me,” you instruct, and he nods. His lips find the crevice of your neck and collarbone as you begin to grip his shaft, his tip between your thumb and index finger as you squeeze out some remaining precum, the liquid pooling around your fingers.

It’s pure pleasure for him as you take the entirety of his cock in your hands, slowly beginning to jerk him off, not forgetting to cup his balls as you do. He throws his head back as his hands clench, physical pressure dissipating as you take his hands in your own, guiding it to your breast.

“Fuck…” Mike groans, beginning to massage the skin as you coo in his ear, your grip tightening and fastening on his cock. Four of his senses are overstimulated, and the icing on the cake is your unrelenting sultry stare, making sure you were attending to his every need.

You were the goddess he never knew he could have.

Freak like me (Need a freak like me) You want a good girl that does bad things to you (You want a good girl) You never been with no one as nasty as me Spice up your life, come get a freak Do, do-do, do-do, do-do (Now you need a freak)

You could feel him shudder underneath you and knew he was loosening up, edging closer to orgasm. His whimpers and groans were now louder, and he’d found the confidence to latch onto your nipples, pawing at the skin with his hand whilst his tongue swirled along the hardened bud.

Spreading your legs over his, you angled his face towards you as, taking in his hazel eyes. 

“Touch me, Mike,” you said, gaze flickering down to your pussy. “Touch me like I’m touching you…”

He moves away from your breasts to make his way between your legs, his fingers sliding into your wet cunt. He lets out a deep sigh at the sensation, feeling rather proud of himself as you begin to writhe against him.

“Is this good?” he asks, sliding a second finger into you. 

“So good,” you moan. “You’re so good for me, Mike,”

His heart and his cock swells, and your bodies begin to move in sync. He quickly finds your clit as your pace quickens on his cock, and you both begin to reach a point of ecstasy.

“Y/N…” he whimpers, lips wet and eyes glassy. “I’m gonna—“

“I know, baby,” you whisper on his lips. “But not yet,” you say abruptly, and draw away. He’s shocked, and stares at you open mouthed.

You respond with nothing but a smile.

“I’m only here to guide you to enlightenment, not give. You have to do the rest,”

He’s totally blank.

“Let go, Mike. I’m here,” you say sweetly, and it feels strangely romantic. “Take me…Do you want me on top, or bottom?”

“Top,” he responds without hesitation. “You’re beautiful,”

Mike can barely contain his euphoria. You, a literal sex goddess, are sat on his lap, body on full display as he fucks up into your tight, wet pussy. The pleasure is almost painful, and he’s almost worried that he’s hurting you by the way his hands are gripped on your hips and his thrusts are desperate and sloppy. All the anger and frustration from his past was slowly unravelling, and judging by the knot in his stomach, so was he.

Freak like me Freak like me (You never, you never, you never been) You want a good girl that does bad things to you You never been with no one as nasty as me Spice up your life, come get a freak (You need a freak) Do, do-do, do-do, do-do (You need a freak) Freak like me (Like me, papa)

“Oh fuck,” you whine. “You’re perfect, Mike. So perfect,”

You weren’t lying, he looked gorgeous; pussy drunk and sweating, his frayed bangs clinging to his forehead in an odd pattern. Your lips met once again as he pulled you into him by your waist, the kiss sloppy as he drew his cock deeper into your cunt, hitting all of the right areas. 

“I’m so close Mike,” you whined. “Cum for me…”

“Where…?” he whispered. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to see you covered in his cum, or see it seep out of you and down your thighs. 

“Wherever you feel best,” you said devilishly, before placing your lips to his ear. “I’m on the pill,”

The words sent him over the edge as he came, hot and heavy spurts of cum filling into your warmth as you finished along with him. Mike bit his lip as he held you close, almost on the verge of tears as you soothed him through the last of his orgasm. A weight had suddenly been lifted away, and he could feel his eyes grow heavy with tiredness.

After a few moments you pulled away from each other, your nude bodies dropping to either side of the couch. Still high from orgasm, you pulled your dress back on and leant over the armrest to open a drawer, not oblivious to the way Mike was staring at you fondly.

Babe, you never been with no one nastier than me Oh, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby Put your head on my shoulder Hold me in your arms, baby Squeeze me oh so tight Show me that you love me too

“Wanna blaze?” You asked, holding a joint to your lips. He paused in thought, not wanting to let go of the moment before answering.

“Can I use your phone?”

You nodded and gestured to the phone, watching as Mike dialled a number. 

“Hey, Max - Can you put Abby on the phone? Something’s come up and I can’t make it home tonight…”

[hotdamnhunnam]

Can I request for Raymond Smith these please? :)

👩‍🍳🏖🔮

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! 💗

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Beach Balls

Pairing: Raymond Smith x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, sex on the beach, public-ish (brief reference assuming there’s an audience) Word Count: ~1.3k Emoji Prompt: 👩‍🍳🏖🔮 (key words are in bold)

He’s giving you his bitch, please face.

You’re giving him your beach, please face, because Ray’s aversion to beaches is honestly such a disgrace. His OCD ass really needs to get over his hatred of salt in his slicked hair and fine grains of sand stuck all over the place.

You’ve stepped out of the kitchen with something hot clutched in your hands as you come to join him on the couch. He’s a grump and a grouch. Yet be that as it may, by the end of the day, your goal is to take him to the shore and you’re certain it’s not out of reach.

He repeats himself loud and clear, same shit you always hear. “I am not going to the beach.”

“I knew you would say no. I baked your favorite tart to tempt you though. It’s ginger peach.”

He can tell, by the comforting smell, blend of butter and sugar and spice absolutely divine. “You’re too kind. But do you really think baked goods will change my mind?”

“Baked goods and something else perhaps…” you purr as you settle in place straddling his lap. You know exactly how to get your man to fall into your trap. “Remember when we went to see that fortuneteller just for kicks, her crystal ball declared that I’m the only weakness in your fortress? That I’d always find the holes in your resolve and get your brick walls to collapse?”

He does remember as it had been pretty recent. Just the other weekend. And indeed once Raymond feels the heat of you that always hits him in his crotch and in his heart, hotter than this freshly baked tart… he worries his resistance is already weakened.

And you can sense it too, the way he melts for you, as you proceed to feed your man a big forkful of flaky crust and sweet syrupy peach. You whisper words into his ear sure to paint pictures in his head that fucking stick. You’ve always known what makes him tick. “I want to fuck you on the beach. Wet sand beneath and blazing sun above, as we make hot passionate love, waves crashing all around us while you pound this cunt with that big fucking dick.”

Of course it works—he groans around the peachy mouthful that you fed him and you flash a wicked smirk, as you pull out the sticky fork. Crumbs of the crust and traces of the fruity filling are still clinging to the tines and your tongue cleans them off with a sensuous lick.

You knew that shit would do the trick. Especially now as you level up your game by dealing his alpha male pride a playful little kick. “But I’m not sure you’ve got the balls to do the dirty out in public.”

Ray gulps down his bite of tart and then glares up at you appalled. He will not stand for such an insult, not at all. “You of all people should know better than to doubt my fucking balls.”

You shrug and roll your eyes, grinding down on the bulge between his thighs. “The closest that you’ve ever come to fucking me in public was a private bathroom stall. Or in my office with the door locked but that doesn’t count as public just because we could hear voices in the halls.”

“Bitch are you really testing me?”

At that you get up off his lap and casually head toward the door with tart in hand and grab your beach bag, which you had already packed. Wink back at him suggestively. “I guess we’ll see.”

***************

“Is this public enough for you?”

He says it in a huff—grating and gruff, the brush of his beard ever coarser now that salt and sand have stuck into the scruff. You’re both sharply aware that others may be watching and no doubt loving the view. It’s not as if you’re putting on a show on purpose for the world to watch you two, but there’s just such a thrill in knowing passing strangers could stroll by and see your man’s bare backside thrusting viciously while he’s on top of you.

It’s obvious that Ray still hates this place. Clear from the gritting of his teeth and from the grimace creasing up his sweat-streaked face. He hates the scrape of sand beneath you and the brutal beating of the sun above you. But you love when there’s a little bit of hatred in the way that he makes love to you.

Never towards you, of course—rather towards what you make him feel and make him do, which is a whole lot fucking worse. Your presence in his life is such a blessing yet your power over him is such a curse.

For someone so extremely self-possessed, so serious about control that he is honestly obsessed, it’s quite unsettling how readily he lets you take the reins and make him yours.

He steals back some of that control by owning all your holes with feral fucking force.

You haven’t yet answered his question as to whether this beach is public enough for you. Too breathless from just how epic the sex is but when Raymond cups your jaw your eyes flit open and you read answer me slut in his ferocious gaze of blue. You love the way he has no need for words to tell you what to do.

“Mmm, just enough,” you tell him blissfully as his thick cock plows into you savage and rough. He’s always much more than enough but you still want to act as if you won this game you came to play. “Just fuck me on this beach all day. I always knew you had the balls, Ray.”

He shoves deeper into your soaking wet core with a low grunt. Down to the hilt, making you gasp from being so perfectly filled. “You like the feeling of these big huge fucking balls slapping against your slutty cunt? Just like you want?”

“Fuck yes, sir…” you shout out loud enough for all the world to hear it as you hit the heights of pleasure. Fall to pieces as his shaft rails you to bits, and as his skillful fingers tease against your clit, applying just the perfect pressure.

“Take it all,” he growls as his sack tightens and stiff cock begins to powerfully convulse, racing the rhythm of your pulse, all set to paint your inner walls. His lip curls up against your ear in a demanding fucking snarl. “Take all the cum from these big fucking balls, you dirty little girl.”

Oh yes you fucking will, take everything he has to fill, and you will proudly let this man drill you in front of all the world.

He’s more than just a little proud too. Your shameless and openness and riskiness, when it comes to delicious frisky business, is just one of countless things he loves about you.

Raymond Smith is now a much kinkier bastard than he ever was without you.

By the time he’s thoroughly flooded your tight pussy, you’re both sprawled out on the sand loosely, savoring the sensation of his meat inside your heat all slick and juicy. When he at last slides out of you his cum drips out and paints a pearly path across the sand beneath the space between your legs. You’re both reduced to fucking wrecks.

Then as you cuddle through the sun-kissed afterglow, he glances over at the partly eaten peach dessert you’d brought and asks you something he just has to know. “What was even the point of the tart if your plan was to tempt me with sex?”

You smile and give him the innocent answer he probably expects. “Just to butter you up a bit. Knew you would love it.”

Don’t tell him just yet that this tart filled with peach also serves some less innocent subtext: now that your man has finally fucked your pussy on the beach… you’ll soon ask him if he wants to fuck your peach next.

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[damn-stark]

The trouble final pt.

A/N- it's over :( I’m sad that it is, but I’m so thankful for all of you that read it and stuck around to finish with me :)

Warning- ANGST, talks of loss and grief, ptsd, Violence, blood, light fluff

Pairing- Jesse x fem!reader

——

“Give me your arm again,” Ellie mutters after she had cleared the room that had once been filled with enemies part of the same group as those two me she, and you had taken out. “It’s—”

“It’s okay,” you cut her off and pull your arm away before she could grab it again. “It won’t change sizes, or color in the last ten minutes that you checked.”

After finding out that you had gotten bit by the infected that the man taunted you with, Ellie has been careful with you, she’s made sure that you wouldn’t strain yourself, she’s kept you from helping her fight the danger that lingered, as if you were some child.

And you understood why she kept insisting on trying to keep you from harm's way, she was being cautious, she was worried, but that isn’t going to change the outcome of your dooming fate.

“We could try cutting it off,” she insisted again, hoping that this time you’d change your mind.

You shake your head, “no, we don’t have the proper equipment.” You sit up and begin walking out of the broken down corner store. “I’d end up bleeding to death instead. Plus,” you sigh. “We don’t have time. Not if we want to reach Abby.”

Ellie follows behind you slowly, albeit somewhat lagging behind as she comes across good loot to collect. “We?” She quieres, “it’s we now?”

Your gaze drops to the ground, seeing the natural greenery that cracked through the sidewalk and began to take back its natural place. “I told you my reason already. No matter what’s happening, I’m sticking to it.” You feel chills all over your body and when your head lifts and your eyes flicker to her passing you, that’s where you see him again; Jesse. The bullet that shot through his face and took his life. His cold dead eyes were piercing into you, and his body was stuck in place, unable to even move but causing the same effect it always did.

Ellie noticed your wavered attention, followed your line of vision and saw nothing and knew what was happening. But perhaps that was because of the horror in your eyes. Regardless, she didn’t question it, she just walked towards you to break you from your stupor. “It’s not far anymore. We’re almost where the man told us. I see the round building.”

You pull your eyes from the now empty space where Jesse had been to glance back at Ellie and follow right behind her—for the most part it was silent, but as far as your mind, it was loud and booming with different racing thoughts and memories.

——

Ellie’s eyes follow your line of vision to the couple quietly talking amongst themselves in the far end of the room. And at first she didn’t think much of it. Actually she simply ignored it and just thought you might be spacing out, but just as she was going to look away the young girl in front of the tall guy with dark shaggy hair, caught her attention. Ellie did a double take and found herself captive by the girl's looks; her long dark hair styled in a ponytail, the light freckles on her face and her bright, charming smile.

She couldn’t keep herself from asking about her in complete starstricken awe. “Who’s that?”. Albeit her words didn’t register in your mind until she grabbed your shoulder and ripped you from your own awe. “Y/N?!”

You blink and look down at the drink in your hand, thinking she was referring to the guy and smiling softly as you answered. Even if a slow sizzling jealousy did begin to boil in the pit of your stomach because she asked. “That’s Jesse.”

Clueless to the fact that you told her the guy's name, Ellie nodded and slowly turned her head to pick up her drink from the table, unable to keep a smile from tugging on her lips. Her curiosity got the best of her before she could even think of taking a sip from her drink like she had planned to. “Is Jesse…dating someone?”

You glance at Jesse and answer her with bitterness in your tone. “Yeah, he's dating Dina. The girl he’s talking to.”

Ellie snaps her head and takes another look at the couple before looking at you with confusion. “Wait, Jesse is the boy? Or the girl?”

“The boy,” you tell her.

“Oh.” Ellie’s eyebrows furrow deeper and thinks that the name Dina suits the girl a lot better. It was actually a pretty name.

“Wait, why do you ask?” You probe as you shift around to look at her better. “Do you…” you pause and narrow your eyes. “…think Jesse is cute?”

“What?” Ellie scoffs with even more confusion. “No. No,” she shakes her head, “I thought the girl was named Jesse, since when I asked you for her name you said that.”

Oh. It makes sense now.

“Oh,” you breathe out and then smirk when you realize why she asked if Dina was dating anyone. “Do you think Dina is cute?” You sip on your straw and raise your eyebrows.

Ellie’s cheeks turn to a tint pink and she looks away from you to hide her flustered smile. “No. Just curious.” She turns her head and smirks when she looks at you. “Do you like Jesse?”

You sigh and look at your hands on the table. “Yeah, but well he’s dating Dina, so I can’t really tell him how I feel can I?” Your heart sinks to your stomach, but you try to ignore the gloomy feelings. “Regardless, he’s a good friend, so I’m better off not telling him anything at all.”

Ellie’s eyes wander to Dina for a brief moment and just like you, a heaviness sets over her heart because of the girl that she can’t try and pursue. You both were stuck looking from afar like a couple of love-struck idiots.

But maybe it was better off that way. Looking from afar.

Neither of you would get hurt that way. If only it was that easy to keep looking and not desire their love in return. Especially when you have to face them everyday of your life, around the same four walls that kept you secure from the rotting, walking corpses…and other humans.

Why couldn’t things be simpler?

When you steal a glance from Jesse that’s all you asked for. Which was such a funny thing to ask with the world as it was. It made you wonder if people back then asked the same thing?

How’s having clickers for simple?

Nonetheless that’s what you wanted right now. A simple life…or really simple feelings, platonic feelings for the guy you’ve known for too many years now. It would make those thoughts—dreams you had of an intended life with him nonexistent. It would make being around him feel like nothing.

Why couldn't life be so simple—why couldn’t your feelings be simple?

——

“Through here,” Ellie waves you over into a dimly lit hall that was crowded with a bunch of old broken furniture and worn down junk that covered wooden doors, leaving an open path towards a darker-lit corridor. Making this part of the invasion the simplest part of sneaking inside.

“Sneaking inside this building was much harder than actually getting in the property,” you snap in a sharp whisper as you turn off your flashlight and continue behind Ellie, seeing her peek over her shoulder to steal a quick glance as she remarks on your comment.

“Tell me about it.” She scoffs and stops in front of the only unblocked door after turning the corner. “Would’ve been much easier if you stuck behind like I asked.”

You narrow your gaze on her and stop to put your hand on your hip and retort. “You know I’m not a child. Maria doesn’t even treat me this way. I can take care of myself.”

“You’ve never been bit, that's why.” Ellie snaps, her back still facing you and her head turning to face the door after she caught what came out of her mouth.

When her words hit you too, you drop the sass and exhale deeply, letting a sorrow filled frown replace the curled lip. Instead of responding to her with something you know would weigh down on the already heavy subject, you just smoothly change it to the matters in front of her. “Are you going in first, or should I?”

Ellie rolls her shoulders back and straightens her posture to slowly push the door forward, and reveal another poorly lit, dirty room. This time however, whispers came from beyond the shadows of the room, making Ellie put her hand out, signaling you to wait as she carefully snuck inside with her revolver in hand.

Not like you listened albeit, because once she had taken a few steps inside you followed behind her with your hand around your weapon. However once you stepped inside the room your eyes instantly fell on the cell filled with people all poorly taken care of, people they called their prisoners and proved that letter you found about an escapee right. The sight shook you to your core and froze you just under the doorway, that hesitance causing you to miss the woman who jumped out from behind the door and attacked Ellie with a bat like some crazy person.

Of course, Ellie reacted quickly and managed to jerk back, grabbing a hold of the bat and shoving the woman to the wall by pressing the wooden weapon against her throat. But since Ellie was wounded, and weak from lack of food, the woman overpowered her, caught her off guard, and kicked her injured side to then push her to the floor when Ellie was hit with that throbbing and blinding pain.

The woman thought she was going to win, but she hadn’t seen you when she just abruptly attacked without a plan, leaving you with the perfect chance to sprint forward and grab the side of her head, completely startling her. She tried to rip your hands off, but you punctured your thumb into her eye beforehand, causing her to groan out in pain whilst you lifted your leg to kick her towards the cell where the prisoners got ahold of her instead.

“Ellie,” you instantly called out in worry, letting the people behind the cell overpower their captor and take her out with a hard squeeze to her throat with the same bat she used on Ellie— “Are you okay?” You offer her your hand to help her off the floor, and she takes it without an ounce of hesitance. The moment she stands up though, is when you see that more blood began to leak from her wound. She noticed your worried stare and just covered it with her hand, pulling your eyes up to meet her gaze for a lingering second before she looked at the prisoners. You follow her line of vision and watch the prisoners letting themselves out of the cell and quickly occupying their hands with different guns.

Before the prisoners leave Ellie leaves your side and steps towards them with an obvious question. “Where’s Abby?”

They all glance at each other and before any could answer, a woman points out what you thought you had well hidden. “She’s bit!”

A man beside the woman doesn’t fret to point his rifle at you, triggering Ellie instantly and causing her to point her gun at them as she spat out at the man in a venomous tone. “Don't point that gun at her!”

Seeing the gun in hand pointed at the man, those behind him point their weapon at the both of you and surround you with one single intention in mind. Yet before they could act on it, an older man comes in between all of you. “Hey, hey, hey! Abby tried to escape.”

Ellie’s aim on the man falters, and her glare shifts to the man who continues. “She’s down in the pillars.”

“The pillars?” Ellie presses for clarity.

“Head down to the beach,” the man motions out the door with his head. “You won’t miss it. She’s probably already dead.”

With nothing else to ask, or share, the prisoner, Ellie and you, slowly step away from each other and part your own ways; with the prisoners leaving out the door you just came out of, Ellie and you march out the double doors the man had pointed to. Yet the beach wasn’t outside these doors, it would be much easier if it was, but no, you were welcomed by a dark hall, that was purely lit by the moonlight that peeked through the broken windows on the wall. Still the menacing darkness didn’t scare you away, you both continued down the path that led to a broken pair of doors that led to a brighter room, one that smelled like rotten, and moist wood.

Besides that annoying smell, the old, green covered patio was easy to navigate through, even with its broken floors and disorganized room. But through the silence between your friend and you, the sound of gunshots, and shouting against the new threat that escaped from the cell easily and loudly echoed in your ears, even after you jumped a small ledge and walked between the palm trees that scattered when you finally reached the beach.

However, salt, nor water is what you smelled, instead the stench of blood, and putrid aroma of death tickled your nose, almost causing you to gag. You would have thrown up if it wasn’t for all the people you saw tied to actual pillars on the beach. Most were already dead—all were already dead, most were just left as skeletons.

It was such a horrifying sight, like straight out of a nightmare. You’ve heard of tortures like this from Tommy, from other older people in town who experienced similar situations but you never thought it was real. You could never believe it.

“Ellie,” you murmur in disbelief, your eyes unable to stop glancing at every body tied up to pillars when you pass by them in search of one woman. “We should just—”

“There.” Ellie blurted in what almost sounded like excitement. “She’s there.”

Ellie points to a figure up on a pillar, and that’s when you see her. Abby; She’s a lot skinnier now from the lack of food every person not part of the gang seemed to suffer through, her hair was cut close to her scalp, her clothes were torn and her muscles were almost completely gone, leaving nothing behind but slightly toned arms. She didn’t even look alive, but her raspy voice proved otherwise.

“Help me…please.”

It was shocking hearing her talk, but instead of feeling pity, sadness and an urgency to help her, knowing you could, all you felt was an unknown uncontrollable and blinding anger that invaded your mind and judgment. All the sorrow you felt was for the man she killed, the man you loved. She took him right as you both had gotten the chance to finally discover what it was like to love each other. That anger that you warned Ellie about, the rage and thirst for revenge that you’d seen burning in Tommy’s eyes, now overwhelmed you too. It completely fueled wild and violent, revenge filled thoughts that you once thought vile.

Now you shared what motivated Ellie to leave behind her life on her farm.

“It’s you…” Abby whispers hoarsely after she picks up her head and spots Ellie, leaving you to be almost invisible in her eyes. If it wasn’t because Ellie surprisingly let her down from the pillar you would’ve remained nothing but a shadow. Alas Abby saw your face behind Ellie’s when she managed to stand on her feet, she didn’t recognize you at first, but then you saw the flash in her eyes when the memory faded in.

Albeit she didn’t react any differently, instead Abby simply walked to that boy she had been with before; he looked skinnier now, just as weak as Abby. He’s someone you felt pity for, your fight wasn’t with him, but you still did nothing to help, you stood frozen behind Ellie, shocked that she tied down Abby instead of using her switchblade to finish her off. That state of disbelief only heightened when you both began to follow Abby towards boats.

You sought for answers with a simple look, but Ellie’s expression on her beaten face gave nothing but rage. You almost wanted to end the ache you felt in the fragments of your shattered heart, however right when you raised your trembling gun, there he was. Jesses ghost reappearing. He stopped you from acting on revenge, but fueled an adrenaline you couldn’t act on. Not with how Ellie was holding back after coming all this way. You couldn’t help but wonder out loud.

“Ellie, what are you doing? She's right there.” You come to a stop on the side of a small boat, meeting Ellie’s gaze. “Let’s do it. Let’s kill her.” Your eyes drift behind her shoulder to look at Abby, seeing her seem eager to get out of here with the boy without as much of a question of why you were both here. It’s as if she didn’t care. It pissed you off. It made you eager to just kill her yourself.

And it was due to that eagerness that blinded you that you didn’t see Ellie’s sudden switch with the sight of her blood on her hand. It wasn’t until you heard the water clash with her stride towards Abby. Her voice broke through your ears and made your eyes focus intently on her. “I can’t let you leave.”

You take a step back, intending to walk to her side for aid, but you stop when Abby responds with such nonchalance. “I’m not doing this.”

Those words trigger Ellie, causing her to take those last steps towards Abby to grab her shoulder and her hair to forcefully throw her to the water. Continuing then to kick her side and making Abby groan, but not fight back. She just stayed in the water and simply shook her head, “no. I’m not going to fight you.” Abby looks back at you and shakes her head. “Either of you.”

Again you stand frozen. Her words stung like cold ice against your skin, they just stomped on your already broken heart and broke it to finer pieces within your chest. How could she just decide that after what she did?

Then again….

…no…

Ellie killed Abby's friends. All of them. But it was for Joel….but….Abby was down, she pleaded for mercy even if she didn’t directly say it.

Why is your mind so confused? Why did this hunger for revenge suddenly begin to fade away? Just when it started?

What would’ve Jesse done?

Your eyes fall on your bite from that infected and then you glance at the vision of Jesse. His bloody face reminded you of what you wanted….of what Tommy wanted, even if it wasn’t for Jesse’s death. And you tried to force your anger to be as furious as moments ago.

“Yes, you will.” Ellie seethed, pulling your eyes back to her as she stormed towards Abby's boat and threatened his life with her blade against his throat. Not like he could even fight back, he was too weak to even open his eyes. It should’ve made you protest, but Abby beat you to it.

“He’s not a part of this.”

“You made him a part of this.” Ellie retorted angrily.

Abby stands up and says, “okay, okay,” to give Ellie what she wanted. A fight that would deem one winner, and it was obvious who. Even as Abby charged at Ellie and tackled her to the ground first, you knew in the back of your head Ellie would win.

Even still though, you watched their fight attentively. Maybe you should’ve helped, but this solely felt like Ellie’s fight now. Because again, you couldn’t find it in yourself to act on those feelings.

Nonetheless when your eyes fell on Abby's boat whilst Ellie swung her blade and fought her, Jesse’s haunting ghost made you think of taking what Abby loved the most. The kid—he was there, you could slip by them now that Ellie had forced Abby to the ground with a harsh jab on her shoulder. Abby wouldn't be able to stop you until it was too late, she’d only see his dead body just like how you saw Jesse when you ran out of the theater. She’d suffer the same way, she’d stay on the ground in shock and broken hearted, it would be good revenge to finally stop seeing Jesse’s dead body haunt you.

But you didn’t want to—your eyes return to Ellie and Abby fighting to watch neither of them get the upper hand. Ellie managed to stab her blade through Abby's shoulder when they were on the ground, but Abby reacted quickly and kicked Ellie off her, only continuing the fight, this time with no weapons, just their fists. It left the kid open.

Even if you didn’t want to, you walked past the boat and slowly walked towards the boy. You didn’t stop until you were beside it and overlooking the unconscious boy. And just like you had predicted Abby didn’t stop you, she couldn’t because she didn’t know you were here now, Ellie knocking her to the ground kept her distracted. This was your chance.

You lift your own knife and move your hand towards the boy's throat, the tip of your blade hovers inches over his skin; one more inch and the blade would puncture his skin and flesh, he'd be dead, Abby would have no one. She’d feel your heartbreak. Jesse would be avenged….

The knife in your hand begins to tremble, and hesitation pulls back your hand. Your heart aches every day, the nightmares never stop, continuing everyday felt like being stabbed multiple times all over your body, but it wouldn’t change anything, killing the boy wouldn't stop the vision of Jesse’s dead body from reappearing. Jesse would know that. He knew that when it came down to it he’d have to do bad things, but he was also merciful when he could. He wouldn’t do this, not to the kid. You can’t either. You can’t kill Abby either, it wasn’t right.

These couldn’t be your last moments either. Which is why instead of falling prey to revenge, the knife in your hold falls from your grip and your body crashes down into the water. However instead of crying, you find yourself being more worried over Ellie. You couldn’t lose her….even if she was going to lose you, you couldn’t fathom the thought of losing her now. You needed her in your last moments.

However when you look at her, she’s proving you right, she’s on top of Abby and keeping her underwater to keep her from breathing. She’s moments away from winning, from finally killing Joel’s killer and completing her revenge. The thought of stopping her popped in your head, but this was her fight, she needed to make her decision. Even as you saw Abby struggle to resurface to breathe in air, you couldn’t stop Ellie now.

You watched the rain in her eyes, watched tears and ocean water glisten on her face, cleaning the blood off her cheeks. You waited to be there for her when she was done. But the moment never came, Ellie let go of Abby, letting her resurface to gulp in a breath of fresh air whilst she fell down. She chose to let Abby go and the girl took that chance after she recuperated enough to move. You let her go too. She never paid any attention to you until she glanced at you once because you were beside her boat, but that was it, she left with no hesitation after.

Leaving Ellie panting, and crying as she stayed sitting in the water. You let her have time alone for a little, but it was through the silence after Abby and the boy left that it all set in. The ultimate and unavoidable truth. You’ve tried to ignore any symptom that you could feel due to the bite, which didn’t turn out to be hard since well so far all you’ve felt is a slight annoying dull pain. Any other effect had yet to set in, but the wait was the most irritating side effect.

That and noticing that Ellie couldn’t even face you; due to her processing what just happened, what caused her to let Abby go, and that looking at you without having the mission of finding Abby as a distraction meant that she has to face the harsh truth of your death. She had to face the fact that she was losing someone else, she was going to lose someone else to the infection she couldn’t prevent. She was going to be alone.

“Ellie,” you mutter as your footsteps crash on the water while you slowly step towards her. “It was a good thing that you let them go.”

Said girl sits down in the water, letting the small waves crash into her legs, and feeling the breeze blow past her hair and wet her face, mixing her tears with water droplets.

“You’re right…” she breathes out, dropping her head to look at the cold dark blue water. “Joel wouldn’t have wanted it. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that sooner.”

Your lips tug to a smile and you sit beside her, the feeling of your body brushing against hers making her lift her gaze to steal a quick glance. “Why didn’t you stop her? You seemed eager at the end.”

You sigh and dip your fingers in the water to gently sway them back and forth while you answer her. “Realization set just like with you. The nightmares won’t go away anytime soon, and killing her wouldn’t have solved anything either.”

“Nightmares?” Ellie scoffs, finally daring to meet your gaze. “You're still worried about that.”

You laugh softly and glance at the bite on your arm before looking back at her again. “It’s weird, I thought it would hurt, but all I feel is annoyed. No fever, no pain. Nothing.”

Ellie straightens up and her eyebrows furrow as her eyes fixate on your bite mark. “Nothing?” She repeats and the back of her hand presses on your forehead. “Hmm. Maybe we’ll both live with that burden then. Would be nice.”

You offer her a soft smile and grab her hand to interlace it with yours. Feeling hope piece together the fragments of your broken heart. “I guess we’ll have to wait then, to see what the future holds.”

Ellie’s eyes shift to the grey clouded sky, while her hold secures around your hand in hopes that by doing so you wouldn’t leave her. She hoped that her words would be the manifestation needed to keep you alive and keep you from leaving. She couldn’t lose someone else. She couldn’t bear feeling that pain all over again. “Well, I hope you do live.”

A grin spreads on your lips, and your head falls on her shoulder as your own eyes drift to watch the clouded horizon in a peaceful, waiting silence.

.

.

.

Tagged- @protect-lev, @expecto-nox @vintage-and-hypnotic , @kokomaesadie , @0j-b0, @itsyellow , @minheoly @traceylader

[punkrockmads]

Found Family

Abby x F! Reader Mini Series

Warnings: Mentions of rape, extreme fluff, brief hints at "mommy kink" and sexual notions

Chapter Five; Big Brother

*FOUR MONTHS PREGNANT*

A sweet, relaxing song plays from the record player. Honeybee by Steam Powered Giraffe. My absolute favorite. I sing along with the lyrics, swaying side to side slowly as I fold laundry. Abby's downstairs washing dishes, the two of us working on our early morning chores while Lev sleeps in. It's nice that the three of us get weekends off. It gives us a break and time to spend with each other.

My stomach has grown quite a bit, making my pregnancy harder to hide and my clothes harder to fit into. I've stolen many of Abby's shirts these past couple of months. Abby and I plan on telling Lev about the baby when he wakes up, especially since tomorrow is the day we finally get to know the gender of the baby.

'You didn't have to smile at me

Your grin's the sweetest

That I've ever seen

But you did

Yes you did'

As I sing along, lost in thought, I don't even notice Abby sneak into the bedroom, tip toeing up behind me.

"Gotcha!" She yells, grabbing my waist. I scream, nearly jumping out of my skin as I drop the shirt I was folding. Abby laughs, tickling my sides.

"Asshole!" I laugh, putting my hands over hers. "You coulda given me a heart attack!"

"Oh, well we wouldn't want that, huh?" Abby teases, peppering my neck and jaw with kisses. "Didn't know you could sing." She mumbles against my cheek, swaying side to side with me.

"Eh." I shrug. "I'm not great at it."

"Well I think you have the voice of an angel." Abby says, turning me around to face her. I drape my arms over her shoulders, the laundry long forgotten as I get lost in Abby's smile.

"Sap." I smile.

She laughs, kissing me softly. "You ready to tell Lev?"

"Mhm." I nod, turning back around to finish folding the laundry. That's when the baby shifts around a little in my stomach. "Woah!" I put my hand on my stomach, rubbing circles to try to calm the baby. It's always so active in the morning. I wish Abby could feel it but the doctor said only a couple more months and she'll be able to feel it kicking.

"You okay?" Abby asks, standing next to me and looking at me with worried eyes.

"Oh, yeah." I smile. "Our baby just decided now's the time to do a little boogie."

Abby chuckles, kneeling in between me and the bed and holding my stomach. She lifts my shirt a little, sliding her hands underneath. "Hey, you little goober." She says to the little being. She kisses right above my navel. "It's too early to be squirmin' around in there, you're distracting mommy!"

I smile at the new title. "Mommy, huh?" I run my fingers through Abby's hair, messing up her braid a little. She looks up at me with a smile.

"C'mon." She chuckles. "We both know I'm gonna be momma." I pretend to think it over, putting a finger to my chin.

"Hmm. I could get used to that." I laugh, gently cupping Abby's face and guiding her back up. She hums, kissing my lips. "But say it again just in case." I mumble against her lips.

"What- which one?" Abby laughs. I laugh with her, reaching back and grabbing her ass. I pull her closer to me, our bodies pressed against each other.

"Both of them." I laugh. She puts her hands on my hips, fingers pressing into the skin gently.

"Well..." Abby pauses, a hint of excitement in her eyes. I have no doubt mine look the same. "You would be..." She pauses again, kissing me. "Mommy." I laugh a little as she beams down at me. "And I..." Another kiss. "would be..." I hum into the third kiss. "Momma." Her grip on my waist has tightened a little.

"Oh yeah." I laugh. "I can get used to this."

Abby grins, a fire growing in her hazel eyes. "Good." She chuckles.

A loud thud from across the hall tears us out of our thoughts. Lev's room! The two of us immediately run into his room, seeing him sitting on the floor rubbing the back of his head. "Ouch." He groans.

"Lev, are you okay?" I ask, a hand over my frantically beating heart.

"Yeah. Sorry." Lev says, standing up. "Fell out of bed." He sighs. Abby and I look at each other, holding back laughs. "Don't you dare laugh!" Lev points at us, holding back his own laughter.

"We're not laughing!" Abby snorts. "Just... it's a little funny." She bites her lip, a wide grin on her face.

"Shut up." Lev says, trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile. I decide it's finally time we tell him about the baby.

"Hey, Lev?" I pause as he looks at me. "Come on downstairs and eat breakfast. Abby and I gotta tell you somethin'." I make it seem as casual as possible, trying to pass it off as some kind of patrol orders or something.

"Okay." Lev nods. "I'll be down in a second." Abby and I head downstairs, a little worried about how Lev will react. The two of us sit in the living room, watching some random movie while we wait for Lev. After a few minutes, he walks in with a bowl of cereal, sitting next to me on the couch, putting me in between two of my three favorite people. "So, what did you wanna tell me?" Lev asks, taking a bite of his cereal.

I take a deep breath, picking at my nails as I will myself to tell Lev what I should've told him months ago. "Lev, I'm pregnant." It comes out clear and calm, my voice hiding how nervous I am. Lev puts his spoon down, looking between Abby and I with a confused frown.

"But..." He pauses. "I thought girls can't get each other pregnant unless one of them has a-"

"They can't." Abby cuts him off, speaking gently. She gets up, moving to kneel in front of him. "Lev, do you remember when I told you that the Rattlers hurt Y/N really bad?" Lev nods. "They did... inappropriate things to her without her consent." Abby tenses up, looking at me for approval to keep going. I place a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly to let her know it's okay. "Do you remember what that's called?" Lev nods, scared to say the actual word in front of me. I don't blame him, I'm scared to use the word myself.

"Lev, honey." He looks at me with the most sincere and pitiful eyes. "What happened to me was... it was awful. But this baby... it's not. Abby and I wanna keep it and we... we want you to be it's big brother. If you want to, of course."

Lev's eyes light up with joy. "You mean I get a little sister?!" Abby and I laugh at his enthusiasm.

"We don't know if it's a girl or boy yet, goober." Abby stands up, ruffling Lev's hair before sitting back down beside me. "But yes, in a few months, you'll have a little sibling. Y/N's already four months along now."

"Holy shit." Lev whispers. "Can... can I see?" He asks, referring to my stomach. I nod, lifting my (Abby's) shirt past my stomach to let him see the bump that was getting harder and harder to conceal. "There's a baby in there?!" Lev asks, looking up at me in amazement. I nod, smiling at him.

Lev reaches to put a hand on my stomach, hesitating for a moment. "Go ahead." I say. "It's okay." He puts his hand on my stomach, moving it along the curve.

"Woah!" Lev laughs. "Wait... is this why I haven't been allowed in the guest room?" He glares up at Abby and she smiles.

"Yeah." Abby shrugs. "We've been turning it into the baby's room. Wanted it to be a surprise." The baby moves, causing me to flinch a little out of shock.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Lev asks, taking his hand off my stomach.

"Nono it's okay." I assure him, guiding his hand back to the bump. "The baby's moving around in there."

"Really?!" Lev moves to press his ear to my stomach.

"Yeah." I chuckle. "I think it can sense your touch. It's saying 'Hi, big brother!'" Lev laughs, trying to see if he can hear the baby moving.

"In about a month, we'll be able to feel it kick." Abby says. "And we might even be able to see it moving." She remembers the last bit from one of the dozens of pregnancy books and articles she's started bringing home. She's read each one at least twice in order to know everything she can about the baby and pregnancy. It's cute that she's trying to be so prepared. As Abby starts listing off a few more facts she read, the baby shifts in a way that almost feels like it's doing a backflip in my stomach, causing me to let out an involuntary gasp. "Y/N?!" Abby puts a hand on my back, her and Lev looking at me cautiously.

"Jesus." I let out a breathy laugh. "Little bean's groovin' in there." Abby and Lev laugh at my description of the baby moving. It moves again. "Is it trying to do the Cupid Shuffle?!" The three of us laugh harder.

"I think it's saying 'Mommy, you need to eat! We're starving!'" Abby grins, rubbing my back.

"Alriiight." I sigh. "Guess I do need to eat." Abby, Lev and I spend the rest of the day cuddled up on the couch, watching movies and talking about the baby as well as telling stories from our adventures. Lev tells me about the time Abby tried to teach him Backgammon and Abby tells me about her encounter with the Rat King. I rest my head on Abby's shoulder, feeling perfectly content sitting beside my family.

The next morning, the three of us head to the infirmary to find out the gender of the baby. After another ultrasound, the doctor comes in with a clipboard. "The baby's in perfect health, Mrs. Anderson!" He says. At first, I think he's talking to Abby, but he's looking directly at me. I glance at Abby and she winks with a playful smile. Ah, of course. She's the one who put 'Y/N Anderson' in my file. Honestly... I can't complain. It fits perfectly; shows that Abby and I are together. I'm hers, she's mine. "It looks like you're about nineteen and a half weeks along. The baby is right where it should be in the development stages."

"And the gender?" I ask, grabbing Lev and Abby's hands.

"Mrs. and Mrs. Anderson..." He pauses for dramatic effect, smiling at us. I feel my breath hitch in my throat, so extremely excited. "In just a few months, you will be bringing a beautiful baby girl into the world!" Abby immediately pulls me into a hug, squeezing me carefully as I hug back. The two of us cry, absolutely overjoyed.

Lev stands up on his chair, raising his fists in the air. "I knew it! I fucking knew it!"

[finiteuniverse13]

home is people, not a place 2/?

Part 1

Summary: Clay gets attacked on base. DEVGRU finds an issue in that.

TW: Blood mention, physical assault, canon typical violence

Tag: @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @bravo-four-seal-team @velvetcardiganbucky @supervalcsi @abby-splace @itsonautopilot @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @pinkrockstar19 @softi92 @mrsmarvelous1995 @jayhalsteadfan-2417

Lisa is pissed. She has every right to be. Clay had been attacked in the Bravo cages.

She’d watched the kid go from a strap who couldn’t stay in his own lane to an operator who could lead Bravo – and Tier One, for that matter – into the future. And then he’d been attacked in his team’s cages, in his own cage. Blackburn was still at the hospital – he’d found the kid in a pool of his own blood; Lisa wouldn’t blame him if it took an apocalypse to separate him from the kid – making sure that the kid got appropriate care.

She pushed open the door to Bravo’s briefing room, not that it actually had any members of Bravo in it. Alpha, Charlie and Delta were all there, waiting on her brief on the situation. Echo would have been there, if not for them being halfway through their first deployment as a team. There had been hesitation about deploying Echo – the loss of the last Echo line-up still sat heavily in the Tier’s mind.

The three team’s Master Chiefs and 2ICs had sat in Bravo’s usual chairs. Full Metal and Derek sat in Jason and Ray’s chairs, respectively. Beau and his second in command had taken Sonny and Trent’s, while TJ was sat in Brock’s. Delta Two had distinctively chosen not to sit in Clay’s seat, instead sitting in a chair usually used for either Cerberus or a support staff member, depending on the op.

(It was very funny to watch Brock and Clay push a wheely chair with Cerberus on it between the two of them, and they’d pretty much mastered the art of doing it in the last few months. Cerb had found that if he allowed it to happen, he’d get belly rubs and treats, so he was unbothered about it)

The other seats had a random assignment, seemingly first-come-first-serve. The ones unlucky enough to have not found seats stood tensely, arms crossed and grumbling under their breath to each other.

Nobody sat in Clay’s seat.

All 18 operators looked up when she walked in, attention snapping to the person with the most information. As she walked in, her gaze caught on the table space in front of Clay’s chair. Clay had left his book on the table. It’s about as thick as a brick, and Sonny would probably take a glance at it and tell Clay it was as dry as one. The embossed cover didn’t read English, and Lisa had a feeling that there would be very few, if any, people in the room able to read any part of the book.

She stood at the front and pushed her emotions down. These operators were here for information, not emotion.

“At 0145 this morning, 4 Green Team members entered Bravo’s Cage room. At 0157, they left, and returned to the Green Team barracks. 0204, Lieutenant Commander Blackburn entered the Bravo cages. He dialled 911 and was assisted by Alpha Four-”

She cuts herself off for a few seconds, as various operators slapped Jordan on the back, mumbled thanks spreading through the room as they reassured themselves that one of their own had helped their kid.

“Assisted by Alpha Four at 0207. Ambulance arrived at 0215. The Green Team members were apprehended by Alpha and Delta at 0248.”

She pauses again as a ripple of thanks goes through to room, Alpha and Delta thanking their Master Chiefs and each other and Charlie thanking both teams.

“Petty Officer Spenser was admitted to hospital at 0224, and was assessed as having a concussion, a broken nose and 5 bruised ribs.”

Alpha, Charlie and Delta’s medics all take note of this. They’re probably going to be on Clay’s ass for the next few months about this, right behind Trent.

“Bravo arrived at the Hospital at 0243. They are all with him. Hayes has asked that he is included in any appropriate punishments.”

Full Metal snorts. “Bet he didn’t word it like that”

A series of chuckles and grins echoes around the room. He did not word it like that. There was much more swearing, and much, much less formal language. He’d implied murder no less than 5 times.

Lisa allowed a smile to pass through the stony calm façade she had up.

“Command has delegated these appropriate punishments to be carried out within DEVGRU and have stressed the importance of leaving an impression on future graduates. This cannot be a recuring event.”

TJ pipes up first, almost before she’d finished talking. “I say we let Metal work his magic, make sure nobody finds them.”

This gets mixed responses, but Lisa isn’t surprised when none are wholly negative. They all had a younger brother in the form of Clay, and they had all trained for years in the art of killing their enemies as swiftly and efficiently as possible, and these candidates fell wholly and completely under the title of ‘Enemy’.

Metal gives a faux hopeful look to Lisa, and Lisa can tell that he’s not entirely dismissed the possibility, even as he does a terrible job at pretending to still consider it an option that Lisa could authorize. Lisa plays into the joke – god knows that Tier One needs some light in this disastrous day – and gives him the look mostly used for when Bravo (usually Sonny) suggests a stupid idea that shouldn’t had even crossed their minds. Blackburn jokingly referred to it as her “bad dog” look, and it worked for its purpose, making the operators put their tails between their legs. A few faces form smiles, and a few look to be wavering on the edge of smiling.

“No murder, and no death.”

This gets her grumbles, and not all of them are joking. Clay had gotten all of them out of sticky situations. Every operator in Tier One had a handful story where Clay had needed to be briefed on their op, and all of them had at least one where he’d taking calls at 2am to translate over a connection that he could barely hear English through. He’d never berated them for waking him up, and had often taken time to teach various operators key phrases, if he knew they were deploying somewhere where he knew the language.

Beau goes next, possibly the most level-headed of the Master Chiefs – both in the room and not. “Advanced SERE?”

Now this, Lisa can work with. Something about her posture must change, a twitch in her face, because the room suddenly erupts in sound. Charlie Two, Delta Five and Alpha Three all are in close enough range to clap Beau on the back, and they do so in quick succession.

“Gentlemen.” She raises her voice to be heard by the room. There’s nothing gentle about the looks on their faces.

“I’ll leave you to figure something out. Report to me with a plan of action.” And with that, she gives them a single nod and begins to leave. Her turned back does not block out the whispers of violence, but it does hide the vicious smile that’s stretched itself out along her face.

Nobody would even think about hurting their kid. Ever again.

+

As Clay blearily opened his eyes, he realised that he’d succumbed to pain-med-induced sleep. A few hours had probably passed since then, based on the fact that sunlight was now filling the room. Sonny was sat on his right side, gaze focused on the room’s TV screen, which was showing a play-by-play of a football game. The volume was cranked down, and even as Clay becomes more aware; he can only hear every other word.

“Son?” The word passes his lips without him meaning it to. Sonny’s head snaps over to Clay, so fast that Clay fears he may have given himself whiplash.

“Hey Bam Bam, how ya doin?” The toothpick moves hypnotically. Stop looking at the toothpick. Stop it. Stop it. Sonny’s casual expression is betrayed by the slight waver in his voice, a sliver of raw emotion that Sonny couldn’t fully supress. Clay gives him a strained smile in lieu of answering and reaches his hand out. Sonny catches the hand before it moves very far, holding it in a tight grip.

Sonny’s thumb absently runs across Clay’s unblemished because he hadn’t even been able to fight back knuckles, and his spare hand turns off the TV, leaving them in silence.

“Kid.” Clay’s eyes widen slightly, and he almost pulls his hand out of Sonny’s grip at the softly spoken word. He tries to get in the apology, the explanation, before Sonny can tell him that Jason is punishing him for being unaware.

“I should have being paying attention. I know I should have been paying attention, I was just so tired.” I’m sorry I’m so sorry don’t kick me out please

Sonny freezes. What?

“Clay. Stop. Stop-” he has to cut himself off before he says something that includes those really touchy-feely-emotions he’s feeling. Thankfully, Clay doesn’t take the pause as an opportunity to continue. “Stop trying to defend yourself. None of us blame you, Blondie. You were on base. You should have been protected. We won’t fail you again.” Sonny gives him facts, because he knows that if he tries to do anything else he’ll make it worse.

“Son?” Clay recalls a voice calling through the dark, through the black water he was floating in, a voice he’d recognised; “Did Blackburn find me? He- he had blood on his hands”

For a moment, Sonny curses Clay’s blessings as a sniper. He’d always been able to notice the little things, the things none of them would notice. “Yeah, he was checking that none of us were sleeping in the cages.”

Clay nods, and then his brows furrow. He breaks eye contact with Sonny and frowns in the genal direction of his feet. His face makes what Sonny calls his ‘Brainiac’ Face, and Sonny can only assume that he’s thinking about what happened with Blackburn, not rationalizing with himself that the beating was somehow his fault.

“Son, can I talk to him?” Sonny doesn’t want to think about whatever that conversation is going to be, so he nods and begins to gather his stuff. His cap is hanging precariously from one on the bed’s corners, his phone on the bedside table. He stands and ruffles Clay’s head, laughing despite the stink-eye he gets for it. Clay doesn’t mind it, and he has the feeling the next few weeks, if not months, are going to be filled with various forms of physical contact to reassure his teammates that he was still with them.

And now he’d asked Sonny to get Blackburn. God what do you even say to the guy who had found you beaten? ‘Hey Boss, I’m sure that what you saw was horrifying, but I’m alright now?’ God help him. Sonny hadn’t given him a weird look, so he’d probably been expecting Clay to ask at some point.

Clay’s train of thought is interrupted when a soft knock sounds on the door. There’s a second of pause before the door opens. Clay can’t think of a time when Blackburn’s looked worse. There are dark circles under his eyes, and a vaguely haunted look in his eyes. His eyes have a red tinge, and Clay can’t tell if that’s from sleep deprivation, or something else. His hands are rubbed red and raw, and Clay can tell that Blackburn had taken extra care to get every fleck of blood off his hands. He’s in a jacket that looks too big for him, and Clay suspects that Trent had a hand in that. Since the injured person – Clay – wasn’t someone he could immediately care for, Trent had gone for the next best thing, a shaken Blackburn. Under the jacket, he’s still in his fatigues, and by the time he’s finished the assessment of Blackburn’s top half, he’d moved close and sat down, hiding everything below his waist from Clay’s view.

Blackburn reaches out, putting a palm on Clay’s forearm, Clay’s hand mirrors it on Blackburn’s arm, and tension bleeds from Blackburn’s figure. His shoulders slump slightly, and he leans forward.

“How are you feeling?”

Clay considers lying, considers saying that he’s not in any pain, considers easing Blackburn’s mind. He decides against it. Blackburn had found him in a pool of blood, it’s the least he can do to tell him the truth. “My ribs hurt. But I’m, I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you were there.”

Clay is the sometimes literally bleeding heart of Bravo, levelling out Sonny’s emotional constipation, and the admission is the balm of some of the burns on Eric’s soul. Eric leaned forwards, shuffling closer to the bed, trying to hide the blood on his knees. He hadn’t been home to change, a call to his wife at 8am had told her that he wasn’t going to be home for a while. She, like the amazing wife she was, had been understanding, and then grumbled at him to let her sleep. They’d both laughed and exchanged ‘I love you’s before his wife ended the call. Clay didn’t need the stress of knowing that Eric had knelt in his blood. Nobody needs that.

“Gave me quite a scare, gave all of us quite a scare.” Eric doesn’t tell him that he’d spent the last half hour scrubbing his hands raw, that Jason had needed to strong-arm him into the waiting room, that Trent had given him one look and offered up his jacket, that he’d had his head in his hands until Sonny had come into the room and told him that Clay wanted to talk to him. Doesn’t tell him that he’d stood outside for nearly a minute before he’d knocked, that he’d needed to barrel in before he lost the nerve to speak to his operator. He usually prides himself on staying calm, on being collected, but Clay had been attacked in one of the few places on earth that he could honestly and without reservation call home. That scared Eric. If he couldn’t keep his operators safe on base, where would they be safe?

“Davis is talking to command about adding locks to the cage room doors, make sure this doesn’t happen again.” If she wasn’t already talking to command about it, she would be soon.

Clay nods. He shifts and grimaces in pain.

“Do you want me to get a nurse?” It’s a safe question, one that doesn’t involve the emotions in the room.

Clay ignores the lifeline. “I’m alright as I am. Did you get the guys?”

Eric nods. Breaking the news to Bravo had been the highlight of his morning. “Command is letting DEVGRU work out how to punish them.”

Clay grins. “I bet Metal is having fun with that.”

It’s Eric’s turn to smile, and a soft chuckle makes its way out. “Davis is under strict orders to not accept a plan that involves murder. I’m sure Alpha’s disagreeing with that.”

Alpha was most likely to deploy with Bravo, and all were in line with their Master Chief’s ‘Bury-first-questions-second’ policy when it came to Clay. Eric had a feeling it wouldn’t take much convincing to get Delta and Echo behind the plan, and that Charlie would only argue on principle.

Tier One was a brotherhood that didn’t take kindly to injury, as the world would learn.

+

Echo One – Zack Greer – a newly promoted Delta Two, wasn’t a very outgoing man. One and Twos were meant to both complement and contrast each other, a precarious balancing act honed over years of living out of each other’s pockets. TJ had needed a level head, so his Two was calm in the face of crisis.

Echo Two, on the other hand. A Floridian man, Elliot Howe, promoted from Charlie Three, who was under strict orders to never drink unsupervised with Sonny Quinn, lest they empty a bar and then burn said bar to the ground. He’d chaffed under Beau’s tight ship, so when the opportunity to move to form Echo had arisen, he was hard pushed to say no.

Together with Echo Three (Alpha Three), Echo Four (Delta Six) and two Green Team graduates as their Five and Six, they’d created a tight brotherhood.

Echo Five, Dan Wilder, a multilingual K9 handler, had initially been lost at DEVGRU, not quite fitting in. He’d reached out to the youngest operator – Bravo Six – in order to get some advice. What he didn’t know at the time is that their languages had overlap. Together with Clay and Ares – his K9 – he’d been able to find someone to practice with.

Echo had long since lost count of how many times Clay had come into their cage room, with a well-loved book, offering it to Dan with a brief explanation of how it would interest him. The book was never in English, and neither was the explanation. For all they knew, Clay could have spent the last few months giving Dan anything from Harry Potter to The Anarchist’s Cookbook (he’d actually only given Dan one of those, and Dan was under strict instructions not to tell them which, and Dan had been recommending others back).

Sonny, on the days when they were hanging out after work, sometimes tagged along to these exchanges. He’d joked about a book club, and Echo Two had picked up on the joke immediately, and since then the pair had resigned themselves to the nickname.

Between Clay’s frequent interactions with Dan and the fact that all of DEVGRU was deadly protective of Clay, it was no surprise that when Echo had heard the news, they hadn’t been happy. Command had fought a battle with Echo to keep them deployed, and Echo had nearly won. Dan had been on many rants, talking to empty space in Pashto – Four only caught a few words, and those were all along the lines of murder and death. Ares was giving out a low, constant growl. Both of the DEVGRU K9s were as protective as their owners, it seemed.

The door to their dorms slammed open and Zack marched in. Echo looks up in sync, and if it weren’t so serious, Zack would be amused by how much his men look like Meerkats. “Got word from Virginia.” This sets his men on edge, Howe half-steps forward, and his shoulders visibly tense up. “They found the green team rookies. We’ve been asked to approve the plan of their punishment before it gets sent to be approved by command.” Malicious smiles break out among the barracks.

They may be 7000 miles away, but they wouldn’t let anybody off the hook because of it.

[emmerrr]

Hi! For the dialogue thing andreil + “i don’t have anyone else” OR “please just stay away from me, for a moment at least” ? You’re great!

Hi, thank you so much! I went with “please just stay away from me, for a moment at least”. but I’ve sort of entirely tweaked the wording to make it work in my head, although the general sentiment remains the same! I hope this is okay, it’s a little angsty I’m sorry (but in fairness it’s an angsty prompt) [on ao3 if you prefer]

this includes references to aaron’s trial

Neil drives them back. 

His mouth is a thin line and he keeps glancing at Andrew in the rearview mirror. He hasn’t said a word since they left the courthouse, but then again, neither has Andrew.

Nicky sits in the passenger seat, and even he can’t seem to find something to say. He turns the radio on, but then almost immediately turns it off again. He anxiously peers behind him into the backseat.

“Okay?” he asks, utterly wrung out, but as ever full of concern for his cousins.

Aaron sits in the middle seat, his hand firmly in Katelyn’s who’s behind Nicky. His voice is hoarse when he says, “Okay.” 

And he is okay. At least, he’s not going to prison. They got the outcome they needed, and Drake is still dead, buried where he’ll never be able to hurt anyone ever again. Aaron did the world a favour.

So he’s okay, and Andrew’s okay, except for the fact that neither of them really know what ‘okay’ even looks like. Aaron’s had to gruellingly defend his actions over and over and over again, and as for Andrew? He’s had to recount his abuse at the hands of Drake in order to corroborate Aaron’s claims in front of a jury, and in front of Cass who had the audacity to sit there and weep for her son…

He’s not angry. Not really. He doesn’t have enough left in him to be angry, which is fine, because Neil has that covered for the both of them.

Andrew’s shoulder is pressed right up against Aaron’s where he sits behind the driver’s seat, and even though Nicky’s gaze flickers to him after Aaron has spoken, Andrew doesn’t have the energy to reply himself.

He looks away and leans his head against the window. The vibrations of the moving car are probably going to give him a headache if he doesn’t move, but that’s alright; the pain will give him something else to focus on.

Following behind them in another car are Wymack, Abby, Kevin and Bee. The only reason Katelyn is in the Maserati instead of Kevin is because Aaron needs her, and the only reason Andrew is in the back and not the front is because he needs Aaron; to know he’s there, and that he’s safe. 

It isn’t said out loud. It just is.

He shifts a little in his seat, leaning ever so slightly more on his brother. He exhales, then he closes his eyes.

When they get back to Fox Tower, Neil parks in the space in between Allison’s Porsche and Matt’s truck.

Wymack pulls up behind to drop Kevin off, but he gets out of the car too, and comes over before Andrew can escape upstairs.

“No practice tomorrow,” he says, and not even Kevin complains; instead he stands solemnly by Nicky, a hand on his shoulder.

“Got it, Coach,” Neil says when no one else offers a word.

Wymack nods then glances between the twins. “You two, take all the time you need. Betsy’s door is always open, but so is mine. So is Abby’s. You know where to find us if you need to.”

Andrew says nothing, but Aaron nods slightly. “Thanks, Coach.”

Wymack clears his throat then heads back towards his car. “Stay out of trouble.”

“You know us, Coach,” Nicky says with a weak smile. “Always on our best behaviour.”

With a last wave, Wymack gets back into his car and drives away, leaving the rest of them standing in a loose circle. Neil’s not touching Andrew, but he’s standing very, very close. Close enough to touch, if Andrew wanted to reach out.

And he does want to, but he resists the urge. Instead, he yanks off his tie and drops it on the ground in a puddle leftover from earlier rainfall.

After a moment’s hesitation, Aaron does the same.

Nicky sighs. “Those were Hugo Boss ties.”

Kevin cracks a smile at that, and so does Katelyn. She takes Aaron’s hand and links their fingers together.

“I’m going to Katelyn’s for the night,” Aaron says, his eyes on Andrew and Andrew alone. “But I’ll be back in the morning for team breakfast.”

Andrew again doesn’t speak, and Aaron doesn’t need his permission, but he nods in acknowledgement that he’s heard and then abruptly turns and heads inside Fox Tower.

He takes the stairs to the roof, and once up there, sits at the edge. He lights himself a cigarette, and he waits.

Sure enough, it’s not long until he hears the door to the roof open and close behind him, and Neil’s familiar footfalls as he makes his way over to Andrew.

He sits down beside him, hand palm up on the ground in the small space between them. A clear invitation, should Andrew feel like taking it.

Andrew chain-smokes through three cigarettes before he says anything. Neil’s just been sitting there the entire time, a silent sentinel Andrew didn’t need or ask for. There’s a million other things he could be doing right now – homework, exercise, Exy-related crap with Kevin, video games with Nicky, movies with the upperclassmen – but instead, here he sits. With Andrew. Just in case he needs him.

“Leave me alone,” Andrew says, and the words come out more bitter than he’d intended. Neil looks up sharply in surprise, and so Andrew softens the blow. “For a little while, at least.”

There’s a silence, and then Neil nods. “Okay, Andrew. Okay.” But he doesn’t move, and Andrew sighs.

“Neil.”

“I know. It’s just–” Neil lifts his hand, and to his mild surprise, Andrew’s moves with it. Because it’s in Neil’s.

Andrew can’t even remember reaching out, and isn’t that strange for someone with almost perfect recall?

He stares for a moment at their joined hands, his thumb rubbing across the scars dotted across Neil’s knuckles absently.

Neil likes hand-holding, Andrew has learnt as they’ve carefully navigated their relationship, such as it is. But it’s not something he’s ever particularly initiated himself before. He hasn’t really felt the need. He didn’t think he felt the need now.

And yet…

“Do you really want me to go?” Neil asks. It’s a quiet question, but asked in such a way that Andrew knows he won’t be offended with the answer. Neil’s sole concern here is what Andrew needs, and it’s irritating and endearing all wrapped up in one five-foot-three package.

Andrew thought he wanted to be alone, but now he’s not so sure with his words telling Neil one thing and his actions another.

He still hasn’t let go of Neil’s hand.

He puts his cigarette out and flicks the remainder away, looking out across the campus before them. His heart’s beating just a little bit faster than it should be, but Andrew can’t tell if it’s because of the height or because of everything else.

He pulls Neil’s hand closer, and says, “No. I don’t want you to go.” He’s sure this time.

Some of the tension leeches out of Neil’s posture – not all, because he’s clearly still wound up from the trial – but enough that he relaxes slightly next to Andrew. He gives Andrew’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“Then I’m not going anywhere.”

Neil’s said this before, or an iteration of this. More than once. Every time, it gets a little easier to believe it.

They sit there in silence. At some point, Andrew’s head ends up on Neil’s shoulder, and Neil rubs his cheek gently against Andrew’s head. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, the sun is starting to set.

Neil is still there. They’re still holding hands. Andrew wants to get in the shower and wash this whole day off of him, but for now, he’s calm, and he’s with Neil, and there’s a sunset.

There’s worse places to be.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens his contacts. Aaron’s number is right at the top, and Andrew’s thumb hovers over the dial button.

He presses it.

Aaron picks up almost immediately. “Andrew?”

“Here,” Andrew says, which seems obvious; he called Aaron after all.

There’s a brief pause, and then, much like Nicky had done hours earlier, Aaron asks, “Okay?”

Andrew breathes out. They’re all safe.

“Okay.”

[trashy-greyjoy]

Hey! I don't mean this to sound rude, but I honestly don't see the sizzle reel being that bellarke centric (other than the 101 counting bellamy). I was wondering if you could go through your train of thought?

Not rude at all! I’d be happy to explain! I don’t write meta, if thats what this is, so just hang in there! This is what I personally got out of it. So basically the sizzle reel showcased a majority of the important moments in bellarke’s relationship development. I’d say you can actually split the moments between the narration from Madi and the clips we see. 

The voice over moments are aimed at viewers who know the story and will pick up on the little callbacks. While all the clips we actually see of Bellamy and Clarke are framed to imply an intimate or at the very least a close personal relationship. (this was the part that I when i said it looks romantic to people who haven’t seen the show). 

Narration (Spoken Lines)

“101 including Bellamy”: Clarke like immediately starts off by interrupting Madi’s story to make sure the girl didn’t forget to include her boy Bellamy. And it’s such an insignificant thing to pick out, the fact that she stops the story to correct it and make sure Madi includes Bellamy shows the audience that he’s important to her. 

It’s also important to note that Bellamy is the only character mentioned by name in the entire narration. That sticks him out as very important in flashing neon letters.

“So they did whatever the hell they wanted”: We all know that the phrase “whatever the hell we want” was Bellamy’s motto early in the show, it was exclusively his and we see a few characters call back to it after his development. Which means Madi including that phrasing is intentional and she knows about Bellamy being a little shit the first like week on the ground and Clarke told her. This is also a fairly insignificant moment in the grand scheme of the story for Madi to know. Most of the reel is a recap so its in general terms, so its weird that a small things significant to only Bellamy’s character is picked. So we can assume Clarkey G is very in depth about her boy Bell.

“Together, even bad children can do good things.”: When Madi says this part she puts slight emphasis on the word together and separates it from the rest of the sentence. We all know together is Blarke’s thing and those dramatic shits won’t let us forget it. So that was, in my opinion, a reference to their teamwork and “togetherness”. Losers.

It’s immediately followed by the “Who we are and who we need to be…” clip AND the smiling like idiots after almost dying in a car collision clip (which I’ll talk about below) just furthering the connection between Bellarke and “together”.

“There are no good guys.”: This was originally a Abby / Clarke quote but Clarke repeats it back to Bellamy in S3 and in the reel they play it over the clip of that angsty lever pulling in Mt. Weather.

“The bravest and the fairest of them all…”: This one is more my personal head canon or overreaction, you pick. But this means Clarke describes herself to Madi as “fairest of them all” which is a phrase commonly used to describe what now? FUCKING PRINCESSES. Clarke sees herself as a Princess of this story and no one is going to convince me Bellamy Blake is not responsible for that.

“Everyone she loved or cared about was gone… or lost to space.”: This one might be a stretch, but Bellamy is literally the only character portrayed as having an important relationship or connection to Clarke out of any of the people in space. Hell, he’s the only one we know by name too so… I just personally… have the belief… that it is implied… ;)

Kind of in between the narrative and the visuals is the fact that Bellamy has more spoken lines in the Sizzle Reel (obvs apart from Madi’s narration) than any other character, so again, he’s an important person to Clarke.

Visuals (Clips)

The “Who we are and who we need to be to survive are very different things” moment: This is a clip of Bellamy offers sound advice to Clarke being his soft self. It’s one of the first times we see him actually be soft with her (clearly he picks up the habit quickly though). Before then he’s always been harsh, but here we got our first glance at him trying to actually comfort her. From an outside perspective of someone with no previous knowledge of the show, its a moment of someone (who we already know is important to Clarke) try to offer her a bit of comfort or calming advice in a very soft and sincere way. So you get the impression they care.

That "let’s smile at each other in relief after you just shot a guy in a moving vehicle and saved our lives”: We know its a moment of relief after Bellamy just saved Clarke’s life, but also saved the collective asses of the human race with those barrels of hydrazine. It’s cute they smile, they’re glad they’re alive. Again, from an outsider’s perspective, they see Bellamy being a boss and shooting the guy in Clarke’s rover and the two of them smiling in relief like idiots. Again establishing that they care about each other and that there is a bond between them and that they’re cute when they smile. Idk are you catching the drift? It’s framed and cut so it comes off intimate.

S1 inspirational Bellamy speech: not really a focus on the Bellarke relationship, but it’s a powerful moment that, once again, enforces the importance of Bellamy to this story (and, in turn, to Clarke, holla!)

Dramatic pulling of the Mt. Weather Lever “TOGETHER”: A very important moment we, as viewers, know. Bellamy puts his hand over hers to pull the lever together and to share that burden because it’s what they do, and we also know how important it was for Bellamy because he was letting her know she isn’t alone. Outsider pov, its a teary eyed Bellamy looking at a stressed af Clarke and covering her hand with his own to pull the lever. It’s clearly emotional. It’s clearly significant. Again, framing it to add intimacy. All an outsider would see is two very close “friends?” in an emotional moment. ROMANCE. (It’s also played behind the “There are no good guys,” line.)

“You’re not acting like someone who just saved the world” moment: It’s soft. It’s packed with subtle emotions. Bob has those fucking heart eyes going again. They’re both bloody and tired and about to cry again. You know, just clearly two pals being emo and soft with each other LIKE ALWAYS.

Quick shot of the “Blake family hand holding panic” as Arkadia burns: It’s small and quick, but it adds a small moment of unity between the obvious family dynamic the characters have as they watch their home burn and hold on to each other.

THAT HUG THOOOOOO: I mean… it’s a very emotional hug while Clarke is crying and Bellamy is distraught™. Enforces that they’re close on a personal, intimate level to newbies and reminds us of that time we all died for the veterans. I’m getting repetitive, but… it looks romantic or at least significant if you don’t know the story. And it’s overplayed and followed by Clarke saying the line “You have such a big heart Bellamy.” Like, um excuse me that shit is cut to look romantic as all hell. “Big heart,” my gawd how obvious are they trying to be. Showing her hugging him emo af while she’s gushing about how caring he is…. And it’s immediately followed by…

“If anything happens to me-” “NOTHING IS HAPPENING TO YOU.”: Pal… In general narratives “If something happens to me…” is usually followed by a confession or an implied confession of something important, usually feeeeeeeelings. And then Bellamy’s absolute refusal of anything happening to her. This comes across the same to both veteran viewers and the newbies. It’s a guy blantanly just refusing the idea of anything bad happening to someone he cares about. Again with the ROMANTIC SUBTEXT YALL. It’s intimate and emotionally charged as heeeelllllllllllll.

“May we meet again”: Ok yo this one is more important that it seems. Like it’s the tearjerking, heart breaking moment that Bellamy’s basically saying goodbye to Clarke. We see, and hear, how Clarke sacrificed herself to save her friends and then immediately we get Bellamy’s fucking sad af heartbroken reaction to leaving her behind. The editors of this were literally screaming “THEY ARE IMPORTANT TO EACHOTHER” through this whole thing, but then they wrap it up by showing him pretty much saying bye and leaving her behind and being completely torn up about it. oh my gawd this sizzle reel was genius.

And just a repeat, Bellamy is the only character mentioned by name in the narration, he’s the only on portrayed as having a significant connection to Clarke (there were no scenes between her and anyone else, exclusively, besides the brief clip of L… interesting…), he has more scenes with spoken lines than anyone else, everyone blarke moment shown was a very personal moment in their relationship development, and the romantic subtext is the bomb dot com.

I’d say go rewatch the video ( x ) and look at it as someone who knows nothing about the show and then think about how Bellarke comes off to you or how their scenes are staged and cut together because it’s wild when you really get at it.

Sorry this is literally a novel, I just have a lot of Bellarke feelings tonight and I’m emo af and the sizzle reel still has me shooketh. I hope this is at least enlightening!

[hybridirl]

who first?

18+ only, please!

ellie x f!loser!reader x abby

a/n: sorry for the long wait! i was with my family the past week celebrating a holiday :)!! now i’m back and i’m gonna try and pump out a few. i am in fact working on the ellie x loser!reader pt2, so pls bear with me! i’m still thinking up ideas. this shit is harddd

brief summary: ellie and abby are the bestest of friends, and you’re… there. they kinda feel bad for you, so they bring home some of the “good shit” for a game. never have i ever? with shots. reversed. haven’t done it? drink!!!

tw / AU, *DUBCON* (reader is drunk (but so is ellie and abby)), strap-on, use of y/n, cunnilingus (r and e receiving), tit-slapping, porn no plot, rushed sex, threesome, reader gets referred to as “girl”

ᡣ𐭩

watching tiktoks for hours on end was never your proudest pastime, especially when your two roommates were constantly out partying. you, honestly, were a third wheel. well, to be fair, you came into this friendship way after these two had already been established as this inseparable duo. still, being a friend - even if it’s not as deep - doesn’t mean you should be excluded from their little activities.

so, this is how your night has gone so far: moping around, trying to bake some cookies you found on tiktok, and binging tiktok. you sat on the island of the kitchen, a frown plastered on your face as you munched on your fifth cookie.

you glanced at the clock: 11:35 PM. you knew exactly what this meant; one of them is slutting themselves out while the other waits to drive themselves home. god, how it aggravated you! - how easily they could get into someone’s pants by just looking at them while you had to ease your way into it. that slow, smooth talking you, except it rarely ever worked and you came off as a creep. the pickup lines from reddit don’t seem to work in reality, huh?

pulling yourself off the counter and shoving the last piece of cookie into your mouth, you wondered why you stayed up until they came back. maybe you were just a little afraid to go to sleep alone, maybe you were just simply lonely. you wanted them to come home, tell you about their day and get envious at their friendship that you weren’t in on and that you didn’t have. poor you. you were like a watchdog, always staying up and looking out until your ‘owners’ came along, praising you for your good work so you could get your little dopamine rush. you even whimpered, just a little, as you sat on the couch to watch some cheesy drama movie that you had zero interest in. about thirty minutes in, the door opens. you turn your head and watch your two acquaintances walk in, both holding a suspiciously shaped brown bag.

“hey,” you greet, “what’re those?” you pointed toward the bags in their hands.

“just stuff for you,” ellie chirped first, setting the bag on the coffee table.

“us, she means,” abby cut in, setting hers down. you watched as they revealed what was shielded from her viewing: two tall bottles of ‘devil’s spring vodka.’

you cocked your head to the side and spoke, “for us? what for?” they gave you a ‘what do you think?’ look before ellie headed off to get three shot glasses. she placed one in front of you, abby, and herself.

“so, y/n,” abby began, popping the top and pouring some into each glass. “we know you’re lonely and we thought we’d do something for you, huh? sound good?” you pursed your lips and nodded, completely weirded out by this interaction.

“we’re gonna play a game,” ellie said, circling her glass with her hands. “it’s like ‘never have i ever.’ ever played?” you nodded. “good. so, each time someone says something you haven’t done, you take a shot. got it?” you nod again. “a—lright, you guys ready?” abby smiles and raises her hand.

“i’ll go first,” she told, an obvious mischievous glint in her eye, “let’s start of tame. so, y/n, have you ever… kissed someone in public? i’m not talking a little peck, i’m talking seriously making out.” your face heated, and your jaw dropped just slightly. you thought about lying, of course, just to seem cool, but, you knew they’d know.

“i-i… no, i haven’t,” you muttered out, shakily reaching your hand toward your glass. you took a sip, wincing at the burn in your throat.

“c’mon, y/n, the whole thing,” ellie chuckled at your ministrations. you whimpered silently before your head tilted back, gulping the rest down.

“ugh,” you groaned as you set it down and watched as ellie pour more into your glass. you had a feeling this was going to be a long night.

“okay, my turn,” ellie giggled, looking at the two of you. “okay, y/n, have you ever… had someone motorboat you?” your brows furrowed immediately.

“m-motorboat? i, well, um… no.”

“drink up then, girl.” they watched as you took another brave shot, your face contorting into what looked like pain, and, to be fair, it was painful.

you were about to speak, for your turn, but abby interrupted quickly, barely even noticing your open mouth, “my turn, huh?” abby questioned. your jaw shut right back up, letting her take the lead. letting her do her thing. “so, y/n, ever, i don’t know, let’s get a little crazier with this one, yeah? ever been in a threesome?”

you stared at abby with wide eyes, why are they asking you this stuff? why only you?

“no…” you whispered, continuing your stare on her as you went to take yet another shot. you were already starting to feel a buzz, already starting to feel the heat in your tummy. with a slightly clouded head, you turned to ellie. she was smirking, her eyes knowing as her lips parted once more.

“how about you give it a go?” ellie asked you, and you felt some relief.

“h-have you guys ever, um… have you guys ever… had a threesome?” you asked in a low voice. you watched abby roll her eyes and go to grab her glass, as with ellie.

“o—kay, my turn,” ellie clasped her hands together, after setting her glass back down, “ever taken it up the ass, y/n?”

“why are you only asking me?” you gawked, reaching for your glass. you took the next shot, and felt a sudden need for more.

“because we already know what we’ve did,” abby replied, another shot of the vodka slithering down her throat. “mm, that’s some good shit. so, y/n, have you ever topped?” you sighed as you reached for the glass once more. “oh, so you’re a bottom? figures. i mean, look at you.” you looked up at her, slightly offended whilst your hands went to pour yourself another shot.

“have you guys ever, uh, had public… sex?” you found yourself boldly asking, obvious that this drink was getting to you. they both raised their glasses to their lips.

this went on and on, mostly them asking you, you sometimes asking them until you were all drunk out of your minds.

“y/n,” ellie finally groaned and she scooted closer to you. you hadn’t realized the proximity of them both, slowly decreasing as the night went on. you hummed a response, your eyes half closed and your face hot. “h’ve you ever, uh, fantasized? about us?” ellie asked, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. your hand didn’t reach for the glass, rather you simply stared into those green eyes. “yeah? you have? why didn’t you tell us? we coulda’ made all of your dreams come true, sweetheart,” she whispered, her hand meeting your waist.

“i-i was n-nervous,” you whined, “didn’ wanna say anythin’…”

“y/n, baby,” abby purred into your ear, “you don’ gotta be nervous ‘round us.” your head throbbed as you bit your lip; their hands explored your body, slowly molding you into your arousal. you wondered if this was their plan all along as their fingers danced around your PJs, caressing your inner thighs…

“please,” you whispered and their eyes flickered toward you. “…t-touch me…” you sighed blissfully as ellie’s hand finally met with your pajama-clad vulva. abby’s head dipped into the crook of your neck; she kissed up your neck and throat, then tilted your head toward hers to kiss your lips. sloppily, her tongue slipped into your mouth, prodding and massaging your tongue. your own mingled with hers, dancing around each other’s. you barely noticed your bottoms being tugged down, only realizing once the chill of the air hit your heat.

“lemme taste ‘er first,” abby said quickly as she pulled away from your swollen lips.

“no,” ellie whined, tugging your body toward hers.

“it was my idea,” she growled in return, “now let me have her first.” ellie huffed, but let go. she took asylum in your breasts; lifting your shirt up, she immediately dove into your mounds. she licked up to your nipple, taking it between her lips. you let out a broken moan as she nibbled on your sensitive bud, her tongue swirling around your pebbling nipples.

abby slid your legs open with her hands, spreading your labia with her thumb.

“how long h’ve you been this wet, y/n?” an obvious rhetorical question. you were too occupied with ellie and the worship of your breasts.

“a’w-while,” you managed to croak, though. you heard her chuckle and felt your body being tugged toward her more. “mmf, abby, be gentle…” ellie watched as abby’s head dipped between your legs, then her eyes flickered to your face to watch it contort in pleasurable expressions. “abby… ngh…” your hand reached to tug at her blonde hair, earning a groan from her lips.

“i heard she’s a p-pro,” ellie whispered to you while she tugged off her bottoms. your eyes fluttered, staring dazed at the sight of her pussy.

“want,” you purred out. ellie only smirked at you, her hands moving in to shove you down onto the couch. her legs straddled your head and she lowered herself onto you without warning, virtually smothering you. “mmf!” your brows were furrowed, your nose smooshed against her wet cunt. she ground her hips into your face, covering it in her slick.

“c’mon, y/n, thought you wanted it.” your doe eyes kept gazing up at her and you began to do the best you could with her weight in your face, your tongue working hard against her swollen clit.

both of the feelings were intoxicating, abby at your pussy, you at ellie’s. your legs tightened around abby’s head as her fingers found your g-spot, thrusting her fingers in and out of you. you moan into ellie, slurping at the nectar leaking from her. you’re so intoxicated, you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or this delicious feeling. your hands gripped ellie’s sides and you pulled her closer. you were whimpering, moaning, abby’s tongue wriggling into you, her fingernails digging into your plush thighs.

“mmm!” you cried, your eyes shutting as you felt a knot in your stomach begin to uncoil, your juices coating abby’s tongue and face.

“ahn, yeah,” abby groaned. “righ’ on my tongue, sweethear’.” your eyes were rolling, face scrunched in pleasure. it was a sure sight for ellie, drawing - no, forcing ellie’s own climax to follow suit. her arousal painted you, creaming on your face as she held your head close to her.

“oh, god, please please please — fuck!”

she ground against you, riding her orgasm out in your face. her clit bumped your nose, and your hands gripped her hips, slowly guiding her to a halt as she came down. as she got up from you, she took a moment to admire her work. your face looked so exhausted, wet with her, and needy for more.

“abby,” ellie said, “g-go get the…” she gestured into the direction of the bedrooms, then abby knew what she was talking about. she made her way into one the bedrooms, who knows which, and rummaged through. you watched the hallway curiously, ready for her arrival. you tried to sit up, but ellie only grabbed you, laying you down on her thighs. when abby came out, you were surprised to find her pant-less, and with a harness strapped to her person, not to mention a dildo hanging from it. she approached, slow and cautious steps. you couldn’t tell if she was trying to tease you or try to get you into the idea.

“you wan’ it?” she asked you, slowly crawling into the sofa, then nudging and prodding your wetness with the head.

“wan’ it.”

“alrigh’, sweet girl,” she breathed, easing the head into your slippery entrance. “good?” you nodded your head, egging her on silently.

“abby,” you moaned breathlessly. she shushed you, halting her movements so you could get used to her. she ran her rough hands down your sides, down, down, to your clit, gently rubbing it to make you feel some sort of goodness as she stood still. “move, please,” you whimpered.

“y/n, you should see ‘yer face right now,” ellie giggled, caressing the side of your head. “god, y’so pretty. fuck ‘er, abby, hurry. look at ‘er face.” abby rolled her eyes, not usually taking commands. she was going to anyway, but…

“oh!” you gasped from her sudden movements, a tight snap from her hips. “f-fuck!”

“mmm, ‘n moans so pretty,” ellie praised, “didn’ get to hear ‘ya so well when you were under me. gettin’ smothered by my pussy... mhm…” she caressed your face again, cupping your cheeks as abby began to pound you.

“abby!” you cried to her, eyes shut tight, hands flailing to find somewhere to rest. they found abby’s biceps, gripping them tightly as she slapped her hips against yours. “please, ngh!” you grit your teeth, jaw clenched while pleasure overtook you.

“eyes open,” abby growled, “‘n on me.” you had to fight yourself to open your eyes, but the sight in front of you was perfect. abby’s blonde hair sticking to her forehead, her braid dangling and swinging with each thrust, her slack jaw, fuck. “yeah, ‘atta girl.” she was thrusting just right, obviously so experienced. it was pleasing her, too, the strap hitting just right at her swollen clit.

how badly you wanted to touch her body, worship her like you did quietly with her eyes. she was like a greek god, muscular and sculpted so perfectly. especially now, sweat marbling her skin and her chiseled body over yours. you almost forgot ellie was there, being as (almost) quiet as she was. glancing up, you caught sight of her, her fingers buried into her cunt. the sight alone was enough to make you cum once more, but you couldn’t, not so early. you looked back up at the deity above you who was staring into your eyes.

“abby,” you groaned. you threw your head back, going dumb on her cock. “right there… f-please…” cross-eyed, you sobered up a little as you felt a harsh pain on your breasts. “oh!” you gasped, feeling her large hand slap your chest. “abby!”

“take my cock, girl,” abby panted, hands squeezing your breasts, using them as leverage as she continued her pounding.

“fu—ck,” ellie groaned to the sight of you and to the noise of her fingers in her cunt, squelching, obscene, and loud. “y’doing so good, y/n… yes… uhn!”

you ran your hand up abby’s biceps, wrapping your arms around her neck. this prompted her to lean in and kiss your lips, deep and hungry. your hand cupped her cheek, pulling her close while your lips collided. abby pulled away first to admire your body and you took this moment to lift your arms above your head, desperately trying to pull ellie closer by her legs. she scoot closer and you cocked your head to the side, immediately licking at her cunt.

“yeah,” abby moaned, feeling the beginnings of her orgasm. “lick ‘er fuckin’ pussy.” she gripped your waist, hurriedly thrusting into you, her clot bumping against the harness. “fuck, i’m cumming!” she moaned, collapsing onto you as she came. she kissed at your neck, bit at it, too, while she continued to thrust, needing you to cum, too. her fingers finding your clit, furiously rubbing it.

you couldn’t help it anymore; biting into ellie’s thigh, you came. squirted, actually. all over her cock, all over her abdomen. your body was convulsing, shaking and twitching for her. ellie followed in suit, your teeth pushing her over the edge as they sunk deeper into her. all three of you were moaning, crying, holding each other tight.

“fuck,” you were the first to say. abby slowly pulled out of you, panting deeply.

“you squirted,” abby chuckled with admiration. she squeezed your thighs and glanced up at ellie, “all good?” she asked. ellie nodded.

“yeah, just,” she sighed blissfully, “fuck. we should do this again.” you giggled and kissed ellie’s thigh.

“mhm,” you agreed.

maybe your (sex?) life has just changed for the better.

[arentwelost]

what if i did // riko moriyama x kevin day // words by me // hanahaki disease au

He comes out of the hospital void of blue forget-me-nots stuck in his throat, void of all kinds of feelings for Kevin Day. But he returns, every single damn time, with his heart overflowing with jealousy and anger, so much hate, and so much love for a boy he can't have.

Based on: "The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The flowers can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals. It can be cured without side effects only when the feelings are returned."

  When the media talks about them, it’s always Riko and Kevin, never separate entities. One is never mentioned without the other. They’re always together, inseparable, unbreakable. Some part of Riko, the selfish part, the part that wants to devour more than he can take, wishes that were true.

  Riko lies in bed, surrounded by petals. A reminder of his own weakness, perhaps. He fights the desire to laugh.

  His chest is still marred by scars, one after another, overlapping each other. He doesn’t remember how many trips he’s made to the hospital, Tetsuji forcing him to get rid of those flower petals that were not yet on the verge of suffocating him.

  He then comes out of the hospital void of blue forget-me-nots in his throat, and void of all kinds of feelings for Kevin Day. But he returns, every time, with his heart overflowing with jealousy and anger, so much hate, and so much love. His feelings are like a hand grabbing him by his throat, refusing to let go whenever his thoughts wander to Kevin.

  He closes his eyes and supposes this is the most effective revenge anyone has come up with.

    -

    Privacy is not a thing in the Nest. Secrets aren’t exactly secrets, and if something dares to come out of your mouth, everyone will know by the end of the day.

  The Ravens like to pretend their soul are black holes, a void with no entrances and exits. They like to crush and choke on their feelings and force them down their throats than to voice them, and that usually results in a trip to the hospital with a surgery lined up. It isn’t unusual for someone to start having coughing fits in the middle of practice, or in the change room.

  So no one gives a second glance at the crushed petals littered across the floor of Riko’s room.

    -

    Riko doesn’t remember a time when hospitals aren’t a part of the routine. He doesn’t remember what it feels like not to yearn for another soul, another body pressed against his. Doesn’t remember what it feels like to smell something without smelling full bloom. He doesn’t remember how to feel content, and comfortable in his own skin.

  He feels empty even though there are flowers growing inside his lungs.

  And sometimes he wakes up to white ceilings, white walls, white sheets, white bandages across his chest. Sometimes he wakes up to his body aching with fractured pieces of dreams and fantasies about black hair, black uniforms, black tattoos, black eyes.

  Blue flowers.

  Bathroom tiles. Overflowing sinks.

  Constants, constants, constants.

    -

    Riko has lost count somewhere between the ninth and tenth visit to the hospital. Tetsuji has resorted to physical violence whenever he finds Riko suppressing his coughs, almost as if it would beat it out of him. Riko would spit the blood from his mouth and he wouldn’t think about how he was flushing little blue flowers down the toilet an hour ago. He would look proud and undefeatable, back straight and head high, accepting whatever Tetsuji has for him without as much as a wince.

  Tetsuji leaves him battered and bruised and aching for an end, red and purple matted with healing yellow.

  Jean only comes to his room when he’s carrying a first aid kit these days. He would apply antiseptic on Riko’s back with a mask of indifference on his face and stitch up some of the worse looking cuts that are definitely going to scar. They don’t talk about it, whatever it is, and when Jean finishes up, he slams the box closed, walking out of Riko’s room as soon as it’s done.

  Riko coughs, immediately covering his mouth with his hand, and regrets it because the action pulls on his stitches. When he pulls his hand away, crushed flowers are sitting on his palm, and Riko wishes it were blood instead.

    -

    Riko is drowning.

  He’s always drowning.

  His lungs don’t work as well as it did before, which is almost a given with all the half healed wounds on his chest from being emptied out so many times. Drills and practices that he could have completed with ease now leave him breathless and desperate for air, for a solution that isn’t surgery, surgery, surgery again.

  On some days when Tetsuji felt like it, he would make him run extra laps around the court, and Riko would bite down as hard as he clenches his hands, digging his nails into his palm. He would then run until his lungs and throat burnt, until his legs and arms felt numb, then join the rest of the Ravens with their drills.

  Riko is drowning, and Kevin Day is the goddamn sea that’s pulling him in.

    -

    Riko hugs Kevin in front of the cameras and he resists the urge to cough when Kevin awkwardly pats him on the back. For a brief, fleeting moment, he wishes this wasn’t for publicity, and he pretends it doesn’t hurt when Kevin freezes when Riko snakes his arm around Kevin’s waist. He remembers a time when his touch didn’t cause fear. He doesn’t remember a time when someone touched him like he wasn’t a monster.

  He lets go because Kevin wasn’t his no matter how much he wants him, no matter how much he tries to convince himself, and smiles the smile he’s been taught since he was old enough to be out in front of the camera.

  He is Riko Moriyama, the Raven King. He is Riko Moriyama, and he has the weight of his surname rested upon his shoulders, a blade pressed against his throat.

  He isn’t Riko, who has forget-me-nots stuck in his throat because he’s head over heels in love with someone he can’t have.

    -

    Kevin tells Wymack and Abby that he’s going to the bathroom before Andrew forcibly drags him back onto their bus, and he seems surprised when he finds Riko staring at his own reflection in the bathroom. Riko watches Kevin square his shoulders in a moment of courage instead of turning away to find another bathroom and leaving him alone.

  Seeing Kevin Day again is scratching the newly formed scab after a particularly bad fall and then panicking when it starts to bleed again. And it’s not even metaphorical because Riko has ripped his chest apart every single time his feelings for Kevin start to suffocate him, and the wound never heals properly before he has to cut it open again.

  Kevin takes a step closer to Riko, and stills. He opens his mouth and closes it again, like he has something to say but doesn’t know how to phrase it.

  Riko’s gaze on his reflection doesn’t waver. He clenches his jaw. “Spit it out, Kevin.”

  “…How long?” Kevin asks, voice coming out higher than what he expected, and clears his throat.

  Riko raises an eyebrow at that. “What do you mean, how long?”

  Kevin sighs, closing the distance between them. Riko’s knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping onto the sink and his lips are quivering when Kevin picks up a loose blue petal from the ground, holding it out to him.

  And Riko laughs, the sound surprising both of them. The laughter prompts another round of coughing, and more petals slip between his fingers. The sink is tainted with small drops of blood and blue flowers by the end of it, and Riko turns on the tap to wash away worse of it.

  “How long have I been coughing up forget-me-nots? Or how long do I have left before I suffocate and die?” Riko asks, his voice so weak that the words are barely making it out of his lips. “Not long, I’m sure. Don’t worry.”

  “That’s not what–”

  “That’s exactly what you meant,” Riko whispers harshly, picking up one of the petals, wet and stuck on the basin. “Forget-me-nots, Kevin. You remember that conversation, right?”

  Kevin remembers which conversation Riko is referring to, even though he doesn’t want to.

  It was night, and one of the Ravens were escorted out of the Nest after leaving carnations all over the pristine tiles of the shared bathroom. They were sitting on the same bed, doing their homework or whatever it was back then, when Kevin asked, seemingly out of nowhere considering they had been working in silence for a very long time, what kind of flower would you be?

  Riko frowned, never thought about this until now, and answered with the first flower that came into mind. Kevin nodded, going back to his work. It wasn’t until later when Riko had almost forgotten about this conversation, when Kevin said forget-me-nots, like he had taken all this time to come up with something fitting.

  “Riko, I…” Kevin starts, but trails off because he doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t want to know what this implies.

  Riko laughs again. “No, Kevin.” The I hurt you is swallowed down, and he turns to look at Kevin instead of the reflection of them in the mirror.

  He’s still tall as ever, eyebrows furrowed as he watches Riko. The heaviness in his chest turns into full blown pain, and he makes sure his smile doesn’t waver as Kevin continues to look at him wearily.

  “I’ll just get it removed,” he shrugs like this doesn’t matter, like this is no big deal, when he knows he can’t keep on making trips to the hospital. Kevin stands, unmoving when Riko starts to make his way out of the bathroom, walking past him. He stops just as before he opens the door.

  “You’ll never let me love you, anyway,” he hears himself say, and he doesn’t have it in him to allow himself to figure out whether Kevin heard him.

    -

    Perhaps in another time and life, where Riko isn’t so damaged – isn’t forced to become a monster filled with thorns and claws so he could defend himself – he would be happy. He wouldn’t have a weight suffocating him, wouldn’t have bruises on his legs or along his sides. Wouldn’t have flowers growing inside him, reminding him that he deserves this after what he did to Kevin.

  Riko lies in bed, surrounded by petals. He’s dying, his bed a coffin and this is his funeral and oh god he needs to write it down somewhere - like a suicide note or something - that he doesn’t want any forget-me-nots anywhere near his grave.

  He fights the desire to laugh.

  He manages a weak one anyway, which proves to be a mistake because he ends up coughing up even more flowers.

  Tetsuji is out somewhere for a meeting today, and Riko knows he won’t be back anytime soon. Although some part of him is yelling at him for being so stupid, letting himself go like this, another part is relieved, reason still unknown to him because the truth is a puzzle he’s too tired to figure out anymore.

  Riko is drowning. He has always been drowning, and has always been stubborn enough to keep swimming up to breath into fresh air again. But today he’s not going to fight it. Today, he’s going to close his eyes and let the currents drag him further away from the shore.

  He’s going to let the sea take him.

    -

      And when the media talks about them, it’s a one line description in a magazine featuring an exclusive interview with Kevin Day that doesn’t even detail a fraction of who Riko used to be. The first exy player to die of Hanahaki Disease, Riko Moriyama was the former captain of Edgar Allen’s Ravens and Day’s childhood friend.