#i let myself gaze at the clouds drifting by

[itsalwayslearning]

It's time to let yourself truly feel.

Let yourself smile widely when something makes you happy. Shut your eyes and savour the warmth of the sun. Let your hand linger on soft materials. Hug yourself deep into the cosiness of heavy blankets. Greet the birds in the trees and the cats in the street. Dance to the music that makes you happy. Cry to the sounds that resonate deep within.

Whether or not you recognise it, you have been happy. You have been sad. You have been tense. You have been excited. You have been you. In most cases, there should be no harm to externally expressing that.

It's time to let yourself feel. Internally and externally.

[vivwritescrappythings]

set me on fire, i'll keep you warm

alpha!joel miller x omega!f!reader

You get stuck in a cabin during a snowstorm for longer than you anticipated.

an: this is my first a/b/o fic so it is probably weird and awkward, but i'm trying to push myself out of my comfort zone and write different styles of relationships!

tw: a/b/o/ dynamics, afab reader, fem reader, alpha joel, omega reader, marijuana use, joel is mean, angst, comfort, SMUT, this is an a/b/o fic so everything associated with that is included (knotting, mating cycles, heat, claiming bites, scenting), p in v sex, vaginal fingering, creampies, unprotected sex, masturbation, dubcon

word count: 12.5k

masterlist

MDNI!

--

The night outside the cabin was quiet, the snow drifting down in the dim light of the backlit clouds. It was too late to be sitting outside like this, letting the cool air wash over you in an attempt to rid yourself of your bad dreams. Dark circles were stamped under your eyes as you self medicated, the deep skunky scent of weed wafting from your lips and into the evening. 

Nightmares were a fairly common side effect of the apocalypse, so you didn’t bother with waking up Joel as you snuck past the couch he slept on. You’d be waking Joel up every night if you did that.

“What are you doing?” The groggy voice behind you makes you jump. Apparently tonight you had.

Joel’s voice startled you, nearly making you drop the joint as you turned to look at him over your shoulder. Your face already felt warm from your embarrassment at getting caught, the incriminating joint still between your fingers. The smoke curled around the two of you, drifting into the open door of the cabin. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” you mumbled, looking up at the alpha as he stood in the doorway. You had the collar of his thick, canvas hunting jacket turned up high to cover your scent glands, his smell strong enough to cover yours. It wouldn’t be smart to broadcast to anyone nearby that you were an unbonded omega. 

Joel’s eyes darkened at the sight of you, illuminated by the crisp night. You knew the jacket swamped over you, the sleeves pushed up to expose your hands and the excess tucked beneath you as you sat. He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, studying your exhausted expression with a touch of concern.

“Mhm, I can see that,” he drawled, his eyes flicking down to the joint in your hand. “You smokin' again?”

Your gaze subconsciously darted down to where his biceps bulged under his flannel. You swallowed thickly, looking back up at his shadowed eyes. “Just so I can fall asleep,” you mumbled, feeling like a teenager who’d just been caught by their dad. You took another greedy puff off the joint before he could say anything else, putting it out against the porch railing before tucking it into a rusty Altoids tin from which it came and into your pocket. 

You exhaled a thick cloud of smoke as you stood, crossing the porch in just your socks and ducking past Joel inside the house. “Made sure your jacket covered my scent and everything, didn’t want any passers by to smell me,” you murmured as you squeezed by him. You smelled like weed and like Joel, the sweet scent that lingered on your skin only detectable if you got close.

The sound of Joel inhaling as you walked past him was audible, as if he was testing your method and making sure he couldn’t pick up your scent. You glanced up at him to see his nostrils flare before he schooled his face into a neutral expression.

He followed you inside, closing and locking the door behind you. "You know that stuff ain't good for you," he said gruffly, his eyes following your every movement.

You were shrugging his jacket off, hanging it back up on the hook next to yours. Your sweater was threadbare, on its last leg before you’d have to look for a new one in an abandoned house or store. “I know, Joel,” you murmured softly, brushing a hand over your face. You crossed your arms over your chest, tucking your freezing hands into your armpits.

Your eyes were bloodshot and glassy, the buzz of being stoned making your movements more languid. “Only do it sometimes, just when I can’t sleep,” you said, trying to assure the alpha across from you.

Joel's expression softened at your words, but still, a hint of concern etched his features. The set of his jaw told you he knew what these sleepless nights did to you; the bags under your eyes and the fatigue in your movements didn't escape his notice. 

"Sometimes is too much," he rumbled, closing the distance between you. He reached out, his calloused fingers gently brushing an errant snowflake off your face, his touch tender despite the roughness of his hands. You closed your eyes at the contact, his skin rough against yours before he pulled away. 

"If you can't sleep, you should come to me. You know that, right?"

“Joel, s’okay, it doesn’t happen very often,” you murmured, stubborn as always. 

You knew Joel could help you sleep in an instant, all it would take is you crawling on the couch with him and pressing your nose against his scent gland. It was one of the easiest parts of being an omega with an alpha around. But, you were stubborn to a fault.

The corners of his mouth tightened, and he let out a low growl. "I don't care if it's once in a blue moon or every goddamn night," he snapped. "You need to start relying on me more. I don’t know why you gotta deny your nature and act like you’re so goddamn tough. Stop being so damn independent all the damn time."

You huffed, not letting Joel sway you. His frustration was obvious, you could smell it mixing with the musk of his scent. “You wouldn’t say that to me if I was an alpha or a beta,” you bite back, brow furrowing. It was rare that Joel got mad at you like this–especially over something as stupid as being hard-headed. You’d been that way the whole time he knew you: an omega fighting her designation.

The day you presented as an omega you cried yourself sick. It was like your life had ended, every opportunity seemingly disappearing in an already difficult world after the outbreak. You were hellbent on proving yourself to be worth more.

Joel's jaw tightened as his eyes flashed darkly at your words. He stepped closer, closing the distance between you until he was towering over you. "You don't get it, do you?" he asked softly, the sneer apparent in his voice. "It's different for you. You're an omega."

Your throat tightened, frustration cutting through the relaxed haze of your high. “If you don’t trust me to take care of myself, Joel, why did you take me on as your patrol partner?” you hissed, staring up into his gaze defiantly. You were starting to get emotional, tears stinging at the backs of your eyes as you tried to suppress them. Joel stood over a head taller than you, glaring down his aquiline nose at you as you argued.

His scent was strong in the small hallway, his chest puffing up as he cornered you near the wall. His arm shot out, palm pressing to the dilapidated wood paneling near your head.

"I brought you because I trust you to shoot straight," he retorted, his voice rough. "Not because I think you can handle yourself on your own!"

His words made you flinch, the hurt clear on your face. Your mind was reeling, struggling to process what he said as you balked at him. It dawned on you how stupid it was to think an alpha would trust you. To them, you’d never be more than just an omega even if you pushed yourself to the brink. 

You didn’t give him an answer, slipping under his arm and heading to the small bedroom you occupied at the back of the house. Everything in you was screaming to hide, to make yourself small. Distress scent was already pouring off of you in waves, leaving the air bitter as you tried to hold the tears threatening to spill until you got behind the bedroom door.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you hissed, slamming the door shut behind you and locking it.

—

You didn’t know what time it was when you woke up, just that there was light streaming in through the aged blinds covering the window. The fire in your room must have gone out when you slept, the air was frigid as you sat up in bed. Peeking out the frosted glass revealed there was more snow on the ground than when you fell asleep—meaning another day of holing up in the cabin until it passed.

You had half the mind to hide in your room all day, not wanting to face Joel after last night. You cried yourself to sleep, betrayal weighing heavy on your heart. You still felt the sting of it, part of you wondering if he even respected you as a teammate or just thought you were a pathetic, bumbling omega he got stuck with. 

If it wasn’t for your stomach growling, you probably would have stayed in hiding.

The door to the room creaked when you opened it, deciding to venture out to get water and something to settle your upset stomach. The light was dim out in the rest of the cabin, the dying embers of the fire casting an orange glow across everything. Joel was a lump on the couch, but you couldn’t tell if he was awake.

Joel hardly slept, guilt and worry gnawing at his gut. He had tossed and turned on the couch all night, listening to the sound of your sobs through the door until you finally fell asleep. If he could go back and take it all back, he would in a heartbeat.

It wasn't the creaking of the floorboards that woke Joel, but the faint scent of a distressed omega. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open to see you quietly entering the kitchen. He watched you in silence, guilt-stricken features as he studied your careful movements. As he slowly rose from the couch, moving towards the kitchen in a silent prowl, his eyes never left you.

“You're not gonna eat just jerky all day, are you?" he asked gruffly, leaning against the kitchen door frame. You were gnawing on a piece of it, staring out the bay window over the sink in the long-abandoned kitchen.

In your haze, Joel managed to surprise you. You yelped at the sound of his deep voice, spinning around and falling back against the kitchen counter. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you said, finding your footing again. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you turned to look out the front window at the snowy landscape surrounding the cabin. “Just about gave me a heart attack.”

A hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of Joel's lips as he watched you jump, a low, raspy chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Sorry 'bout that," he drawled, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes followed your gaze out to the window, the snow falling silently outside.

You didn’t know what to say to him, your chapped lips pursed as the two of you stared at one another. He looked worse for wear, his dark hair was sticking up in every direction, his under eyes so dark they almost looked bruised.

He cleared his throat, the silence between you two deafening. "Can we talk?" he asked. He cringed at his own question, knowing that of course he wanted to talk, he knew he had to talk. He just didn't know how to start. He reached out towards you, but stopped himself halfway, his hand dropping limply to his side 

You sniffled, running a hand over your face as you took a deep breath. “What if I said no?” you whispered, crossing your arms over your chest. The smell of your distress was all too clear, the acrid scent of it covering your normal honeyed-earth smell. 

"Please."

The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it. The pleading tone in his voice surprised him, and he knew it surprised you too. He was an alpha, a strong and powerful one at that, he didn't beg.

But as he looked at you, at your exhausted frame and red-rimmed eyes, he didn't care. He'd beg for your forgiveness a thousand times if he had to. Crawl to you on his knees. It pained him to see you like this. Especially when it was his fault.

The sound of Joel’s deep, twangy, Texas-accented voice begging made one of your eyebrows arch. He never begged, he never had to before. Not alphas like him. You sighed, hazel eyes darting to look out the window over the kitchen sink at the snow. “I’m listening,” you mumbled.

Joel let out a breath through his nose, his heart rate returning to normal. At least you were giving him the chance to explain.

The only sound in the room while Joel put his words together was the floor creaking beneath you as you turned to face him again, watching his coffee-colored eyes nervously flit up to yours. It was times like this that made it hard to believe Joel was the alpha and you were the omega, when he’d snap and then come running back to you with his tail between his legs like a kicked puppy.

You used your arms to boost yourself onto the counter, feet dangling off as you settled on the cool tile. You were nearly Joel’s height this way, leveling the playing field a bit by making him look straight at you. You pulled a knee up to your chest, the other leg still hanging down as you mashed your cheek against your kneecap.

He took a step closer, standing in front of your bent leg now as he looked at you. His rugged features softened as he spoke, his voice gruff. "Look...what I said last night," he began, "It was really shitty, and I didn’t mean it, and I'm sorry."

He reached out, calloused fingers gently wrapping around your ankle, giving it a squeeze. "I just... I worry about you, that's all." His thumb pressed the wonky stick and poke tattoo of the omega symbol on the inside of your ankle. You’d given it to yourself when you were seventeen, some rebellious act of reclaiming your identity. Now it was just a faded memory of growing up in a quarantine zone.

Joel always had a hard time with words, expressing himself more through actions than any alpha you’d ever seen. You rarely shied away from his touches, coming to expect them over the past year the two of you had been assigned together as patrol partners. 

You sighed, blowing air out through your nose as your head tilted. Joel stood close to you, your hanging calf pressed along his thigh as you met his gaze. “I know you worry, Joel,” you said softly, looking up at him through your lashes. “But you gotta treat me like a teammate, not like you’re my babysitter.”

He looked embarrassed, his eyes darting to the ground and then back up to you. "I never meant to make you feel like you were just some object, or incompetent. I just…” he sighs, struggling to find the right words. “You make me so damn frustrated sometimes."

You huffed, shaking your head. “You don’t get to try to justify it, Joel,” you said, an exasperated tone in your voice. Of course he’d qualify it, find it wasn’t entirely his fault. “You reduced me to an incompetent partner, useless. Just an object for breeding,” you whispered, your glare hard. “Felt like you had no respect for me unless I was bending over for you and letting you fuck me.”

Joel bristled at the words, the sting of them hurting almost as much as the pain on your face. He clenched his hands into fists, his whole body tensing with the effort to keep the need to comfort you under control.

He took a step forward, his eyes fixed on you. "I do respect you, dammit," he growled. "You don't think I don't admire how strong and independent you are? If I didn't respect you and trust you to have my back, I would have found a new partner a long time ago."

“You said all I was good for was shooting straight, Joel,” you said, your voice cracking as you spoke. You worried your lower lip with your teeth, fingers tapping nervously against your bent leg. It felt like you were going against your DNA, standing up to Joel like this.

Joel ran a hand over his face, the weight of his actions sinking in. He knew you were right. He knew he had crossed a line.

"You're right, it was unfair," he said, his eyes darting to the floor. "I was just frustrated, I was worried about you. This job, it's dangerous, and you've got such a damn stubborn, independent streak. You never ask for help, and I always worry I'm gonna wake up one day and find you not there, and it’ll be my fault for not being fast enough."

You huff, your expression softening slightly at Joel’s confession. You knew he was dealing with his own demons, his own reasons to wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He was still standing between your legs, fingers looped around your ankle. “Joel,” you murmured, “I’m not running away or anything, I just was smoking a joint to help myself sleep.”

Joel looked up at you when you spoke, his gaze lifting from the faded tattoo. He hated how defeated he felt, and he hated how hurt you looked.

"Damnit, you don't need to do that. Why can't you just come to me when you can't sleep, and I can help you sleep the right way?" he sighed, moving in closer.

His frustration made you even more angry. “Fuck, Joel. Does the sleeping thing really bother you that much?” you huffed, moving further back from him on the counter and turning to look out the window. You felt queasy, chewing over the idea of telling him a bit of the truth. You decided to go for it. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve never scented an alpha before.”

The wind against the side of the cabin was the only thing filling the silence. Most omegas got scenting partners out of the way when they were teenagers, exploring their desires and learning what they liked in a mate. But you were in your late twenties and never tried any of it because you were too busy fighting your designation. You didn’t want any part of being an omega, even if that meant not experiencing things.

You didn’t even know what you were doing—didn’t even know where to start.

Joel's eyes widened when you confessed that you had never scented an alpha before. The revelation took him aback, making his breath hitch in his chest. His mind went through a whirlwind of thought, the realization that he would be your first alpha to scent you hitting him like a truck. He can hardly consider the fact that it was contingent on if you let him. 

His omega had never scented an alpha before. The possessive instincts within him roared to life, clawing at the edges of his mind. No, you’re not his. He needed to stop thinking that.

"You never-" he began, his voice rough and strained. "You never scented anyone?"

Your cheeks erupted with warmth, embarrassment rocking through you. You ended up covering your face with your palms, not wanting Joel to look at you. “I’ve scented other omegas… betas.” It felt too submissive, too docile. You didn’t want to be like other omegas you saw in the quarantine zone and Jackson—stuck bending to their alphas’ every whim, you wanted to be free.

“So don’t get so offended that I haven’t scented you, it’s not personal.”

Joel's jaw dropped at your confession, his mind spinning. He had known you were stubborn and independent, but this? He had never heard of an omega not scenting anyone by the time they were out of their teenage years.

The way you covered your face, the smell of your embarrassment and shyness filling the air, made something primal stir in his chest. The thought of no other alpha ever having the opportunity to even scent you was both thrilling and infuriating.

“I just wanted someone to treat me like their equal,” you whispered, crossing your arms over your chest. It was hard for you to let the silence exist between you, always filling it. You had to move from the weight of Joel’s surprised gaze, making you turn to the window and stare out of it. The snow was so heavy outside the cabin that you could hardly see the trees. “I would do it, I just don’t want to become someone’s property. Which I know scenting is really different and far from mating and being claimed but it feels like the first step.”

Joel's heart ached as you spoke. He knew you wanted equality and respect, something he always thought you deserved. But to know that you had never allowed yourself to feel comforts like being scented because of fear of being treated like property was something he hadn't realized.

He leaned towards you, trying to see your eyes. "You know I wouldn't treat you like that, right? I would never make you feel less than an equal just because you're an omega," he said, his voice low and gentle.

“You tried to last night,” you mumbled, still facing away from Joel. You leaned your forehead against the window, the glass cool against your skin. That was what made it so difficult, you couldn’t forget the tone Joel spoke to you with—it was the same tone that alphas used to force omegas to submit. It rattled you.

Joel clenched his jaw at your words, guilt bubbling up in his chest again. He knew you were right, that he had tried to reduce you to just your designation, that he had spoken to you in the way that made most omegas crumble.

He moved closer, close enough that he could smell the sour scent of your distress again. Everything at him was screaming to make it better, to fix it.

"You’re right,” he admitted. “I was a dick, and I hurt you. I won’t do it again. I swear on Ellie’s life."

You felt warmth radiating off him and onto your back. “You really scared me, Joel,” you whispered, your voice wavering as you spoke. That was the truth of it, he scared you last night. “I know you can overpower me in a second if you wanted to—I really have to trust you not to. My life is in your hands.”

As you spoke, Joel’s heart ached. He knew you were right. You were strong and fierce, but he was an alpha, and he could overpower you in a heartbeat if he wanted to. He gently squeezed your ankle, tugging on it. He could feel the heat radiating off you, and it took every ounce of restraint he had not to press himself against you.

“I know, I know I did. I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, the nickname coming out before he could stop himself.

You sniffled, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes. You didn’t know what to do, anxiety binding your chest in knots. Joel stood close to you, nearly touching your back as his hand flattened against the porcelain countertop. “Alphas don’t have to think about that kind of stuff, ya know? You don’t have to constantly worry about it. You could be alone for your whole life and it wouldn’t be a problem, it’s not the same for omegas.” 

Your forehead was still pressed against the window pane, your body curling up to make you small. “Don’t gotta worry about an alpha forcing a claim on you, or killing you if you refuse. I’ve got to think about it all the time, even in Jackson. And then you wonder why I hate being an omega.”

Pain and sadness wrenched in Joel's chest as you spoke, his heart breaking at the vulnerability in your voice. He knew you were right—alphas didn't have the same worries and fears that you did.

He closed the distance between you, his chest pressing against your back as he leaned over the counter. He could feel the tremors in your body, and he desperately wanted to fix it, to make it better, to take your pain away.

"I know, baby," he murmured again, hooking his chin on your shoulder. The wiry strands of his beard curled against the collar of your sweater. "I know."

There was something in his solemn tone that made you break, a pathetic whimper rocking out of you before you could stifle it. He sounded so small, you never heard him sound like that before. It cracked a hole in your defenses just enough for the whole structure to come crumbling down.

You let out a sob, turning against Joel until you could bury your face in his chest. You cried into his flannel, fingers twisting in the well-worn material. He was still your person, your best friend in the whole world. You always turned to him.

Joel's heart ached as you buried your face into his chest. He could feel your tears soaking into his shirt, and his arms wrapped around you, pulling you as close as physically possible.

He held you tightly, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. He gently guided your head to rest against his chest, his chin resting on top of your head.

"Shhh, baby, it's okay," he whispered, his voice rough and thick with emotion. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Wanted to take it all back the second I said it, I was such an asshole."

You didn’t know how long you cried for, clinging to Joel like a life preserver in a storm. He held you close, his calloused fingers tangling in your hair and his chin resting on the crown of your head. You inhaled his scent from him, the deep, musky smell of an alpha, mixed with a spicy scent that was entirely Joel’s. 

Joel held you through your tears, his fingers running through your hair in a soothing motion. He inhaled deeply, his nose buried in your hair, the scent of your distress beginning to fade and be replaced by a more familiar honeyed earth scent.

It took you a while to calm down, making you hiccup as your tears eventually ran dry. His shirt was soaked with them, but he didn't care. He just wanted you to feel better, he wanted to fix whatever he had broken.

"You all cried out, darlin'?” he murmured, his voice soft and gentle.

You nodded against Joel, sniffling still. “I know you’re sorry, Joel,” you mumbled, your voice soft and thick from crying. You still held onto him, face pressed into his sternum.

Joel's heart clenched at your mumbled words, his hold on you tightening slightly. "I'll say it as many times as you want to hear it, baby," he said, his own voice rough with emotion. He rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back. Your body was pressed against him, warm and soft.

Joel’s voice sounded thick, his Texan drawl heavier. You just held on, trying to catch your breath. The wind sounded louder outside, buffeting against the roof and filling the silence between you two.

Your distress scent faded, only leaving your cloyingly sweet smell behind. Joel took another breath, inhaling. It was intoxicating, the way you smelled. Almost honeyed earth after a heavy rain, it was addictive. He always had a hard time focusing when he was close to you like this.

He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, focusing on you and you only. He continued to hold you, his fingers still running through your hair. "Feeling better, darlin'?"

You nodded, pulling away slightly. You wiped your face off, your skin damp from your crying. “Yeah, I’m better,” you whispered. You looked up at Joel for a moment, your eyes bloodshot and watery. 

Joel's eyes roamed over your face, taking in your puffy eyes and running nose and swollen lips. You looked beautiful even when you had been crying, and it took all of his self-restraint not to pull you back against him again.

He nodded, his thumb coming up to lightly trace your wet cheeks, wiping away a few remaining tears. "I’m glad, darlin'," he murmured, his eyes not leaving yours.

Your lips were pursed thoughtfully, considering. “So you’ll start trusting me to handle myself?” you asked, trying to negotiate. “And I’ll rely on my instincts more,” you offered, still whispering. “Alright?”

Joel's heart was pounding in his chest as he held your ankle, his thumb rubbing over the faded tattoo there. He knew you were right, that he often let his protectiveness get the best of him when it came to you. He wanted to keep you safe at all costs, but sometimes in his efforts, he ended up stifling you.

He exhaled deeply, feeling the guilt and the weight of his actions settle heavily on his shoulders. He knew he would agree to anything you asked. "I will, but you have no idea how hard it is," he murmured, his gaze never leaving your face.

You nodded, tears still burning in your eyes. You needed him to agree, or this wouldn’t work. “Joel, should we change patrol partners?” you asked, tilting your head. You didn’t want to, but it also wasn’t safe for him to constantly put himself in harm’s way for you. “Someone easier for you to be around might be better. And I need someone who trusts me.”

Joel's stomach lurched at your question, the thought of being paired with someone other than you making his blood run cold. "No," he growled, his hand tightening around your ankle reflexively. "No. We're not changing partners."

He stepped even closer to you, his eyes filled with determination. "I don't want anyone else. I don't want you paired with anyone else. It's you and me," he insisted, his voice firm.

Joel crowded in close, pulling you toward the edge of the counter. Your knee pressed against his waist, his belt warm through the hole in the knee of your sweatpants. You clicked your tongue softly, your small hand smoothing along the back of his larger one. “S’okay, I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, making sure he looked you in the eye. “You and me. Just gotta start trusting me.”

Joel's shoulders sagged with relief, the tension draining from his body as he heard your reassurance. The feel of your hand against his, the way your knee rested against his hip, it grounded him, reminded him of what was important.

“I trust ya.” He leaned in even closer, resting his forehead against yours. "You and me," he repeated, his voice a low rumble. "Always."

He took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet, honeyed scent of you. It filled his senses, calming his nerves.

You basked in the closeness for a moment, letting your eyes slip shut as you inhaled his deep, heady musk of him. It felt resolved for now. “Alright big guy, let’s make some food,” you said, lightly patting Joel’s stomach with a hand before you twisted around him off the counter in the kitchen.

Being outside of Jackson made you miss electricity. Thankfully you knew there was a chance that there would be a storm during the scouting run, packing the truck with extra food and firewood that had now come in handy. 

But, neither of you realized the storm would last for so long. It was three days that you two were stuck in the cabin, watching as the snow piled higher and higher. You weren’t waiting for it to melt, just to stop coming down so Joel could see your way out without crashing into a tree or a boulder.

You cracked two cans of Chef Boyardee that Joel found in one of the houses you picked through, setting them in the fireplace to warm as you sat cross-legged on the rug in front of it.

Joel was moving around behind you, the springs of the couch squealing as he sat on them. His gaze made the hair on the back of your neck prickle. But, he stayed silent—typical behavior for him. 

You looked at the grandfather clock on the wall, surprised to see that it was already nearing three in the afternoon. You must have slept in later than you expected, most of the day already having gone by. Honestly, it was better that way, you and Joel were starting to get a bit of cabin fever.

Silence permeated the room, brightly patterned oven mitts you found in a drawer covering your hands as you scarfed down the food. “So you used to buy this stuff at like, the store?” you asked, finally breaking the quiet as you turned to look at Joel.

You were little when the outbreak started, you didn’t remember much of what life was like before. It was normal for you to ask him things. Joel felt like a bridge to a different time.

It always caught him off guard when you asked about life before the outbreak—he couldn’t help but forget how young you were compared to him. He nodded as he chewed, glancing up to see you backlit by the fire. It made you look like you had a gold light surrounding you.

“Yeah, we used to buy everything at grocery stores,” he said, clearing his throat a bit as he talked. “There was more food than you could imagine, really, there was too much. A lot of it got thrown away.”

You listened with rapt attention, chewing the ravioli thoroughly. You really couldn’t imagine such abundance—even in Jackson everything was grown and made to satisfy the needs of a few seasons. Nothing ever went to waste, though. 

“That sounds like a dream,” you said softly, finishing your food. You stretched out on your back on the rug, the fire warming your side as you got comfortable. 

“These days it seems like one,” he mumbled, the sound of his spoon scraping the can filling the room. He couldn’t look at you directly, it felt like he was staring at the sun. It was hard not to go to you. His palms itched with the need to feel your fire-warmed skin beneath them. 

Joel got up sharply, running his fingers through his hair as he looked out the window. “M’gonna go hunting before it gets too dark out,” he said, scratching the back of his head as he walked away from you.

You hummed your acknowledgment, watching Joel pull on his gloves and his jacket and sling his rifle over his shoulder. He smelled the collar of the coat, your scent probably lingered from when you’d borrowed it last night.

“Be careful,” you murmured, watching Joel from where you lay. You wanted to get up, go adjust his jacket and the twisted strap of his rifle. But you stayed where you were.

“Always am,” he said, giving you a once-over before heading out the front door and into the snow. 

You busied yourself with melting snow to fill the big plastic bin Joel had dragged inside from the truck, cleaning the guns and mending some clothes with a needle and thread. Normally you’d go hunting with Joel, but you could tell he needed space for a bit. 

The cold woke him up, made him feel like he finally got his head out of water. Being stuck in that cabin with you—with your smell—was driving him crazy. The two of you spent a lot of time together, but it normally was outside. This was the first time you’d been smashed together in close quarters for more than a day. 

It was making him lose his mind.

He’d rather be shot than admit it, but he spent the first ten minutes of his hunting trip holding the collar of his jacket to his nose and fisting his cock. As soon as he realized he could smell you on the canvas, he’d been hard as a rock. 

Joel never met an omega whose scent got to him as much as yours.

He held the aging fabric in a fist to his face as he stroked up and down his shaft. His eyes were screwed shut, jaw clenched so hard it ached. It wasn’t hard for him to imagine that his spit-slicked hand was yours, the image of you stretched out on the rug stuck in his mind. The fire illuminated the contours of your body, highlighting the swell of your breasts and the indent of your waist.

It wasn’t the first time he fantasized about you. It started with a dream of you crawling into his sleeping bag while you were out on a scouting mission, pressing up close and nuzzling into him like you were his, whispering everything you wanted him to do to you in his ear. 

He woke up from that painfully hard, thankful that he was in the safety of his bedroom in Jackson rather than with you. But it spiraled viciously from there—even if he didn’t start off thinking of you, he would certainly get there eventually. Knotting you, biting you, fucking you. It all lived in his head. 

Joel groaned, biting down on his lower lip as his cum spilled onto the snow. The tree he was leaning against was rough on the back of his head as he slumped a bit, taking deep breaths. It took him a few moments for the ringing in his ears to stop, head finally clearing as he tucked himself back into his pants. 

With the edge taken off he readied himself, wiping the sweat off his forehead before grabbing his rifle off his shoulder. There was always some level of shame he felt after he jerked off to the thought of you, knowing he’d have to face you again and pretend nothing was amiss. 

The wind howled as he walked deeper into the forest, pushing his thoughts aside as he started to look for any semblance of tracks in the snow.

—

The rabbit Joel killed was a decent enough dinner with the dried soup you brought from Jackson, the meal rich enough to lull you both into silence as you thumbed through old paperback books you found in a closet. 

It was long dark when you told Joel you’d be going to bed, wishing him goodnight as you made your way to the bedroom. You were tired enough to fall asleep with little fuss, curling into the thick quilt and going unconscious almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

But, of course, you didn’t stay that way. 

Screams filled the space around you. You were unseeing, choking on thick smoke. Opening your mouth to speak only resulted in a scream, the sound ragged and desperate. You could hear gunfire in the distance, but you didn’t know which way to look.

You were alone in this place, that much you could tell. The air was thick and warm—smelled like the omega shelter back in Vegas, you spent two years there. You reached out ahead of you into the darkness, hoping to find a wall or furniture or something. But it was empty, each step further into the black maw that seemed to have no ending. 

The sound of clicking made your hair stand on end. You were all-too familiar with that sound, the labored breathing of an infected following it. You didn’t know which way to move, the clicking was directionless. There were no weapons, no way to run. 

Clicking filled your ears, directly on top of you. Teeth tore into your flesh, ripping into your arm as—

You woke with a jolt, eyes wide in the darkness as you let out a choked gasp. Screaming still haunted the back of your mind as you sat up, trembling hands running over your face as you tried to enter the world of the living.

Your nightmares were relentless, memories of the fall of the Las Vegas QZ still fresh in your mind despite it happening a decade ago. The explosions that brought the walls down, the influx of raiders and infected alike. The smell of smoke and burning flesh and hair made you choke, forcing you out of bed as you fumbled for your Altoid’s tin on the nightstand.

Joel was asleep when you crept through the living room, good ear pressed into the cushion of the couch as you tiptoed past. The night was cold, Joel’s jacket back on your shoulders as you looked off the porch and pinched the joint between shivering fingers.

It stopped snowing, at least. The sky was cloudy, the moon peaking through sections of the clouds and making the snowy landscape glitter like diamonds. You and Joel would be able to leave in the morning.

A gust of wind made you shudder, the joint slipping from your fingers. It was a scramble to catch it, sending you to your knees. The wooden boards creaked as you tried to grab the remainder of your joint as it rolled. Your fingers just barely missed it, clutching the empty air as you watched it fall through a crack in the floorboards and disappear.

“Fuck!” you groaned, sitting back on your heels. You’d be awake the rest of the night, still feeling edgy and paranoid from your nightmare. You dragged your hands over your face, exasperated.

You headed inside, defeated. Joel’s jacket was returned to its hook as you looked at the way the fire lit up the room orange. The shadows flickered along the walls, sending shivers down your spine as you remembered waking up to the same glow in Las Vegas.

Then your gaze landed on Joel, still comfortably sleeping on the couch. One leg hung off, planted against the floor as his other foot was far over the edge—he was far too tall to be sleeping on the sofa.

You paused, chewing your lip as you stared at him. If you swallowed your pride, you’d be able to sleep tonight. 

It was a hard thing, letting go of your fears. You realized if there was ever an alpha you’d bend to, it would be Joel. Something about him made you trust him, even when he was harsh and rude and distant, you still knew him inside out. 

Part of you knew he was yours, even if you wouldn’t admit it. It was the talk of Jackson, Joel panting at the heels of some young omega like a lost puppy—you heard the whispers. 

You decided to give him a chance.

He didn’t stir as you approached, wondering if you should wake him up or just clamber onto him. The couch was already cramped enough with just him on it.

You tentatively reached out to shake his arm, Joel’s dark eyes opening almost as soon as you touched him. He sat up fast, looking ready to fight as his gaze took in every inch of the cabin. You yelped softly, moving back from him in surprise.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, voice thick and raspy from sleep as he started to get up. 

“I can’t sleep,” you admitted sheepishly, wringing your hands together in front of you. You felt silly asking him after everything that had happened between you two, but you promised him you’d follow your instincts more. His muscles tensed, you didn’t mean to cause such a commotion, your heart in your throat. “It’s stupid… I-I can figure it out.”

Joel relaxed, the tension in his shoulders leaving as he processed what you said. Your concern made him smile softly, a hand reaching out to curl around your shoulder. “Want me to help you sleep?” he asked, voice low. He treated you carefully, not wanting to scare you off. 

He was honored you were even willing to ask.

You huffed softly, brows furrowing as you nodded. His grin stretched, heart thumping with excitement as he obliged you. He was relieved you were asking, wanting to be a good alpha for you. Wanting to help you. “We can stay out here or go to the bed, up to you, baby,” he murmured, dark eyes focused on you as you considered. 

“The bed,” you mumbled, turning with little fanfare. Joel followed hot on your heels, warm at your back. You were anxious, breaths short and shallow as you tried to calm down. 

It was no big deal. It was just Joel. Your Joel.

You got in first, curling beneath the bedding as you turned to look up at Joel. He was toeing off his heavy boots and taking off his belt, shining orange and yellow in the dim firelight. He looked formidable from this angle, tall and broad like most alphas were.

“You alright?” Joel asked, noticing the trepidation in your gaze. He sat on the edge of the bed, one hand resting on the old quilt as he leaned a bit toward you. “I can go back to the couch. Don’t want you to feel pressured—I won’t do nothing you don’t want to do.”

You hummed, nodding. “It’s just sleeping, right?” you whispered softly. Your eyes were wide as you looked up at Joel, laying back on the pillow. 

He nodded. “As easy as closing your eyes,” he assured, his drawl thick. 

You couldn’t imagine the luxury of sleep coming so easy, but you nodded anyway. Joel clambered into bed with you, sliding beneath the covers with a sigh of relief. You were sure it felt better on his back than the couch, watching him stretch as he settled next to you.

“Just gotta come here,” he said, looking over at you. You looked so sweet in the dim light, eyes wide and lips parted. He wanted to reach out and pull you over himself, instead he dropped his hand, fingers tapping the top of the comforter in anticipation.

You acquiesced, scooting over to meld into his side. His arm curled around you, occupying the void between your neck and shoulder. Joel was so warm, it felt like you were cuddling with a space heater as you settled into him. His big hand pressed between your shoulder blades, rolling you toward him and tucking your face into his throat.

It was so easy to get comfortable, melting into him as you took in a deep breath. You always thought he smelled so comforting, warm and a little musky. You only ever caught his scent in passing, never concentrated like this.

Joel felt how you relaxed against him, a smile on his face as one of your arms stretched across his chest and your nose pressed into the hollow of his throat. It took you a few deep breaths to completely let go of your tension, the set of your shoulders sagging against him. “That’s it,” he murmured as he rubbed your back.

It only took a matter of minutes for you to feel your eyelids drooping, your breathing slowing as you meld into him. “M’tired,” you mumbled, sounding groggy. Your words were muffled against his neck, lips ghosting over the delicate skin of his throat. 

Joel chuckled softly, fingers lightly curling at the nape of your neck. “I know, baby,” he said. He glanced at you, dark eyes watching how your eyelids got heavier and heavier with every blink. He was surprised you were so willing to scent him, and how fast it worked.

He shifted slightly, bearded cheek pressing against the top of your head as he let his eyes shut. He felt so calm. The fitful sleep he normally experienced eluded him as you both finally drifted off.

—

Sleep became a sweltering, restless thing throughout the night. Dreams took on dark silhouettes, feverish shapes and flashes of light that seared and burned through your veins. You were weightless in the murky water surrounding you, fingers reaching for something. Someone to anchor yourself to.

Joel.

All your senses smashed into one, an explosion as life-altering as the Big Bang. You were a writhing mass of feeling that had you leaning into air heavy with tension and desire.

He was in it with you, just out of sight. You were so familiar with his presence, his smell, you always knew the weight of when he was nearby. Then, all at once he was with you in the dark place.

He was everywhere. The press and slide of heated skin where your bodies met and separated. You called for him, voice catching and dying in your throat before you had the chance.

You were burning from the inside, your spine an inferno as you reached for him in the dark. You knew he would fix it, knew he was what you needed. He would get you through the blaze and onto the other side.

He was a weighted shadow around you. Completely surrounding you, pulling you tight and grounding you to the anchor of his body. He kept you from drifting off into the fathoms of the abyss.

“Joel,” you whispered. You heard him respond to you in turn, the sound of your name like honey on his lips. The press of his mouth to your neck was like napalm and jolted you—

— and you woke with a rattling gasp, lurching where you lay in bed next to him. Sweat was beaded under your arms and around your temples, heat radiating from where Joel’s arms held you to his side.

You were panting into the cool air of the cabin, blinking until the unfamiliar shapes found themselves into focus once more. It was daylight, far past sunrise from the way sunlight was filtering through the blinds.

Your skin felt a size too small. Everything was uncomfortable and itchy as you stirred in Joel’s embrace, lifting your head out of his neck to take in deep breaths of clean air. It still carried his scent, permeating the room throughout the night. The area between your legs ached like a wound, your thighs squeezing together to relieve the throbbing. 

Something made him wake, the air shifted and thickened around him as he slowly blinked into the morning air. Part of him almost surged out of bed, ready to defend and protect. But he understood on first inhale.

The smell of you was everywhere. It was all-encompassing and alluring, filling his senses all at once. Saliva was rushing to his mouth, your scent was an intoxicating thing that had his nerves alight. Desire took hold of him, real and rooted in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

You knew when he woke, you didn’t even have to look at his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, turning away from him as your hand snaked between your legs to feel the mess of your sex. The predicament you put the two of you into was less than ideal. “I thought we had more time—I didn’t mean to.”

He was relieved. You were still in there, in your own mind enough to talk. His mind was slow to the uptake, blood rushing elsewhere as his thoughts turned over themselves. He was trying to remember from before, trying to figure out what it meant.

A soft heat. A distant memory from a junior high health class sprung into his mind. Not a hard heat brought on by a cycle. A soft one could be brought on by stress or exposure to an alpha, but they are shorter than a hard heat. Temporary. Sometimes a single knotting is enough to pull an omega from a soft heat unlike hard heats that last a week.

Joel cursed. It was too loud in the quiet of the room. His head was swimming from the force of the blood rushing to his cock, painful and aching as you moved away from his side.

“Gotta tell me right now, do you want me to go?” Joel asked, already rolling toward you. He followed the way your arm disappeared beneath the waistband of your sweatpants, your face twisted with both pain and pleasure.

It was a sight he only thought he would see in his wildest fantasies.

You were rigid and panting, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment as you tried to order your thoughts. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of Joel helping you through a heat before. His rough and attentive hands guiding you through it.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cutting into a whine. “You don’t have to—I just, I can do it on my own if I have to.”

The air between you was aflame before Joel kicked the quilt off and turned toward you. The need to give someone, you, what you needed was burning in him. It was a reminder that even after all this time he was still an alpha, he could still do this for you. 

A wet stamp of his lips on your throat made you keen, tilting your head back against the pillow to give him more space. His hand curled around your jaw and pulled you to him, lips smashing together in a fervent kiss. It all felt like it was building for far longer than the last evening, the urgency as you opened your mouth against his was the culmination of nearly a year of pining.    

The kiss deepened, his body tipping into yours and setting his skin on fire. Joel grabbed you with a wide hand, shifting you fully beneath him as his mouth dropped to your throat. He bit down hard enough to make you jolt, hands grabbing onto his biceps.

You were still mumbling into the air, shaking from holding back. Joel took your jaw in his hand and pressed his forehead to yours, his dark salt-and-pepper curls already damp from sweat. “Stop, baby,” he murmured softly, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “I know what you need, I’ve got ya.”

It was easy to give in then, nodding as you both moved together quickly. Joel stripped you of your clothes, tossing them into the room as your fingers fumbled with the buttons on his flannel. You wanted to feel his skin under your hands, trace the contours of his muscles and the shapes of his scars. He was deliciously broad, all realistic working-man muscles–he had never been the flamboyant type.

He couldn’t help but press his cock into the crease of your hip as his nose traced to the curve of your throat, taking in the sweet scent there. His knot ached with the friction, a groan pulled from his throat as he devoured your mouth.

A big hand gripped at your belly and then your hip, positioning you so he could settle between your bent knees. He blindly found his rightful place between them, wide quads pressing against your own. The breath rushed out of him as he reached down and felt your soaked cunt against his fingertips.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Joel breathed against your jaw. You were in a haze, hardly processing what Joel was saying as you whined, lifting your hips to the press of his hand. 

The air was punched out of your lungs as he dipped his fingers lower to collect the slick pouring from you, smoothing the rough pads of his fingers over your clit in swirling motions. His other hand flattened over your belly, holding you down to the mattress as he strummed his fingers over you as carefully as he would a guitar.

“Ohh,” you gasped, letting your eyes fall shut at the feeling as your hips stuttered in his hand. “Joel.” 

It was all you could manage to say, all you could manage to think. His expression made your heart trip, your hands reaching for him without hesitation. Your fingers were still slick from when you’d touched yourself upon waking, petting them over his beard as your hips rolled against his hand.

Joel caught the smell of you on your fingers, his dark eyes flashing. His lips dropped open as he sought your hand, pulling your index and middle finger into the hot, wet confines of his mouth. You whined, brows drawing together as warmth covered your face and neck. Needy, wet licks of his tongue took the flavor right off your fingers. 

He couldn’t help but jolt his hips forward, pressing the hard line of his cock against the back of your thigh. A deep sound rumbled from his chest as he let your fingers drop from his mouth, rocking you with his hips again.

The hand between your legs dipped lower, two thick fingers pressing into you. An urge he couldn’t articulate spurred him on, a sympathetic moan escaping him as he watched your back break on a whine. His eyes nearly rolled back in his skull as he felt the tight press of you around every curve and bend of his fingers.

You were painfully sensitive, already feeling yourself tightening around his digits as your thighs clamped around his forearm. It felt wonderful, transcendental, but it wasn’t enough, not right now. “Joel,” you gasped, hips tilting fervently against his hand, “I need–”

He nodded before you could even finish your sentence. He knew, of course he knew.

There was an ache of emptiness as he pulled his fingers from you, taking his cock in his hand and smearing your arousal over it. His weight pressed down above you as he hitched your thighs over his, nudging his hips against yours. You keened at the blunt press of the head of his cock through the seam of your sex, the wet sound of your lips parting for him loud in your ears. 

He teased you for a few moments, pressing the tip of his cock against your clit to make you whine sweetly. The grin on his face was diabolical, he knew it was mean to keep you on edge like this right now–but he couldn’t resist.

“Joel, fuck,” you groaned, digging your nails into his arms. He got the message, rocking forward to find purchase against you and filling you with a hard slot of his hips. You were wet enough to take him in one go.

You both stilled against one another, panting and holding on as you adjusted to the new sensation. Joel never thought in a million years that he would be so lucky. To have you pressed into the mattress beneath him was a dream come true, making him let out a strangled noise as he dropped his weight to his forearms to press his nose back against your neck.

Your cunt pulsing wetly around him brought the dying man back to life, pulling him in as your pants grew more desperate. He let instinct take over, pupils expanding like ink dropped in water as he set his teeth against the soft skin of your shoulder.

It wasn’t gentle. You didn’t want it to be. Joel grabbed you hard and fucked you senseless, driving you deeper and deeper into the mattress. The repetition of him filling you over and over was merciless, reducing you to mush beneath him as you forgot everything aside from his name. He nipped at your collarbones and anywhere else he could reach, each sharp feeling of his teeth drawing a ragged sound from you as your head pressed back into the mattress.

Joel was completely running on instinct, focused on filling you. To pin you down and knot you deep where you were begging for it. 

The walls of your weeping cunt were starting to flutter around him, spine arching like a bow pulled too tight. He grabbed your hip with a wide hand, forcing you to take him deeper. You were whining, mumbling pleas Joel couldn’t quite understand as your hands spasmed on his arms. He pressed his lips against your neck, stamping wet kisses up and down your throat, licking at your heated skin.

He rutted his hips hard against yours, making shivers run up your spine as you tried to catch your breath. You felt frantic, euphoria clouding the edges of your vision as he worked you higher and higher. Everything in you became painfully tight, a strangled whine coming from your throat as your legs shook and squeezed around his hips.

The pleasure was overwhelming, white-hot and practically making you pass out as Joel hitched your leg up, pressing into you as he grunted like an animal. Your whole body spasmed, cunt clamping down around him like a vise as you desperately tried to stay conscious. 

Joel’s hips bunched against yours, his teeth setting into the junction of your neck. The tease of a claiming bite, just enough to make you whimper. He jerked back away from your neck at the last moment, lifting his weight off of you as his dark eyes squeezed shut. Pleasure was licking at the base of his spine, muscles of his abdomen knitting together.

He groaned, spilling inside you and grinding your hips together. Too caught up in his instincts, his head whipped to the side to bite the calf that rested on his shoulder, teeth digging into the meat of it. You keened, pleasure and pain mixing as he pressed in close as his knot began to swell inside you.

The soft sheets embraced his body as Joel collapsed, his weight pressing you into the mattress as you shared each other’s breaths. Your pussy was still pulsing around him, making him tremble as he panted into your throat. The ache of his knot inside you was satiating, drinking a cool glass of water after a long summer’s day.

You brought his mouth to yours, the two of you shifting so Joel was on his back and you sprawled over his chest. He was greedy, thick fingers snaking between your bodies to feel where you two were joined. A broken sound came from his mouth as he felt how you were stretched around his knot.

You traded breaths and open-mouthed kisses, breeching whatever semblance of a chance at a professional relationship after this. Joel’s big hand pressed against your spine, pulling your belly to his as he nuzzled at your cheek, the curve of the bridge of his nose mashing into your heated skin. His beard tickled your face, making you scrunch your nose on occasion as you stamped your lips to his.

He softened enough to slip out of you, making you whine as he dragged his fingers through the mess between your legs and pressed it back inside your cunt. 

It was his intention to pull away, to go to the living room and give you some space now that you no longer needed him. But you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing your face into his chest. Your knees hooked around his thighs, moulding your bodies together as the sun casted stripes across you.

You fell asleep that way, hopelessly tangled as your heart rates slowed and breaths grew heavy.

–

You needed him twice more, waking him up at sunset and in the middle of the night as the moon rose high in the sky. Each time was feverish, you woke him desperately by teething at his throat and pressing your bare pussy against the hard muscle of his quad. It was too easy to press his knot inside you both times, the two of you whispering nonsense to one another as you bedded down, Joel sucking lazily at your breasts before you licked and nuzzled the scoop of his throat.

He felt something terrifying as the moonlight illuminated you after taking his knot for a third time, spend and slick leaking from your puffy, abused cunt as you drifted off. The need to keep you wrapped around his heart like a cage, delirium making him want to hide you away in this cabin with him and never go back to Jackson. 

He blearily reminded himself as sleep closed in that you just were in a difficult situation, he was the only alpha you could have turned to. It was nothing personal.

–

Waking up was a luxurious thing, rest seeped into the marrow of his bones as he stretched in the body-warmed sheets. He was lucky you were feverish enough to keep them both warm through the night, the fire in the hearth long burned out. Sun painted his eyelids orange, a hand scrubbing his salt and pepper beard as he finally opened them.

You were curled at his side, eyes open as you looked out the window. Upon his waking you turned to him, pensive and thoughtful as you took in his expression. You were returned to yourself again, calm without the storm threatening to swallow you whole.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice thick with sleep as you used his arm as a pillow. The smell of sex and sweat was starting to fade, the evidence only in the marks Joel had sucked onto your throat… and your chest… and your stomach… and your inner thighs. He blushed at how carried away he’d gotten, over a year of hidden-away need manifesting as him greedily taking all you were willing to give yesterday.

“You didn’t have to take care of me,” you whispered, the silence from Joel making you panic. He was just looking at you, his curls sticking up every which way as the back of his skull remained pressed into the pillow. 

“‘Course I did, baby,” he murmured, his Texas drawl even thicker first thing in the morning. He reached out to you, gently squeezing your shoulder beneath the grasp of his fingers. “Wasn’t gonna let you suffer.”

You both stared at one another, neither of you daring to move first as though the dream would fall apart. Joel studied you just as you did him, taking in every twitch of your features as his brown eyes turned molten in the morning sun.

It was impossible to say who moved first. Your hand was on Joel’s jaw as his fingers pressed into your waist, lips smashing together in a fervent clash of teeth and tongues. 

You straddled him this time, giving his aching back a break as you leaned over him and kissed his jaw. For some reason you felt more desperate now than in your soft heat, cupping his cheeks with your hands as you curled your fingers into his beard.

There were no excuses this time, truth revealed in the morning light. No biological need driving either of you together aside from your lust.

Joel’s big palm smacked the curve of your ass, making you squeak against his throat before a giggle poured from you. He grinned, squeezing the plush flesh in his hands as he pressed his lips anywhere they could reach.

“Can I?” you whispered, eyes wide as you pulled back to meet his gaze. You looked vulnerable, as though you thought he would reject your advances despite the fact that his cock was already swelling with arousal. He couldn’t even imagine a world where he could reject you.

“Anything you want, baby,” he breathed, ready to burn the world for you if you asked.

You smiled, relief flooding through you. You didn’t think Joel would push you away, but you weren’t sure. Thank god you guessed right.

You spat in the palm of your hand, lifting yourself up just enough to reach between the two of you and take Joel into your hand. Without the haze of your heat blinding you, you were shocked by the size of him. It was hard to believe you were able to take his knot at all given the swell of him beneath your fingers.

Your eyes widened as you bent your head to look down at your hand. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you murmured, the awe in your voice making his chest puff with pride. You glanced back up at his face, lips parted as you experimentally stroked him along the entirety of his length.

Joel’s nostrils flared as his eyes closed, pride warming your belly as you repeated the motion. The skin of his cock was overheated and velvet-soft, a quiet moan falling from your lips as you watched his expression twist. Precome leaked down to mix with your spit, the head of his cock flushed–part of you was tempted to ignore the aching between your legs to get your mouth on him.

You weren’t that generous, though.

It took a bit of contortion to line Joel up with you before you were pressing down on him, the two of you gasping in unison at the stretch. There was a twinge of pain, but you were too impatient to let him open you up on his fingers. His hands were iron around your hips, the force of his hold almost bruising.

He could see all of you in the morning light, his eyes tracing up as though he was seeing God for the first time. Joel was mesmerized, watching the bounce of your breasts as you rode him, the slight jiggle of the soft flesh of your thighs and lower belly. Your eyes rolled back in a way that made his heart twist, the roll of your hips making him root deep. 

Your hands pressed against his chest, feeling the long-healed scars by knives as you moaned. Joel’s hands smoothed into the creases of your hips, gripping you tight as he brought you down on his cock, hips fucking up into you.

It took all your focus to stay on top of him, thighs trembling as you dug your knees into the soft mattress. Your breath hitched every time he hit the deepest parts of you, eyes rolling back and mouth lolling open. The pleasure was so overwhelming it was almost painful, making you want to sob above him.

Despite your desperate coupling over the past day, this felt entirely different. This was something new and unknown, your bodies moving together as hot flashes of euphoria drip through your veins. 

Joel was in awe, the feeling of your soaked cunt gripping at him was almost too much to handle as the bed creaked beneath his back. He didn’t even realize how loud the springs were last night, too delirious to care. Each rock of his hips made your body pitch up before he shoved you back down in a dizzying loop that had you both groaning. 

Everything in you tightened as he railed into you, nails digging into his chest as the feeling hooked into you and dragged you toward the undertow. You were at the edge of a cliff, balanced dangerously at the edge of it as you whimpered.

“God, can feel you squeezin’ around me,” he breathed, his voice strangled. He railed into you in a frantic rhythm, brows drawn together as he held you so tight you knew you would be sore.

It only took another one, two, three snaps of Joel’s hips against yours before you fell. You barely were able to catch yourself in time, your orgasm spreading through you like a lighting strike as your muscles convulsed and your cunt spasmed around his cock. He cursed, an arm curling around your back and making your spine arch as he held you against him.

Joel couldn’t get enough of you, the wet squeeze of your cunt felt like a heaven he shouldn’t have been allowed in. He was vaguely aware of his mouth running, your name spilling from his lips as he fucked into you, treating you like a toy for his pleasure as he manipulated your hips.

You took everything he gave you, leaning over him to press your mouth against his. You were moaning against one another, begging in whispers. It didn’t take him long to bring you down onto him and keep you there, teeth gritting and breath stuttering as he pumped you full of him. Joel let out a groan through clenched teeth, sounding like a wounded animal as he forced you into stillness for a few moments before letting go.

The rest was easy, you collapsed onto him as Joel kissed and nosed at your hairline. He scented you where he could, feeling possessive in the aftermath. 

You didn’t talk for some time, communicating through touch as you let bliss keep your bodies bound to bed for a little while longer. But the sun was shining in the sky, the truck bed full of supplies for Jackson occupied the back of your mind as you looked down at Joel, soft and sweet.

“Let’s get going?” you asked, sounding more like a demand than a question. You didn’t know what else to do, lifting your chest from his as the air began to cool your sweat. Your legs were shaking like a colt’s against the floorboards, spend dripping down your legs before you wiped it away with your sweatpants. You would change into jeans for the drive home anyways.

Joel watched you with curious eyes, seeing the way you distanced yourself as you dug through your pack for fresh clothes. He stood, groaning a bit with the effort after spending so long in bed. It was only a few strides to get to you, pressing his body along your back.

“I want to do this your way,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his lips against the crown of your head. “I’ll do whatever you want, just wanna be yours.”

You felt giddy, a smirk quirked the edges of your lips that you tamped down, hands still clutching the sweatshirt and jeans like life preservers. “You mean that?” you asked, leaning back against him. “What if I never let you bite me?”

“Then I won’t bite you,” he said, no hesitation in his voice. He squeezed you once, letting you go and allowing the cold air rush against you once more. “Just think about it, you don’t gotta know now.” 

Joel stamped a kiss along your hairline before leaving the bedroom.

Packing up went quickly, the two of you working in tandem to make sure everything was still bound down and tarped in the back of the truck before clambering in. You watched the cabin disappear in the rearview mirror, already feeling nostalgic as it vanished behind snow-covered pines.

It wasn’t a long drive, maybe five hours if Joel went slow. He was going to go slow, milking every moment he got you all to himself before returning to Jackson. It only took you ten minutes into the drive to slide across the bench seat, lifting his arm to curl beneath it.

“So my way, huh?” you asked, pressing your nose against the canvas jacket he wore. 

Joel chuckled, a victorious grin stretching on his face. “Yeah, your way, baby. You’re in charge.” It felt odd to say, a bit unnatural to give himself to you like that. An alpha bowing to an omega.

You grinned, an arm wrapping around his thick torso and pressing close as he followed the snow-covered road. The landscape sparkled like diamonds, the two of you silent as you didn’t want to break whatever that moment was. 

Unsure of what lay ahead, but excited to find out–knowing it just may be something special.

[danikamariewrites]

Little Dove

Azriel x reader

Notes: Sorry I’ve been MIA for a while. I just had no motivation to write or do anything but read and be by myself really. It’s been an odd month and I’m trying to get into a routine. So until I get back to writing fully here’s a lil Azriel blurb for y’all🤗 @sweetorangeblossom this is for u babes 💕

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, ddlg, sexually suggestive

Azriel’s head snapped to the dance floor, the sound of your melodic giggle floating to him as you and Mor trip over each other, making his heart flutter. The mating bond in his chest going wild with a flurry of emotions ranging from excitement to the need to have him close to you.

You notice Azriel staring, a wide grin breaking out on your lips. Mor pushes you toward him, cutting through the crowd. You stumble into his chest, Azriel’s muscular arms gently wrap around you, steadying you. His touch sends a wave of calm through your body. The bond lightly humming in your chest at the warm familiarity of being held by your mate. Your Azriel.

Settling against his body you prop your chin on his chest. Batting your lashes up at him with doe eyes, your gaze clouded by all the alcohol you’ve consumed tonight.

Azriel smiles down at you, his own gaze full of unending love for you. He brings a scarred hand up to brush loose hair behind your ear.

You giggle at Azriel’s tenderness. Pushing your face back into the softness of his dark tunic. “Hi little dove.” Azriel’s deep sultry voice sends a shiver down your spine.

You look back up at him, cheeks a light shade of pink from a shyness you get around Azriel when you’re tipsy. “Are you ready to go, dove? I think you’ve had enough tonight.” He teases.

A small hum sounds from your throat, “Yes,daddy.”

Azriel’s eyes widened in shock. His heart stuttered in his chest. Did you know what you just called him? Could you feel his heart rate pick up though the bond? Did you know how badly he wanted you to say it again?

That sweet giggle falls from your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, putting all your weight on him as you sway back and forth. “What did you say?” He asks carefully, giving you a chance to correct yourself if you want to. Azriel knows your limits when you’re tipsy and when you’re drunk. And you know what you said.

Azriel stills in anticipation of your answer. You playfully roll your eyes thinking he’s not listening to you.

“I’m ready to go, daddy. I wanna go to bed with you.”

Azriel loosens a breath. Holding you closer to his body Azriel presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Let’s get you to bed, little dove.” Azriel pulls you out of Rita’s flying you home faster than he ever has before.

Azriel helps you get ready for bed, pampering you more than normal. You smirk to yourself as he pulls one of his undershirts over your head. You knew what you were doing. Happy that you finally had the courage to go for what you wanted with your mate.

Laying under the covers Azriel pulls you to lay on top of him. You press small kisses along his jaw and down his neck, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. “G’night daddy, I love you.” You whisper.

“Night little dove. I love you more.” Azriel coos, lightly squeezing you against his chest. “Dove,” he adds before you drift off, “we’re not leaving this bed tomorrow.”

[phillydilly]

Priorities

⊹♡— in which Charles and his long distance girlfriend get into an argument over her priorities

Part 1 , Part 2

Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Authors note: I wrote priorities to challenge myself because I’m not the best at writing angsty situations, but I really hit a bit of a writers block with part 2. I’m happy with how it came out though, I hope you like it!

The days leading up to the Monaco Grand Prix were filled with an angsty silence between Charles and Y/n. They exchanged their usual good morning and good night texts, sprinkled with "I love you" messages, but the heavy unspoken tension hung in the air like a storm cloud.

Monaco race week was always a special time for Charles. It was his home race, and Y/n had attended every year since they'd been together. This year, however, was different. With the unresolved issues between them, Charles wasn't sure if Y/n would come, and Y/n wasn't sure if Charles even wanted her there.

On Friday, Y/n didn't show up at the track as she usually did. They exchanged a few texts throughout the day, discussing mundane topics and avoiding the elephant in the room. Charles couldn't bring himself to ask her why she hadn't come, and Y/n didn't offer any explanation.

"Charles, I wish I understood what's going on," Y/n texted, her words heavy with frustration.

"I know, Y/n," Charles replied, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he debated whether to bring up their issues. But he couldn't find the right words.

Saturday arrived, and there was still no sign of Y/n at the track. Charles's hope began to wane, and he couldn't shake the feeling of heartbreak that gnawed at him. He knew that their relationship was at a crossroads, and he feared that he might have already lost her.

As Charles walked through the paddock, his brother Arthur approached him, concern in his eyes. "Charles, where's Y/n today? She's always here with you."

Charles hesitated for a moment before answering, "We're going through a tough time, Arthur. I don't even know if she's coming."

Arthur furrowed his brow, worried for his brother. "You need to talk, Charles. Don't let this come between you."

On Sunday, the day of the race, Charles woke up with a heavy heart. He knew that Y/n wasn't going to be there for his home race, and it weighed on him as he prepared for the day ahead. He tried to focus on the task at hand, the intense competition of Formula 1, but his mind kept drifting back to Y/n.

Minutes before he was scheduled to get into his car and head to the grid, Charles stood in the paddock, lost in thought. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around, his heart leaping in surprise. There stood Y/n, her eyes filled with a mixture of apprehension and longing.

Their gaze locked, and for a moment, it felt like the world around them disappeared. Charles couldn't believe his eyes, and he stammered, "Y/n, you're here?"

Y/n nodded, her voice filled with emotion, "I couldn't stay away, Charles. I know we need to talk, but I didn't want to miss your home race."

Charles's heart swelled with a mixture of relief and joy. He pulled Y/n into a tight embrace, and as he held her, he whispered, "I've missed you so much, Y/n."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes as she replied, "I've missed you too, Charles. We need to talk, but right now, let's focus on your race."

Charles nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. He knew that their conversation could wait, but in this moment, with Y/n by his side, he felt like he could conquer anything.

After the race, Charles finished in sixth place, a result that left him deeply disappointed. He went through his post-race duties mechanically, the disappointment gnawing at him. Normally, he would join the team and fellow drivers for post-race celebrations, but this time, he wanted nothing more than to go home with Y/n.

As they left the circuit and arrived at Charles's apartment, Y/n could sense his despondency. The silence between them was palpable, but Y/n knew that they couldn't avoid the inevitable conversation any longer. She decided to break the ice by giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Charles, I know you're not in the best mood right now," she began cautiously. "But can we please talk about the argument we had at the airport?"

Charles sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. He had bottled up his emotions for too long, and they threatened to spill over. "Y/n, I'm really not in the mood right now."

Y/n felt her patience wearing thin. She had come to Monaco not only to support Charles but also to work through their issues. The tension between them had been simmering for weeks, and it was time to address it. "Charles," she started, her voice tinged with frustration, "I came here because I care about us. I can't just pretend like everything's fine when it's not."

Charles stayed silent, and y/n was started to get the sense that she might have to beg him to talk to her. She was just as uncomfortable talking about this as he was, and she understood that he’s had a tough race, but surely he can understand that they can’t keep bottling up the tension?

“Fine I’ll start” she sighed, “I understand that I should’ve freed up my schedule for our weekend together, and I know that I let you down by prioritising work, but I feel like you don’t take my job seriously.”

That caught Charles’ attention. “How can you even say that?” He said, “I see how hard you work, y/n, but we had planned this weekend together for weeks and you let me down! This season has been the most stressful and exhausting season I have ever done. I’ve been struggling with the car, the team, everything feels like it’s too much,” Charles couldn't contain his emotions any longer. He began to pace back and forth in the living room, his words pouring out like a dam that had burst, "and the one weekend I have time to unwind with the person I love most, she tells me she’s busy? I’ve never felt so lonely.”

Y/n could see the anguish in his eyes, and it tore at her heart, she had never seen him so broken down in all the years she’s known him. She wanted to hold him and comfort him but she knew that this conversation needed to happen first. "Charles, I understand," she said softly, "but I can't just quit my job because you're feeling like shit!"

“God, y/n that’s not what I’m saying!” He yelled, feeling frustrated and unheard, “I just want to know that when we make plans, you aren’t just going to bail on me last minute!”

Y/n didn’t appreciate him yelling at him, and began to feel angry herself, “It happened one time, Charles, you’re being dramatic!”

“Dramatic? I just wanted a fucking break from all the stresses,” he snapped, “something that you have been for me all these years, god forbid I’m disappointed by the fact that you were busy!”

Y/n retorted, “A break? You can’t handle anything, can you? You’re always so damn needy, like a fucking child!”

Stunned by her hurtful words, he took a moment to compose himself, his voice slightly trembling as he responded, “I thought you understood me better than this, but maybe I was wrong.”

Y/n felt her heart sink as she realized the gravity of her words. She had wounded Charles deeply, and before she could say anything more, Charles retreated into another room, leaving Y/n standing there, her heart heavy with remorse.

She knew she had gone too far with her harsh words, and regret gnawed at her. After a few minutes of battling her own emotions, she mustered the courage to follow him.

She knocked gently on the bedroom door, her voice soft and apologetic, "Charles, I'm really sorry for what I said. I didn't mean to hurt you like that."

The door creaked open, and Charles appeared, his eyes still carrying the pain of their heated argument. "Amour, I didn't mean to snap at you either. I've just been under so much pressure lately, and it's been eating at me."

Y/n stepped closer and reached out to hold his hand, her voice filled with sincerity, "I understand, my love. I should've been there for you, and I promise I'll work on balancing work and our time better. But you have to understand that I need to have my own life and career too."

Charles nodded, his grip on her hand tightening. "I know, Y/n. I shouldn't expect you to to just drop everything for me. I love you for who you are, and I want you to be happy."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes as she said, "I love you too, Charles, but we seriously need to work on communicating better, I don’t want this kind of tension build up between us again."

They talked for hours, pouring out their feelings, fears, and frustrations, while also reminiscing about the moments that had brought them together. They both realized that their love was strong enough to weather the storms if they were willing to be more understanding and patient with each other.

As the night deepened, they snuggled up in each others arms, finding solace in the warmth of their embrace. The storm had passed, and the skies of their relationship cleared, leaving behind a renewed sense of love and understanding.

Wrapped in each other's arms, Charles and Y/n found comfort in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. The tension that had weighed on them earlier was replaced with a profound sense of intimacy.

Y/n traced her finger along Charles's jawline, her eyes searching his for reassurance. "You know, Charles, I can't stand seeing you upset. I hate when we fight like that."

Charles smiled gently, his hand caressing her cheek. "I know, Y/n. I can't stand it either. I never want to hurt you, but sometimes, my emotions get the best of me."

Y/n leaned in and kissed his lips tenderly. "I understand, love. We both have our moments, and we'll work through them together."

Charles sighed contentedly, his arms drawing her closer. "I'm so lucky to have you. Even when we argue, I can't imagine my life without you."

Y/n's eyes sparkled with affection. "You're my world, Charles. I love you more than anything."

They lay there in silence for a moment, just enjoying the serenity of being together. Charles broke the silence, his voice soft and filled with warmth. "I promise, Y/n, from now on, I'll be more patient and understanding. I'll support your career just as much as you support mine."

Y/n smiled, her heart swelling with gratitude. "And I promise to make more time for us, Charles, to show you how much I love and appreciate you."

Charles's fingers interlaced with Y/n's, and they held each other's gaze, the unspoken promise of their love evident in their eyes.

With a sleepy yawn, Y/n whispered, "Let's put this behind us and focus on the beautiful future we'll build together."

Charles nodded in agreement, his voice filled with tenderness, "Yes, my love. Our future will be bright, and our love will only grow stronger."

They snuggled even closer, their love reaffirmed, and as the night enveloped them, they drifted off to sleep, knowing that their bond was unbreakable, and their love was enduring.

₊˚⊹♡: ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Tags:

@janeholt3 @itsjustkhaos @mirrorball-6 @meadhbhcavanagh @aorifukuzawa @eviethetheatrefreak @dl-yum

[herstoryheaven]

Draco Malfoy x Reader: Venom And Vulnerability

Prompt: Y/n, a Muggle-born Slytherin, struggles to fit in among pure-bloods, especially under the torment of Draco Malfoy. As their rivalry evolves into something deeper, Draco becomes Y/n's unexpected source of comfort, leading to an unlikely romance.

Reader: Gender Neutral

Word count: 3259

Average reading time: 11 min 50 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: This story contains themes of emotional distress, bullying, and manipulation. If you are sensitive to these topics, please read with care.

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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The Slytherin common room was as cold as ever, the air thick with whispers and sneers. I sat in my usual corner, pretending to read a book I had no interest in. My eyes drifted over the same sentence repeatedly, unable to focus as the flames in the fireplace flickered, casting chilling shadows across the stone walls. This place had always felt more like a cage than a home.

It wasn’t easy being a muggle-born in Slytherin. From the moment the sorting hat declared “Slytherin!” on my first day, the room had gone deadly silent. The weight of all those eyes on me had been suffocating. I had tried to shake off the discomfort, standing tall and proud, but deep down, I knew that my life in Slytherin was going to be a constant battle.

The pure-bloods saw me as a freak, a mistake. It didn’t matter how well I performed in classes or how hard I tried to fit in. They only saw my blood status, something that, in their eyes, made me less than them. And no one reminded me of that more often than Draco Malfoy.

“Oi, Y/n, can’t you find somewhere else to lurk?” Pansy Parkinson’s shrill voice cut through the common room like a knife. She was sitting with Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode, all of them staring at me with matching sneers.

I looked up, meeting her gaze with a cold glare. “This is my common room too, Parkinson. I’ll sit wherever I please.”

She snorted, her lips curling in disapproval. “You’d think with your background, you’d be more… respectful to your betters.”

Millicent and Daphne giggled, a sharp, mocking sound that grated against my nerves. I felt a surge of anger rising within me, the kind that burned hot and bright, but I forced it down. I wanted to lash out, to say something cutting, but I knew it would only make things worse. They thrived on my reactions, and I refused to give them the satisfaction.

Before I could respond, Malfoy walked over, his usual entourage of Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him. His silver eyes locked onto mine, and I braced myself for whatever cruel remarks he had in store.

“Still playing pretend, Y/n?” Draco’s voice was smooth, laced with mockery. “I’m sure the professors find your little act amusing, but we all know the truth, don’t we?”

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to remain calm. “And what truth is that, Malfoy?”

He stepped closer, his presence looming over me like a storm cloud ready to burst. “That you don’t belong here. No matter how hard you try, you’ll never be one of us.”

The words stung, more than I cared to admit. It felt like he had taken the doubts that plagued me every night and voiced them for the whole world to hear. But I wouldn’t let him see that. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “You don’t get to decide who belongs here, Malfoy.” I spat, my voice shaking slightly despite my best efforts.

His smirk widened, as if he could sense the cracks in my armor. “No, but the rest of us do. And it seems like the agreement is pretty clear.”

I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the hurt in my eyes, so I looked away, staring at the flickering flames in the fireplace. They reflected in his eyes, cold and unyielding, as he leaned in closer.

“Leave her alone, Draco.” Blaise Zabini’s voice cut in from behind him. Blaise, one of the few Slytherins who didn’t actively partake in the daily harassment, stepped forward, his dark eyes narrowed at Draco.

Draco glanced at Blaise, his expression tightening for just a moment, something unreadable passing between them. He looked almost… conflicted. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that infuriating smirk. “You’re lucky, Y/n.” he said, his tone cold and dismissive. “Zabini’s got a soft spot for lost causes.”

His words hit harder than they should have. They made me feel small, insignificant, like a mistake that shouldn’t even exist. But instead of breaking down, I felt anger build up, hot and blinding. I opened my mouth to snap back, to say something, anything, to wipe that smug look off his face, but the words died on my tongue.

Draco turned and walked away, his friends following after him like obedient shadows. I stayed rooted to the spot, the sting of his words lingering in the air long after he was gone. Blaise gave me a small nod before turning back to his book, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I knew he meant well, but his intervention only made things worse. It reminded me of how isolated I was in this house, how I was constantly in need of someone’s protection, as if I were some fragile thing that couldn’t stand on its own.

I tried to push the encounter out of my mind as I returned to my book, but the words blurred on the page, my frustration and hurt boiling just beneath the surface. I could feel the eyes of my housemates on me, their judgment like a physical weight pressing down on my shoulders. The walls of the common room seemed to close in, the air growing colder, heavier, with every passing second.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Slamming my book shut, I stood up abruptly, the noise echoing in the silent room. Heads turned in my direction, and I could feel their eyes on me, filled with judgment, disdain, and worst of all, pity.

Ignoring the whispered insults that followed me, I stormed out of the common room, my footsteps echoing harshly against the stone floors. I needed to get away, to find somewhere I could breathe, somewhere I didn’t feel the constant suffocation of their expectations and judgments on muggle-borns.

As I hurried away, I couldn’t help but glance back, just once. Draco was still watching me, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something that almost looked like regret. It caught me off guard, and for a moment, I hesitated, but then I shook my head, pushing the thought away. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. I couldn’t let myself believe that he cared, not after all these years.

The dungeons were dark and cold, the silence broken only by the echo of my footsteps as I wandered aimlessly. My thoughts swirled in a chaotic mess, a storm of anger, hurt, and confusion. How much longer could I keep this up? How much longer could I pretend that their words didn’t affect me?

I turned a corner and found myself in an empty classroom. The door creaked as I pushed it open, and I slipped inside, closing it behind me. The room was dimly lit by a few scattered candles, the shadows dancing on the walls like specters.

It was here, in the silence, that everything I had been holding back finally broke free. The anger, the pain, the loneliness, all of it came crashing down on me, and I collapsed against the wall, my knees giving out as the first sob escaped my lips.

I buried my face in my hands, my body shaking with the force of my cries. I had fought so hard to be strong, to prove that I belonged in Slytherin, but it felt like I was losing the battle. No matter what I did, it was never enough. They would never accept me, never see me as anything other than a Muggle-born intruder.

All I wanted was to belong, to feel like I had a place in this world that didn’t require me to constantly fight for every scrap of respect. But here, in the heart of Slytherin, surrounded by those who saw me as less than, I felt more alone than ever.

-----

I sat there, my body trembling from the force of my sobs, when the door creaked open behind me. I was too lost in my misery to care who had found me, too consumed by the hurt to acknowledge their presence.

“Y/n.” Draco’s voice broke the silence, slicing through the darkness like a knife. My breath hitched in my throat, tension flooding my veins. Of all the people who could have walked in, he was the last person I wanted to see.

“Go away,” I choked out, my voice hoarse and broken. “Just… leave me alone.”

But instead of the retreating footsteps I longed to hear, I listened as the door closed softly, the sound final, like a lock clicking into place. His footsteps drew closer, slow and steady, and before I could react, I felt his hands on me. He pulled me into his chest with a firmness that made it clear he wasn’t planning to let go.

I stiffened in his arms, my entire body locking up at the unexpected contact. “Let me go.” I whispered, my voice barely audible as I weakly tried to push him away. But he didn’t budge. Instead, he held me tighter, the warmth of his body pressing against the cold that had settled in my bones, threatening to melt the ice that had formed around my heart.

“I’m not letting you go.” Draco murmured, his breath warm against my ear. His voice, usually so sharp and cutting, was surprisingly gentle, sending a shiver down my spine. “Not until you listen to me.”

I struggled against him, my fists feebly pounding against his chest, but it was no use. I was too drained, too tired to fight him, and fresh tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. “Why are you doing this?” I cried, my voice breaking under the weight of my despair. “Why now? After everything…”

“Because I’ve been a fool.” he confessed, his voice thick with an emotion I had never heard from him before, regret. “I’ve been blind, and I’ve hurt you in ways I can never take back. But I’m here now, Y/n. I’m here, and I’m not going to let you go.”

His words only made me cry harder, the fight draining out of me as I slumped against him, my hands clutching at his robes in desperation. It was as if he was the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely. “You don’t understand.” I sobbed, my voice muffled against his chest. “You’ll never understand…”

“Maybe not.” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear in a way that sent another shiver down my spine. “But I want to. I want to make things right, Y/n. Please, just… let me.”

I shook my head, the pain in my chest overwhelming, crushing. “You can’t. It’s too late. I’m broken, Draco. I’m so tired of fighting…”

His arms tightened around me, his voice dropping to a low, soothing murmur as he held me close. “Then stop fighting, Y/n. Stop fighting me. And let me care for you.”

His words wrapped around me like a promise, tempting me to believe, to trust in something I wasn’t sure I could. “How can I trust you?” I whispered, my voice trembling as I looked up at him, my tear-streaked face searching his for any sign of deception.

Draco pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt my chin up with the tips of his fingers, forcing me to meet his gaze. His silver eyes, usually so cold and calculating, now held a sincerity that made my heart ache. “I know I don’t deserve your trust,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing softly against my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “But I’m going to earn it, Y/n. Every day, I’m going to prove to you that I’m not the same person I was. Because you’re worth it. You’re worth everything.”

Before I could respond, he leaned in, his breath ghosting over my lips as he hovered there for a moment, giving me a chance to pull away. When I didn’t, he pressed his lips to mine, capturing my mouth in a kiss that was both tender and possessive, filled with all the things he couldn’t say.

The kiss stole the breath from my lungs, leaving me dizzy and disoriented. I was too shocked to respond at first, my mind struggling to catch up with the reality of what was happening. But then, something inside me snapped, and I found myself kissing him back, my hands fisting in his robes as I pulled him closer, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly turned upside down.

Draco growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips as he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding up to tangle in my hair, holding me in place as he took control. His other hand trailed down my back, his touch firm and possessive, sending sparks of heat through my body.

He pulled away slightly, his lips hovering just over mine as he whispered, “You’re mine, Y/n. No one else’s. Do you understand?” His voice was low and rough, filled with a need that made my knees weak.

I nodded, unable to find my voice, too overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered. He smirked, satisfied with how easily I gave in, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth, then my jaw, then lower, his lips trailing down the side of my neck.

My breath hitched as he found the sensitive spot just below my ear, his lips and teeth teasing the skin there. “Draco…” I whispered, my voice trembling as I clutched at him, unsure whether I was trying to pull him closer or push him away.

He hummed in response, the sound vibrating against my skin as he continued to pepper kisses along my neck, his hand sliding under my robes to caress the bare skin of my back. “I’ve got you.” he murmured, his voice soothing as he pulled me closer, his body pressing against mine in a way that made my head spin. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, not anymore. You’re safe with me.”

He tilted my head to the side, his lips brushing over my ear as he whispered, “You’re the princess of Slytherin now, my princess, and I’ll make sure you will always be happy and protected, Y/n. I swear it.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I closed my eyes, letting myself get lost in the feeling of his lips on my skin, the warmth of his body against mine. For the first time in a long time, I felt… safe. Protected. And as much as I wanted to hold onto my anger, my hurt, I found it slipping away, replaced by something softer, something that scared me even more.

Draco’s lips found mine again, and this time, the kiss was slower, more careful, as if he was savoring the moment, committing every detail to memory. When he finally pulled back, we were both breathless, our foreheads resting against each other’s.

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/n.” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet determination that made my heart skip a beat. “I’m going to prove to you that you can trust me, that I’m not the same person I was. And I’ll start by protecting you from anyone who dares to hurt you.”

His words wrapped around me like a promise, a vow that he would keep no matter what it took. And as much as I wanted to doubt him, to push him away, I found myself nodding, my heart daring to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. That maybe, with him by my side, I didn’t have to fight alone anymore.

-----

After that night, everything between Draco and me changed.

The walls that had once divided us were replaced with a connection I never thought possible. Draco, who had been the source of so much pain and frustration, now became the one person I could rely on. The harsh, cold demeanor he had always worn like armor softened whenever we were alone, revealing a side of him that I had never imagined existed.

In the days that followed, Draco made good on his promises. His change was nothing short of impressive. He was always there, watching over me, making sure that no one dared to hurt me again. The whispers in the common room, once so biting and cruel, began to fade away. No one wanted to cross Draco Malfoy, and with him by my side, they knew better than to even try.

Our relationship, though new, was intense. Draco was possessive, his protective streak evident in everything he did. He walked me to every class, sat with me during meals, and his gaze never strayed far from me when we were in the common room. It was as if he had devoted himself to protecting me, and in some strange way, I found comfort in that.

But it wasn’t just about protection. Draco was unexpectedly tender, constantly surprising me with small gestures of affection. He would brush his fingers lightly against my hand under the table, or tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear as we studied in the library. He was always near, his presence like a shield against the rest of the world.

And at night, when the weight of the day would press down on me, he was there to hold me, to whisper soothing words in my ear until the anxiety and fear melted away. He would trail kisses along my skin, his touch gentle yet firm, grounding me in the moment, reminding me that I wasn’t alone.

There were moments when the old doubts would creep in, when I would question how things had changed so quickly, but Draco was always there to quiet those fears. “I'm yours, love.” he would murmur, his voice filled with a possessive tenderness that both thrilled and terrified me. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

The Draco Malfoy who had once been my enemy was gone, replaced by someone who saw me, who valued me. He wasn’t perfect, he still had a temper, still had his moments of arrogance, but with me, he was different. He was softer, more open, his sharp edges dulled by the feelings he clearly struggled to express. And I found myself falling for him, despite everything, despite all the reasons why I shouldn’t.

But perhaps the most surprising thing was how natural it felt. What had started as a relationship forged out of pain and misunderstanding had transformed into something deeper, something real. We were still figuring things out, still navigating the complexities of our feelings, but we were doing it together.

In Draco’s arms, I found the safety and security I had craved for so long. And in me, Draco found someone who accepted him for who he was, flaws and all. We were an unlikely pair, the Muggle-born Slytherin and the prince of pure-blood supremacy, but somehow, it worked.

Draco had become my protector, my confidant, and, against all odds, my lover. And as we stood together, facing the world that had once sought to tear me apart, I knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, we would face them side by side. Because, for the first time I didn’t feel alone. I felt cherished. I felt loved.

And that was worth everything.

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[animereaderinsertwriter]

Pairing: Cloud Strife x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: frenemies to lovers, Cloud's memory problems, reader is an assassin, smut, porn WITH plot

Final Word Count: 9k

Plot summary: A mercenary and an assassin walk into a bar. They bicker, have sex, then go home and freak out about it. The whole thing feels like it should be a joke, but it isn't— and no matter how bad it hurts, they keep coming back for more.

ao3 link

“Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table…”

The entrance to Hell's Maw yawned lazily open, with the wooden door leaning crookedly off of its hinges. The door— made of sturdy oak— had held up well against bar fights between mercenaries, master thieves, and assassins for over a decade; it was riddled with holes from unsuccessful knifings and stray bullets, and sported faint airbrushings of blood from more successful endeavors of the same sort. Really, the agency ought to have replaced it by now as a favor to the bar for letting its employees regularly trash the place— but those stingy bastards couldn't be bothered with anything outside of making money off the hard labor of people bigger, meaner, and certainly more deadly than themselves, and so the door remained as it was.

Fondly, you patted the door as you passed it; the little creak it gave felt like a 'thank you,' and you smiled as you slipped inside the building, largely unnoticed by the Friday night crowd.  

Despite its name, Hell's Maw was a cozy, comfortable establishment. There were large, comfortable booths lining the walls, the fabric of their green seats cracked and slightly worn in the middle; a few pool tables with green felt were nestled comfortably in the middle of the room. There was always something soft and smooth playing from the jukebox in the corner, and the lighting was dim enough to feel gentle and ambient, but bright enough that a girl didn't feel the need to squint at her plate for deformed food. 

Tonight, a few familiar faces were gathered around the pool tables, holding cues that had been haphazardly duct taped back together a few times. The quiet buzz of conversation was a comforting lull, and there was a pleasant smell drifting out from the kitchen that had you sighing at the thought of a warm meal. 

Home sweet home, you thought, smiling as you took in the scene. 

"Evening, Kitty," you greeted one of the servers as she passed by. "What's the special tonight?"

Kitty was a short, pleasantly plump woman with a freckled face and flaming hair. To look at her, you'd never know that she spent her evenings catering to smugglers, tramps, thieves, and worse— but she was as strong as she was beautiful, so generally speaking, she got whatever she wanted out of Hell's Maw's regular patrons.

"Shepherd's pie," said the waitress, grinning back as she bussed a table, "but your friend over there is putting everyone off their dinner with that sour look on his face. It's a wonder anyone can keep their drinks down, what with his mean-mugging."

You followed Kitty's gaze to the bar, where a familiar shock of blond hair glowed honey-golden in the incandescent lighting. 

To your credit, you tried hard to stifle your laugh. 

Sitting on what you had come to think of as your barstool, Cloud Strife looked even more brooding and mysterious than usual. A glass of his choice poison— lemon water with a pinch of mint— was sitting untouched on the mahogany wood in front of him. As he sat there, glaring at his glass, he seemed so miserable that you couldn't even be mad at him for stealing her seat. 

Alas, despite your efforts, the sight earned a giggle.

"He looks to be in a fine temper," you noted slyly, wagging your eyes at Kitty.

Kitty huffed.

"He looks like he's swallowed a hornet's nest."

You laughed again. 

"I'd best go see what he wants, then," you said. "If it's any comfort to you, I can't imagine he'll stay very long."

"Oh, he's no trouble," said Kitty mischievously. "As for myself, don't care what face he makes when he's got a face like that."

You giggled. He really was handsome, that bastard. 

"I'll be sure to tell him you said that. Later, Kitty."

"Later," said Kitty with her signature wink. 

As you approached the bar, you wondered at Cloud's presence there. It was a rare day that he arrived at the bar before you, and even rarer that he should be waiting for you and not sitting in a booth with a friend— an actual friend— or chatting up some girl at the pool tables. You couldn't recall a time when he'd been this forward with his presence at your little meeting place, and you'd be lying if you said the newness of it all didn't set you on edge. 

Cloud Strife in general set you on edge. 

"Hello, first class," you greeted him, smiling.

As he turned to acknowledge you, you slid gracefully into the seat next to him, signaling to the bartender for a little something sweet and strong. 

"Cutthroat," he returned without malice. 

You turned your best pout on him. 

"Now, now, you're being uncharitable. You're in my seat, and I haven't even considered cutting your throat." You thought for a moment. "Well, until now at least " 

He raised a brow, in a moment both teasing and deadly.

"If it's any consolation, though, it's more of a scientific interest than anything," you added as an afterthought. "It's not often that I get contracts for anyone like a SOLDIER, you know."

Blue-ringed green peered at you with familiar, friendly distaste. 

"I'm not stupid enough to be one of your marks," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "I think with my upstairs head, which is more than I can say for the guys you get paid to kill."

It was a bit naive of him to assume such a thing. No man was above being one of your marks.

"Then praise be that the world isn't full of good, right-honorable ex-SOLDIERs like you," you shot sweetly back at him. "Poor little me would be out of a job."

Cloud let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, then sobered and stared moodily into his glass of water.  He looked like a petulant child who'd been sent to his room as punishment. 

"Come on, why so sour?" you prodded, trying to keep your tone teasing. "Did you get turned down this evening before I got here? If so, I'm sure the pretty brunette in the corner would go home with you— she's been staring at you since I walked in."

He scowled.

"Why does it always have to be about sex with you?" he snapped as the bartender handed you your glass of fruity bliss. "Are the men you seduce to kill not doing it for you anymore?"

You took the insult in stride.

"Why?" you challenged, leaning forward, eyes flicking up to meet his. "Curious?"

Cloud was the first to look away.

Somehow, it was always this. He would come to you in moments of woundedness or weakness and pick a fight that he couldn’t finish. Fights about work, fights about drinks, fights about the sex that neither of you were having, and fights about fighting just for fighting's sake— too often, you found yourselves here, in this endless cycle of strange and hateful amicability. Why, you didn't know— but it wasn't like that was going to stop you from playing your little game.

"Why are you in my seat?" You began again, changing tactics. "You know that's my seat. I'm fairly certain the groove of my ass cheeks are worn into the shape of it by now."

"Wanted to be," he replied with a little shrug of powerful shoulders. "It's a nice seat. Got a problem with it?"

You hummed, sipping from your drink.

"Not at all. Just curious as to what's wrong with you today."

Cloud cut his eyes at you. 

"Who says there's something wrong with me?"

"Oh, there's something wrong with everyone here. The fact that you're picking a fight with me today is especially telling, though."

"Not picking a fight," he grumbled.

"Of course not," you replied, placating. "Now— would you like to tell me what's on your mind, or should I try and guess?"

Cloud stayed silent, but took another drink from his minty lemon water. 

Guessing it was, then. 

"Don't know which girl to pick again?" you scanned the bar. There were plenty of Cloud's type there— sweet innocents that looked like they needed protecting. "I can help like last time. Blondie by the pool table has got great tits and a sweet smile, but she'll want to do it missionary the whole time. The brunette I was talking about earlier is probably a bit kinkier, if that's what you're i—"

Cloud moved to get up, disgusted. 

Wrong guess, then. 

"I'm teasing," you told him, tugging his arm. "Sit down, drama queen."

Cloud eyed you warily, but reluctantly sat back down. 

"You know," you said gently, "this would be easier if you could just tell me what's going on."

Cloud's expression shuttered closed. It was as if a mask had dropped into place over his features, locking them into a single blank expression. 

"Nothing's going on. I told you, I'm fine."

You were beginning to feel frustrated. Hell's Maw was a haven for damaged colleagues of a hellacious profession. Most of them came for one of two reasons: to have sex, or to play house in a place where the job didn't matter. Cloud was the former, you were the latter. You fulfilled his need to banter and blow off steam, and he fulfilled your need to care and watch out for someone. It wasn't like you were friends. Currently, he wasn’t fulfilling your needs, and you weren't fulfilling his— so why were either of you even there?

"You're a shit liar, Cloud Strife," you huffed. "If all you're going to do is act like an ass, then you can get out of my seat and find someone else to abuse with your presence."

He shook his head.

"I doubt someone like you could understand."

You leaned back in your seat. An odd hurt pierced your chest. 

You knew your lives were different. You knew he disapproved of yours. That was an old fight that had already scabbed over into little more than scars on your psyche; but if he wanted to pick it until it bled once more, you would indulge him with scratches of your own.

"Someone like me," you repeated, the words bitter as lye soap in your mouth. “Tell me, Cloud— what, exactly, do you think I am?”

You stared deeply into his eyes, challenging him. As you did so, you noted the mako-greenish tinge in the center of his iris, and not for the first time, the weight of your secret pulsed within you, threatening to fizzle out from you in white-hot sparks.

“I think you’re a murderer,” he told you, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re a contract killer, and what’s worse, you use your body to lure men to their deaths like some kind of demented, two-bit—”

You had heard these words before. Refusing to hear them again, you drew back your hand and made to strike him; you didn’t get far, though, before Cloud’s SOLDIER reflexes proved their worth and caught your hand before the slap could land. Even through his glove, you could feel the mako beneath his skin, and you shivered.

“I told you before,” you said, speaking carefully, willing control to return to you. “Don’t call me a whore ever again. If you do, it will be the last word you say.”

Gently, you nudged the blade in your other hand against his ribs, and he flinched backwards, apparently not having seen or anticipated the movement despite the obvious distraction of the slap.

“I don’t have to say it,” he replied calmly, tightening his grip on your wrist. “You put the words in my mouth, so if the shoe fits, then fucking wear it.”

The flow of mako within him was strong, pulling at you physically like the opposite side of a magnet. A breath, then two, and it was under control— but those words cut deep. Hearing them from someone like Cloud cut even deeper. 

"You know what, I don't have to take this from you," you said, trying to take your arm back. He didn’t let you, instead holding you fast against your will. Feeling vengeful, you added, "Especially not when you're such a hypocrite."

Cloud's expression was impassive, marble-esque, but the hardening of his eyes told you that you'd hit the mark.

"Excuse me?"

You smirked. 

"What, you think I don't know what you get up to around here? How you fuck around with these girls and that pretty barmaid at Seventh Heaven? And yet you think I’m the whore? Get a grip, man." 

"What?"

There it was— hurt and indignation that mirrored your own flashed in his eyes, and you knew you had him.

"Oh, you heard me," you said, tilting your head like another girl might for a kiss. "I'd bet top dollar that your big-titty Tifa would give her right arm to play housewife for you, and you play right along with her, the poor thing. Does she know you come here every week for an easy lay?"

Cloud snarled, enraged, and roughly threw your wrist away from himself as though disgusted.  

"I've never touched Tifa!"

You grinned wryly, massaging your wrist, and said,

"And don't you know it kills her?"

It occurred to you then that you might have gone a bit too far. Cloud's hands were balled into white-knuckled fists, and he looked as if he might hit you. A moment of tense silence swept over the both of you, a tug of war of will-he-won't-he between you— and then as he always did when it came to matters of the heart, Cloud Strife took the easy way out. 

He turned away. 

"Coming here was a fucking mistake," he growled, fitting that giant, way-too-Freudian sword to his lean, muscled back. "I don't know why I fucking bothered— of course you wouldn’t take this conversation seriously."

"What conversation?" you shot back. "If you think shit-talking me to my face is a conversation, you've got bigger problems than leading some girl on."

He rounded on you.

"I'm not leading anyone on. I don't feel for Tifa like that and she knows it."

You arched a brow. "Oh, so you've told her?"

Cloud faltered.

"Well— no."

"Then is she just supposed to guess?"

Cloud scowled, no doubt ready to double down on his point— but you, suddenly conscious of the setting and the kind of hurt it would cause if talk like that got back to Seventh Heaven, moved closer and said seriously,

"That girl loves you. Everyone from here to topside knows except you. You break her heart, and I feel for her. Every woman has cried the tears she cries for you— most are just smart enough to cut thoughtless, careless bastards like you off."

Cloud shook his head, expression closed. 

"No way. Tifa's smarter than that."

You smiled, though it ached.

"No woman is," you told him gently. "Love is our gift, and our curse."

"You're full of shit."

Ah, that was it, then. Once he began to resort to blind insults, you knew you'd won.

"No, I'm right, and it bothers you— and you know what else I think?"

Cloud folded his arms.

"Can I pay you not to tell me?"

You ignored him. 

"I think that you think I should be as tortured and as guilty as you feel, and it bothers you even more that I'm not. I understand this world, live in it, accept it, and so you believe that I am just as bad as everyone else in this stupid bar. And that, Cloud, is why you’re here right now, so let me give you this piece of wisdom."

You caught his arm again as he tried to turn away, feeling the warmth of him beneath your hand. 

"I have no guilt, and I have no shame. It is the world who should be ashamed for having need of me. Of having need of us."

In that moment, you found yourself nose-to-nose with Cloud, sharing his breath. His eyes— his beautiful eyes— were trained on yours, calculating, analytical. His breath smelled of lemon. You wanted to taste the sourness of it from his lips, feel the burn of its acid in your split lip.

"Don't be ashamed," you murmured, forcing your eyes to return to meet his gaze. "You are what they made you, but you survived. Never, ever be ashamed."

The place where the skin of your palm met the skin of his forearm burned with electric warmth. You found that touching this prickly, untouchable man felt like holding a live wire. From the very beginning, you had known that Cloud Strife was a powerhouse, a living weapon; somehow, though, you had neglected to realize what kind of power he had over you before this skin-to-skin contact. 

After a moment, something dawned on you, and you were horrified. Just like Tifa, just like every woman watching them and seething with jealousy, you wanted him. 

"I hate you," he said, but moved closer. "I hate how easily you justify this life."

"I accept your hate," you said, "but you can't deny what I've said is true."

"I hate that too." He moved his arm away from your hand, bringing his hand up to touch your neck, his thumb resting in the hollow of your throat. He could easily kill you, even with your knife still at his ribs. You fought against the urge to close your eyes and let the sensation of it consume you. 

"I do wonder why you came here then," you mused softly, "why you're bothering with talking to me when you could take one of these little fawns home with you."

"I don't want them," he said almost distractedly, his eyes dark and intense on yours. "At best, they're a means to an end."

This was news to you. You'd watched him take them home night after night like clockwork. 

"Then what do you want?"

He never once broke his gaze with you. You never even saw him blink.

"Would that I knew."

Cloud tilted his head. You thought you had imagined it, until his nose bumped yours. 

Was this what he had come here for?

You weren't sure. Either way, he lingered back, unwilling to close the distance. If you wanted to kiss him, you would have to choose it for yourself; if you wanted him, you had to make the active, conscious choice to cut yourself on his edge, and take the pain that would come with it. 

You weighed the costs, found them worthy. You leaned forward, closing the gap, and let him kiss you.

Oh, what a kiss. 

The act itself was simple. It was only the touching of flesh, soft and surprisingly gentle. The mako-power under his skin pulsed against the places where you touched— your lips, his hand at your throat, your palm against his bicep— and a powerful twinge of want jerked the nerves between your legs, wanting, needing more. 

Distantly, it occurred to you that if any of the kisses you'd shared with your marks had been like this, you would have been the one lying dead at the end of it all. 

"Do you want to leave?" you asked once your lips had parted from his.  

"Depends on where you want to go," he said, nose still brushing yours. "I'm not interested in going back to mine."

Of course not, you thought bitterly. Tifa might see. 

Ego bruised, you decided to play the game. 

"Who said we were going to anyone's place?" You hummed, your lashes lowered. "An alleyway might work just as well for what you have in mind."

Cloud's eyes darkened further at that. 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Filthy sex in a back alley where anyone could see." He scoffed, pupils dilated. "Disgusting."

He went in for another kiss, and you stepped back. 

"Who said anything about sex, either?" you teased, eyeing him up and down. "Just 'cause your usual crowd lets you take what you want doesn't mean I will. Not everyone wants Shinra’s sloppy seconds."

Cloud frowned.

"Don't fuck with me," he said, deadly serious. "I don't take that shit well."

At that, you softened. Perhaps that had been a bit too far. There was clearly some amount of bad blood between this particular SOLDIER and Shinra, and you had poked that bruise knowingly.

"I'm sorry," you said, sincere. "It was wrong of me to tease you."

You extended your hand.

"Come on. We'll go to my place."

For a moment, you didn't think he'd take it— but eventually, he placed his hand in your own and let you lead him away from Hell's Maw. 

On your way out, you passed a few booths of familiar faces that turned their heads at the sight of the two of you leaving together— but just as you were starting to wonder if you'd made the right decision, Kitty caught your eye. The waitress gave you an all-knowing smile and winked. 

It was the closest thing to a blessing that you were going to get.  

Outside of a job or a hookup, Cloud was not often outside at night under the plate. 

Now, in the awkward silence between himself and (Y/N), he had time to look and reflect. The combination of maintenance lights and the soft glow of energy throughout the plate itself was a poor imitation of a sky full of stars, but it was good enough in the absence of another alternative. It dimly lit the dusty, barren streets, casting everything in the greenish-gray of mako energy-fuelled lights; when he wasn't peering into suspicious shadows, Cloud caught glimpses of (Y/N) out of the corner of his eye, noting the way the unnatural light made her skin appear strange and foreign beneath it. Before now, he had not thought her skin to be so familiar that he would notice a difference. 

Tonight was a remarkably bad idea. 

"We're almost there," (Y/N) said to him, slowing her walk until she stopped to face him. She peered up at him with piercing eyes, and Cloud suddenly got the feeling that he was being tested. 

"Something bothering you?" he ventured, resisting the urge to check over his shoulder for some unseen enemy. 

"You could say that."

(Y/N) did not drop her gaze; Cloud refused to give her any ground by being the first to look away for the second time in the evening. 

"Why are we here?" she asked him, her eyes throwing the light of the plate back to him in little glowing pinprick reflections. "I wasn't thinking earlier, not really— I let my baser instincts lead me this far. Before we go any further, I have to know what you're in this for."

An excellent question, that— it was one Cloud had asked himself a thousand times before he made the decision to show up at Hell's Maw.

I'm here ecause you drive me to distraction, he wanted to say. Because you're so beautiful, and so deadly, and I have wanted a taste of you since I first laid eyes on you. Because after meeting with you every week for months, moments with you feel like the only thing that's really mine in all the world. 

Instead, he did not speak, not for a long time. Patiently, she watched him, staunch in her decision to remain where she was until he gave her an answer. 

Because I want you is the answer he should have given, mostly because it was the truest one. The answer he gave was stupid and cowardly, and only true in the vaguest sense. 

"To scratch an itch," he said. When she raised a brow, he added, "A deeper one than usual."

He hoped distantly that she could understand his reticence. He could not tell her what he felt without feeling foolish; he could not even acknowledge it to himself without feeling a traitor to the feelings he was expected to bear for others. Tonight, he could have chosen from dozens of women, and at least two of them were as dear to his heart as his very own flesh— but none of them were her. (Y/N) was beauty and grace and nightshade; she was the honey in every trap, the woman he wasn't supposed to want, but wanted carnally. She had no history with him, only the present, and yet he felt that she understood him like no one else ever had. 

Don't be ashamed, she'd told him earlier, her gaze steady and strong like steel, her voice soft and gentle as silk. You are what they made you, but you survived. Never, ever be ashamed.

Cloud had spent so much of his time ashamed of everything. Ashamed of his roots, of his failures, of all the things he remembered, of all the things he didn't— and it was as if she had felt the badness in him, sensed it without him saying, and accepted it as a part of him. In her, there was no blind hero-worship, no transference of feelings from a risky rescue. No, she was simply the other side of his coin. She knew him because she was him. 

"An itch," she repeated, and he felt as though she were flaying him open with her eyes. 

"An itch," he replied, unable to say anything else.

She took a moment, considering. She must have found something within him worthy, because she gave a nod and walked on as though the conversation had never happened. 

If someone had asked Cloud that night what her house had looked like, he could not have said. He would not have known the color if it had been neon orange with fireworks shooting out of the front of it; by the time he should have taken notice of it, he'd been thoroughly distracted with (Y/N)'s mouth on his own. 

How that happened was a mystery also. One moment, he was walking along with her, slightly behind— the next, he was grabbing her arm, overcome with the desire to see her face once more, his heart somehow damaged by her uncharacteristic silence, and then he was kissing her because he could, because she let him, and because he was swiftly becoming utterly obsessed with the taste of her. It was filthy, deviant stuff, sucking on the length of her tongue, holding her to him by the very hair of her head; eventually, he decided that he wanted her closer still and simply lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

From there, he'd been operating mostly blind. She gave him directions, intimately familiar with her route home, and guided him even to the very last detail of how high he should lift his foot to make it up the front porch steps. If either of them had not been who they were, such a thing would likely have been impossible— but with an assassin's precision and a SOLDIER's grace and ability, they'd navigated the journey just fine. 

At first, it seemed a shame and a nuisance that, even after they'd done so well getting there, (Y/N) insisted on opening the lock to her front door— but then Cloud got a magnificent view of her backside, and remembered that, as an ass man, it was practically his duty to come behind her and press himself against her with hungry neck-kisses as she fiddled with the lock. His cock, already half-hard, was infinitely pleased with the rocking motion he'd taken up, grinding against her ass; she, apparently, was also pleased as she pressed back against him, encouraging the friction with her own body as his teeth scraped over the lobe of her ear. 

“Fuck,” she swore, her hands shaking as she finally managed to slide the key home, using it to turn the lock. “That feels good.”

Never one to let a compliment lead to complacently, Cloud licked a line up her neck, tasting her sweat and the bitter tang of her perfume; his tongue found the lobe of her ear once more, then delved into the cavity of it. (Y/N) shivered at the motion as the door fell away, and Cloud guided the both of them inside, kicking the door shut with a heavy boot. 

Her home was smaller than he had expected. For some reason, Cloud had imagined her to live in a palace, or something close to it— certainly, the amount of money her jobs paid could keep her more than comfortably in one, if there was one to be found below the plate— but instead of great columns and outrageous interior decorating, Cloud found soft carpet, flourishing plants, and rows of bookshelves filled with knick-knacks and photographs. All in all, (Y/N)'s place just seemed sort of… normal. 

"Bedroom's this way," she called out over her shoulder, smirking— but Cloud caught her arm, stopping her. 

The idea of knowing the way she kept her room— the intimacy and implications of that knowledge—was too much to bear. 

"Here's fine," he said, touching his nose to hers, then tilting his head. "Kiss me."

And boy, did she ever. Her hands threaded through his hair, pulled him to her; her tongue slid past his lips and he groaned into her mouth, cock jumping at her passion. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her pelvis to meet his own, grinding against her; to his surprise, he found his hands knocked away, replaced by her own on him, which began the process of unbuttoning and unzipping. Soon, his cock was free in her soft, graceful hands, and he couldn't even bring himself to be ashamed of the moan he gave as she spat into her hand and stroked him. 

"I wanna suck you," she said breathlessly against his lips. "S'that okay with you?"

There was really only one answer to that. 

"Fuck yeah," he replied. 

He'd meant the words to be confident, even commanding— instead, they came out like a plea. Not that (Y/N) seemed to notice as she dropped to her knees before him, now eye-level with his gently-curving sex. No, he thought as she placed her hands on the crease of his thighs, playing teasingly in the fine dusting of hair there. She didn't seem to be bothered at all.

"You're a big boy," she said with a mischievous grin, her lips only a breath away from his cockhead. "I thought the sword might be over-compensation, but now I'm starting to rethink things a bit."

Cloud would be lying if he said that didn't stroke his ego just a little. 

"Just shut up and get on with it," he said, heat rushing to his face. "You can't talk and suck dick too."

She began slowly, so slowly Cloud thought he might die. She kissed his thighs, his belly, leaving his cock untouched; then came teasing kitten licks to his tip, teasing him, delving into his slit to lap at precome. He bucked his hips at her, impatient, and (Y/N) looked up at him with a smirk and said,

"If you don't like how I do it, do it yourself."

So saying, she grabbed a large, gloved hand and placed it on the back of her head, giving him his cue as her mouth returned to his cock. Cloud, shocked, didn't know what to do with himself for a moment— but it didn't take long for him to figure it out. He held her head— so small in comparison to his hands— and fucked her face, shoving his cock into her mouth over and over again as she tried to keep up with her hands and her tongue. She was hot and wet around him, her throat smoothly textured as he fucked deeper and deeper. It felt good to take that kind of control, he noticed, to take his pleasure from her by force. 

(Y/N) gagged a little as he thrust roughly, and he thought he might come on the spot.

Perhaps it felt a little too good. 

Rougher than he meant to be, he pulled her back by the hair at the base of her skull, gripping the strands close to the scalp. She looked up at him then, teary, breathless, and smiling, and Cloud was struck at once by how ravaged she looked. Gone was the kitten that had teased him at the bar; gone was the confidante who had confronted him about his intentions. In her place was a woman of pleasures, a woman of fleshly desires. This (Y/N), he hardly knew. 

"Open your mouth," he said, wiping saliva from the corner of her lips. She did so, sticking out her tongue— and without quite knowing why, he spat into her mouth. A thick glob of spit dropped from his mouth to hers, landing on her outstretched pink tongue; Cloud, feeling dizzy with want at the sight, leaned to seal it with a kiss. As he did so, she moaned against him, lacing her fingers in her hair, and he found himself pulled to the floor with her, his cock in her hand and her tongue in his mouth. 

Piece by piece, he undressed her. First to go was her shirt, followed by her bra; ever greedy, Cloud moved to take off his gloves so that he could feel the soft skin of her breasts in his hands, but she stopped him, her eyes gleaming dangerously.

"Leave them on," she told him, placing his gloved hands on her body, just over her pretty, perfect, and probably sensitive nipples. "I like the texture."

And fuck if that wasn't the hottest thing Cloud had ever heard. 

Next to go was her shorts. Made of tough black denim, they were hard to slide over the swell of her hips; thankfully, though, her painties came off with them in the struggle, leaving her sex bare and wet in the chilled air of her apartment. With that, she was finally, gloriously naked.

Except, of course, the gun that was strapped to her torso.

It was a mid-size blaster, whose thin holster and belt were nestled snugly against her skin. The gun and all that held it were a sexy matte black, and Cloud quirked a brow at (Y/N) in question. 

"What, don't you know I'm always packing?" she teased him, leaning backward to unbuckle the belt that held the holster to her belly. To do so, she stretched her arms behind her back, arching so her tits were in his face, and Cloud was suddenly distracted.

With SOLDIER strength, he pulled (Y/N) to him by the hips. Sneaking one hand up her back, he leaned down to kiss between her breasts, then more to the right, until his mouth enclosed her nipple. Her moan was heady; without thinking about it, he moved the hand at her back to play with the other nipple, rolling it gently between his fingers, and she threw her head back, pressing into him. 

"Yes," she pleaded, her hands tight in his hair, "Fuck, that feels good."

For good measure, he licked and sucked at her skin, leaving love-bites in his wake. Even though he knew he'd not see them, there would be some pride in knowing that they were there, a pleasant, aching reminder of this moment.

Cloud could have spent forever in the pillow of her breasts— but his cock was so hard that it was getting difficult to ignore the throbbing between his legs. 

"Turn around," he said, unbuckling his shoulder guard. "I want to fuck you on your hands and knees."

It was a partial truth at best. While fucking (Y/N) from begind was a regular fantasy of his, there was an ulterior motive behind it. He wanted both of them to be naked, but he didn't want her to have to see his scars. They were many and jagged all across his body, from training, from fighting, from losing; up close, he sort of looked like a patchwork quilt. Not exactly pleasant to look at, in his opinion.

"Bossy," she fussed, but did as she was told. Soon, her knees were spread, her back arched to expose the wetness between her legs, and Cloud had never felt the need to undress so quickly before in all his life. It was fast, messy, and careless, but he was naked enough in under ten seconds to call it a win as he lined himself up with her entrance.

"Ready?" he asked her, pushing his self control to the limit. 

Irritated, she slung her head over her shoulder and said, "Cloud Strife, it you don't put your dick inside me right now I swear to—"

She didn't get to finish her threat. She was choked off the moment his cock slid home, her entire body moving with the force of it. Enveloped in warm, wet heat, Cloud pulled fully out before pressing back in again, biting back a moan as he watched himself disappear inside her folds. 

After another slow, lazy thrust, he leaned over so that his chest was touching her back and began fucking her in earnest; he never pulled out very far before he was pounding in and in and in—

"Cat got your tongue?" he murmured into her ear, wrapping one arm around her to gently lock her head next to his as he fucked her. "Usually you have so much to say."

All she said in response was a single, strangled moan. 

After that, Cloud lost himself. For him, nothing existed except the act itself; the world extended only to the places their bodies touched, slick and sweaty and obscene. His lips and tongue were busy, kissing and sucking at her neck and licking the salt from her flesh. It took a while for him to realize that the low, growling sound he was hearing came from deep within his own chest, and even then he couldn't manage to muster any shame. 

"M'close," he murmured in her ear, tasting the shell of it once more. 

"Inside," was all she said, and that in itself was enough to send Cloud hurling over the edge. 

He fucked her through his orgasm, only pulling away once he could bear the sensitivity no longer. Still half-mad with wanting, he moved (Y/N) bodily, intending to finish what he'd started with his mouth and fingers— but when he did, he found her shaking, with tears welling in her eyes. 

Horrified, Cloud drew away. He hadn't realized he'd been so rough. He hadn't realized that she'd been reacting this way. He hadn't—

"Hey, don't get squeamish now," (Y/N) told him with a weak little smile that made him feel sick. "Calm down, drama queen— I just have a m-mako sensitivity."

"Mako sensitivity?" he parroted, his own voice sounding strangled even to himself. 

She nodded and sat up, though it seemed an effort.

"You— You're a walking b-ball of mako energy," she explained. "With you inside me, and with— well, with—" 

She faltered, but Cloud nodded. He could imagine perfectly well what she meant. 

"You should have told me," he accused her, suddenly angry and very, very hurt. "I wouldn't have— you shouldn't have—"

All he could think of was mako poisoning, somehow his, somehow another's, how sick he'd been, how very close to death he'd come. He'd put her at risk of such a thing. He was a freak, and worse, a fool, for ever thinking he could have—

With slow, pained movements, she placed a hand on his arm. 

"It's not like that," she said. "I— I didn't know. I could feel it, but I didn't think—"

She pitched forward suddenly, and Cloud moved to catch her.

"Easy," he told her, and she looked up at him with a small, weak smile. 

"Gimme a second," she said as he steadied her. "I'll be right as rain after this."

She withdrew her hand and held it out for him to inspect. Sparks crackled between her fingers, and Cloud flinched backwards, instinctively defensive.

"You're not holding materia," he realized, dumbfounded. "What the hell is this?"

"Dunno," she replied, shrugging as though she'd just shown him a neat party trick and not a literal physical impossibility. "I've always been able to feel mako, and when I get overexposed, this happens."

"That's— that's impossible," he said, because it was. 

(Y/N) merely shrugged looking at him with soft eyes. 

"I didn't think it would happen with you. It's just sort of my secret. I get close to mako, get a little sick, and then I have to expel it like this or else it just doesn't get any better. It's… a gift and a curse."

Cloud just stared at her, amazed. 

"With your permission, though," she continued, mischief glinting in her eyes, "I'd like to try something. Y'know, since we have this issue and all anyway."

Without really thinking, Cloud nodded, and then her hands were on him. The hair on his neck and arms raised as she dragged the pads of her fingers from the base of his neck to the end of his torso, the sensation of her touch unlike anything he'd ever experienced. The air tasted metallic, like ozone; when she stuck her fingers in his mouth, it was like licking a battery. Already, his cock was jumping, excited by her touch, and then she was kissing him, threading her electric hands through his hair. Overcome, Cloud wrapped his arms around her, feeling stupid and lust-drunk and so, so good. 

"Touch me more," she told him, electricity popping in the spaces between her fingers. As he did, the popping increased, and he could feel the discharge of her power in the increasingly coppery taste of the air. Each breath was like a mouthful of blood; Cloud was willing to drown in it if it meant her hands would never leave his body.

"Lemme eat you out," he said, kissing the curve of her breast. "I owe you an orgasm."

She pulled back and raised a brow.

"After you made a mess down there?" 

"S'the best part," he grumbled, a bit wounded— but before he could complain too much, he found himself pulled forward as (Y/N) leaned back. She hit the floor with a gentle thud, and Cloud seized the opportunity for what it was.

With careful and precise tongue, he tasted her. First, he lapped at her clit, relishing in the sounds she made, then made it a point to gather the semen that had mixed with her wetness, slurping obscenely as he cleaned her folds. Above him, (Y/N) groaned.

"Why is that so hot?" he heard her gasp as she leaned onto her elbows to watch him. "It should not be that— oh, fuck."

Cloud smirked against her sex and licked a long stripe upwards. With his mouth on her clit, he took a freshly un-gloved hand and began to finger her, curling the digits to reach the place that would make her arch her back and cry—

"Fuck!"

Hearing her swear had never been so erotic before now— but Cloud would be damned if that wasn't a sound he'd love to hear on loop forever. 

Before long, she was close. He could feel it in the quivering of her thighs, the pulsing of her sex. He kept a steady rhythm, and then she was at her climax, falling hard with the rush of sensation and friendly, feel-good chemicals that left her limp and boneless beneath him. 

Perfect for him to continue fucking, now that his cock was hard and leaking again.

"Round two?" he asked, scarcely daring to hope she'd be ready— but then she sat up with a smile and said,

"Hell yeah."

And so it was, over and over, until they were both spent, and Cloud passed the fuck out on her living room floor, satisfied. 

When you woke, it was to an empty floor and no note. You were alone in the place where you'd had the most fantastic fuck of your life. 

Some part of you had known it would be this way. You had only known him for a handful of months, but in that time, you'd learned that Cloud was an avoidant man by nature— and you were doubtless not the first of his hookups to end this way. Still, the idea that he could just leave after such intimacy was… distressing, for some reason. 

Surprisingly, though, that feeling was easy to shake off once you left the dubious comfort of your floor and started planning your work for the week. Blond assholes who happen to give fantastic head amount to very little to a woman on a mission; you thought of him often, but the thoughts were small and benign, always curious and never of hurt or longing, as you had thought they might be. What had happened had simply happened, no more. 

Then Mako Reactor 5 fell to terrorist attacks, and the week went to shit so fast that you got whiplash. 

Before the reactor fell, you had considered not going to the bar that weekend. You didn't need an end-of-the week drink that badly; Cloud could take the hint and take a week off from the bar the next week and you'd never have to see each other again. After the reactor and your subsequent compromised mission, though? The devil himself could be in attendance that day and you'd sit in his lap and sell your soul for a drink. 

So, on Friday, you headed to Hell's Maw as usual. There was a possibility, you knew, of some awkwardness if Cloud was there, but frankly, it wouldn't be the first time you'd avoided an ill-advised hookup in a bar before— surely you could survive this as well. It would just be some weird eye contact and then a little ignoring, and everything would be as good as new.

What you weren't expecting was for Cloud to be perched on your fucking seat again, early and apparently waiting for you. 

"Oh boy," you said to no one in particular— and, as if SOLDIER had given him superior hearing as well as inhuman strength and durability, the bastard immediately looked over his shoulder and met your eyes over the Friday night crowd. On the other side of him, you noticed at least five empty glasses and a half-drunk sixth. They weren't water glasses, either. No, they were short, fat whiskey glasses, and, leaning halfway off of his stool, Cloud looked properly sloshed. 

Really, there was only one respectable thing to do in a situation like this. 

You turned on your heel and left, walking as fast as you could in the opposite direction. 

Would that you could have been faster. You had barely gotten two sidewalk cracks away from the bar when a large, warm hand curled around your arm, stopping you. 

"Cloud, get off me," you huffed, pulling your arm against his unbreakable grip. 

"No," he said simply, and bodily turned you to face him. When he did, he used a bit too much of his strength, and you ended up nose-to-nose, sharing breath.

"If this is about the other night—"

Cloud didn't let you finish. He surged forward, sealing those words with a drunken, sloppy kiss that was somehow still as electric as your first. One of his gloved hands rested at the base of your skull, cradling your head, and the other wandered to your hip, pulling you close enough to feel the growing tent in his pants. 

Heaven help you, but you weren't sure if you wanted to stop him. 

"M'sorry," he said against your lips, pulling away only far enough to speak. "Didn't really mean to do that."

Then what did you mean? you wondered, but before you could ask, Cloud peeled himself away from you until the only thing connecting you was his hand resting on the junction of your neck and shoulder. The new distance, though slight, was jarring. 

"M'sorry," he repeated. "I— we made a mistake."

Oh boy. 

"Spare me the dramatics," you said, tired already. "You don't have to explain anything to me, Cloud. I wasn't expecting anything from you other than what I got."

"S'not that." Cloud averted his eyes, shameful, swaying. "I, uh. Shouldn't have put you in that position."

What, does he think I have carpet burn? You wondered, but then Cloud was looking at you with such raw vulnerability that you couldn't even crack a joke at his expense. 

"I don't regret what we did last week," you told him gently. "I'm sorry if you do, but if this is out of some kind of misplaced honor—"

"I'm involved in things," he told you in a tight voice that felt as if he'd said them before. "Dangerous things."

If there was any relevance of that claim to their current situation, you certainly couldn't find it. 

"You're a dangerous man," you shrugged. "It's one of your better qualities. I'm a dangerous woman myself, so I think that tracks, don't you?"

Cloud shook his head.

“It’s—” he sighed. “It’s complicated.”

If you had learned anything about Cloud, it was that ‘complicated’ was generally code for ‘Shinra’. From there, it didn’t take much to imagine exactly what he meant.

“The reactor,” you hazarded, heart filling with dread. “That was the job Tifa lined up for you. Holy shit, your girlfriend is a fucking eco-terrorist, what the hell—”

“— she is not my girlfriend—”

“Look, pal, that’s definitely not the part of that sentence we need to be focusing on right now.”

You reached out a hand, meaning to reach out and draw Cloud closer. Instead, as you moved forward, you were met with cold steel raised against your neck. Cloud’s eyes were wild with distress and distrust, but the set of his mouth was frozen with coldness that meant he would do what he felt necessary if you pushed him.

“Hey,” you said to him softly. “I’m not your enemy here.”

Slowly, you lifted her hands in surrender. Still uneasy, Cloud lowered his sword. As soon as it was clear of you, you stepped forward into his space, close enough that he could not bring the length of the sword between you. Cloud shifted, trying to move back to where he could use his sword if he needed to, but you stopped him with a hand to his forearm.

“Come home with me,” you said, brushing your thumb over the flesh of his arm. “You’re too drunk to be swinging that thing around, and if you want to talk, it’s best we do that in private. Okay?”

“M’not drunk,” he complained, but the look behind he gave you behind lowered lashes said he didn’t mind going home with you anyway. With swaying movement, he hefted the sword onto his back; once it was secure, he gestured for you to lead the way.

The trip to yours was short and uneventful. Once the door to your home was shut safely behind you, Cloud grabbed you once more, his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck. His touch was warm and so, so tempting— but you gently pried yourself away. He was a wreck, and you weren't about to take advantage of that even if it was what you both wanted. 

"Sit on the couch with me," you requested, grabbing his hand. "Let's talk."

As always, Cloud was resistant to the whole talking thing. Instead of poking and prodding, though, you took a different approach this time; you allowed the silence to creep and crawl between the two of you, swishing its tail like some irritated feline, letting it fester until Cloud was ready to bat it away and say what he had come to say. In the meantime, your hands stayed busy, touching, feeling, grounding the man before you. He relaxed into you, muscles loosening; he leaned until his head rested comfortably on your chest. The steady hum of mako buzzed in your head, lulling you almost to sleep— but then, just when you weren't expecting it, Cloud began to speak. 

"I made an oath to someone, a long time ago. "

You pulled away enough to see his face, your mouth agape.

"You're married?"

"What? No!" Cloud made a face of horror and distress. "I— There's a lot of things I don't remember, okay?"

Your brows knit. 

"So… you could be married."

"Oh, leave off of that, will you? I'm not married! I'd remember that if I was."

There was a note of hesitation in his voice that you didn't like. 

"So, this oath," you said, touching the skin of his cheek. "What was it for?"

Cloud shrugged. 

"I only have the vaguest notion. I don't remember the words. It's like— it's like the only way to keep it is to continue fighting, to be in this constant state of war— and yet, that feels wrong, too. It consumes me." He looked down at his hands. "It's like that oath is binding me to something bigger than myself… and as a result, I've gotten mixed up with some pretty dangerous stuff."

"Like?"

Cloud looked at you then, his eyes as heavy as they were beautiful. 

"Like saving the world."

You did your damnedest not to laugh. It was a near thing, but you succeeded— if only by inches. 

"So, let me get this straight… you're now an eco-terrorist because in a time you don't remember, you've taken an oath to save the planet?"

Cloud's jaw locked. 

"It's bigger than that. Much bigger than that. Shinra is corrupt, they kill innocent people— and Shinra's not the only thing." He looked away. "I can't talk about it. It's dangerous. You could get hurt, and the more you know makes you a bigger target."

There it was again, that concern. It had been a long time since someone cared if you were hurt. You tried not to let it take away your objectivity. 

"I assume Tifa knows?"

So maybe your objectivity was a little screwy. Sue about it. 

Cloud grimaced.

"I don't like that any more than you do, but she chose this path a long time ago."

"And Aerith?"

Cloud shook his head.

"She's… insistent."

"So what am I, chopped liver?"

Cloud shook his head.

"This isn't your fight. You aren't involved like they are."

"And I don't have to be for you to tell me—"

"For fuck's sake, just let me keep you safe!" At close range, with his body pressed against yours, you could feel the vibration of his shouting as though it were your own. "Tifa and Aerith, they belong to this world, to this fight— but you belong to me!"

"I don't belong to anyone, hotshot—"

"Exactly!"

You blinked.

"I— I'm not sure I'm following."

A heavy, gloved hand rested on your cheek. You leaned into it, relishing in its warmth. 

"Your soul is your own," Cloud said quietly. "You are the master, the possessor of your own self. You won't die for some cause, won't sacrifice yourself for the greater good. You'll survive. It's all you know how to do."

He tested his forehead against yours.

"I need that. I need you at Hell's Maw every Friday night, sitting in the same seat, drinking the same drink. I need you to talk to me like I'm nothing special, to show me your kindness and your sharpness."

He paused. You waited, teetering on the edge of anticipation, unable to know or even to guess what he would say next.

"And now— now that we've gone this far…" His hand drifted from your cheek to your neck, resting just above the curve of your breast. "I'm afraid of needing that too. I don't want you pulled into my world, and I don't want to need you so badly that—"

I don't want to need you so badly that I'm trapped. 

You understood. It was possible that you understood better than anyone else ever could have. 

"I get it." 

He pulled away, but you didn't allow it. You caught him by the arm, bade him stay with gentle insistence. He allowed it, and you pulled him back to rest beside you, nose-to-nose. 

"I know you, Cloud Strife," you said, summoning the words that had lodged themselves in your chest for so long. "You're like a wild animal. I cannot seek to own you… but if you come and eat from my hand, let me dress your wounds, and rest your head on my lap in times of trouble, I will count myself lucky to have someone so dear to me."

Hot pinpricks burned your eyes. How long have you waited to say something so true, so real? Why did it feel like a confession? 

Cloud didn't seem to notice your distress— or, perhaps it was because he noticed your distress that he leaned forward, slowly, gently, and kissed you chastely on the mouth. You could taste the liquor on his lips; hungering for more, you deepened it, but Cloud kept a steady rhythm, holding you tenderly. 

"Thank you," he said, pulling away. 

"For what?" you laughed. 

"For being here, for taking care of me. For not letting me wander home by myself, drunk and stupid."

"Of course." A smile stretched your face. "Any time."

The two of you stayed there for a long time, sharing breath, exchanging tender touches. Tomorrow, things might change— another reactor might blow, the plate might drop, or Cloud might use up the last of his nine lives— but tonight, nothing existed outside of your too-small couch. Tonight, he was yours, and that was all that mattered. 

[dee-dunmeshi]

Careful

pairing: laios x kabru words: ~1k warnings: this is post canon! otherwise, none :)

summary: when kabru finds that his walls have been dismantled brick by brick, he does the only thing he can do- freak out, then put them back up and stop thinking about it. he doesn't mean to hurt laios in the process. (based on this post i made)

more: this is definitely gonna be multiple parts. also, tell me if u can tell i haven't finished dunmeshi and i've just immersed myself in spoilers

Laios sat almost motionless at the head of the meeting hall table, chin in his hand, head tilting to one side. To his right sat an abandoned chair previously occupied by Kabru, who was now pacing behind the blonde's throne (it was a somewhat smaller one used only in the meeting room. Laios liked it way better than the huge one in the actual throne room).

He couldn’t see Kabru, but he could imagine the others' expression- slightly furrowed brows and his cheek between his teeth as he let the concerns he’d had from the meeting earlier finally show, free from the unwanted gazes of guests. It’d been months before Kabru had let him see the actively calculating side of him- Laios thought it was… something. He wasn’t sure, but it did make the corners of his mouth turn up, just a little.

The king glanced out the window, shocked to see it was just past sunset. There were only stray strokes of orange on the clouds now, the moon well up into the sky. The kingdom demanded so much of him, and he was finding it harder and harder to keep track of time these days- such was the life of a king, he supposed.

“Kabru,” he started, reaching his arms over his head in a long overdue stretch. “We should call it a night, right?”

Kabru’s pacing stopped and he appeared by Laios’ side, one arm resting atop the throne as he leaned down slightly. “Tired?” He asked, his tone suggesting that he already agreed and didn’t really need to hear Laios’ reasoning.

“Yes,” Laios hummed, “and hungry.” He looked up at Kabru, a big smile on his face, brown eyes lighting up at the thought of dinner. “You won’t believe what we’re having- not monster, unfortunately.”

Kabru took Laios’ tease with a scoff and an eyeroll, the sting of which was greatly diminished by the grin on his face. He listened as Laios went on about dinner, what the chef was making, how Senshi had actually taught them this on his last visit to the kingdom. Laios wasn’t quite as enamored by food and cooking in general as Senshi, but since the dungeon, he’d taken more of an interest in what normal foods might taste most like dungeon food.

Kabru watched until the rant seemed to no longer be for him, Laios staring past him in thought as he went on about flavor profiles. Kabru let his mind drift back to things he needed to get done, half listening in case he was asked anything. There were orders to be made before bed, holidays to plan for, letters to answer- his eyes raked over Laios’ face as he thought, noting the slight exhaustion on display under his eyes and deciding to let him sleep in the next day, before landing on his jaw. 

Laios had grown a bit of stubble, he noticed, too distracted by being king to shave. It made sense that it had crept up on him- the blonde didn’t grow facial hair very fast, so he never really shaved anyway.

Kabru lifted his palm to Laios’ jaw, thumb rubbing along the coarse hair on his cheek. “You haven’t shaved,” he said, like he was commenting on the weather or pointing out a new hairstyle. Not like he was gently caressing his king's cheek.

Oh.

Before Kabru could decide the only solution was to blow up both himself and Laios, before he could even jerk his hand away, Laios was completely resting his head on Kabru's hand. One eye closed in thought as his cheek squished, he looked up at Kabru with those bright, wide brown eyes. “Y’think?” Laios asked, as if his royal advisor did this all the time. As if Kabru ever touched his face at all, let alone so tenderly. “You don’t like it?”

Kabru thought about how nice it’d be to die on the spot. He couldn’t really figure out what he should say next. Letting go might be awkward, but staying in this position would surely have weird implications, right? How would he get himself out of this? How did he even let himself get here?

“No,” he heard himself saying, lips moving seemingly on their own accord. “I think it looks good, honestly.”

And he really was being honest. Sure, telling Laios it looked bad would’ve been a fruitless lie- shaving wouldn’t make him a better ruler, and having facial hair might actually help his public image and make him look a little more mature. Kabru took issue, though, with how easily the truth had come out with no thought, no calculation. What was wrong with him?

Laios grinned at him so, so earnestly, and Kabru felt his stomach drop.

All too soon, the king rose from his throne, leaving Kabru's hand to fall to his side, abandoned.

“Alright, I won’t shave it, then,” Laios said definitively, already sweeping out of the room. “C’mon, I’m starving.”

Kabru’s legs marched him out of the meeting room, trailing just behind Laios. His hand felt cold. He clenched his fist, thought about how weird that must look to any castle staff passing by, then released. Laios was still talking up ahead. With a deep, careful inhale, Kabru decided that whatever it was he was going through, it could wait until after dinner. He just had to be more careful until he could figure it out. He exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled.

Finally, he fell into step with Laios, pasting a smile on his face and tucking his arms behind his back. He spent dinner with his elbows close to his side so Laios wouldn’t accidentally bump into him, as he often did. He bid his friend a quick goodnight as soon as he was done with his excuse of a meal- for some reason, he didn’t have much of an appetite.

'Careful', he thought as his legs propelled him to his room, worrying the inside of his cheek between his teeth. He just had to be careful.

ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ sᴛᴀʀ ʙᴏʀᴅᴇʀ ɪs ғʀᴏᴍ @ᴇɴᴄʜᴀɴᴛʜɪɴɢs!

[luvhiromi]

i love you, i'm sorry | satosugu

content: inspired by gracie abram's song "i love you, I'm sorry". so basically this is about gojo's pov about geto and i thought the bridge from that song was perfect for it. the lyrics in this fic are in italic but not bold just an fyi for you guys. happy reading!

c/w: satosugu itself is a warning, angst.

w/c: 664, so short ik

He was… everything. In the quiet of the night, his words linger like a beloved whisper, soothing my soul and filling my heart with comfort. He says my name in such soft loving whispers that send shivers down my spine. In his arms, I find my sanctuary, a warm embrace that shields me from the world. With him, we were the strongest. 

Unfortunately, he is just a wistful memory. I always find myself drifting back to the times we've shared. Those memories both warms me and leaves me yearning for him. I’ve always thought of the laughter we shared under the summer sky, the quiet whispers in the night, and the way his eyes would be shaped like a crescent moon when he smile.

I’ve always thought how I didn’t realize. How sudden everything about him seems so gray. He was so devoid of color, lost all of his brightness. When I finally saw, It was all too late wasn’t it? You’ve made up your mind. I couldn’t bring myself to hate you for it. 

Suguru. Do you know what a wistful memory is?

Here’s a brief definiton:

Wistful Memory, moments have become—bittersweet, tender, and ever so precious. They are the echoes of our love, lingering in my soul, reminding me of what we had, what we have, and what we will always carry with us.

When I saw your mind and body conquered by another when you have no control of it… Your soul still recognize me didn’t you? You were standing right before me, my brain and my eyes knew it was you. But my soul said otherwise. 

You were the best as much as you were the worst. You were the sweetest of dreams, wrapping me in bliss, and the most haunting of nightmares, killing my peace. You were my greatest joy and my deepest sorrow, the one who lifted me high above the clouds, only to let me fall into the abyss. You were everything good that ever happened to me, and everything that broke me, all at once.

As sick as it sounds, I loved you first. In the quiet corners of my soul, where no one dared to pursue, I loved you—long before the world made it seem wrong. It started long before the higher-ups told I had to execute you. And though it may never be understood, it was the first love, the truest love, that I ever knew. 

I was a dick, a habit to kick and age-old curse. Times I pushed you away, not because I didn’t care, but because I didn’t know how to show it. I’ve carried the weight of my own shortcomings, the scars of past mistakes. It’s not easy to break free from the patterns that have haunted me for so long. 

I tend to laugh whenever I’m sad, I stare at the crash it actually works. My laughter becomes a balm, soothing the wounds that losing you has carved. I gaze at the wreckage of my life, the chaos and the pain laid bare before me, and in that midst, I find a strange sort of solace. Laughter becomes my defiant cry against the darkness. Laughter has become the wall to guard my past, charmed with humor as people say. 

Making amends, this shit never ends. The quest for redemption feels like a relentless tide, washing over the shores of my regret, where every effort to amend seems to dissolve into an unending sea of resolution. It feels like rubbing salt into my wound every time I saw you. I couldn’t bare to do it when I first saw you, I don’t know if I regret it.

I’m wrong again. I was always wrong, seeing only shadows where there was light. As time unfolded, it got worse.  I’ve misread the map of your soul, casting shadows where light was meant to dwell. Your presence was my guiding star. My one and only best friend. 

Love is the the most twisted curse of all. I love you Suguru, I’m sorry.

a/n: my first fic here! english ain't my first language so don't be too harsh on me. i recommend reading this while listening to the song. i also saw an edit of them with this song in tiktok *chef's kiss* it's so good.

[candiedcoffeedrops]

Cloud Gazing

Ring Schwarz x Reader (no pronouns used)

Notes: I just wanted to write something sweet and fluffy to take a break from trying to write three other things all at once and this came out. Not a lot to say here, just fluff!

WC: 674 CW: None, but it is written from Ring's perspective. Also, tooth-rotting fluff, but that's it that's all I can think of.

Oh yeah, still no beta. We die like mne.

“Ring! That one looks like a crocodile in a sun hat! See look, that part there is the snout, right? See how it’s open like it’s smiling? Then-”

I sit on the grass beside you, the sun's warmth soaking into my skin as the clouds drift lazily overhead. Your voice, light and full of laughter, fills the air as you excitedly point out shapes in the sky. My gaze follows your outstretched finger, tracing the contours of a particularly fluffy cloud that might indeed resemble a crocodile in a sunhat—if I squint. But my attention inevitably drifts back down to Earth—to you.

I try to focus on the clouds, really I do, but my gaze keeps sliding back to you. Something about the way your eyes light up when you spot a new shape, the way you smile as if you’re discovering a treasure in the expansive blue above, draws me in completely. My chest tightens with a mix of comfort and a kind of yearning welling up within me as I become acutely aware of your proximity. My eyes dart downward, noticing your other hand is splayed on the soft grass, fingers pointed towards me, and my own twitch with the suppressed urge to reach out and touch them. Surely, that wouldn’t be too forward, right? After all, we’re–

Your attention turned to me and I immediately refocused on the cloud, hoping you didn’t notice me staring. But the warmth spreading across my cheeks betrays me, and I silently curse my traitorous face.

Your giggle bubbles up beside me, and I feel the flush intensify. I turn my head, my lips thinning as I try to hide it.

“Caught you looking,” you tease, another laugh escaping your lips. “What’s so fascinating? Do I have something on my face?”

“I–wasn’t…I mean, I was, but–”

Before I can finish, you shift closer with a soft hum, and warmth envelops my hand. I glance down to find our fingers intertwined, your gentle squeeze a soothing balm to my nerves. It’s a simple, sweet gesture, but one that never fails to ground me. “It’s okay. I look at you like that sometimes, too. So, I don’t mind.” Your voice is warm, and your smile is bright. I breathe a small sigh of relief, the tension ebbing away as my own lips curve into a smile.

A silence passes over us, though not uncomfortable and I’m grateful for the chance to collect myself. You return to cloud watching but I remain focused on you. Every once in a while I’ll see your eyes shift to me and a subtle pink graces your cheeks as you point out new shapes in the sky. You bring so much light to everything, even small things like this and it makes me so immensely grateful I found you. You put the sky above to shame.

Your voice becomes a soothing rhythm, lulling me into a sense of calm. I hadn’t realized how tired I was, but now, with the sun warming my skin and you beside me, the tension I’ve been holding onto starts to slip away. My eyes grow heavy, and despite my best efforts to stay awake, and spend time with you, I feel the need to rest.

“Hey,” I begin, drawing your attention to me again with a curious tilt of your head. “May I…lean on you?” I ask, and I know it comes out as more of a nervous murmur than an actual question, but still, you smile softly at me and nod, offering your shoulder. The warmth of your body against mine is comforting, grounding me even as sleep pulls me under. I nuzzle closer, the scent of your hair filling my senses. A soft sigh escapes me as the tension begins to melt away.

The last bit of consciousness I have allows me to hear you hum softly, your fingers threading gently through my hair. “Sleep well, Ring.” You say and I can’t help but smile as I let myself fully relax into a sweet sleep.

Cloud dividers by @drinkthesky

Banner done by me.

@drachonia

[hd-junglebook]

Neutral 8

This part may suck BUT I am slowly trying to get back into the story so skim through this and don't be mean.

You stared up at the endless blue sky, watching the clouds slowly drift by as the earth continued its endless orbit. The faint smell of burning metal filled your nose as a gentle breeze ruffled your hair. ‘I wonder if they'll ever find us down here,’ you thought, your hopes fading with each passing minute.

Around you, the search party members shouted to one another, their voices echoing off the mountainsides as they frantically pushed aside debris.

‘She can’t be dead. She hated me but she would never leave me like this. Why did I have to try to prove myself? Please come back...please,’ you silently pleaded, even as your weary body begged for rest.

Clarke mirrored your determined attitude, the dark circles on her face were more prominent in the bright sun while she meticulously scoured the debris strewn across the mountain.

Every step brought you closer to Clarke, her gaze fixed on some viscous liquid oozing from a ruptured container amidst the rubble.  

"Clarke," you called out softly, she turned to face you reluctantly meeting your gaze. "What’s wrong?" you asked, your curiosity piqued by the sight before you.

Without a word, Clarke gestured toward the oozing liquid, her expression troubled. You followed her gaze, crouching down as you took in the scene before you. The pink liquid dripping to the ground, its pungent odor assaulted your senses, causing you to recoil instinctively.

Suddenly, Clarke's voice shattered the tense silence, her cry of "Oh!" echoing through the desolate landscape.  Raven reacted swiftly, sprinting up the slope to join you both.

Her eyes were wide with concern as she assessed the situation, her sharp mind already racing to decipher the cause of Clarke's distress.

"Y/n, stop! Get away from there" Raven shouted as she reached your side. You both turned to Raven, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief. "Rocket fuel?" Clarke questioned.

Raven nodded grimly, her features drawn tight with concern. "Hydrazine... Highly unstable in its non-solid form. If this stuff meets fire, we're all pink mist."

“Suddenly I don’t think that would be too bad.” You started, recovering from your crouched position beside Clarke. She shot you a sideways glance. "Are you serious?" Raven huffed with disbelief as she struggled to comprehend your words.

"Watch this," Raven declared as she reached for a nearby object. “Fire in the hole!” You and Clarke ducked for cover as Raven hurled it toward the pink liquid with a swift toss, the impact causing a small explosion that sent debris flying in all directions.

The explosion was deafening, and the heat was intense, but you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as the rocket fuel burned away.

Bellamy's commanding voice reached your ears, “We move in formation, no straggling, weapons hot. We've got to get back before dark," he bellowed like a clarion call to action.

Without hesitation, the group began to fall in line, their movements synchronized and purposeful as they prepared to venture back into the woods. You remained rooted to the spot for a moment longer, your eyes scanning the debris-strewn landscape one final time.

As you lingered amidst the wreckage, lost in thought, you felt a presence at your side. Bellamy had come up beside you, "that means you too, Hestia," he remarked, his voice softer now, laced with a hint of affection.

You couldn't help but smile at the nickname. "Just taking one last look," you replied, turning to face him. His soft eyes met yours, filled with warmth.

"We'll find her," he said, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. "But not if you work yourself to exhaustion. Come on, let's head back." You nodded, allowing him to guide you away from the wreckage.

His hand dropped to the small of your back. He was right - you had been pushing yourself too hard. But you wouldn't stop looking until your mother was found.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you silently made that promise once more. Bellamy's hand pressed more firmly against you, as if he had heard your unspoken words.

…

Your heart pounded against your ribcage as you pushed your way through the throng of people. The air hung heavy with the oppressive heat of the sun, the stench of sweat and dirt permeating your nostrils. Bellamy walked ahead of the group, shoulders tense and his head held high while the rest of the group trailed behind.

 As you approached the gate, the commotion grew louder, the voices rising in pitch with each step you took. The gate creaked open with a deafening squeal, and Octavia emerged, her eyes wide with fear.

She swallowed thickly before rushing forward, “Bellamy...” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper.

You pushed your way towards the front where Clarke and Bellamy stood, “Octavia whats wrong?” you demanded. The three of you shared a look as everyone waited for her to speak. “We found something bell. Its in the dropship.”  

With that, Octavia turned and headed back inside, guiding the three of you into the ship. The camp's stragglers dispersed around the perimeter, their voices fading into the distance. You followed closely behind Octavia as she ascended the metal ramp, the sound of her heavy footsteps echoing through the cavernous interior.

Once you reached the top, Octavia pushed back the plastic tarp covering the entrance, your breath caught in your throat at the sight that met your eyes.

John Murphy lay slumped against a wall, his once-blond hair matted with dried blood. His eyes were closed, his face covered in an excessive amount of cuts and dirt.

You and Octavia exchanged a grim look. Murphy had always been a thorn in everyone's side, but he didn't deserve this. “Everyone but Connor and Derek out... Now!" Bellamy emphasized

"We caught him trying to sneak back into camp," Connor stated, his voice low but firm, eyes narrowed as he assessed Murphy's reaction.

Murphy's jaw clenched, his gaze flickering briefly towards Bellamy before returning to Connor. "I wasn't sneaking," he retorted, his tone sharp with frustration. "I was running from the Grounders."

Bellamy, arms crossed over his chest, stepped forward, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "Anyone see Grounders?" he questioned, his voice a blend of skepticism and curiosity.

Connor shook his head, his eyes darting around the cramped space of the dropship as if searching for any sign of the elusive enemy.

"Well, in that case--" Bellamy began, lifting his rifle at Murphy before you began to panic, placing yourself between Bellamy and Murphy.

Your gaze flickered nervously between the two men, uncertainty clouding your features as you struggled to find the words to intervene.

Murphy's fate hung in the balance, and though you knew his actions had been reckless and foolish, there was a nagging voice in the back of your mind urging you to spare him.

"Wait," you interjected, your hands trembled at your sides, fingers curling into fists as you searched desperately for a reason, any reason, to convince Bellamy to show mercy. Bellamy's gaze softened slightly; his expression thoughtful as he considered your words.

"We were clear what would happen if he came back," Bellamy reiterated, his tone firm, uncompromising.

You took a shaky breath, summoning all your courage as you spoke, your voice steadier now, but still laced with uncertainty. "We... we don't know the full story," you ventured, your words hesitant but earnest. "Maybe... maybe there's more to it than we realize."

Clarke's voice sliced through the tension that had settled over the group like a sharp blade. "No," she declared, Clarke stood tall, her stance resolute, her eyes locking with Bellamy's in a silent challenge. "Y/n is right."

The soft glow of the flickering firelight illuminated her features, casting a warm, golden hue across her determined expression.

Bellamy's jaw tensed, his gaze bore into hers, as he bristled at Clarke's assertion. "Like hell he is," he retorted, his tone laced with frustration. "Clarke, think about Charlotte."

You couldn't stay silent, not when the memory of Wells's death still lingered like a specter in the shadows of their minds. "We are thinking about Charlotte," you interjected, your voice cutting through the charged atmosphere with a bitter edge. "Or did you forget what she did to Wells?"

Clarke knelt down beside him, her fingers grasping Murphys hand, she flexed It back and forth. “He's not lying,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “His fingernails were torn off. They tortured him."

Bellamy hesitated, torn between his sense of duty and the gnawing doubt that tugged at his conscience. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he relented, his shoulders slumping in reluctant agreement.

"Fine," he conceded, his voice heavy with resignation. "But if this goes wrong, it's on you." His gaze flickered toward Murphy, lingering for a moment before shifting back to Clarke and you.

…

“You need to practice shooting, Y/n. After yesterday, we can’t take any more chances with these grounders,” Bellamy insisted.

“And what if I don’t want to?” you challenged, a hint of defiance in your voice.

“I wasn’t giving you a choice,” he replied back just as fast, his words leaving no room for argument. You hid your giddy smile behind your hand as you followed Bellamy and the group to the makeshift shooting practice area.

Miller and Monroe lined up the empty ration cans, preparing for the practice. Clarke strutted over to join the group, picking up a gun and readying herself for the competition.

Sensing the competitive energy in the air, you accepted the challenge without a thought.

"On the count of three, I want you guys to start," Bellamy announced, his voice cutting through the chatter. You nodded in reply, feeling the weight of the rifle against your shoulder as you lined up your shot.

“One, two... three,” Bellamy counted, and with precision, you fired at the first tin. It flew back off the log with a satisfying thud to the ground.

Swiftly, you moved on to the next target, hearing Clarke finish her second shot. You took aim at the third can, your senses heightened as adrenaline surged through your veins.

Two shots sounded in quick succession, echoing through the clearing. Both you and Clarke hit the targets with pristine accuracy. The group cheered in approval. “Who needs men when you have us?” You joked to Clarke, gaining a big smile from her for the first time today.

shouts and cries rang out from the perimeter. "Clarke! Where's Clarke?" Connor's voice, hoarse with desperation, his words punctuated by fits of coughing. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

Clarke's brow furrowed in concern as she moved towards his voice, "Connor?"

"It won't stop," Connor's voice drifted through the air, strained and ragged, each word punctuated by the gut-wrenching sound of his coughs.

"Clarke! What's happening?" Raven's voice joined the chorus of cries, her tone frantic with worry. Your breath caught in your throat as you witnessed the sight that greeted Clarke's eyes.

Horror washed over you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf you in its icy grip. "Oh, my God, Clarke, your eyes," you gasped, the words tumbling from your lips in a hushed whisper.

You moved instinctively to approach her, to offer whatever comfort and support you could in the face of such a devastating revelation. But Clarke's hand shot out, a silent barrier that pushed you and Raven away with unexpected force.

Her eyes, once bright and vibrant, now held a haunted emptiness that sent a shiver down your spine. The color seemed to have drained from them, leaving behind only a dull, lifeless gaze that spoke volumes of the horrors she had witnessed.

…

Clarke's hurried footsteps echoed against the metal floor of the dropship as she entered, her senses on high alert, her eyes scanning the room with an intensity that made your heart race. You followed closely behind, the weight of worry pressing down on you like a leaden cloak.

Murphy's presence loomed in the corner of the room, his figure tense and apprehensive as he attempted to blend into the shadows, a futile effort to evade Clarke's keen gaze. The air crackled with tension as she approached him.

"Murphy, hey, look at me," Clarke's voice was soft yet firm, cutting through the silence like a knife. She reached out, her hand gently gripping his shoulder as she sought to anchor him in the midst of his mounting panic.

Murphy's gaze flickered nervously, his muscles tensing beneath her touch as he met her unwavering stare. "I need you to tell me exactly how you escaped from the Grounders," Clarke continued, her voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within her. "What happened?"

Murphy swallowed hard, shifting his weight uneasily. "I don't know," he admitted, his words coming out in a rush as if he were desperate to convince her of his innocence. "I woke up, and they forgot to lock my cage. There was no one there, so I took off."

Clarke's brow furrowed in confusion, a hint of skepticism creeping into her expression as she processed Murphy's explanation. The pieces of the puzzle seemed to shift and blur before her eyes, leaving her grasping at fragments of truth in a sea of uncertainty.

"Bellamy, stay back," you urged, your voice tinged with urgency as you moved to position yourself between him and the infected. Bellamy's brow furrowed in confusion, his gaze flickering between you and Murphy as he struggled to make sense of the situation. "Did he do something to you?" he questioned, gripping the rifle tighter in his hands.

You shook your head. "What the hell is this?" Bellamy demanded, his tone edged with frustration as he glared at Clarke, searching for answers in the depths of her haunted gaze.

"Biological warfare," Clarke stated, wiping her hands down her face in distress. “You were waiting for the Grounders to retaliate for the bridge? This is it. Murphy is the weapon." Bellamy's eyes widened in disbelief, the realization seemed to hit him like a physical blow, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Clarke's revelation settled over the dropship like a suffocating blanket, a heavy silence descended upon the room, punctuated only by the sound of their ragged breathing.

Suddenly, the world seemed to blur around you, the edges of your vision blurring as if obscured by a thick fog. Your senses swam in a dizzying whirlpool, the world tilting precariously on its axis as you struggled to maintain your balance.

A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, tracing a path down your flushed cheeks as the heat of the moment pressed in upon you like a tangible force. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your chest rising and falling with each shaky inhale.

With trembling limbs, you moved away from the group, climbing the narrow ladder of the dropship's interior. Your breath came in ragged gasps, the air thin and suffocating as you ascended to the third floor. Finally reaching the top, you stumbled into the cramped space of the third floor, the dim light casting long shadows across the metal floor.

Alone at last, the tears flowing freely from your eyes as you collapsed to the floor. Your knees cracked uncomfortably beneath the weight of your body. The tears mingled with the blood that trickled from your eyes.

you let out a choked sob, the sound echoing in the empty space around you. The tears continued to fall, unchecked and unbidden, as you surrendered to the overwhelming despair that threatened to engulf you.

"Will you stop crying?" it scoffed, dripping with disdain. Your eyes snapped open, scanning the empty expanse of the room in search of the face behind the voice.

But there was nobody there, just the echo of the words hanging in the air like a ghostly whisper. Confusion clouded your thoughts as you shook your head, trying to dispel the illusion that had taken hold of your mind.

A sudden weight settled on your shoulder, causing you to gasp in surprise. A hand, firm yet comforting, pressed against your trembling form.

Slowly, you turned your head, your heart pounding in your chest as you prepared to face the unknown presence behind you. And there, standing before you, was Diana Sydney, your mother.

The sight of her sent a jolt of shock through your system. Her hair was no longer the blonde that you once envied, once a shimmering cascade of blonde, was now charred and matted, wisps of smoke still clinging to the strands.

And her skin, once flawless and porcelain, was marred by angry red burns accompanied by the smell of char.

“Mom.” you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper as you reached out tentatively, as if afraid she would vanish into thin air at the slightest touch. For a moment, you simply stared at each other, the silence between you heavy with unspoken emotions.

The sudden sharpness of the voice shattered the fragile moment like glass, snapping you back to reality. "Do you ever shut up, y/n?"

"No," you replied. "I don't."

[silverofthunder]

☆ swept into my heart ☆

Cardinal Copia x Fem Reader

🔞 MDNI 🔞 (not really smut, but suggestive stuff, so...)

summary: "Yet sometimes you got to take a risk and lay out your heart even if it might get broken."

content: 2.1k words, romance, suggestive stuff, just feelings

I've been a bit stressed out lately and I haven't written much. I wanted to write something, and this piece was born. What is plot? I don't know her. I didn't really have a plan or anything, I just wrote and this came out. Also, first time writing Cardinal. This is not my best work - this was probably the hardest one to write so far for some reason. But I'm glad I finished this!

You were cleaning the hallway close to Cardinal's room, mopping the floor while humming along the music playing on your headphones. You were completely focused on the music and your task that you didn't notice Cardinal coming until you turned and collided with him. It caused the mop to fly out of your grip and you nearly slipped as you accidentally stepped on the mop but Cardinal was fast to grab your arm and hold you up. You hear him mumbling something as you let out a puff of air. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you--" you said, looking at Cardinal with wide eyes and took off the headphones, letting them rest around your neck. "No need to be, I was also in a hurry and didn't pay attention so I'm at fault, too." You didn't know what to say so you just nodded, offering Cardinal a small smile. Then you realized that he was still holding your arm and a light blush crept onto your cheeks, touch sending your crush clouded mind racing. "I... You can go now, I will live," you said and mentally kicked yourself. Cardinal chuckled slightly and finally let go of you but he stayed there, eyes studying you. "Sorry if I overstep by asking this but how it's going with your... the one you have feelings for?" Your mouth fell open, your brows furrowing as you tried to think how to answer. Your conversation with Cardinal a few weeks ago seemed to have stuck on his mind and you didn't know if it was a good or bad thing. Probably bad, considering the fact that the man himself was your crush. Or more than a crush, to be specific. "Uh, it's... Well, nothing has changed." "Oh, I see," Cardinal stated. "It's hard when you aren’t sure how the other feels, right?" "You sound like you're speaking from experience," you said, tilting your head. Cardinal shifted, lowering his gaze for a moment and you didn't miss the way he started to fiddle with his glove covered fingers. Naturally, it made you curious and you had to know more. "Yeah, it's hard not to know how the other feels." Cardinal's eyes found yours again and the look in them was understanding, soft even. Your heart made a tiny leap in your chest and you smiled at the man. "Yet sometimes you got to take a risk and lay out your heart even if it might get broken," Cardinal said, then walking past you so close his arm brushed against yours and you turned to watch after him, seeing as something dropped to the floor just before he turned right from the next corner. You went to see what it was and called after him but got no answer. As you were close enough, you saw it was an envelope and you picked it up. It had your name written on it - you made sure to blink enough times to make sure you didn't see wrong. With a racing mind and slightly shaking hands you opened the envelope and found a small letter-like paper in it, starting to read it. "Have you ever watched a leaf leave a tree? It falls upward first, and then it drifts toward the ground, just as I find myself drifting towards you.“ — Beth Kephart

Meet me at the library at 8pm. — C A huge smile spread to your lips as you read the quote again and again. It was kind of cheesy but somehow it was just so Cardinal. While it wasn't a clear love confession, it still gave some answers to you. With a fluttering heart you put the paper back into the envelope and placed it into your pocket. Smiling you put your headphones back on and returned to mop the floor, thoughts drifting to the evening.

As the time got closer to 8pm, the more nervous you got. You were now pacing in your room trying to figure out what to wear, some outfits spread on your bed. It shouldn’t be that hard to choose but somehow it was.

With a sigh you ran your fingers through your hair, now completely free from hair loops as you had just brushed them. You stared at the outfits on the bed and shook your head. None of them seemed right and you returned to your wardrobe as you were sure you had something more suitable. It took a few minutes until your eyes settled on the dress buried behind all other clothes – the wardrobe was kind of a mess after all.

A smile made its way to your lips as you took the dress away from the wardrobe. Quickly you took the hanger off, opened the zipper and put the dress on, then going to stand in front of the full length mirror by the bed.

It felt a bit tighter than you remembered but at least it wasn’t uncomfortable and it still looked good on you. You loved the combination of red and black and the small golden details adorning the top of the dress. Now you only needed some shoes and since you didn’t like high heels much, you decided to go with your sneakers even though they didn’t perfectly match the dress.

Makeup was another thing that just wasn’t for you, so you went always without and this time was no exception. You liked how you looked, felt much more yourself when you were completely natural.

You grabbed your phone from the bedside table and checked the clock, your heart jolting in your chest as you saw the time. It had passed faster than you had thought and you should soon leave if you didn’t want to be late.

You stepped into the library and looked around, seeing only a few people here and there as you walked along the main corridor. The woman behind the desk looked at you with furrowed brows – after all the library was closing – and you just smiled at her, walking past the desk.

”Miss, we’re closing, you need to leave,” the voice made you stop in your tracks and you turned to the woman.

”I know but I have a meeting with… a friend,” you said and the woman eyed you up and down, raising her other brow.

”I see,” she stated, waving her hand. ”Go on, then.”

Shrugging you continued on your way, walking to the back corner of the library. There was a small, cozy spot meant for reading and relaxing. To your surprise you didn’t find Cardinal there but his brother, Primo, was standing there, by the shelf, open book in his hand.

His gaze found yours and he smiled warmly at you.

”Cardinal will be here soon,” Primo said, walking towards you. You nodded, offering him a smile.

”I’m glad he finally made his move,” Primo continued, sounding honestly pleased.

”Finally?” you asked and Primo chuckled lightly.

”Oh my dear, you have no idea how he has been these past months.”

Months? What had you missed?

A sound of throat clearing made you jump, and you turned to see Cardinal standing behind you.

”Well, it’s my time to leave now,” Primo stated and took a few steps towards Cardinal, reaching out to tap his brother’s shoulder a few times before leaving.

Then it was just you and Cardinal. The butterflies in your belly made themselves known and you shifted, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth.

”Uh, sorry I’m late,” Cardinal apologized while his gaze took in your appearance. ”You look beautiful.”

The compliment made your cheeks burn but you still smiled at Cardinal, then noticing that he was wearing his white suit. You had always liked that suit the most – he looked so good in it and now that you could properly admire it closer, you could feel the blush deepen on you face.

”You’re not so bad yourself, either,” you managed to say and Cardinal’s lips curved into a part smile, part grin.

A moment of silence fell between you and you both just looked at each other, not sure what to do next. You thoughts were quite a mess due to what Primo had said and you tried your best to gather them.

”Maybe we should sit down?” Cardinal suggested, finally breaking the silence, motioning towards the armchairs in the corner. You nodded and you both made your way to the chairs, moving them so that their armrests were pressed together before sitting down. Cardinal let out a sigh, his gaze finding yours again.

”How much Primo told you?”

”Not much, really, but he mentioned that I have no idea how you’ve been in the past months.”

Cardinal chuckled nervously.

”Well, he was right about that.”

You raised your brow, wanting to know more, and after a moment of hesitation you reached out for Cardinal’s hand, not caring that your own was shaking a bit. You took a hold of his hand, squeezing it gently.

”The quote you left me… Now it makes more sense,” you said quietly. ”So, you’ve been… pining after me...”

”...for months? Sí. I can’t recall when it started but…” Cardinal shrugged and you understood.

”You hid it well,” you stated smiling a little.

”And it was so hard,” Cardinal admitted. ”In the end I had no other choice but to take a risk and let you know how I feel.”

The look in Cardinal’s eyes was soft and your heart fluttered as he moved so that his arms were on the armrest, his upper body leaning closer to you.

”How did you know that I…” you left the rest of the question hanging in the air.

”I didn’t know for certain but the conversation we had a few weeks ago got me thinking and… Well, when you have sharp-eyed brothers, they can fill in the gaps.”

You hummed, thinking.

”Not really taking a huge risk then, getting a broken heart, I mean. Since you knew that I…”

Cardinal made a face.

”That wasn’t my best moment. But there was still a possibility that I and my brothers were mistaken and that you were only looking for a friendship.”

”I’m pretty sure the friendship card got thrown out the window quite a while ago.”

”Is that so?” Cardinal asked, leaning now even closer, the move awakening the butterflies in you belly. You drew in a breath as your heart started beating faster. Your gaze went to Cardinal’s lips and you grazed your tongue over your own lips before looking back into his eyes. Suddenly the air seemed to get heavier, warmth going through you in waves, all the thoughts in your head turning into a pile of mush.

”Yeah,” you breathed out and Cardinal leaned even closer, finally capturing your lips in kiss. It was slow, tentative at first, but grew heated soon as all the pent-up feelings were coming to the surface. At some point you found yourself on Cardinal’s lap, other hand on his neck while the other went through his hair, your mouths dancing together like both of your lives depended on that kiss.

Cardinal’s fingers pressed to your sides as you moved your hips against his, his low moan slipping into the kiss, the sound of it sending pleasant shivers coursing through your body.

”Cazzo!” Cardinal groaned, breaking the kiss and gently pushing you farther. Your gazes met and you both were breathing heavily, lips slightly swollen and you could feel his hardness underneath you.

A small grin made its way onto your lips and you put more of your weight down and moved your hips again, this time earning a louder moan from Cardinal, his eyes closing for a moment.

”Ah, as much I want to take this further…” he spoke, voice low, ”maybe it’s best to slow down a bit.”

You hummed, letting then out a long sigh. Even though your body screamed more, Cardinal was right. There was no reason to rush things. With a shake of your head, you rested your forehead against Cardinal’s and then, out of blue, you started laughing.

”Oh shit, this is…” you didn’t even know what to say. After weeks, maybe months, of being hopeless with your feelings, you were finally there. You finally had him and it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

Cardinal joined your laughter soon and you laughed until your belly started to ache. You moved so that you could sit properly on Cardinal’s lap and he wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder. Your gaze dropped to you lap, the hem of your dress still folding around your hips, revealing your thighs and almost your panties, too, but at that moment you didn’t care about it.

”That friendship card might be ripped apart now,” Cardinal joked and you chuckled.

”Or more like set on fire and burned to ashes.”

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Sweet talk | {SabiGiyuu}

Theme: Fluff!

Note: Somewhat mutual agreement that they're dating (SabiGiyuu!) 

Choose their ages it's just mindless fluff activity no actual sense of time tbh

or AU lmao.. i just realized this could be a modern AU or a regular AU or anything you put your mind to- 

And this is short i'm sorry :'> i got stuck half way thru

Giyuu lay quietly on his futon, his eyes fluttering open every now and then, watching Sabito as they lay together in the room, their simple presence soothing their bodies and minds.

Sabito wasn't tired at all and ran his hand through the tangled mess of Giyuu's hair every so now and then in a gentle motion. 

"Giyuu?"

"Yes, Sabito?" Giyuu said, almost instantly though his voice was quite placid and drowsy.

"You're really cute when you're tired," Sabito said, not really thinking about what he was saying. His hand slipped down to Giyuu's jaw, stroking his cheek in slow motions.

Giyuu smiled at him. "I love you, Sabito."

"Hm...mhm, you're always cute though," he continued, moving closer and resting his forehead against Giyuu's. 

"Am I?" Giyuu asked, his eyes fluttering close again.

Sabito nodded, placing a gentle kiss on his boyfriend's jaw, hovering over his lips. "Very. I don't know how I managed to get myself such an adorable boyfriend," he teased.

Giyuu closed the distance between them, kissing him slowly and deliberately. When he pulled away, he opened his eyes, meeting Sabito's gaze. "Mmhm, but I have a hot boyfriend," he said, giggling. 

"...I do too!" Sabito said, huffing.

"No, you said yours was cute!" Giyuu pointed out.

"Well, he's also hot!" 

"He's not!" he protested.

Sabito kissed him then, pulling back a couple seconds later. "You are, Giyuu," he murmured. "Very."

Giyuu pouted but didn't say anything other, sleep clouding back into his mind.

"You should rest," Sabito said, noticing.

"I wanna talk with you more, Sabit...o," Giyuu mumbled, his eyes fluttering open then shutting again.

"We can talk in the morning, go to sleep," he said, kissing Giyuu's forehead, his hand entangling in the dark locks of Giyuu's hair. 

"Mm..." Giyuu moved, his arms wrapping around Sabito's waist. He buried his head in his boyfriend's chest, nuzzling him gently.

Sabito smiled, patting the other affectionately. "Love you, Giyuu," he said quietly.

"Love you too," Giyuu said, his voice muffled by Sabito's chest.

The room lapsed into silence—a comfortable one, though—and Sabito held onto Giyuu protectively, listening to the soft sound of their breathing as Giyuu drifted off to sleep.

A couple minutes later, Giyuu's breathing slowed in sign that he'd fallen asleep. Sabito was drifting off as well, his hand swimming through the tangled black locks of Giyuu's hair in comforting motions, his eyes fluttering close.

"I love you so much, Giyuu," Sabito whispered into Giyuu's embrace. "You're wonderful and amazing and I want to spend my whole life with you. I just... care for you so much. You're the best person I've ever met and I wish I could keep you for myself always, never share you with anyone. But I want you to be happy. I want you to live your best life and I'll do anything to protect you from anything making it otherwise." 

He went quiet again, opening his eyes and kissing Giyuu's forehead gently again. "I wish I could tell you just how much I love you," he murmured, closing his eyes again and letting himself drift off to sleep.

{Word count: 664}

I was using this LMAO 😭 I just used random things from this to write the fluff BC IT'S SO FREAKING CUTE ARHGH

[the-admin-but-dumber]

"A canvas for you to paint."

I got some new brushes, decided to sketch these guys for the first time in a WHILE. I do like how it turned out, for something so rushed. Small drabble under the cut.

"O' Creator of worlds, master of swords, Romeo. What do we do now?" Romeo lets out a rough snort of amusement of his parnter's fancy language, he tilts his head to the admin beside him who crawls from the in-between beyond the bedrock. Together they stand under starless skies, only the glow of their armour offers light in a new world, untouched, unmoulded.

Romeo feels his muscles twitch, his fingers do as well, eager, planning out how he'd soon shape the world. It would be a fine world, perfect, but bland, colorless, his eyes glance to Wheatley who meets his gaze back. They wait for his response, an inhuman stillness in how they never breathe.

"We shall build a new world, one without flaw, one we will call our own." He responds, his chest wells with pride, Wheatley follows him across the endless valley of bedrock and pitch black skies. Wheatley does not respond, their thoughts filter back to The Underneath, Xara, Fred, could this truly be a world without flaw? Without them, surely not. But it could still be beautiful.

Following Romeo, they flicker between space, appearing and disappearing, chasing each other through barren lands until they stop. Romeo goes ahead, and Wheatley stands at the border, watching dirt form under their talons and grass bloom from the centre of the world. It splashes outward like a drop of water, curling and twisting to bloom life where it could touch. Wheatley takes a step forward, they fly up to not become trapped beneath a sea of stone and dirt, albatross wings growing from their spine to take them higher on a well placed breeze. Briefly, they consider letting themselves fall, so that they may grow into the world, but they do not.

Romeo terraforms and Wheatley watches, a blank canvas of towering mountains and deep oceans, valleys carved by a single blade, but so bland. The red admin meets Wheatley from their perch in the clouds, brazenly drifting circles until they rise to give him attention, Wheatley bows their head for the first time.

"I've carved mountains and valleys from the void," Romeo starts, he speaks with many voices, none his own. "A blank canvas, and one I will not paint myself."

Romeo takes their hand, they rise from the clouds, following Romeo into the open sky, darkness stares down at two traitors. "O' Master Artisan," he addresses, "my first gift to you, paint these skies for me, bring life to the land so this world truly sings with our power."

It's a soft request, and Wheatley accepts it.

In slithering forms their coil through the air like ribbons, Romeo keeps them steady and Wheatley paints the skies with all the colours they could. They create stars from their blood and with their hair, trees bloom across the once empty fields of grass and stone. Romeo carves caverns and caves, Wheatley fills them with light and jewels, they give life to the animals Romeo shapes from pieces of the past.

And then, their people, they create the first people together. Romeo forms their bodies from all the pieces of their world, and Wheatley breathes humanity and the ability to be what they chose to be.

Their first gift to this world, is existence.

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Sanctuary part 2

Chapter 18: Barton IV

A/N: I had a shitty weekend being alone and girlrotting on the sofa. So I decided to post a chapter to cheer myself up 🤣

Warnings: 18+, canon violence, angst, mentions of death, blood, Crosshair being a snarky bastard, Echo being lovely.

Word Count: 6.2k+

Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19

Masterlist

Tagging: @subbing-for-clones @fandom-fortress

“On approach.” Your stomach lurched with the aftermath of being pulled from hyperspace, the snowy planet looming ahead of you.

The last few hours had been spent with you drifting in and out of sleep, surrounded by Tech until he had to get up and help Echo. A headache was brewing between your eyes, you knew absently rubbing the spot wouldn’t do anything but you couldn’t stop.

“Reading minimal life signs,” Tech announced from the copilot’s seat. Hunter cast a glare at Crosshair who stood stoically in the corner, keeping his attention on the toothpick in his mouth.

The tension was like a living beast, prowling around the cockpit. You could almost feel it with your hands, stretched between the brothers and ready to snap. Maybe they were the cause of your headache.

Everything about this planet was stark and bleak. Sunlight reflected off the snow, blinding in its clarity.

“Is that the base?” Omega asked, pointing to what looked like a row of sensors buried in deep snow.

“I am not registering any heat signatures from inside,” Tech said.

“Nothing on comms either. There’s no one here.” Echo added. You felt the faint tug of Crosshair’s confusion, saw the flicker of his gaze to the canopy before he snapped it back down to the floor.

“Let’s go have a look, shall we?” Hunter uncrossed arms and stalked from the cockpit once the ship landed. You blew out a breath, lifting a hand to massage the dull ache in your forehead.

“Is there something causing you distress?” Tech was at your side, his brow furrowed with concern.

“There’s a load of testosterone floating about.”

“Ah. The imminent confrontation between Hunter and Crosshair.”

“Yes.”

“I heard Omega suggesting Crosshair talk to Hunter. I do not think the conversation has occurred, based on their antagonistic behaviours.” Tech handed you a blaster for your holster as he talked. You slid it home, grabbing your helmet to put on, twisting it until it felt comfortable. The HUD blinkered to life with the crackle of the internal com.

You were worried. Cross had become more and more withdrawn the closer you got to Barton IV and you were fairly sure it had nothing to do with Hunter. Though, he didn’t help matters.

The screen adjusted, taking the abrupt glare off the snow when the ramp opened, so you didn’t have to squint. Batcher ran out, clearly happy to be back on solid ground again. Everyone else followed the hound, taking a moment to breathe in the fresh, crisp air, to expand their chests and just let the world around brighten them for a moment. You crouched, resting a hand on the top layer of snow. Faint vibrations could be felt, intermittent and barely worthy of attention.

Crosshair was the last to leave the ship. Dread filled his steps, the sadness that lingered in the air around him made you glance back. He felt so alone, thoughts were clouding his mind but nothing you could get a read on. Not that you tried. Whatever had happened here struck a chord within Crosshair.

“A black ice vulture.” Your attention followed Tech’s to the large bird circling above. The creature looked black with the sun behind it, accenting the vast silhouette of its wide sweeping wings.

You sensed Crosshair’s melancholy sigh expel from him. The lacerating ache that pressed on him made you wince. A scar so deep it still bled, even now.

“You said this outpost was remote,” Hunter accused the sniper. “Not abandoned entirely.” You stood, cautiously stepping up when Hunter took a few steps towards Crosshair. You didn’t need to open yourself to feel the rage and confusion that encompassed Hunter right now.

“Well, I didn’t get daily intel briefings in my cell.” Typical response, scathing and sarcastic enough from Crosshair to hide the pain beneath his words.

“I get the feeling there’s more to this base than you’re saying.”

“Enough,” you murmured to Hunter, putting a hand on his vambrace. His helmet swung round, only too easily could you picture the frown of annoyance on his tattooed face.

The hound barked, pulling the squad to concentrate on something else for a moment. “Batcher! What is it?” Omega ran forward while your gaze swept the horizon.

“What’s goin’ on?” Wrecker asked.

“The sensors are giving off a high frequency tone,” Hunter told them all from behind his binocs. “She must be reacting to it.” An aggravated sigh collected in your chest when he turned back to Crosshair. “What are the sensors for?”

“Perimeter detection against local raiders.”

“You didn’t think to warn us about these raiders before?” Hunter pushed.

“No,” Crosshair answered slowly. “They were dealt with.”

“And how do you know that?” The squad tensed, Wrecker shifted uncomfortably and Echo watched the pair with fixed focus. Tech was observing the vulture still, his datapad no doubt taking readings from the immediate vicinity. You were fairly sure he was easily observing the interaction between his brothers as well.

“Take a guess,” Crosshair sneered.

“Just following orders?” You tried to catch Hunter’s arm but he slipped your grasp, squaring up to Crosshair. The words sent a ripple through everyone, even you. Good soldiers follow orders.

“If you’re scared, why don’t you wait on the ship?”

“Hey!” Echo wedged between them, pushing Hunter back with his hand. “Kill each other later. We’re here for a reason.” He reminded them. “Let’s crack into the datapad and get out of here.”

You stayed near Crosshair, letting the others march off across the snow. Tech tilted his head, hesitating like he was going to wait with you until you gave him a subtle shake of your helmet. You could see the frown, his gaze darted to the sniper at your side. Then he followed the others without protest.

“I said talk to him, not argue with him,” Omega stressed from where stood on Crosshair’s other side.

Crosshair let out a sigh, his shoulders dropping slightly. “He started it.” You fell into step with him, expecting a comment of some sort about your closeness. But he accepted your quiet company beside him, following Omega to join the rest at the closed doors.

“It appears this entrance has not been used in some time,” Tech was saying. “We shall have to dig our way in. The doors will not open easily with this amount of snow against them.”

You watched Hunter and Wrecker kneel down ready to start, only for Batcher to lurch between them. Her wide paws made quick work of the powdery snow, clearly enjoying herself. Your fingers traced the edge of your blaster, pulling it free along with your blade as Wrecker forced the doors open with a screech of grinding metal.

Hunter took point, Echo and Tech fanning out behind him. Wrecker and you flanked them when they moved deeper into the dark, Crosshair and Omega bringing up the rear.

The depot was empty. Your weapons lowered, feeling the chill of the place slither under your armour.

You could sense the hidden echoes.

They rushed to you, forcing their way to someone who could hear them. Whispers teased your ears, so quiet no words could be made out. Muffled shouts cut off abruptly, accompanied by the faint ring of blasters going off. Whatever happened here had not been pleasant. The eeriness reminded you of Tantiss.

Your knees buckled under the mental onslaught, grateful to Crosshair catching your elbow before you fell. A move so subtle, no one else caught it. You leaned against a crate, giving him a nod to tell him you were okay. He only moved a couple of places away, refusing to leave you alone.

The lights flickered on as Tech powered up the console. “The energy stores are almost completely depleted by the sensor beacons. I shall divert all power to this depot, Omega?” He looked round to find her waiting patiently behind him.

“Yep.” She moved a crate over to stand on. “I’m on it,” she said, waggling her fingers before she started pressing buttons under his watchful eye.

You sucked in a breath after removing your helmet and leaving it on a crate. Your weapons were away, leaving your hands free to roam the walls. They spoke to you, vibrating with memory but not enough to give you images. You followed the tremors in the air. Unaware that Crosshair silently dogged your footsteps.

On the other side of the depot was an opening hidden behind tall stacks of crates. Your attention was drawn to it, almost pulled to a particular point until your boots shuffled to a stop. It was dark here, barely any light chased the shadows, but you could see the outline of something on the floor.

Crosshair loomed at your shoulder. His torch light ran over the area, settling on the pile of helmets. He didn’t speak. Didn’t even look at you when he moved past to crouch on the floor. His fingers shook, his presence was crying out with grief as he reached to pick one of them up. You couldn’t handle the level of desolation Crosshair felt at the sight of them, his memories tormenting him on a loop.

The only acknowledgement he gave, was a quick movement of his eyes when you knelt beside him. You picked up a helmet, turning it over in your hands. It was scuffed, dirty, unkempt. Not a fault of the wearer, but the harsh climate. Armour like this was not meant to be worn out here for a long period of time. Your fingers drifted down the material wrapping that had come loose. Not a single one of these helmets warranted being cast on the floor like forgotten waste.

“They deserved so much more.” Your voice was barely a whisper, not wanting to break the quiet of the moment. You put the helmet on top of a crate, turning it to face you. Bending down you retrieved another.

Crosshair put the one he was holding down, aligning it along the edges of the crate. Neither of you stopped until they were all picked up and placed with care. Your heart was heavy at the sight of all these empty helmets.

“What were their names?” Crosshair drew in a breath before he answered.

“Most of them were dead before I arrived,” he informed you in a toneless voice. “Hexx and Veech were killed before we even exchanged greetings.” You felt the lurch within him, the stumble as he caught his words before he uttered them. These memories physically hurt him. Whatever had happened here, cut much deeper than the agony Hemlock had inflicted upon him. “Mayday was the only one I spoke to.”

Your hand reached for his, expecting him to pull away. You gave him that opportunity, making him aware of your intention. Slowly you entwined your hands together, slotting your fingers between Crosshair’s longer ones. He gripped unexpectedly hard. Standing with his head bowed before the row of helmets.

There was nothing that could lessen or take away his suffering. So you gave him the sole thing you could with silent solidarity. Cross let you lean against him, offering comfort in the only way you knew how.

You were aware of Hunter watching from the shadows, heavy with the swirl of regret and guilt that always permeated anything he was feeling when it came to Crosshair. A wave of frustration had him backing up quietly to rejoin the others. You also went to leave Crosshair, to let him remember these clones alone and in private. But he refused to let you go.

So you stayed.

Wrapped in the silence.

Tangled in the sorrow.

Offering quiet respect for the lives lost. You might not have known them, like you knew none of the clones in Tantiss, but you felt them. Your chest expanded with the heartbreak of it all. For the ones already gone and for the ones still fighting.

You collected it all, tucking the intense emotions away, stuffing them deep into the dark until you were ready to use them.

Until it was time.

The ground beneath your feet vibrated. Glancing up at Crosshair, he registered the change in you and let go of your hand.

Omega was still at the console with Tech. “That should do it.” The lights came on fully, power whirring through the depot when you joined the rest of the squad.

“Excellent job,” Tech praised her. “Now we should be able to bypass the encryption and access the intel on the datapad.” Echo was already there, plugging it straight into the system.

“Ah, it’s working,” he informed the squad. “Look at this manifest. There are even more clone prisoners on Tantiss than we thought.” Tech sat in a chair next to Echo and took the ‘pad just as Crosshair reappeared and everyone turned to look at him.

A flash of anger rose unbidden within you. You tried to bite your tongue, but the urge to speak up like you had back on Pabu was overwhelming. “It’s not Crosshair’s fault they’re in there.” Hunter turned his narrowing gaze on you, matching your frown.

“No one has said anything of the sort,” Tech broke the silence, confusion evident in his eyes as he adjusted his goggles. Your fists clenched. The pain in your head was moving, reaching places you didn’t know could hurt. With a frustrated sigh, you turned on your heel and strode for the open door, grabbing your helmet on the way past.

“Where are you going?” You heard Hunter demand over Batcher’s growling.

“With her,” Crosshair stated coolly. “To check the perimeter.”

You didn’t care if they came or not. You just wanted out. It was too much, too heavy. You were thrown back to the inside of your cell in Tantiss, feeling the clones as their lives slipped away.

Jamming your helmet back on you walked out past the ship. Slowly, it became easier to breathe. The brightness of the snow burned everything away, the cold wind constantly brought you back to yourself, and it was exactly what you needed. Dropping to the ground, you knelt on the floor and closed your eyes.

Footsteps approached, stopping less than a meter away over to your left. A bird screeched. The vulture. It was closer than before, the tinkling of its icy feathers could be heard as it took flight, startled by another approaching.

“Are you going to be my shadow everywhere?” Crosshair started on Hunter, clearly ignoring the fact he had followed you out here first.

Hunter didn’t hesitate. He’d been holding onto his words for so long nothing could stop him now. “I know you. There’s more you’re not telling us, and I’m done waiting. Start talking, Crosshair.”

Burying your hands in the snow you tried to shut them out, concentrating on the tremors in the ground. But all you could feel was Crosshair’s turmoil as he faced his brother.

“What did you do to finally get on the Empire’s bad side? Betray them, like you did with us?” Resentment rolled off Crosshair at such an accusation. He had been manipulated by those he had once trusted and abandoned by the ones he loved the most. He kept his mouth defiantly shut, refusing to meet the blame in Hunter’s gaze.

Hunter continued his attack on Crosshair. “You thought we’d take you back and not ask questions? I don’t think so. Tell me what changed. What happened Crosshair?”

You shot up at the sound of fists on katarn, seeing Cross stumble back a few steps from the shove. “Stop it!” Hunter’s eyes widened when your hands connected with his own chestplate, pushing him away. “Enough!”

“I need answers!” It was almost a plea, a need to understand so Hunter knew he wasn’t putting his entire family at risk.

“I am more likely to betray you than Crosshair is!” Your candid admission stunned him into silence, shock passed over his features before they hardened. “I have no memories. You all act like you know me and I can feel it in here,” you cried hitting a closed fist to your chest. “But I don’t know you. Hemlock did that to me for a reason. But Crosshair…” you pointed at the taller clone who was shocked at your outburst on his behalf. “He remembers. He fought every step of the way, and for you to stand there and accuse him of betrayal…” Frustration choked your words. “None of us would be here if it wasn’t for Crosshair. Certainly not Omega.” Hunter looked past you, the scowl deepening when Crosshair put a hand on your shoulder and eased you back.

“I killed an Imperial officer,” he admitted. “So yes, I did betray them after they betrayed me.” Crosshair tutted at the change of his brother’s expression. “Oh, don’t pretend like this is all about me. I tried to warn you, Hunter. I risked everything to send you that message. You, ignored it. You let Omega and Stitch be taken to Tantiss.”

Your breath hitched at the intense wave of guilt Hunter felt, but Crosshair wasn’t stopping, he was hurting and needed to inflict that upon someone else.

“Stitch went through what she did because you failed.” Crosshair shoved him in the shoulder. “You’re angry because they escaped with my help, not yours.”

The ground shook. Your hands went out to steady yourself just as Hunter reached to grab you both and hauled you towards him.

Then the world exploded.

Snow and ice shattered as a large creature rose from beneath. A small part of you knew this had been here, noticing the signs but not knowing what they had meant.

A loud roar rattled your insides. You tried to run, only the ground wasn’t beneath your feet anymore as the giant creature came crashing down. You were running in midair, arms and legs flailing uselessly until the ground met you once more. Hunter and Crosshair fell in heaps beside you, scrabbling at the snow to try and find a foothold.

“Come on!” Crosshair grabbed the edge of your breastplate, his fingers curling under the collar and dragging you with a hidden strength.

“The ship!” You gasped.

“Leave it!” Hunter ordered. You could see the others in the doorway. Wrecker was shouting, Batcher was barking. The sound of the wyrm travelling under the snow was a constant snap of echoing thunder.

Each inhale made your chest ache and your muscles burn. Reaching deep, you dragged up the strength Hemlock had given you, unleashing it to save the two men either side of you.

Hunter cried out when his feet left the ground. Wrapping them in your power, forcing them ahead and through the open doors. They fell unceremoniously back into the depot. Rolling along the floor once you released them. You jumped, sliding down the dug out snow and grinding to an uncomfortable halt on the other side. The world outside was sealed off by Wrecker closing the doors, just as the wyrm slammed into them.

“Are you hurt?” Tech sounded so calm but his presence was vibrating with worry.

“I’m fine.” You accepted his outstretched hand anyway, letting him help you until your legs could stand.

“I guess we know what the perimeter sensors are meant to keep out,” Omega stated, her nervousness evident. You all flinched at the sound of another crash into the doors which shook the entire depot.

“Great,” Wrecker growled. “What now?”

“No chance of digging out the ship with that thing out there.” Torches flickered on as Hunter spoke, illuminating all the surrounding grim expressions.

“I have an idea.”

“Please, enlighten us sooner rather than later,” Crosshair seethed at Tech. He was still smarting from the altercation with Hunter, annoyed he wasn’t able to finish what was started. But Tech let the comment slide.

“As Omega correctly stated, the sensor beacons were actively keeping the creature away from the base. Since we have shut them off, that no longer seems to be the case. I suggest we lure the creature outside the perimeter and return power to the beacons.”

“What do we need to do?” Hunter asked.

Echo had returned to the control panel. “There’s a fuse box for the reserve energy grid in the back of this compound.”

“One of us needs to get over there and reset the grid manually,” Crosshair explained.

“I’ll do it!” Wrecker piped up from the doors.

“Omega and I, shall reactivate the defense system once power has been restored,” Tech added.

“I can draw the creature beyond the sensors,” you told Hunter.

“No, you won’t.” Crosshair cut across you. “I’ll handle it.”

“Not alone,” Hunter told him. “We’ll do it together.”

Crosshair’s brow furrowed, eyeing Hunter. “You sure about that?”

Echo turned away from the console. “Stitch and I can spot you both from the tower.”

Hunter’s eyes flickered to you briefly, wondering if he should order you to stay here. Instead he said, “Then let’s get to it, before it tears this place apart.”

There was a brief moment where your gaze connected with Tech’s through your visor. So many words and thoughts swept through you, only to dissipate when he turned away with Omega. There was nothing to say anyway. You took up position next to Echo who gave you a quick nod.

Wrecker hefted the doors open, the wyrm was nowhere to be seen. Hunter counted down silently with his fingers. Anticipation swept between you all, the blaster dug into the palm of your hand through the gloves. The moment elongated into something you had to fill with multiple breaths, waiting for that last finger to fall so you could explode into action.

Echo, Wrecker and you went one way, while Cross, Hunter and Batcher went the other. You were glad the hound went, she was good for Crosshair even if he’d never admit it.

“Three o’clock!” Your teeth ground down at the sound of the firepuncher going off. The ground shook again, Echo stumbled into you, the pair of you steadying each other at the foot of the tower. “Hunter!”

You made it to the top, looking over the edge to see Crosshair peering down a hole. “Hunter fell through!”

“It’s Hunter,” Echo told you, bringing his binocs up. “He’ll be fine.”

“Why?!” Wrecker panted in your ears. “Why is there always a huge monster? Echo, do you see it?”

“I don’t have a visual. Stitch, can you find it?” That’s why Echo wanted you up here.

“I can try.” You shut out Hunter’s pained groans via the com. You ignored Crosshair’s panicked questions to his brother. You blocked Wrecker’s ragged breathing and concentrated on searching for the wyrm.

The world expanded beyond your helmet, wider and further than your body could ever reach. Casting your awareness as far you could, over the surface of the ice, down the ribbed, dark pits of the tunnels, curling around the people caught in your invisible net.

Hunter was in physical pain, not something you could help with right now. Crosshair’s heart rate was elevated, Batcher was a bright spot of joy, despite the current situation. Echo was focussed on his surroundings, including you.

There. Ice cracked alarmingly around you as the wyrm rushed through, like the thick ice was nothing. “It’s heading right for them,” you told Echo.

“Target spotted. It’s right on your tail, about 100 meters and closing.”

“Blaster fire doesn’t pierce its hide.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Echo agreed sullenly as Crosshair fired more shots at the beast. It plunged below the ice, leaving an eerie quiet behind.

“I think I just made it angrier,” Crosshair regretfully said.

“Fantastic,” came Hunter’s breathless reply.

“Can you sense it still?” Your headache was threatening to break your concentration and your awareness tried to snap back to your body.

“No, it’s gone too deep.” Your hands gripped the railing as the first drop of blood fell from your nose inside the helmet.

“Ok. I’m at the fuse box.”

“You have to prime the breaker,” Tech instructed Wrecker.

Your attention split, part of it drifted with Crosshair and Hunter, some stayed connected to Wrecker while most of it searched for the signature of the wyrm.

“Still no sign of that thing,” Echo’s voice sounded far away.

“I feel it,” you whispered.

“Stitch?”

“Is she all right?”

“She’s fine! Concentrate on getting those beacons working.” Echo demanded.

“The wyrm is so angry.” You burrowed down, deeper and deeper into the thick ice. Darkness swallowed you, shaking as it pressed in like solid walls. “Get Hunter out.”

“We found a weak point in the ice. We’ll try to dig through.” Crosshair stated over the com.

“You’ll try?”

“Glad you heard me properly.”

You were drowning. Barely able to hold on, spiralling in the dark, floundering at the anger of a hungry beast. “It’s coming.” Something dark was rising fast, speeding towards you like an arrow, spearing for the centre of your ripples in the force.

“Get up here!” Crosshair snapped.

“Not yet. Where’s the wyrm? Stitch?”

“Stitch, can you sense it?” Echo’s tone rose an octave. “I can’t see it. Stitch!”

Blood was in your mouth, trickling down your face, wetting your teeth and lips. The darkness swirled, pain danced down your spine and you were ripped away from everything.

There you are.

Screams sliced the dark. Raw and pain filled. They yanked on your heart, squeezed your lungs, clawed at your chest. Eviscerating any shred of self. There was no colour, no light, no relief.

Just your soul ripping agony…

“Stitch!” The helmet was removed, allowing you to gasp in fresh cold air. Your eyes strained against the light trying to flood your vision and a hand came up to wipe at your wet face.

“Is she ok?” Echo.

“She is now conscious.” Tech. You were in his arms, his fingers brushing strands away from your face.

“I found this in the depot. Not much in it though.” Omega placed a box beside him, no doubt a medkit.

“It is sufficient.”

“Come on,” Hunter encouraged the others. “Let’s dig the ship out. Crosshair…Crosshair.”

“What?” Came the clipped response.

“She’s in good hands.” A sigh rustled from the lithe clone, his rifle tapping on the floor followed by his retreating footsteps.

Then it was only you and Tech left at the top of the tower.

“What happened?” The groggy feeling made your words muffled. The world swam as you tried to sit up and Tech put a hand on your forehead.

“Do not move. I need to assess your condition.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are bleeding,” he replied curtly. “That is not the definition of fine.” So you lay back on his lap, feeling the tentative wipes as he cleaned your face. Your gaze wandered over the shape of his helmet, catching the look of concentration in his eyes. Even with a deep frown framing them, they were beautiful. Occasionally they met yours, only to slide away again.

His touch was gentle, carefully ridding you of the blood stain that had smeared everywhere. You let him manipulate your head, giving him access to under your chin and behind your ears. No one had cared for you like this before, it almost brought tears to your eyes.

Tech hadn’t given you a response the first time, so you asked again. “What happened?”

“For once, I am not entirely certain. I have a theory, but I would appreciate your input first.”

You were about to say you had no idea when a coldness crept from the void in your chest. “Something happened to me. Something dark.” Tech paused in his actions, tilting his head to the side. When you didn’t continue, he took it upon himself to fill your silence.

“I do not know how Hemlock is able to completely alter a clone to such a fundamental level and then reprogram them. It cannot be a pleasant experience.”

“That would imply he knows what I am.” The words tasted like bile behind your teeth. The thought of what happened, what Hemlock did to you, made you feel weak.

“It does.” You didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“I think I can sit up now.” The world wasn’t spinning, the headache lingered at the edges of your mind but you could ignore it. “Do you have some water?” Tech handed you a container with the lid already off. It took a couple of mouthfuls to wash the metallic taste of blood away.

“Is it customary for you to bleed when utilising the force for extended periods of time?”

“It only happened with the Holocrons. I didn’t bleed before. Though, nothing he asked of me was as strenuous as that task.” The wind whipped into the tower, bringing the sound of Wrecker and Omega laughing, Batcher growling as she helped dig out the ship, and the noise of the other shovels.

Tech rose to a crouch. “I have yet to go through the intel on Nala Se’s datapad. It could potentially have notes relating to you.”

“I never met this, Nala Se,” you murmured.

"That is not unexpected. Omega spent the majority of her captivity on Tantiss with Nala Se and did not come across the knowledge you were also being held." You could hear him tidying up the medkit. You felt exhausted, unable to block out his worries, or the tatters of his thoughts that kept brushing against your own. You wanted to be around him but didn’t at the same time, it was confusing and it added weight to your already troubled mind.

“I should help with the ship.”

“You have orders to stay here and rest.” Tech huffed when you ignored him. Taking the steps slowly enough so he caught up with you in a matter of moments. “I really must insist you rest.”

“I thought I was the medic,” you muttered.

“Until your memories are restored, I have stepped into that role.” Tech slipped an arm around your waist, curling his hand over the utility belt at your hip.

“You might have to keep it,” you told him sullenly. You weren’t sure if your memories were ever going to return.

“I am adapt at triage and trauma in the field, but I do not possess your level of experience or knowledge.”

A scoff left you at his words. “Neither do I.” He pursed his lips, a slight furrow between his eyes as he helped ease you down the last couple of steps, onto the frozen snow. You expected him to back away, not keep his arm on your waist as you both headed towards the ship.

Crosshair was the first to notice your approach, sticking his shovel in the snow and leaning on it. A toothpick rolled from one side of his mouth to the other, his sharp eyes clocking the position of Tech’s arm.

“Better?” He asked once you got close enough.

“Better than I was.”

“I told her she needs rest, a request that has been ignored.” Crosshair subtly cocked an eyebrow at Tech.

“Not surprised,” his voice taking on a chilled tone that told everyone he was going to say something nobody would like. “You’re fussing over her like a bantha matriarch.” Tech straightened at his brother’s words, his expression falling into a blank mask. Crosshair also adjusted his position, arms falling away from the top of the shovel so he could square up to Tech if he needed. You looked between them, noticing, for the first time, how equal they were in height.

“I am the only one fully capable of caring for Stitch after an episode.” Tech sounded like he was defending himself in the face of his brother’s obvious scorn.

“You don’t have to mither her,” Crosshair scolded him and you tried not to roll your eyes at their bickering.

“Stitch would inform me if she did not desire my assistance.” Both of them looked at you with matching golden brown eyes. One set narrowed and urging you to speak up, the other you were much more familiar with. Tech kept his expression neutral, but being called out by Crosshair did not sit well with him.

“I can walk,” you told Tech gently, noticing the way he dropped his arm immediately. “And I can speak for myself,” you shot at Crosshair, with a deep scowl. The flare of triumph that came from him was surprising, you weren’t sure if it was to do with Tech backing off or the venom in your words to Cross. You hoped the latter.

The ramp was down, so you headed for it, ignoring Hunter’s ever watchful gaze and leaving the brothers behind.

Echo was in the cockpit, running a swift diagnostic on the main systems and checking for hull damage. He didn’t say anything when you carefully sat yourself in the copilot’s chair. His eyes were lighter than the rest of the squad, appearing more liquid gold than anything else. His skin was paler too, showing how traumatic his stint in captivity really had been.

The scomp, that used to be a hand, rotated steadily in the socket yet his attention was fixed on you.

“What’s it like?” You asked quietly.

Echo glanced over his shoulder. “Dealing with that lot? Tiresome. But I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he admitted and a genuine grin broke out over your face.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He frowned in puzzlement and you drew in a breath before continuing. “You’re aware of me, talking to me and yet you’re sorting through all the information the ship gives you.”

“Oh. That.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it…”

Echo shook his head, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it…but no one has ever asked me that.” His eyes unfocused slightly, and you settled back into the seat. “I’ve never had to put it into words before.” He contemplated for a longer moment, glancing at you with those earnest pale eyes. “It can be seamless, communicating with a receptive computer is always a better experience. Some, can give attitude.”

“Attitude?”

“Never ask Fi’s onboard computer to calculate multiple hyperspace jumps,” he chuckled. “Bleeding thing fought me every step of the way.” His expression sobered as he pulled his scomp free, looking at it for a moment. “Wat Tambor did this to me. It helped him for a time, having me in his control with these enhancements, but in the end they aided me more. They are a part of me now, doesn’t matter how I got them.” He turned his chair, fixing you with a knowing look. “It took me a long time to accept what happened to me, I thought I had to prove I wasn’t broken beyond repair. But the Bad Batch…” he sighed, struggling to form his thoughts into words. “They accepted me for who I was even after all the changes. And they want to do the same for you.”

Echo had accurately read between the lines of your simple question. Blinking furiously to quell the emotion that rose, hating how much you resonated with what he said.

Hemlock had controlled you, used the enhancements he forced upon you. Your body was still your own compared to Echo’s, but the changes you had been through were no less severe. It brought you back to Crosshair’s words the other day, use what he has given you, against him.

Echo continued, clearly not expecting you to say anything. “Of course, having my attention split so often means I am prone to headaches.”

“You have one right now,” you mumbled, sniffing a little against the tears that still wanted to fall.

Echo shrugged. “Ah, I’m used to it.” Driven by instinct, you leaned across the gap to take Echo’s hand. The pain was a heated throb by his temple, latched deeply enough in his mind so you had to expend a little energy digging it out. Echo frowned, his mouth open to ask what you were doing, when the lines on his face smoothed out. “What was that?”

“Me, using my enhancement for something good.” Understanding passed silently between you, only broken by the thud of shovels and the clomp of snowy feet.

Omega squealed when a snowball flew into the cockpit, just missing your face. You dropped Echo’s hand in surprise and looked through the hatch. Wrecker was balling up another projectile, Tech was holding the Imperial datapad, barely sparing the troublesome duo a glance. Crosshair and Hunter were still outside, with Batcher running between them and the excitement of the snowball fight.

“No Wrecker!” Echo bellowed, shooting out of his chair when he saw the size of the snowball the big clone was creating.

“Aw! Come on Killjoy!”

“Hey! I never liked that nickname…” you stifled a giggle, watching them argue over something so simple as a snowball. Well, it looked like Wrecker wanted to throw the equivalent of a whole snowman. He grumpily grunted at Echo and dropped the hefty ball of snow while Omega stuck out her tongue and teased Wrecker from inside the ship.

If only you could bottle up this feeling, the fleeting moments where you felt you really belonged.

You needed it to chase away the lingering dark that filled the deepest corners of your soul.

[rosypenguins]

💔Bridges (Pt. 2)🖤

*+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+

Synopsis: Drew ends up spiraling.

A/N: Okay, this draws a lot from my headcanons for Drew’s backstory. This one’s like really emo lol.

Contains Swearing, Suicidal Ideation

*+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+ *+

Drew watched Liam storm off before turning back to the bridge, taking in a sharp breath of air. That ever-familiar flame flickered in his chest; the smoke filling his lungs.

Each breath he took was heavy; it didn’t feel like he was getting any air. His head was spinning. The flame needed an escape.

Without thinking, Drew slammed his fist into the concrete railing, only for pain to shoot up his arm. Quickly, his hand recoiled, drawing closer to his chest. Fuck! Fuck, why the hell did I do that?

He could feel more sparks ignite at his own stupidity. The sensation was almost painful. Why couldn’t he just calm down?

Drew placed his elbows on the railing, his hands tugging at his tangled hair. Breathe, dammit.

But his throat felt tight, and his mind was spinning with voices and-

Drew felt a drop of water land against his cheek, and he glanced up towards the sky, only to find it covered with clouds.

…You’ve got to be kidding me…

He felt another drop hit his forehead, followed by a few more, and-

“Oh, is this some sort of joke to you?!” Drew suddenly screamed. “Do you think this is funny-?!” Drew’s throat tightened, his breath caught in his throat. He could feel tears forming in the corners of his eyes again, and almost instinctively he buried his face in his hands.

You worthless fucking failure. Get it together.

His nails dug into his skin as he thought back to the teary look Liam had given him.

You’re not supposed to be upset. You did the right thing. Liam was a bitch, anyways. You’re better off.

Slowly, Drew lowered his hands, resting them against the railing as he managed a few slow breaths. The flame was finally dying.

…

You didn’t need Liam. You don’t need anyone…

“All you do is hurt people!” The blonde’s words suddenly echoed in Drew’s ear, and he let out a huff as he sat himself on the railing. His gaze fell to the black water below, his reflection faintly visible, yet distorted by the ripples along the surface.

It’s not my fault. He told himself. It’s not my fault Liam has to be a little bitch about everything.

You’re lying…

He lied! Him and Jake and Zoey and everyone else who pretended to care about me! It’s not my fault they’re all shit!

You should’ve seen it coming. You really think anyone could love you?

…I’m better off alone. I’ve always been better off alone.

“All you do is hurt people!”

Drew let out a sigh, his gaze drifting to his hands. Bruises littered his knuckles, and there was still a small scar along one of his fingers from when he’d broken that mirror all that time ago.

His finger traced the mark, as his mind began to drift back to that night Liam had held him so softly…

What if he wasn’t lying..?

No, he was. He had to be.

…

“…Why am I like this..?” He whispered to himself, before placing his hands behind him, his attention returning to the waters.

“All you do is hurt people!”

I don’t hurt everyone. It’s not my fault-

It’s all my fault.

Everyone lies. Everyone leaves.

I’m the reason everyone leaves.

“All you do is hurt people!”

Drew pushed himself closer to the railing’s edge, his eyes locked with his reflection beneath him.

I was just defending myself! It’s not my fault everyone takes things so personally! It’s not my fault if-

“All you do is hurt people!”

I don’t hurt everyone.

“All you do is hurt people!”

I’m not… trying to hurt everyone.

“All you do is hurt people!”

It’s not my-

“All you do is hurt people!”

…

…Everyone would be better off without me.

Drew allowed himself to lean closer, his grip on the railing being the only thing keeping him steady.

“Probably be better if I was just dead, huh? Wouldn’t have to deal with all this bullshit if I was.”

Drew opened his eyes.

“Probably be better if I was just dead…”

His grip loosened slightly. He could hear his heart pounding, drowning out the sound of the rain.

…What use am I alive, anyways?

No one will miss me, not anymore, anyways.

…And it’s all my fault.

And Drew allowed himself to imagine it: falling over the edge, into the dark river. He imagined being swept away by the current, water filling his lungs and numbing his senses. How wonderful it’d feel to slowly lose consciousness, and simply drift away like the clouds in the sky…

“…All I do is hurt people, anyways...”

…

He released his grip from the railing, and his body fell forward.

But the sudden movement sent adrenaline coursing through his body. Instinctively, his hands grabbed the railing again, holding him steady.

His breath caught in his throat. His chest was tight. His heart was racing, but his head had finally gone quiet.

…For a split moment, everything was still.

…What did I just..?

…

Quickly, Drew hopped down from the railing, landing in a puddle beneath him. The splash alone was enough to make him flinch.

God, I didn’t actually just try to-

He swallowed, and pressed his back against the railing as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

And it’s not like I would’ve died if I fell, anyways. I mean, I probably wouldn’t have…

He pressed his palm against his forehead, taking a breath.

God, I shouldn’t even be thinking about this! I’m not supposed to be thinking like this! I’m not fucking depressed!

Drew shook his head, forcing the thoughts to the back of his mind as he glanced towards the rain-slicked path.

…He would’ve gone home by now, right?

After a moment of consideration, Drew decided to take the path back to his house, keeping his gaze firmly on the ground as he desperately tried to block out the screaming voices in his mind.

*+*+*

When Drew finally reached his house, he noticed the driveway was empty again. Thank God he’s gone…

And the first thing he did was return to his bedroom, throwing off his rain-soaked shoes and tugging off his jacket.

He made his way to his closet, pulling off his dirty clothes and throwing on a clean pair before collapsing onto his bed.

He didn’t care that his hair was still dripping wet. He could always wash it tomorrow.

He buried himself under blankets, and brought a pillow close to his chest, using it to hide his face.

But the moment he closed his eyes, he was met with the faces of those who lied to him.

The faces of those he hurt..

He opened his eyes again, but there was nowhere safe he could look. Every corner of his room had been tainted with their memory. Every surface tarnished with their presence. It was suffocating; realizing how much they’d impacted his life. How much he allowed them to…

How deeply he fell for their smiles, their voices, their lies.

Now he was left with the ghost of them, reminding him of what he’d once had. Of what he’d once believed…

And suddenly, Drew was back. Back to being the boy he was in Elementary School. The boy who’d lash out at anyone who came close. The boy who’d lock himself away in his room when he came home, knowing there’d be no embrace to greet him. The boy who couldn’t make a friend to save his life. The boy who’s own parents couldn’t be bothered to stay around…

The boy no one else wanted…

His grip on his pillow tightened, his nails scratching the light grey cover.

Eventually, his gaze drifted to his hands. His cold, bruised-up hands, that only seemed to push others away…

And Drew’s mind drifted back to the bridge, and he began to wonder what would’ve happened had he allowed himself to succumb to those cold, black waters…

[hmserebusadjacent]

Don't have to be ok

I came up with the idea for this story this morning, and wanted to write and post it within a day to give myself a little boost after a rough start to the week. Reading this back, I realised this story is essentially me projecting my need to be comforted by Emmrich. But I hope you find the story enjoyable nonetheless.

So please enjoy Emmrich comforting Rook, saying that he doesn't have to be ok, that he will always be there for him.

Emmrich Volkarin x Trans Male Rook (Pining, longing, comfort, implied gender dysphoria on Rook's part, cloud gazing).

Word count: 2,677

AO3 link

Rook hadn't been his usual self today. He'd drifted off into the recesses of his own mind so often that each time it felt harder for Emmrich to pull him back. There was so much anxiety stored in the way Rook fussed with his hair or pulled at the fingers on his gloves, all of that energy just pouring out into his aura too.

Emmrich wasn't the only one to notice, of course. Davrin kept on shooting Rook sideways glances and then looking to Emmrich as if he had the answers. For once, Emmrich didn't have many words to give. It was the subtler signs that also gave him pause, like the way Rook fussed with the way his clothes hung around his hips and thighs. The way he had chewed the inside of his lips so much that Emmrich wouldn't be surprised if it was bleeding.

The necromancer couldn't blame their fearless leader for feeling the strain of leadership, helping to keep his team alive and stopping the world from ending. All that would have been enough but Rook also had to worry about not going mad from anxiety, grief, stress, any of the above or indeed every emotion under the sun. 

He couldn't blame Rook for having off days at all. He just wished he knew how to help better. To ease the strain even if he couldn't shoulder any of it. Emmrich did try, he really did. From ensuring Rook slept well, ate well and always being a willing ear if Rook needed to talk to someone about anything or nothing.

It was the least he could do for the man who had given his life purpose, for reminding him that life could be lived with other people rather than with the dead who no longer needed the spark of existence. Rook truly enlivened Emmrich Volkarin, and maybe one day he would have the courage to tell him.

And to tell him that he loved him above all things too. More than he had ever loved anyone before.

And when he held Rook in his arms whilst they hugged, or when Rook linked arms with him whilst they walked, or when they shared those late evenings chatting about everything and nothing over tea, Emmrich knew that this was what he wanted for the rest of his life.

To be his, in whatever form that took. If Rook also wanted to be his? It would be the happiest day of Emmrich’s life if he found out that Rook liked him half as much as he liked him.

When Rook designated their camping spot for the night, Emmrich's heart clenched with just how tired and fatigued Rook looked. Not just emotionally but physically, and the way he dropped his bag to the floor with a final thud made the mage’s heart jump in his chest.

“Will you two be alright setting up the smaller stuff while I have some time to myself?”, Rook asked, gaze almost pleading even as he willed something like a reassuring smile to his lips.

A niggling voice in the back of Emmrich’s mind said that Rook shouldn’t be by himself, even if he needed it. Maybe it was partly his perpetual need to have Rook in sight so that all felt right with the world.

But he also recognised that Rook had done more than enough today. They had walked miles and Rook hadn’t once complained, even with the evidence of his fatigue present in the dark rings under his eyes. If Rook needed time away from he and Davrin to recharge, to remind himself of where he was in the world, then that was what would happen.

“Of course. Do let us know if you need anything, Rook. We’re here for you.”

Rook’s bottom lip trembled at that, as if he might burst into tears and just give in to the reckless abandon of exhausted crying. But instead he smiled and gave Davrin a nod, and his gaze lingered on Emmrich for longer than it had their companion when he said

“Thank you. I won’t be far.”

When Rook had disappeared off with a blanket under his arm, Emmrich turned back to Davrin to find the elf giving him a look he knew very well by this point. All of the others had sent it his way too, and Emmrich felt his cheeks flushing with heat and just how very obvious he seemed to be. Well, obvious to everyone but Rook, apparently.

Trying to push his worries of Rook to the side for a moment (and failing miserably), Emmrich dived into getting their camp set up, casting glances in the direction that Rook had walked off in every so often.

—----

Emmrich managed half an hour before his mind was worrying so much about Rook that he could barely sit still and allow himself to rest. He’d been counting the minutes, every one that Rook spent wherever he was making the mage’s gut clench with nerves.

“Go and see where he is. I think he would appreciate it”, Davrin announced from across the other side of camp, making Emmrich jump as he was pulled from his looping thoughts. That Davrin thought he would be the best one to comfort Rook was gratifying, that other people thought Emmrich himself made Rook feel so comforted and safe. 

He’d never take the trust Rook placed him and the strength he gained from their friendship lightly. If he could always use that power for good, Emmrich would be a happy man.

He also didn’t need to be told twice to go and check on Rook, finding his way to his feet almost instantaneously as the mage’s mind was already far ahead of him planning just what to say to their friend and leader.

It didn’t take long to find Rook, his energy seemingly having given out on him in a nice little clearing in the woods nearby. The clearing was so pleasingly symmetrical, a beautifully wide circle glade filled with all sorts of wildflowers and buzzing bees. In the middle of this haven was Rook, spread out on his blanket, silhouetted by the sun in a way that only made him look more beautiful. Rook looked so at home here, amongst the wildflowers and beauties of nature that he adored so much, one of the other myriad of things he indulged in to help keep himself sane. 

In that moment, Emmrich was visibly reminded of his wish to take Rook to see the gardens of Nevarra City when the lilies in the ponds were in bloom, to marvel at the brightly coloured fish that came up to the water’s surface to snap at insects. If Rook would allow him he would also take him to see some of the gardens in the Necropolis on the higher levels to see the gardens borne of love and kept going by ongoing devotion that Emmrich wished so badly to feel for his own. If Rook would indulge him, Emmrich would tuck a flower behind one of his pointed ears and lead him on a dance in the magelights he would conjure to light their impromptu ballroom. Maybe if he was lucky Rook would allow Emmrich to artfully drape him over the back of his knee at the end of it all, his eyes shining as they both came back together and chanced a glance down at the other’s lips…

“Emmrich? You ok over there?”

Shattered shards of his hopeful visions cracked apart in Emmrich’s mind as he remembered where he was, gaze focusing back on Rook more clearly and the look of soft amusement on his face. Had Emmrich been staring at him slack jawed for a little while then? It wouldn’t be the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Ah, yes! I just wanted to ensure that you were alright. Perhaps ask if you wanted some company?”

The beaming smile Rook sent his way was so utterly bright compared to the thin lipped smiles the rogue had been putting on earlier. Like something had genuinely managed to lift his spirits in the last half an hour and seeing Emmrich again was the icing on the proverbial cake. Whatever the case was, Emmrich was just glad to see the man smiling and looking hopeful again. Maker, he looked pretty.

“You can cloud gaze with me, if you like. Come on over.”

Cloud gazing? Emmrich couldn’t remember the last time he had done that. The last time was probably with his mother, lying down on the ground on a picnic blanket as they both giggled to themselves over heart and nug shaped wisps of clouds. A time before he had come into his magic, even, before the whole world had taken on a different hue and cast different shadows across all of their lives.

“I’d love to!” Emmrich replied cheerfully, already making his way through the tall grass and flowers, trying his level best not to trip over or to disturb the fuzzy lazy bees too much. With every advancing step Rook came into even lovelier focus, a scabious flower to the left of his head making his eyes shine an even deeper blue. It didn’t seem possible that the space could be lightening too, that the rogue was making the sun shine brighter by his very joy at seeing Emmrich approaching him.

By the time Emmrich reached the blanket and the sitting Rook, his heart was beating out a joyous yet nervous rhythm against the inside of his ribs. How the rogue looked so effortlessly beautiful all the time was beyond Emmrich, having decided long ago to simply bask in the man’s magnificence whilst he could.

“Come on then, you”, Rook murmured as he patted the space on the blanket beside him and fuck did Emmrich want to swoon on so many levels. That their closeness meant he was described using such soft words, commanded with such a fond tone of voice. Besotted wasn't enough of a word to describe the feelings Emmrich had for Rook. Maybe there weren't words strong enough.

But if looks could convey even half of those feelings, Emmrich was sure he was showing them now as he gently lowered himself to sit beside Rook, immediately feeling more calm for being in his presence. As he studied the man across from him for a moment, it did genuinely seem that Rook had found solace in this little space. He couldn't take all the credit for this change, of course, but Emmrich hoped that he had contributed a fraction of that ease that Rook now felt within himself.

When Emmrich laid down fully on the comfortable blanket a minute later, he was more than settled in for the pair of them to remain where they were, to bask in their semi closeness where he could easily brush their hands together if they went to point at the same cloud.

But Rook surprised the mage once again by asking an earth shattering question.

“Would you hold my hand?”

Emmrich turned his attention from the sky and was almost immediately disarmed by the fond look in Rook’s eyes, the entire question such an open quest for comfort that Emmrich couldn’t resist. He put his romantic feelings aside for the moment as he nodded, hand inching across the blanket till he could feel Rook’s hand next to his. Emmrich wouldn’t describe himself as a particularly brave man, but the way he gently placed his hand on top of the rogue’s hand and laced their fingers together might be one of the bravest things he had ever done.

And Rook’s smile was more than worth the risk.

After that, it was just a case of both men turning their faces to the sky and watching the world go by. There were a number of clouds available for perusal, all being blown slowly across the expanse by a thermal wind much higher up. A collage of mist and cloud fluff that still couldn’t compare to the beauty of the man next to Emmrich.

Rook offered his first suggestion for a cloud lookalike, pointing upwards and to the left.

“If you squint, that one looks like a nug. I’ve heard that the Divine has all but filled the Grand Cathedral with the little buggers.”

“There’s got to be someone who adores those creatures, I suppose. Lake Calenhad looks a bit like a rabbit if you squint, or so I’ve been told”, Emmrich replied, glad to hear the little huff of a laugh Rook uttered under his breath.

As Emmrich pointed to a cloud to his right, he felt Rook squeeze his hand as if the rogue worried that the mage wanted to pull away.

“That one looks like an Ocularum. Researchers within the Inquisition produced a fascinating paper on them a few years ago”, Emmrich ventured, delighting in Rook’s smile of intrigue.

“I’ll have to look at it one day.”

The two men continued in this way for maybe ten minutes, occasionally lapsing into silence when no new shapes presented themselves. Emmrich was enjoying himself immensely, and it felt good to see that Rook was too. Sure he still had the dark rings under his eyes and his hand lingered nervously near his own hip sometimes, but the rogue did seem to be calmer and more present than he did before. He often squeezed Emmrich’s hand, and Emmrich was all too happy to provide reassurances that he was still there with him and present in the moment.

When Rook had lapsed into a longer silence than the others before it, Emmrich turned his head and found Rook still looking at the sky but with a bit more of a distant look on his face. Emmrich’s heart ached for him, it truly did, and he wanted to be exactly what Rook needed, whatever he needed.

In the end, Emmrich simply said

“Are you alright? You don’t have to be, you know. None of us would judge you for it.”

Rook’s lower lip trembled again as if he was on the verge of tears, the rogue gently biting down on it a moment later to stop it from shaking. A gloved hand went to cover his eyes for a moment as the man took a long, deep breath in and out. He was clearly grounding himself, and Emmrich didn’t want to disrupt that.

Eventually Rook lifted his hand away from his eyes and turned to look at Emmrich once more, a sad sort of resignation in his eyes.

“Today I’m not. But I’m happy to be here with you.”

The man's voice was distinctly wobbly, and Emmrich's heart knew exactly how that feeling felt. That Rook found his presence so comforting, that he was looking at him with such trust and fondness in his eyes was star shattering. That he allowed Emmrich to comfort him, asked him to hold his hand, made Emmrich feel just as safe and treasured in reverse!

Joy beyond description.

“I'll always be happy to be by your side”, Emmrich murmured, deciding to be brave for the second time today as he let go of Rook's hand and opened his arms instead. With something that sounded like a soft sob, Rook was quick to slot himself against the necromancer's side, throwing an arm over Emmrich's middle. With a soft sigh that matched Rook's own, Emmrich gently wrapped his arms around Rook and gave him a soft little squeeze, resigned to the fact that the man in his arms would hear his racing heart.

“I'll always be here, whatever you need. You can always count on me and my affection for you, my dear.”

A delightful giggle from Rook made Emmrich's chest vibrate, and his heart leapt into his stomach as the rogue threw a leg over the mage's own for good measure.

“Thank you, Emmrich. You really are one of a kind, and a true treasure to me.”

If heaven existed on this mortal plain, Emmrich Volkarin would have sworn that this was what it felt like.