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im-just-a-boy-guys · 2 months

Note

Would you be willing to write something along the lines of a female human getting bred by some minotaurs? The idea of being used like a breeding cow for those massive creatures just sends me in a dizzy (and the size difference *swoons*)

I absolutely love your work and would love to see your take on this ❤️

This is so HOT. ESPECIALLY bc one of my system members has a huge hucow kink. MAKE SURE YOU TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS IF YOU SEND AN ASK. you won't be notified unless it's non anonymous.

PART 2 IS OUT NOW!

(This story is kinda long, but I got excited, and there's lots of sex :3 if you want to scroll down to the juicy bits, the bg changes from pink to green.

If you want part 2 I'd be happy to oblige!

FEM! AFAB READER ON MINOTAUR BREEDING FARM. MILKING/BREEDING/DRUGGING!

(Psa, I do my nest to correct spelling, but some things may be misspelled. :] )

You had just signed up for a summer job working on a farm. You're relatively strong and have managed to build muscle while you were doing other forms of work and heavy lifting. You'd been trying to bulk up to make this easier and had gained a little but of weight that had mainly gone to your chest.

This made you slightly insecure because it made it harder to shop for good bras, but hopefully that could be changed when you had enough money from this job to do so.

You receive a phone call, the voice heavy and gruff.

"Hello? Is this (y/n)?"

"Yes it is!", you answered in your bubbly work voice, though you were very exited, hoping it was one of the places you'd applied for.

"Wonderful. This is the dairy farm Cali Dairy? I'm looking at your application, and you look like you'd be a perfect fit for what we're looking for."

He sounded so sweet, and both this and the acceptance made your heart race. He was a good sign that the company would probably be good to its employees.

"That's amazing! When and where do I meet you? Is there an interviewing process for information or will that he sent to me?"

He chuckled softly into the phone at your eagerness.

"Yes. The information will be sent to the email attached to your resume."

"Thank you so much! Have a great day!"

"You too."

He replied as you ended the call. You squealed into your pillow and anxiously awaited the email.

A ping sounded on your computer and you clicked on the notification. The email reads,

___________

"Dear applicant,

We are happy to welcome you to the Cali Dairy family!

Please meet with the supervisor, Daniel, at 477 Milky Whey, Sacramento, California. 95872. On Monday, August 5th at 10.30 AM.

(This is not a real place, and I hope you like the pun.)

You will be moving to one of our in-house apartments. You will be shown around and be given ample time to move and adjust.

If you have any questions, please reply to this email and we will get back to you soon.

Sincerely, Cali Dairy.

_________

When you applied, you saw something about comfortability moving for work and had selected yes, but you didn't know the extent of it. You didn't think much about it and figured that anything you needed to know would be explained on Monday when you met the supervisor.

You wondered if the supervisor was the same kind of sounding man on the phone but passed the thought off to the side as you began to plan on packing.

The coming week and a half passed as you began to pack up your own apartment, you wanted to make the move as easy as you possibly could to work sooner and you figured you'd just unpack after your shifts.

You prepared your outfit for the next day excitedly, deciding on a baggy older shirt with a bike design on it and a pair of your straight leg work jeans. You didn't expect to work on the first day, but you wanted to be prepared just in case.

The next morning, you woke to your 8 am alarm, your body vibrating with excitement. You took a 30 minuite shower, making sure to use extra of all of your various coffee scented soaps and scrubs. You topped it off with a heavily scented, "whisky and coffee" lotion and dryed your hair, and put it up in an old soft tee shirt, a trick you'd learned from your mom.

You slipped I your clothes, by now 8:45 and pulled the tee shirt off of your head and list let your hair down, de-tangling it quickly before grabbing your phone, keys, and anything else you'd need.

You shoved the various things into your bag and drove to the address you were given. The further and further out you got from the city. The open roads lead into fields of various crops and trees. Redwoods were tall and towered lightly along the road side and you enjoyed the scenery. If this was where you were going to be, you'd be happy about it. The drive was so peaceful, and much better than the traffic you were used to.

You arrived at a large, farm house- looking building and pulled into a paved driveway full of a few other vehicles. As you looked around, there were various small walking trails to other buildings with various lables and signs scattered almost like a college campus. The sign on the building you pulled up two read, "reception and Managerial office."

You smiled and gathered your things, turning the car engine off and stepping out. You could feel the energy charging through your veins as you walked over to the steps of the quaint building.

As you entered, there was a front desk, no one was there but there was a small paper taped to the front of the desk.

"New hire, the office is down the hallway, the supervisor should be waiting for you."

You meandered down the hallway and gently rapped ( a soft knock, usually with two out of your 4 main fingers) softly on the door.

"Come in." You heard the low voice through the door, deep but still light. You entered and looked around the office before your eyes landed on the bigger -man? Behind the desk.

You'd seen many other species in your day to day but you'd never met a Minotaur, but there one sat. His thin coat was shiny on the parts that weren't covered by the sizable black polo shirt he was wearing. You could see just below his waist to the brown leather belt and blue jeans he wore.

They squeezed lightly around his large thighs, you couldn't help but stare and hadn't noticed you were.

"Hello, y/n?"

You smiled as you were snapped back to reality.

"Yes, that's me!", your face flushed. He looked kind of nice in what he was wearing.

"I hope I'm not under dressed - I sincerely thought I might be doing some lifting today or just starting work, so I wanted to be sure -"

He cut you off and smiled - "It's alright. I don't blame you. I'm just a manager so don't let my atire fool you. I'll show you around if you'd like."

You beamed and nodded, clutching your bag over your shoulder. He stood, and you could hear the wooden floor creak under his weight. He was huge, at least a couple of feet taller than you.

"My name is Daniel, by the way. It's very nice to meet you."He held his big hand out to shake.

You were just now looking at his features, a slightly humanoid bull head sat on strong shoulders, the colors of his fur were so beautiful, deep browns blending into whites around his nose and eyes. His eyes were a deep brown and they shown in the sun as he looked down at you.

You took his hand to shake it, and he gripped your hand very softly and shook once. He held your hand so gently for such a bug creature. He was so beautiful, it was all you could think about. As he passed you, you realized that you were only chest hight, the thought made you blush deeply.

"You coming?" He chuckled as he walked out of the office.

You scrambled to get behind him as he led the way, and you were happy to follow. As you two walked along the path ways. You passed a smaller building that read "Medic" and locked your head.

"First thing, you go into this building. This is where you will have your physical, where our nurse will check you over and make sure you're fit to work."

You nod and walk into the building. He doesn't follow.

It's a one room doctors office. You walk in and see a slender red head turned away from you, facing a counter. She seems to be investigating a sample of some kind.

She must've heard you walk in as she turned around halfway.

"Hey! How can I help you? You need a bandaid or something?"

She didn't recognize you hut was clearly preoccupied.

"I'm a new hire - I'm here for my physical?" You offered this answer shyly. She was very pretty. You saw her fully as she turned around, her face was thin and her nose slightly pointed. She turned to the side to grab something, a Greek nose. She was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen, even more than the burley man you'd left him outside.

Her eyes were a bright, shining blue. "A physical, huh? It's been a minute since we've gotten a newbie. Alright, sit on the table." She gestured to the doctors table.

You hopped up onto the table, which caused your large chest to bounce and recoil. You blushed and gently put your hand on your chest to hold them still.

She looked to the side at you and smiled.

"Yeah, big chests are so much fun-" she gestured to her own chest, which was actually now that you looked. Almost just as big as yours.

"That being said, we're going to do some measurements and get you a special support bra. The world you do is going to have a lot of moving, so we want you to have the maximum posture assistance and comfort that helps protect your back and chest. This does mean that I'm going to have to touch your chest. Are you alright with that?",

You nodded, and the blush spread from your cheeks to your ears. "Yes, that'll be okay -"

She nodded and pulled out a clip board and readied it. With one hand. She gently felt across your chest, very gently squeezing and prodding in different places. She would ask if you could feel a touch here and asked if it hurt when she pressed in another spot, all of this caused your pussy to scream. Her hands were so gentle, and your chest was so sensitive.

She began to pick up on it and would grab harder here and there. She finally stopped and wrote down a few things on her clipboard.

"Bra size looks to be a double or triple D? Thirty-six, maybe?"

She was right, "yeah, 36 DDD." The woman nodded and waved her hand.

"Alright, we're done. You can go. My name is Dr Sylvia. It's a pleasure to meet you, and you are?"

"(Y/n), nice to meet you too."

"Alright, you can go now."

You thanked her and left the building, finding Daniel leaning against the wall to the side of the door.

"You done already?"

"Yes."

"Alright." He continued to lead you around

To various buildings, one of which reading "Spa" as you passed it.

"Oh there's a spa?", Daniel nodded.

"We take good care of our employees here. We make sure they're all relaxed. Relaxed workers work harder and better. Science fact." He smiled proudly.

He showed you around until about 2:30pm and asked you if you had any questions. You asked about your moving situation and what was paid for and what wasn't. He informed you that in a couple of days or when you were done packing, moving men would come help me move my things if I call him to ask.

Once everything was sorted, you made your way home, through the beautiful fields and trees just kind of talking in your own head.

Your mind and heart raced as you thought about your attractive new coworkers. They were both so incredible looking and both seemed so genuine and sweet.

Once you arrived home, you found your cunt drooling and a light buzzing in your clit, you needed to get off so badly. You wandered over to your drawer, undressing from the waist down with one hand as you fumble with the buttons. Once that gentle hum starts, you practically shove it between your legs, crying out as the vibrations sent pulses through your throbbing cunt.

You fought to get out of your underwear, desperate to shove something inside of yourself. You were just desperate to have something in you - God anything.

You thrust your index and middle finger into your wet hole, moving them around right up against your g spot. Your moans fill the room, not caring much about your neighbors. It was one of your last nights anyway.

This turned into hours and hours of teasing and edging yourself. Rolling around in bed and imagining the two beautiful creatures tossing you between the two of them, choking on the Minotaur's cock while the Dr ate your pussy, this thought alone was enough to make you ruin your sheets with cum, squiriting violently and crying out.

You breathed hard as your orgasm shook you softly as it fizzled out. "Fuck-", you mumbled to yourself and cleaned up, changing the sheets.

You weren't required to come into work until your things were moved so you spent the next week finishing packing and called Daniel. You found yourself giddy to talk with him.

"Hello?"

"Hey! It's (y/n) everything is all packed up and I'm ready to move officially whenever."

"Alright. Make sure you mark boxes fragile, then come here in your car and bring a bag for your essentials, I'll show you your apartment and give you your key."

You giggled softly,covering the mouth peace of the phone. "Yep! No problem!", you excitedly grabbed a marker and made absolutely certain that anything you COULD carry you would. Any small things you would need were transported to your car and you drove to the place you had met the larger man the week prior.

Once she arrived, the sun was setting and she walked to where she knew the man's office was and found the door open. He stood, and she once again remembered her size.

"Alright. I'm going to drive my stuck, you follow me in your car and I'll show you where the apartment is."You followed him out and started up your car. You watched him get into his and follow him around the plot of land to a set of nice-looking buildings with balconies.

He parks in front of building number 256. Daniel smiled as he stepped out of His car. He tossed me my key and you cought it, smiling smugly. He raised an eyebrow to you as if to playfully question your ego. Daniel walked foward and you followed him to aparrtment 27,, thankfully one of the upper apartments. this meant you wouldnt hav an upstairs neighbor. when you unlocked the door, you walked in and gasped at how big the space was.

"Do you like it? We'd be happy to change the room if it's not to your liking.", You gasped and shook your head.

"No no no- it's amazing! This is the biggest apartment I've ever seen!"

You walked in to a large, light hardwood floor, that space leading into an open kitchen across the room from the front door. In the far left of the living room, a hallway that probobly lead to the bed and bathroom. You wandered across the room and into the hallway, to the left was the bathroom, showcasing a large walk- in, rain shower. in the corner, a large round bath tub.

You gasped more in awe. These people had to be some sort of loaded - you'd figured being it was 26 dollars an hour, at least that was the most you'd ever been paid.

As you walked through, Daniel watched you carefully, watching your expression and smiling to himself. You walked into the bedroom, which was carpeted and ginormous. On the far side, right-hand side of the room, there was a door to the balcony.

In the middle of the room, there was a mattress up against the wall.

"I've just received a text that the guys are at your place, and I have them grabbing your bed frame in a separate car. We supply the mattress because we like to ensure your comfort. This brand has been proven to be the most comfortable."

You nod absentmindedly, just excited you were at the new place.

"You start Wednesday, I'll leave you to unpack and get as comfortable as you can." He bowed his head lightly as a goodbye and left the apartment.

You were honestly pretty tired from all of the excitement and just fell asleep on the empty mattress, which wad infact the most comfortable one you'd ever laid on.

Over the coming three days, you unpacked and built your bedframe, turning your apartment more and more into your own every day. The movers had brought your things unto the living room area while you were asleep, which only worried you slightly, but nothing had happened, so you brushed it off.

It was now your real first day. You hear a ring at your doorbell and see a package on the ground. You take it inside and unpack what looks to be a new braw, the one the Dr was talking about assumedly.

You slip it on and adjust yourself as needed, finding joy in the comfort and support. There was an adjustable posture corrector built in with small straps to help adjust from under your arms.

You slipped on a tee shirt over the bra, just another one of your old vintage tees you used for work and your work jeans. You receive a text telling you to meet the Dr at the 'stables' in 15 minutes.

You were super excited. You loved form animals and wondered which one you'd be working with, saying stables would probably mean horses or just a holding for cows.

You drove over to the stable section and parked your car in the small lot in front of the building. You could see a pen that stretched around the back side of the building, but you couldn't see what was in the. The Dr Sylvia met you at the door and smiled.

"Well well. So I see the bra came in. Looks good on you if you don't mind me saying. Is jt comfortable?"

You smiled. "Absolutely! I love it."

A sly smirk slipped across her face. "I'm going to be honest, "You're not going to wear it more in your free time to help build posture and, of course, for when you go out. But this job is alittle different from most. "

This confused you, of course, because in that case, why make the bra and say it was for work? Regardless, she followed her into the building as we're met with an incredibly loud wiring and another sound you couldn't quite place because the sound was so overiden by the machine noise.

The Dr showed you to a small stall that was to your surprise, empty aside from a few things you weren't paying much attention to. The Dr smiled and pulled a small syringe out of her pocket full of a clear liquid.

You cocked your head slightly. "This is an ati-biotic that will help with possible issues with the bulls. Just incase there's anything that we don't catch in time it keeps you from getting sick."

This made sense, so you held out your arm for her, and she shot it into a vein. Within minutes, you felt lightly energetic and then very euphoric. Sylvia smiled as she saw this take effect, and your mind fogged.

She led you into the contraption you hadn't really seen until now, a small bench with arm and leg cuffs. "Undress please", you knew better but couldn't help it. Whatever this was was a truth serum on steroids or something.

Except, instead of telling the truth, you just did everything you were told. You stripped down sheepishly, and she helped you straddle the bench and lock your limbs into place. She adjusted the bench so the back was slightly higher than the front.

Your breasts hung over the front, and a separate arm slipped into place around them, holding your nipples to be aimed down at the ground.

You could feel your chest begin to ache, yout tits felt- full? You were just coming to terms with the possibility of what was about to happen and began to panic internally, though with no real affect to your body, which felt heavily sedated.

You could hear the machine noise start to get quieter, and moans radiated from the stalls around you. Your face flushed as you came to further terms with what was going to happen, then it clicked - bulls. Was there going to be more Minotaurs?

Just then, a door opened up behind you, and you heard huffing as a solution was spread across your entrance, sticking gently between your lips.

"Alright. You are perfectly safe, and all of our bulls know to be gentle with our newcomers. This doesn't mean they won't be exited, but you'll definitely adjust. This Gate behind you will open, and the bulls will be let in."

Sylvia smiled softly and gently ran her fingers through your hair. "You're gorgeous." She winked and left the stall. You heard a latch lock into place, and a buzzer sound as the gate behind you opened

You tried to listen, but it was harder and harder to stay focused. You were feeling less and less sentient by the minute, and God did your tits feel heavy.

You heard scuffing against the hay that coated the wooden floor and tried to listen harder, not knowing what to expect. There sounded like multiple creatures stepping.

The big hulking creatures investigated you, groping softly at your flesh.

"She's perfect," one of them grunted.

"I call first dibs!" You heard what sounded like impact and assumed they were pushing each other around.

Were they fighting over you? The idea made you swoon.

Soon, you felt something wide pressing gently against your entrance.

"Fuck she's so tight!-", one of them moaned out softly as he began to gently tease his tip into your hole. You moaned out softly. You'd had sex a few times, but it was nothing special, but these creatures were so huge. Their tip felt bigger than most toys you'd used if you stacked them onto each other.

He was infact very gentle at first, the other Minotaur walked over infront of you, his cock was room hard and the size of your head, you couldn't help but drool as he gently opened your mouth with his thumb.

"She's pretty too- can't wait to fuck her throat. Her lips are so plush she looks like she gives good head-", He chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your lips, slipping it into your mouth. You sucked softly, you couldn't help it.

Your cunt grew wetter and tried to stretch, gripping desperately at the other creatures' tip. You moaned over the Minotaur in front of you, and he raised his tip to your lips, pulling his thumb out.

You found yourself opening your mouth for him, though not sure if any of it would fit. He chuckled.

"Adam, this one's very eager to please - she might be my new favorite."

"Mine too - fuuck I could do this all day with just my head. I can't wait to feel her pussy when I'm all the way in-"

You blushed softly. You were so watery, but you did feel happy to be used to be useful. He gently pressed his head against your lips, and you tried to greet him with your tongue, licking softly around the exposed head.

You even tried to lean forward slightly to accommodate you. He smiled and stepped forward.

"Oh my god, her tongue is god send-"

"Were gonna have to swap - I wanna try -"

This must've been normal to them. They talked and bickered like this is a daily occurance- favorite? Maybe they'd pick you more- his cock feels so good and it was barely in at all.

As time passed, they began to push themselves further and further into your holes, making themselves fit. Soon enough, adam was keeping a steady rythem and fucking you, his tip alone tickled your cervix without even trying, while the other held your jaw gently while he fucked into your throat.

"Just breathe through your nose and relax your throat, sweetheart. Makes it hurt less."

You found yourself blushing. He was so kind of considering. You listened to his advice, and it made the experience more heavenly. You had been trying to figure out how to do it comfortably for a while. You had a tough oral fixation that you'd been trying to fulfill.

This was everything you never knew you always wanted, your cunt dripped wet around Adam's cock and you drooled on the others, taking them both as far into you as you could.

"How's her mouth feel, Erin?"

"Fucking amazing, she's so good at it!"

You smiled to the best of your ability around him and tried to move your tongue as he thrusted.

Erin's hands moved to the back of your head to steady it as he moved, yiu could feel his cock throbbing in your throat and even swallowed around him to help him finish, moaning lewdly anyway from Adam's roughness with your pussy.

"Fuck I'm so close!", Erin called out and his hips picked up speed, your brain went almost entirely foggy, this was the best thing you'd ever experienced, Adam groaned and he picked up speed aswell, you could feel his knot pressing up against your entranced as he desperately tried to fuck it into you.

Within five minutes he'd managed to shove his knot in your drooling cunt and Erin pushed his knot to your lips as he came harshly down your throat, you choked lightly but tried your best to swallow.

Adam spewed cum what felt like right into your womb and you cried out and coughed slightly against Eric's length. He pulled out of your mouth and you gasped for air.

"You're stuck here for a minute, doll. Gotta make sure you get bred properly."

You nodded and gripped at his shaft with your walls. During the wait period, Erin smiled and petted your head gently, playing with your hair.

"You did such a good job for us. We're gonna swap out and have s'more fun with you, and then you'll get your pretty tits milked." He chuckled and gropped one of your aching breasts. You whined and struggled lightly against your restraints.

"I'd better not. Dr Sylvia gets irritated if we milk you and waste it."

You were confused about the milking, but you truly felt like a breeding cow. It was your favorite thing.

After a moment, finally Adam's knot swelling went down, and he was able to pull out of you. His cum spilled out of you and slipped down your thighs. It was so warm. They swapped places and you finally were eye to eye with the cock that had filled you to your cervix and allyou could think about was getting it into your mouth.

You opened your mouth for him, sticking your togue out. He pressed his head to your tongue and immediately shoved unto your throat. As Adam plunged unto your throat, Erin pushed violently into your stretched, swollen pussy.

They both let go of being gentle, fucking you roughly from both ends, your brain just melted into what you now knew to be affection from the two bulls. If you were turned into a cow for them. So be it.

You were reeling and losing your mind as they used you, your cunt gripped at Eric harshly as you came violently and squirted against the bench you were against.

This caused Eric to shove his knot in you, he cane quicker than he thought he could, he'd never had a pissy so good and he was so sensitive from the first use that it was so easy.

Adam, however, was not satisfied so easily, gripping your head and absentmindedly fucking roughly into your throat, his knot pressing against the your mouth. You did everything you could just like with the other, massaging his coks with your throat as you moaned and swallowed against him. He groaned and gripped your hair as his cock throbbed.

"Fuck- fuck- right there, fuck your tongue is so good!", He grunted as he pushed into your throat as far as he could and came down your throat, you swallowed against him, sucking on him like a straw.

He pulled out of your mouth and chuckled, petting your head softly. Both of the creatures bent down in front of you and littered your face with licks and kisses, both of them groping you softly and affectionately.

"You were wonderful, love. Thank you for your time." They left through the gate. They came in and pressed a button that closed the gate, a soft alarm sounded, and the Dr came in.

"Well, did you have fun on your first day?"

She smiled and carried a machine into the stall, a pump of some kind and attached the sucker's to your breasts.

You nodded haphazardly, and she turned on the machine. Your tits were so sensitive, but them finally being drained from being so heavy was so relieving. Your legs quivered and sme smiled up at you, crouched on the ground.

"Look at you! You took them so well. And you'll do this every day and be driven back to your apartment by an assistant. We'll have someone take your car back to the parking lot, and you can be picked up as well to make it easier. We just have to assign you a caretaker. If you don't mind, I'd like that to be me."

She looked up at you with those beautiful eyes, and how could you say no? Your tits were empty before you knew it, and she detached the sucker's.

"Look at all the milk you made! Wow!"

She sat it down to the side and gathered your clothes for you and wrapped you up in a robe shed briyght, helping you back to the little golf cart she used to get around. She helped you in and handed you your clothes to hold and put your milk container on the back.

She drove you to your apartment, letting you rest quietly. Once you arrived at your building, she helped you up the stairs and into your apartment, which she was given an extra key to. Sylvia helped you into your room and laid you down on the bed.

"You should rest for an hour and then take a bath to help relax your muscles and, of course, clean up. Have a good night."

She left you alone to your dazed thoughts. You sobered up from whatever shot she gave you and cleaned yourself up. You were so excited for tomorrow.

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thenightcallsme · 11 months

Text

Do I Make you Nervous? | Simon "Ghost" Riley

little re-upload from my AO3 :)

Synopsis: When Task Force 141 is betrayed by Philip Graves, they're forced to separate. Y\N fights her way through the foreign Las Almas with a broken radio and no sense of direction. Yet, somehow, she finds herself in the same church her lieutenant, Simon "Ghost" Riley, seeks sanctuary in. As they attempt to brave the storm sweeping through the streets, the infamously unreadable Ghost challenges their professional relationship.

Pairing: Ghost x F!141reader

Contains: fluff, kissing, use of Y/N, hint of angst but resolved in the end, vague mentions of blood/wounds

Word count: 5,874

• • • • •

It was all a set-up. A lie.

Disappointment and anger triumphs any sadness over Grave's betrayal. At first, he came across as over-confident in that stereotypical male way. Over time I had warmed up to him. But Shepherd? The man who has given me the most freedom I’ve had in a long time? I admit that my use as a weapon to him has put a strain on our companionship, but to station me with my own cousin only to lash out unprovoked? He’s crossed a line that he can never come back from. The small liking I had for the man vanished as soon as shit hit the fan. Everything seems to replay in my mind. Alejandro insulted and detained, Johnny shot at, Ghost cornered...

There were too many of them to fight off. I couldn't trust myself to hold my own with my mind worrying over Johnny, Alejandro and Ghost while also plotting Shepherd's death. So, though it pained me, I ran. Ghost and Johnny did the same.

My radio was damaged in the incident. A stray bullet flew my way, and with a stroke of luck, grazed the radio instead of my ribs. The close call was enough warning to run, which is what I do now. The lack of communication only worsens the worry.

Shadows crawl in the streets of Las Almas like rats in a sewer. From door to door they go, yelling at innocent civilians in the late hours of dusk. From the conversations I've heard, they're looking for two foreign men and their female friend. They don't quite explain why we're being hunted, but the truth wouldn't change much. Every so often, a shot fires, echoing through the streets like a warning bell. A call of sorrow and fear.

With the Shadows forcing their way into civilian homes and raising their weapons against anyone who could harbour us, houses and shops aren't safe. The towering cathedral spires peeking above tin roofs and stacked houses catch my attention instead. Nobody would be inside at this time of night. For now, it's the best I can do. Also to my luck, the church isn't too far away. I take my time and keep to the shadows on my way. With a quick survey of my surroundings, I know I've bet the Shadows to this part of the city. That won't last long. The revelation has me jumping the gate within seconds of making it.

Inside the church is pitch black. Towering windows that tell biblical tales line the walls, casting light in intervals across the empty foyer. Rows of seats begin to emerge as my eyes adjust. Further back is an intricate, circular skylight tens of feet above the marble floor. Illuminating the altar below is a waterfall of silvery light. The giant cross, gold statues, and wooden altar glow like I'm looking through a blurred lens. The view is both eerie and magical...and not meant to be marvelled at in a time like this. My focus should be maintaining high ground. I begin to turn in search of a staircase when something shifts in the darkness.

A figure materialises, tall and built; easily a male physically capable of snapping my neck. My next best option is the gun strapped to my hip to parry the one in his hand. I go to reach for mine—

“Y/N?”

I freeze in surprise, but my mind eases slightly.

“Lieutenant? How—”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re here now.” He looks down at me with searching eyes. “You in one piece?”

“Yes. You—?” At that moment, my own eyes skim his body, only to halt at a worrying sight. On the left side of his waist, just above the waistband of his pants, is a blooming, dark red stain on his shirt. He’s been shot. “Jesus, Ghost. How bad is it?”

“I’ve had worse—”

He stops himself at the distant shouting. The surrounding streets haven’t been quiet since I’ve been in the church, but this time it grows closer. Angrier. Ghost doesn’t waste time ushering me along in search of a stairwell. The one we find leads to the second floor, then a third. Eventually, we discover the central bell tower. The room is dank and cold and decently big. Suspended in the middle is a gigantic bell. Even in the dark, I can see how weathered the metal is. The worn wooden floors creak as we cross it. On each wall are arched openings that allow entry to the cold night air and terrified screams. A small cluster of discarded furniture draped in white sheets huddles in a corner. From here, we have a perfect view of the sprawling city and winding streets. To those down there, we’re invisible.

Simon leans back against a wall and grunts, his hands brushing over the bullet wound. He pulls back his hands to inspect the fresh blood. However bad it is, it’s still bleeding.

“Show me,” I say. My voice comes out more demanding than I intend.

He gives me a brief exasperated look but doesn’t push back.

Ghost sits against the wall with his shoulders slumped just enough to reach my level. His jacket is unzipped, his black shirt rolled up halfway. Those tired, piercing eyes and muscular arms are the most I've ever seen of him. It feels like a reward when the weather is unforgiving enough to chase away his usual long-sleeve or jacket. His arms are tanned and muscled, with a tattoo sleeve working from the wrist of his left arm up to his elbow. I’ve begun to accept that it’s the closest I’m ever going to get to seeing him. But now I stare down at his bare abdomen.

The waistband of his black cargo pants sits low on his hips, offering a distracting view of a pronounced V-line and abs. In the moonlight, I can make out the reminders of war that mark his skin; a few silvery scars, some clean-cut, some gnarled and twisted; an old bullet wound healed closer to his ribs. The fresh one with the most of my attention is buried in a more acceptable spot. It nestles into the far right side of his waist, thankfully nowhere near any vital organs. However, it’s still a bullet wound and it still bleeds. That’s enough to worry me.

“Do you reckon it’s bad?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say I’m dying.”

“But we aren’t in the position to get proper help. Maybe sit down for a bit.” Surprisingly, he does so without question. I get to my feet, draw a small knife from my thigh holster, and rip a strip of fabric from the white sheets. When I drop back down beside him, I take a deep breath. “Here"

He takes it with a mumbled thank you and wraps the fabric around his waist.

“You heard from John?” I ask.

Simon winces as he adjusts the torn sheet. “I radioed him multiple times. Never got an answer.”

“Are you surprised by all this?”

Simon leans back against the wall. “I tend to be less surprised by betrayal. But I had some respect for Shepherd.”

I sigh, shuffling around him so that I can do the same. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“Survive,” he says. “Shepherd wants you alive. Graves will see to that. He can’t kill Alejandro, either. But Johnny and I…” He shakes his head. “Graves won’t sleep until there’s a bullet in our heads and Shepherd won’t care enough to stop it.”

There’s a moment of silence as I fold my arms and look away thoughtfully. How are we supposed to do this? The blanket of night and the ensuing storm may offer some cover, but getting out of the city will be a mission. I can’t bring myself to leave without John, either. My heart hurts when I think about him. He could be anywhere, alone and outnumbered while I sit uselessly in a bell tower.

“What do we do about Johnny?” My voice is quiet. Fearful. “My radio was damaged so I couldn’t reach out to him. Maybe his is the same. But not knowing… He’s the only family I have left. My only real friend.”

“Don’t worry about Johnny. He’s one of the most resourceful and strong-willed Sergeants I’ve dealt with in a while. Have faith in him.” He looks at me then, tilting his head to the side. “I wouldn’t say he’s your only friend.”

“I do quite like his girlfriend…” I murmur.

“And Alejandro? Ronaldo?”

I purse my lips as his question draws thought. I’ve been considering Alejandro and Ronaldo as allies. Companions. But I’ve grown quite fond of them. Considering them as friends would set me up for heartache if anything were to happen. So I haven’t… At least openly. Despite my attempts to create some distance in our relationships, my subconscious has decided for me. Those two are my friends. It explains the immense distress I’m battling over Alejandro’s capture.

“I guess so.”

“Me?”

Silence ensues from both of us.

His question stuns me; I was prepared for him to stop at Alejandro and Ronaldo. There’s nobody else in Las Almas or back at home that I pay attention to. Besides Ghost, at least. I could answer him in a second. I almost do.

Ghost is infamous for his detachment. He’s quiet, short-tempered, dangerous and mysterious. I’ve heard the comments that he suits his code name. Spiritual beings do not communicate through speech but through action. Ghost is the physical embodiment of the epiphany. Anybody able to coax a few sentences from him outside missions is admirable. Outside of that, his physical emotions require deep analysis and theory to understand. The mask only makes things more difficult. I’ve never seen him show palpable kindness through his aura or words to anyone, never heard him allow the use of his name, never heard him offer others insight into the raging whirlwind of his mind.

And yet he lets those things slide around me.

He lets me speak his name when no one is listening. He offers me comfort when I need it most — if not through limited words, through soft gazes and a hand on my shoulder. I’m usually able to get him talking. Sometimes I receive short answers, sometimes I receive enough to help me understand more of that whirlwind mind. He even occasionally shows pieces of himself that take away from the guessing game I usually play.

I shut people out because the last people I let in betrayed me.

I never consider answering personal questions, but you tend to have a lot of them. And every time you ask…I almost answer

I guess you and I are more alike than I thought.

All of it has me wanting more. More of his mind, his words, the soft gazes I’ve noticed are reserved for me. What I already have is nothing compared to every naked truth he could be telling me. However, what I’ve managed to coax from him seems to be more than he’s told anyone in a long time. At first, I marked it down as me being the only female on the team or Ghost considered me fragile. But I've proved myself, and nothing about being a 'fragile female' (which I very well am not) does not automatically give me all these passes. I now realise it is much more than that.

Never once has he called me his friend. I already have. Now it’s his turn.

“I don’t mind you, Simon, but friendship can’t be one-sided,” I say. While it’s a simple statement, a silent question hides between each word. Are you my friend?

“If it was as one-sided as you think, you wouldn’t be calling me Simon.”

My heart skips a beat. There. It’s an answer to my unspoken words, but it’s not plain as day. As usual, Simon tells me something that is anything but straightforward. There’s room for interpretation in his answer—something that is beginning to tire me. It’s almost as if the honest answer is criminal and he’s trying to cover up his tracks. Almost as if not speaking that honest answer can allow him to deny it.

I don't bother concealing my annoyance. “That’s not what I want to hear and you know it.”

“Fuck sakes, Y\N, I said it,” he says. His voice comes out both argumentative and exasperated.

“No, you didn't. All I ever get out of you is stuff that works around the truth. Stuff I have to think about to understand.” I'm crossing a line, I know. I just can't help it. “What’s so hard about admitting it?”

“Don’t.”

His tone is final. I don’t care.

“Does the truth scare you?”

His eyes squint, becoming barely visible against the black paint, the mask, and the low light. I can clearly picture a scowl jumping across the many faces I’ve imagined. While I want to flinch away, I don’t. Not for a second do my eyes lower, and not for a second do I grow offensive. I remain calm and collected, which I think annoys him more.

“You want the truth?” he growls. The accent of Manchester seems to thicken. “Fine. I’ll tell you the truth. I don’t want to admit I think of you as a friend ‘cause I bloody well want to ignore it. For years, it’s only been me and I planned it to be for the rest of my life. Then all of a sudden you and your annoying cousin appear and jeopardise everything. The only person with an inkling of anything was Shepherd and I was fine with that. But now you’re catching up to him. You’ve so effortlessly undone everything I’ve worked hard to maintain.” The growl in his voice dies down the longer he speaks. In the last sentence, his voice is quiet, defeated, but a little begrudging. “And I knowingly let you.”

“If it was bothering you that much, you should have told me,” I say with a voice equally as quiet. “If I knew you didn’t want me to know so badly, I would have respected that.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand. I think about telling you everything. I may get pissy at you over your questions, but…” A sigh. The truth is shameful to him. “I look forward to them.”

“If it makes you feel any better…” I laugh a little. “It’s really annoying how intriguing you are. Not just your past and your face… When I’m not trying to guess what you look like, I’m refraining from asking you stupid questions. Shit like if you’re a cat or dog person.”

“Dog person,” he replies. Any hint of anger or annoyance has disappeared. “Cats have too much attitude.”

I squint. “You just don’t appreciate them.”

“You strike me as a cat person.” He pauses in thought. “You just remind me of a cat, really.”

I raise my brows, giving him an exasperated look. “Are you going to tell me I have an attitude?”

“Maybe. But there’s more to it.”

I cock my head in question.

“Cats are friendly. Independent.” His eyes shift and I wonder if there's a smirk beneath the mask. “Curious.”

“Was that another dig at my questions?”

“Yes. Now shut up and listen.”

Before he continues, I find myself turning my body so I can fully look at him, my shoulder against the concrete walls and my legs folded beneath me.

“There’s that look in their eyes that they know your worst thoughts. Your secrets. They’re also graceful. Got that high-class elegance about them. But they can be unpredictable, striking out when you least expect. Once they sink their claws into you…” His eyes search my face. “You can’t get rid of them.”

I look up at him in wonder, my mouth slightly agape as I try to find a suitable response. Nothing I could say would express the way his words sink in. I’ve always coined Simon to be the observant type, keeping to himself and remaining silent. But I never expected him to relay his finds. His usual short, sharp answers contrast the compliment greatly.

“I think…” A small smile curves my lips upwards. “…That was the most meaningful compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Never. Now I have a question.”

“The floor is yours.”

“Do you have, like, Queen Elizabeth tattooed on your face? The British flag?” I grin. “Something mask-worthy, you know?”

“Why does it have to be something British?”

“Because there’s no way you’re the only Brit I know that isn’t somewhat stereotypical.”

Simon huffs a laugh. “No stereotypical tattoos. Sorry to disappoint.”

“A big scar, then?”

He tilts his head. “No scars that make me want to wear it.”

I raise my brows. “So you do have a scar?”

“Only one big one.”

“Good to know.” I nod my head with thoughtful eyes. “I’ll add that to a mental note.”

His eyes widen a fraction. The skull sown to his balaclava only offers the view of his painted eyes and nothing. Not even his eyebrows. I guess he’s raising them in question.

“How often do you think about this?”

I let out a long breath. “You have no idea. I change what I think you look like every day.”

“What do you think I look like.”

I go quiet in thought for a moment. As I said, the image changes… Only more frequently than I want to admit. Sometimes the change is small. Sometimes the change is big. I know I’m not the only one stumped by this, either. John and I joked over it once. He said things eluding to him being unattractive. A crooked nose, a huge scar, broken teeth. Every time he made a guess I would laugh, but never did the ideas seep into my mind. Nothing in an unattractive sense, anyway. Despite the possibility, I can never picture him as ugly.

“It varies, but…” I take one last second to collect my thoughts. “Without that skull piece, you have dark eyebrows. I imagine your hair is brown. And you’re eyes…it’s hard to tell with the paint, but they’re more deep-set and heavy-lidded. The balaclava is tight enough to make me think you have a straight nose, high cheekbones, strong jaw…” I shake my head. “Beyond that, I’m stumped.”

I can tell he thinks deeply about each characteristic. I sit patiently and almost wait for confirmation, but I know better than that. If he’s not going to show his face, he’s not going to—

“My hair is brown.”

I’m about to backtrack on my previous thought when he reaches towards the space between my neck and shoulder. In the frenzy that has been the last hour, my hair has come undone. The braid was unsavable, making me pull out the band and attempt a ponytail…only for it to snap in two. My hair now falls in dishevelled waves. A small part of my hair falls over my shoulder. Simon gingerly reaches for it, curling it between his finger and examining it in the low light. …Can he hear how fast my heart is beating?

“Not like yours. A few shades lighter, maybe. And that scar…”

Even more gingerly, Simon pulls one of my hands from its folded position, and I pray my expression doesn’t betray me. Rough, calloused hands press against the back of mine. The size difference is almost comical. He guides it to his masked face, working his fingers working around mine to spread them out. He drags my hand over his right cheekbone, across the hollow of his cheek, and towards his jaw. My mind is hyper-fixated on the shape of his face.

“Right along there.”

His eyes continue to search my face. There’s nothing but curiosity in the blue-grey of his irises. Curious at what, I can’t tell. Everything about this has my mind raging. The way he looks at me, the way he holds my hand against the black balaclava, the way he towers over me even when sitting down... The thoughts that surface are shameful. He’s your lieutenant, for Christ’s sake. Have some respect. The remembrance of his position has little help.

If anything, it strengthens the fantasies.

His hold shifts on top of my hand, the pad of his thumb swiping across my skin to stop on the inner side of my wrist and press down. He may not have been able to hear my heartbeat…but now he can feel it at the worst possible moment.

“You’re heart is beating fast.” He inclines his head. “Do I make you nervous, Y\N?”

God, is my breathing even? I can’t tell.

“You just caught me off guard, is all.”

Simon hums thoughtfully as his hand breaks away from mine and reaches forward. His fingers connect with my collarbone before finding my neck, exploring upwards in search of a pulse point. A shiver of excitement and nervousness runs beneath my skin like a ripple. His other hand slides over my knee and up my thigh. If my heart was racing before, this is a life-or-death sprint.

Slow are his movements. Calculated. He knows exactly where my heartbeat reverberates in my neck. Instead, he drags the moment out, coaxing out his desired reaction. But there’s something else in the slowness: a window for me to flinch away and draw the physical line neither of us has ever drawn. We’ve brushed shoulders and hands. We’ve sat with our bodies aligned in cramped cars. He’s held my hair back in a bathroom as I threw up after a panicked episode (something I would like to forget if he wasn't so surprisingly understanding). He's placed a hand on my shoulder for many different reasons. All are excusable moments. The ones that surpass professional boundaries can be marked as friendly. However, the intimacy of this moment is new. Scary. Exciting.

“Did you know your bottom lip twitches before you lie?” Simon asks. I find myself at eye level with him. When did he get so close? “I don’t like lies. Try again.”

“Sometimes…” I breathe.

“Sometimes, what?”

Bastard. “Sometimes you make me nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because…” I frown. “I don’t know.”

He’s definitely leaning closer now. Not just with his head, but with his whole upper body. Out of the nerves Simon is so adamant on understanding, I retreat, only making it a few inches before my back hits the other wall. Simon half hovers over me, the hand that was on my thigh now bracing himself on the floor. There are only a few inches between our chests. Even less between our faces. Not once does he lose his connection with my pulse.

“Another lie.”

“I don’t know how to word it. That's not a lie.”

Simon drops his head so that his covered mouth hovers beside my ear.

“Good girl.”

Never has praise sounded so seductive. It takes every inch of concentration to reign in my self-control. I might have ripped off his mask then and there…

Only, I think he’s beating me to it.

From where his head hovers, I can’t see his masked face. The wide, strong shape of his shoulder obscures most of my vision. He retracts his hand from my neck to reach somewhere I can’t see. The sound of moving cloth widens my eyes and upsets the rhythm of my breathing, the uneven rise and fall of my chest barely brushing his.

Maybe he’s adjusting it, I convince myself. He has only ever offered you little pieces at a time. What he’s offering me now is more than he ever has at once. While my body screams for more, my mind knows I can’t expect too much from him. Whatever he’s doing now is more than enough.

“You’re breathing funny.”

The feeling of breath skims the shell of my ear and down my neck like a warm, ghostly waterfall. It takes me a second to notice a difference in his voice. It’s low, it’s rough, it’s teasing. All are easily noticeable and nothing new. What is new is the enhanced clarity. An added sharpness lingers in his accented words. The slight muffle is nowhere to be found.

I was wrong. He’s lifted his mask.

“Because you’re taking off your mask." My answer comes out in a weak whisper.

He doesn’t speak about the mask, instead repositioning his hand to my neck to find my pulse.

“If you can’t tell me,” he murmurs, returning to the previous topic, “your heartbeat can.”

A warm feeling presses into my neck. A gasp slips past my lips as my heartbeat continues to quicken and stumble beneath his thumb. Against my skin…I think Simon is smiling.

Nothing about this seems real. Simon plants slow kisses on my neck with his bare lips. They’re a little rough, yet soothing. Whether they’re full or thin, I can’t tell, but the lack of obvious signs paints an image of something in between. His nose brushes the base of my jaw. Just above the pointed tip is where the balaclava begins. I can feel the hard edges of the sewn-on skull pressing into my left temple. Light stubble covers his jaw.

As his mouth works slowly against my neck, my jaw, and my collarbone, my hand slides up and over his chest. I slowly feel his bare neck. Beneath my fingers, his Adam's apple bobs. Further I explore, feeling the planes of his skin. The stubble scratches against my curious hand. Raised skin runs in a line over the right side of his face; the scar. It’s thin and generally clean-cut. He pulls back slightly as I feel his face. A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest as my thumb traces over his lips. I was right, they are something between full and thin. His lower lip feels slightly fuller with a deep hollow beneath that curves into his chin.

When I find it in me to speak, my voice is breathy.

“Kiss me.” He seems to still at that. When his reply isn’t instant, I continue. “You don’t have to… But I won’t look. I swear it.”

Silently, he reaches for my hand. He holds his over mine for a moment as he did with the mask moments earlier. Then he gently pries it away. Cloth shifts in my air as he fixes the mask and pulls back. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but I respect the decision. Simon looks down at me with lust-blown pupils. Mine must be the same.

He takes a second to examine me. My heavy-lidded eyes, my slightly parted lips, the way I slump beneath him, the glistening wet spots left on my neck. He whips it away before he speaks.

“Can I trust you?”

We both know the answer to that, so instead of saying the obvious, I one-up him.

“Do you want to trust me?”

Silence passes for a heartbeat.

“Of course I do,” he says softly. “I want to trust you. I want to touch you. I want to kiss you. …Undress you. I’ve wanted to for so long.”

Then he moves.

My thoughts go quiet as Simon’s hands reach upward. When his fingers brush the base of his mask, I reach out and still his hands. The action takes both of us by surprise. For months I’ve been thinking about this moment. Just now I’ve admitted how much what he looks like takes up my mind. Now I find myself stopping him, but not because I’ve changed my mind. I worry that this will be something he’ll regret.

“Simon,” I say. “You don’t owe it to me to show your face.”

“But I do.” He inclines his head. “Now keep your pretty eyes up.”

My breath catches in my throat as he pulls it off in one swift motion. I take in everything I’m seeing in amazement, wonder, and bewilderment.

He’s handsome. He’s really handsome.

The ruggedness and confidence he carries seem to be etched into the planes of his face. A light stubble shadows his angular, defined jaw. Just as I had imagined, the bridge of his nose is straight and strong. His high cheekbones, deep-set eyes and smudged black paint create deep shadows. His mouth is wide. The shape of them is a physical manifestation of what I had imagined. With an average fullness, his upper lip is slightly smaller with a soft cupid’s bow. Tracing the angles of his right cheekbone is that straight, silver scar. His hair isn’t as short as most other military men’s. It’s a little messy from the mask and, true to his words, a few shades lighter than mine. I can tell that, the longer it gets, the more it curls.

I stay silent as I take him in, eyes wide. Somehow I find the courage to slowly reach out. His blue-grey eyes dart to my hesitant fingers. When he doesn’t deny me, I close the space, this time feeling him without needing to imagine his image. I apply a little pressure as I brush his skin, feeling the warmth of his cheeks, the scar tissue on his cheekbone, and the stubble on his jaw. His eyes train on me. This is one of the few times I cannot understand what I see in them.

Whatever he’s thinking, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I stare back at Simon. Not Ghost, Simon.

“I was starting to think you weren’t real,” I say jokingly.

He laughs softly. One side of his mouth quirks up into a skewed smirk. My heart flutters at the sight of it. When he speaks, it’s with that teasing tone that always had me imagining a smirk. Matching his expressions to his tones is a strange thing to see, but I love it.

“Is this real enough for you?” he asks.

I hum in agreement. “You’re a lot better looking than I imagined.”

He raises a brow in mock offence. “Do I radiate unattractiveness? I’m offended.”

“I never said I imagined you ugly.”

I draw my hands back, taking another good look at him. My amazed smile remains. So does the awe in my eyes. Now that I know how good-looking he is, it’s going to be hard to get him out of my head. At least I can’t scold myself over falling for a faceless man anymore.

“I guess if I die tonight… I can go a little happier.”

The way he tilts his head and looks up through lowered brows sends my mind into a frenzy. I’m used to the action with his mask on, usually with the sewn-on skull. Now, with every part of his face laid bare for me, the feeling it stirs comes tenfold. He gives me a fake accusing look. Beneath the teasing air he gives off, that desire remains.

“A little?” he murmurs. His face grows closer, giving me a better view of the hollows and curves and marks of war.

“A little not enough?”

His eyes dip to my lips. “Not by a longshot.”

Then Simon kisses me.

Eyes fluttering closed, I sink into the feeling of his lips against mine. Gently. Hesitantly. Does he expect me to pull away? How could he think such a thing when I almost seemed desperate when I asked him? My hands slide over his chest, slowly linking behind his neck as the kiss deepens.

For a moment, everything fades away. The gunfire, the screams, the impending death we may face any moment... All of it reduces to a meaningless blur. Suddenly all that exists is me, Simon, and the secret embrace we share. In our kiss is a million unspoken words; a tidal wave of passion laced with a bittersweet sadness. The talk of ‘dying happy’ is no exaggeration. We very well may die, and seeing his face and feeling his touch eases the painful thought. Maybe this way I can find him in the afterlife - seek out his mysterious eyes and lopsided smirk and spend an eternity together. Or perhaps there is no afterlife, and this is my last stroke of luck.

Satisfied with the knowledge of what he does to me, Simon lowers his hand from my neck. The pressure reapplies near my belt. His fingers timidly skim the bottom of my tanktop, pulling the tucked part from my waistband. My own fingers weave through his brown hair as his hand slides further beneath. My kiss falters when he finds one of my breasts. His hand comfortably rests over it, his palm slowly kneading at the flesh. A low groan builds at the back of my throat.

After a moment, we pull away, chests rising and falling as we take deep breaths. His forehead rests against mine and suddenly I'm wishing we could do this over again. Except I picture less sadness to tinge every word and action. I picture the safety of home, the warmth of a bed, a carefree air that allows us to just enjoy the other's company. Reality comes back in a painful rush.

“I don’t want to die,” I whisper.

His hand retreats from my breast at my words. Instead, he takes a hold of my waist, giving me a comforting squeeze.

“You are not going to die. Not today. Not when there’s so much more I want from you.” He adds the last part with a teasing, suggestive smirk.

He looks down at my lips again—

“Ghost, how do you copy?”

We both freeze at the sound of a voice, so caught up in the moment that the radio is forgotten. Both the unspeakable things and sorrowful thoughts flooding my mind suddenly vanish at the sound of a familiar voice. There’s an equally received look on Simon’s face as he reaches for the small radio.

“I read you loud and clear, Sergeant,” he says. “What’s your location?”

“I…don’t know,” John replies solemnly. “Streets are crawling with Shadows. Where are you?”

“You see church spires above the houses?”

There’s a second of silence. Then…

“I see them.”

“Good. Head straight there and come inside. No Shadows here yet. They’ll be busy going door to door.”

“Affirmative. I’m on my way. Have you got any word from Y/N?”

Simon looks at me, silently giving me the floor to speak. “I’m right here, Johnny.”

There’s a sigh of relief on the other end. “Oh, thank fuck. You in one piece?”

“I’m all here. You?”

“Got a shot to the shoulder. Nothing I can’t handle.”

For the next while, Simon and I sit huddled side by side, guiding Johnny through the radio. I generally leave the talking to Simon. Listening to him speak and sinking into his warmth is good enough. Every so often, he'll say something that takes me by surprise. Sometimes it's a dad joke, either really good or incredibly bad. Sometimes it's something that alludes to Simon not minding Johnny. He never outright admits it, but saying 'I like you alive' to Johnny's 'so you do like me' speaks for itself. I smile at that. I have sunk my claws into him, and he's not going to be able to get rid of me till the day I die.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare ii #mw2 #mwii #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x y/n

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erinwantstowrite · 18 days

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erinwantstowrite on tumblr dot com how do you get the motivation to plan & outline & write & finish ur fics

well, anon on tumblr dot com, motivation comes in waves, and i've simply learned how to ride it

we're all in different boats of many colors, shapes, designs, and sails, so we all have different ways to ride our waves safely, creatively, and while having fun. my methods might not work for you (i hope they do!) but they could give you an idea. however, there are basic fundamentals that every sailor (writer) should know:

taking care of yourself, body and mind

going outside to enjoy the sun and live and breathe

taking time to learn new things

outside of the box thinking

your motivation will come to you better when you figure out what helps you feel good. create a schedule or set out a certain time of day to write, and don't beat yourself up if you find that your writing isn't coming to you on certain days. it'll come back, it always does

when planning, i like to use notebooks. i have two notebooks (so far) for LoF, notebooks for my original works, etc. I treat them like it's an extension of my brain (or like a journal). it has all my brainstorming, lists and facts, timelines, calendars, etc. i have research notes in here too! the notebook is a conglomeration of everything all together, and some things don't end up looking pretty or end up in the fic at all

outlining is different. outlining is taking your brainstorms, figuring out what is "needed" to drive the plot forward, what is "wanted" to fill in spaces between plots (example: i wanted tim and peter to meet, and i decided it makes the most sense if tim was stalking him, and what was needed for the plot was for tim to figure things out from that conversation). put it in a chronological order and try to make it read like an episode or "mini-book" each chapter, if you can. no pressure on that last part.

your outline will constantly change (think like how the wind and currents in a boat could shift and you have to adjust so you can get where you're going). do not fret about it, just continue forward. make a new outline with your new ideas, reflect and keep the old one around. you might scrap a scene and then find out you can fit it in somewhere else later on

when writing, you want to know what you can handle within a day. on average, i can set aside 80 minutes a day, and write about 2000 words. but it entirely depends on my mood, if i slept right, if i have plans that day, etc. sometimes i write 2000, other times i write 20 or nothing at all. do not push yourself to write every day or write a certain word count, it will come to you naturally. you'll also get better over time and with practice, and when you find and get comfortable with your writing style, you'll be able to make your plans, outlines, and write with no problem at all

and with finishing... i'll admit that i have an issue with that. i find that endings are the most important part of a story, and sometimes i don't want it to end. but alas, it must. endings are never "endings", because there will always be a set up to what comes later, even if you don't write it. you want your characters to finish their arc, but also have room for growth once the reader has stopped following their journey. it's satisfying to get to that end and see your characters off. it's on you to figure out your way over that hill

#erinwantstowrite #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #writing #writing advice #writing blog #thank you for the ask!

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asteroidzzzn · 1 year

Text

stargirl

pairing: rockstar!ellie x bartender!reader

warnings: cursing, smoking, eventual sexual themes, ellies kinda an asshole, reader is delulu (are u sensing a pattern here)

songs in this chapter: arabella - arctic monkeys

word count: 1.6k

a/n: every authors canon event is writing a band au, its my time now.

summary: the fireflies is a new band consisting of three people. after being cheated out by their former bassist, they needed to find a replacement, and quick. who better than you, the cute bartender that hasn't touched an instrument in years?

you stumbled through the hot crowd of drunken bodies, searching for the side door. dozens of people were rushing to the stage where the new up-and-coming band was performing, making it even more difficult to push past.

you heard someone tap the mic, followed by a raspy chuckle which caught your attention. you paused in the crowd to briefly observe the band.

"hey, we're the fireflies, welcome everyone! before we start, i'd like you all to give a round of applause to jesse chang on the drums," a man with dark hair flipped and threw his drumsticks with his fingers while wearing a smug smile, having girls in the audience cheer and scream. showoff.

"dina woodward on the keys," a woman with thick eyebrows and her hair in a messy knot on the top of her head waved to the crowd.

"and of course, me, ellie williams, as the lead singer and guitarist," she played a quick riff, and the crowd cheered once more. "now, you may be wondering, where's our bassist? well, that bitch, abby anderson, stole our ideas and tried to take all the credit for two whole albums for herself."

there were scattered murmurs amongst the crowd. your curiosity was strangely piqued, despite already having a strong judgement towards band members. you had found them to be shallow and selfish because how could someone be in the music industry without being at least a little bit obsessed with themself and an asshole?

ellie continued, "so, excuse me if this song is a little off, we're in the process of finding a replacement for her, but the show must go on. this one's called arabella," she turned to jesse, "whenever you're ready."

jesse started up the song, ellie joining in with a few flicks on her guitar. dina's hands danced on the keys, creating an uneven yet flowing melody, and setting the mood for the song. ellie adjusted the mic, and began singing lowly.

arabella's got some interstellar gator skin boots,

and a helter skelter 'round her little finger, and I ride it endlessly,

ellie closed her eyes as she sang, furrowing her eyebrows with extreme focus. somehow, she had the ability to sing beautifully while expertly playing the guitar, and making all of it look like it was the easiest thing in the world. it was as if she'd been doing this from the moment she came out of the womb.

you found yourself mesmerized by the way the lyrics fell through her lips.

she's got a barbarella silver swimsuit

and when she needs to shelter from reality

she takes a dip in my daydreams

in the blink of an eye, ellie's fingers shifted from ghosting over the strings to quickly strumming. jesse tapped the symbols like a metronome as ellie's voice rose, evolving into an intense, almost shouting level.

my days end best when the sunset gets itself behind

that little lady sittin' on the passenger side

it's much less picturesque without her catchin' the light

the horizon tries but it's just not as kind on the eyes...

you refused to acknowledge the way your eyebrows shot up and cheeks flushed as she drew out each of her words into a low whihne.

jackie, your coworker, found you in the crowd and slapped her palm on your shoulder, removing you from your trance.

"hey, i thought you were on your break? y'know, you don't need to stay in here," she needed to raise her voice because of the sudden cheering that had erupted from the crowd. your focus darted back to the stage to see ellie's head thrown back, having a guitar solo.

you quickly snapped your head to jackie, attempting to sound as nonchalant as possible. "just wanted to see what all the fuss was about, i'm heading outside right now," you swiftly left jackie behind and found the exit, drowning out the sounds of ellie practically moaning into the mic.

you groaned when the door slammed shut, falling back against the cool brick wall. you pulled a cigarette and lighter from your pocket. you shielded the flame from the heavy wind with your hand, inhaling deeply as soon as it was lit. you exhaled heavily, feeling the drums from inside pulsing.

you didn't know many things about ellie williams. you knew she was in a band, she could sing, play guitar, and you were very sure about one thing in particular. she was really hot.

you took another inhale. you knew nothing could ever happen between the two of you. you screwed your eyes shut with embarrassment when you briefly entertained the idea of speaking to her.

you wondered what she would say, if she would give you that smug smile she gave the audience. but maybe that look was reserved for screaming crowds that were basically on their knees for her. i'd be on my kne—

your disturbing thoughts were overdriven by the fear that your break ended. you pulled out your phone to check the time. two more minutes. you decided you should go back inside. you opened the door and made a dash straight behind the bar, pretending the band didn't even exist.

༊*·˚

after four more hours of making ice-cold drinks until your hands became numb and dealing with gross old men hitting on you, you said goodbye to your coworkers to finally head home.

you pushed open the side door, trying to open a new pack with your lighter in between your teeth.

are you kidding me?

ellie emerged from the backstage exit, jesse right on her tail, yelling loudly.

"that was the worst we've ever done, ellie! i know you didn't notice because you're so fucking focused on yourself as always, but we need a bassist and now! we can't perform without one again, that was a shitshow!"

ellie simply rolled her eyes. "dude i'm trying to find one. you want me to fucking snap my fingers and conjure one out of thin air?"

your hands quit working on removing the plastic, staying quiet and eavesdropping on their conversation.

ellie halted in the middle of the alleyway just as dina walked in, dragging the instruments outside.

"thanks for all the help, dickheads," dina chuckled, but her face dropped when she saw jesse and ellie's furious expressions.

"um, i'm not actually mad, i don't mind carrying the stuff," she trailed off when ellie shoved jesse's chest.

"if you want a bassist so goddamn bad, find them on your own. just because i started this band doesn't mean you can't pitch in every once in a while," she spat, and jesse scoffed loudly.

"you're ridiculous."

dina set the luggage down and placed herself between the two.

"guys, this isn't the time to be talking about this," she guided them to the side of the narrow road. "you've been blocking that poor girl from getting out this whole time."

all three of them found your eyes and stared. you stared back with your nails digging into your pack, lighter in your mouth.

"um, i'm fine," you mumbled, stepping out of the dark corner. "jus tryin to get this open," you lifted the pack before getting back to your work on it.

dina approached you while ellie and jesse remained silent. "here, let me help you with that," she used her canines to rip a hole in the plastic, then slipped her nail in and pulled the whole covering off.

"hope you don't mind i put my mouth on it..."

"nah, i don't care," you shook your head, dropping your lighter into your hand and taking the pack. "you want one? unless you mind that i just had it in my mouth," you flashed a small smile while lighting the cigarette in your mouth.

dina snickered, "doesn't matter to me," she took one and leaned in, allowing you to light it for her.

you noticed ellie and jesse in the background glancing between each other and you and dina.

"i'm dina, that one's jesse, and she's ellie."

you nodded. "i'm y/n, i actually work here."

dina smiled and lifted her eyebrows. "oh no way, that's awesome!"

"yeah, i've been bartending for three years now."

dina gave ellie and jesse a quick look, and turned back to you, slightly more serious now.

"hey, sorry if this is too straightforward, but we're looking for a new bassist. you know anyone?"

you could have mentioned your brother, who built guitars for a living and regularly took gigs playing at restaurants. or any of your old band members from high school. they would have been a perfect fit. and you wouldn't get another opportunity like this again. you would have to be content with just observing while they were the ones on stage.

and yet, the words slipped out before you had a chance to think about them.

"i can play, a bit."

"oh, wait—" dina began, but the two lurking further away from you decided to finally join the conversation.

"are you serious? really?" jesse asked, excitement clear in his expression.

you nodded, suddenly very shy. "well, i haven't in years so i'm not the best, but i could just be a temporary fix until—"

ellie interrupted. "you don't have to be the best, just don't suck, yeah?"

dina and jesse simultaneously hit her shoulder from each side.

"ellie! be genuine," dina hissed.

ellie threw her hands up, jaw slacked. "i am! i actually am," she quickly swatted away dina and jesses hands that were ready to attack again and turned to you.

"i really—we're really grateful. this is truly so helpful to us. so, thank you."

you smiled and looked at each of them. dina slung her arm around you to show you off.

"see how easy that was, guys? you're welcome, by the way."

ellie and jesse muttered half-assed thank yous while looking everywhere except dina's proud face.

dina patted your shoulder and grinned. "welcome to the fireflies, y/n."

oh god. what have you gotten yourself into?

a/n: woahhhhhhhh wow y/n is delulu whats new? im rlly excited for this story i have so many cool ideas!!! yay!! (*✧×✧*) hope u enjoyed this!

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #tlou game #the last of us #tlou 2 #wlw #band au

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willowtoy · 3 months

Text

God I fucking love getting used and fucked to the point of being completely cockdrunk. Getting settled in to bed and deciding to just ditch my boxers because they were riding up and rubbing my dick so I couldn't get comfortable. My boyfriend joins me, and I feel his cock press against my ass.

He softly runs his hand against me, down my side, up my abs a bit. Down my thigh and ass, squeezing and grabbing. He pulls my legs to be more open, moving his hand to my dick and starting to jerk me off. Soft noises escape my throat, pressing my hips towards his hand as he goes harder and faster until I'm humping his hand, struggling to use my voice and beg him for more as I feel myself get close. He holds me tighter and grinds his now hard cock against my ass, growling into my ear to cum for him. When I'm finally pushed over the edge gasping, he let's me ride it out before pulling his hand away and shifting me.

He slides a plug into my ass, making my cunt ache even more eith emptiness. Although the feeling doesn't last long, and I feel him rub his cock against me until I find my voice to say "please just fuck me", the desperation obvious in my voice. With that he slides into me balls deep and making me groan happily from the fullness. Barely giving me time to adjust, he starts thrusting, slow at first but quickly speeding up. His hands going from pressing down on the small of my back to gripping my ass, hips and thighs, to grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling my head from the blankets to hear my moans and noises.

Soon enough I feel myself getting close again, and when I try to warn him and ask to cum he grips my hair and pulls my head back, not slowing down one bit "don't you fucking dare cum yet. You do not get to xum without permission. Hold it, ride that edge" his voice almost a growl. When I can barely hold it in I manage to mumble out a warning and he stops his movement completely, leaving me desperately clenching around his cock. "Not until I say so." He gives us both just a moment to catch our breath before quickly going back to his pace. He keeps teasing me like this, getting me to the point of begging to cum, barely able to hold back, saying things like "oh you want to cum? You wanna cum on my cock so bad.. too bad, not yet", "you love just begging to cum on my cock, too bad you aren't going to yet", "yeah, you're so close? You can't hold it? Then I guess I'll have to stop". When I'm at the point of almost any movement being able to get me close, finally he tells me "that's it, cum on my cock. Cum all over my cock, good boy, keep going, do it again until I tell you to hold it." I'm in total bliss, my hands gripping thr bedsheets as I cum around him.

His only reaction is to speed up, hitting right where I'm most sensitive over and over again. Fucking me through one orgasm into another over and over again until I'm gasping and my lower body is twitching. When he's satisfied and we're both out of breath he slows down and pulls out, giving us a minute to catch our breath and have a sip of water.

He asks me if I want to tap out and I say no, so I'm pulled up on top of him. He quickly starts fucking up into me, whispering to not cum I fight to hold it in, my eyes shut tight and focusing my energy on following his instruction. Soon enough I'm struggling to keep my control and start begging to cum. He speeds up and whispers to me to not cum, and I can only hold out another minute or two before the orgasm explodes from me, to the point where I squirt. I'm fucked through it before he shoves me off, while I struggle to apologize.

"You just can't listen can you? You're so greedy, you needed to cum so bad you just had to disobey?" As he speaks he positions me so I'm face down, and starts tying my legs so I can't cover myself. "If you're so desperate to cum then fine, cum all you want but I'm not stopping until you're stuffed full and dripping my cum. And maybe even after" he punctuates with a slap to my ass, and presses a vibrator into my hand "full power. Don't you dare take it off" he tells me before sliding into me.

I nod softly, clucking the vibrstor on to full power and pressing it against me and moaning into the pillow. Once it's going he starts pounding into me, making me cum over and over until they just blur together. I eventually find my voice, and between pathetic noises of pleasure I manage "please cum in me, please, please, please fucking fill me fucking breed me please please please-" I repeat the chant like a prayer, my mind a blur from the pleasure. He grunts out that he's close and to keep talking like that, going rougher until finally I feel his cock twitch as he fills me with his cum, thrusting slowly until he's done. He pulls the vibrator away from me and out of my hand before he pulls out, watching a drop of cum slowly leak from my cunt and down my dick.

"Now we can't have you wasting that, can we?" He teases, using his thumb to gather it up and pushing it back into my cunt. "You can cum for me one more time, yeah? I wanna watch you fucking squirt while my cum is fucked into your greedy little cunt" I whine, but nod softly. He ties my hands behind my back and doesn't hesitate to push the vibrator back against my dick and start fucking me with a dildo. It doesn't take more than a couple minute of me whining and him encouraging me to cum before one last orgasm explodes from me, spraying onto his hands.

He praises me softly as he stops, pulling the vibrator away and carefully untying me, my cunt still stuffed with the dildo. "Good boy, you were so good for me. Can you keep that in tonight? Keep my cum from leaking and keep you nice and open if I need to fill you again tonight" he whispers into my neck, kissing me softly and holding me close to his chest, quickly lulling me to sleep.

#edging and denial #edging kink #ftm bottom #ftm ns/fw #ftm nsft #overstim kink #cnc overstim #forcemasc #forced masculinization #autoandrophilia

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yesimwriting · 2 years

Note

The reader seems to be really close to billy and stu , so it got me thinking , what if she had little rituals with them ... like kissing their noses or rubbing their backs , and what if she got possessive of them and in a game of 7 minutes in heaven ou something she just makes out with billy or stu ( bcs in order to be with dark murderous freaks you have to be a freak yourself ...i dont make the rules)

Like imagine billy : im mf special 😏

a/n omg?? i love this!! this concept is adorable :)) i got so excited i put off writing my lit essay lol, this became A LOT longer than I thought it would be lol

also do y’all like first or second person narration better?? i definitely like writing first person more in chapter fics, but in drabbles/one-shots i change my mind all the time. I did a little of both here lol

---

The pile of homework I've been working on seems like it'll never end. Like there will always be another packet that needs to be completed or another essay I need to write.

Something behind me shifts. The noise is soft and easy to dismiss, but my body turns instinctually anyways. After what happened to Casey, there's no such thing as being too sure.

With a sigh, my entire body eases as I realize what the source of the noise is. It's just Billy and Stu, magically appearing like they often do on my windowsill. Stu's already inside my room, sitting on the edge of my window, his feet firmly plated on the floor. Billy's leaning against it, his lower half still outside.

Normally, when they show up like this, I grin and urge them to come in faster. "What are you guys doing here?" The way Stu pauses and the look Billy gives me tells me that they weren't expecting that reaction. "I told you guys--not today. I have a ton of homework and like half my family is visiting. My cousins have no concept of boundaries because they're like seven and they barge in here all the time. They're also snitches, the last thing I need is them running to the kitchen and telling their mom that 'Y/n has boys in her room'."

Stu holds up his hands in defense as he stands. "Relax, we're just here for our goodnight kisses."

I turn, adjusting the notebook on my lap as I look at them skeptically.

"We'll leave right after if you want us to," Billy says, pulling himself up onto my windowsill.

Still unsure, I twist my pen between my fingers. "I will want you guys to." My tone is a little harsher than I want it to be. Stu seems a little tenser and Billy's expression clouds. "No, that came out wrong. It’s not that I want you gone, it’s that I’m trying to be practical.”

"You didn't want us coming over earlier," Stu mumbles, something harsh behind his eyes, "And we barely saw you yesterday."

"Yesterday wasn't my fault. You two went out with Tatum and Sid." I adjust my hold on my notebook. "And I didn't want you guys over earlier today because of homework. Literally all I've done today is go to lunch with my family and homework." Their unease settles in my stomach like a rock. I sigh, pushing my notebook off of my lap. "Okay, come here."

At that, Stu breaks out into a grin. He crosses my room in a few long steps. Once he reaches me, he sinks into my waiting arms. I hug him tightly before he can decide that all isn’t forgiven, burring my face into the side of his neck. He's so warm and always smells so much like him. Like expensive fabric softener, a little bit of body spray, and usually a tiny bit like weed. On anyone else the combination wouldn't work, but on Stu, it makes me feel right at home.

One of my hands runs up and down Stu's back. He eases into the contact. The shirt he's wearing is soft. There's little I love more than Stu's well worn, rich kid T-shirts. I'm already plotting how to steal it from him.

I lean my head upwards, pressing a kiss against his jaw. His eyes flutter shut as I leave a trail of kisses up his cheek and to his temple like I always do.

Billy must have come in while I was distracted. He's lingering next to us, watching with a blank expression. I learned early on that while Billy hates asking for physical contact, he loves receiving it. If I had to take a guess, Billy's hesitance likely comes from his home life, but I'd never say that out loud.

"Okay, Stu," I hum, my nails brushing through his hair, "You're good." His hold on me tightens. "Stu, c'mon." With a bit of a pout, he straightens just enough to place a kiss on my forehead. He's watching me carefully, silently asking me for a few more minutes. "Billy's turn."

Stu frowns, looking like he's sincerely weighing his options. "Fine," he mumbles, placing one last kiss against the side of my head.

Once Stu lets me go, he slumps back onto my bed, laying across my mattress on his back. That does make me a tiny bit nervous because the more comfortable Stu gets, the less likely he is to leave.

I reach over, grabbing Billy's wrist. Gently, I pull him towards me. He lets me. Like always, at first Billy's slow before reciprocating with full force. He melts into my touch, pressing his face into my neck. My fingers trace patterns against his back.

"Missed this," I whisper the admission.

"We missed you, too," Stu replies, hand lazily reaching over for my extended leg. His fingers begin to trace patterns against the skin of my calf. I'd think that the motion was absentminded, but once when I asked him about it, he told me that sometimes he writes out things he wants to do to me. "Soon it'll just be the three of us."

This isn't a conversation that I love. The more they talk about the day where they feel like Sidney and the friend group are stable enough to handle two break ups, the less I believe that that day will ever come. Thinking about it makes me feel like a terrible person.

Billy, sensing that he no longer has my full attention, shifts. He moves impossibly closer, his lips grazing my pulse. I used to jokingly scold him for kissing my neck during times like this before learning that things like that aren't always sexual to him. It's just him at his most relaxed.

My fingers rake through his hair, smoothing it back carefully before placing a series of kisses across his jaw and up his cheek. My trail ends at his temple, like always. The realization that the moment's passing leads to him squeezing me tighter. There's something distinct about his touch today, maybe even a little nervous. That paired with how uncharacteristically quiet he's being leaves me wondering if this ambush visit is a result of something else.

I know he was supposed to do something with his dad this morning. Okay, I need to stop thinking about that before it starts showing on my face. He doesn't like when I worry, he's never said anything, but his hot-to-cold reactions make me think he misinterprets it as pity. If anything, what I feel is anger that I can't walk up to his dad and punch him the face.

"Okay," I hum, "You both got your goodnight kisses...and I have to finish this essay."

"It's Friday," Stu replies, his fingers moving against my skin in what kind of feels like the curve of a 'c'? I'd ask if I wasn't worried about the conversation and mood taking a turn towards something I can't control. "You have two whole days."

I exhale, nails gently scratching at Billy's scalp. "You're throwing a party on Saturday, and Sunday's our first fully free day in over a week. You two aren't going to let me get anything done."

Stu turns his hand, running his knuckles up my leg. "Not true, babe. I've got a whole to-do list for you."

Softly kicking my leg in protest of his joke, I roll my eyes. "It's better for everyone if I just get this stuff done now, especially since you can't sleep over anyways. My little cousins are never in bed when they're supposed to be."

"You can do your homework, Billy and I know how to behave." When I raise an eyebrow at that, Stu concedes, "Okay, we at least know how to entertain ourselves."

Yeah, that's not comforting.

"You guys aren't being fair. I don't remember acting like this when you guys literally went on dates yesterday." I drop my arms away from Billy, ignoring the pinch of guilt that strikes with no warning.

At the lack of contact, Billy sits up. I avoid his gaze. "Is that why you're kicking us out? You're jealous? Upset we're not giving you enough attention?"

"No, I'm kicking you out because there's a group of seven to nine year olds that are super nosy in my house. Especially when it comes to boys. Kennedy's in the third grade and in her crush phase and she's asked me about whether or not I have a boyfriend 50 times."

"Your mom lets us sleep over all the time," Stu defends, "We just need to tell her that our parents did something and she won't care."

My posture straightens in an attempt to seem more determined. "That's different and you know it. She always has you guys crash on the couch and you sneak up later. We can't do that with all my relatives in the house, and you can't show up to my house so late."

Stu doesn't normally see--or at least, doesn't care about--reason, but Billy tends to listen a little more. I look over at him, gauging his expression. I still can't read him as well as he can read me, but I know that the blanker his face is, the more emotion he's feeling.

They're both starting to seem a little weird, maybe a little hurt, and I hate it. I do miss them, I want them here, but it's risky for me. At the end of the day, if my relatives find out, they get to go home. I'm the one that will be in trouble until I graduate.

"Do you really want us to go?" Billy's voice is as flat and void as his expression.

The hollow look he's giving me hurts. "You know I don't." That eerie blankness doesn't go away. "When I lock the door, they just keep knocking until I open it. I guess that gives us time for you two to get into my closet or something."

With that, Billy eases. He's not exactly as relaxed as he was before, but it's a start. I lean forward, grabbing his hand. Stu sits up, shooting up to pull me into another hug. His grin feels smug, but I can't bring myself to call him out on it.

"That's our girl," Stu praises, kissing my cheek.

I press my lips together, fighting a grin. "Wait--there's a condition. You two need to let me finish this essay."

Billy lifts our intertwined fingers to his lips. "Deal."

"You guys are unbelievable." They both look at me expectantly. "Can't believe I'm basically risking my life because I can't go one night without having you two sleepover."

----

Going out with my friends has become extremely bittersweet. I love when the entire friend group's together, but there's just something about seeing Billy and Stu and knowing that things are different. Knowing that they're right there and thousands of miles away at the same time. It's not that we don't talk in public, it's that it's inherently different. And it makes me feel awful.

Each smile I share with Tate and each time I laugh with Sid adds another layer of guilt. It's so bad that both Billy and Stu have had to talk me down from breaking it off with them twice now after large group hang outs.

Whenever I freak out, Billy tells me that this is for the best, that after everything Sidney's gone through, he can't just break up with her while she's still dealing with trauma. The one stable, good thing in her life right now is our friend group. Stu and Tatum breaking up would endanger that as well. Even though keeping these secrets is morally wrong, they're always promising that this is the best way to keep everyone happy. Sid gets the support she needs, Tatum doesn't have to feel weird in the friend group, and we don't have to be heartbroken because of our right person, wrong time situation.

I'm not sure when they started taking a more preventative approach to the whole thing, but now, whenever we have group plans, they make a point of spending some time with me before. Just as a reminder about how they actually feel, I think.

They still haven’t stopped by, which I’m trying to not stress about as I tear my closet apart. Stu’s parties are always crowded and low lit, so what I wear isn’t the biggest deal, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.

After Billy and Stu left early this morning my entire family headed out so that my extended family could be dropped off at the airport. So now I have the house to myself, which is a good thing for when one gets ready.

I play my music as loud as I want while I take an extra long shower and take my time putting on a face mask. I’m being a little extra about my getting ready routine, but I’m taking advantage of the space and the free time.

Shrugging off my towel, I pull one of Stu’s old shirts over my head. I’ve had this one for awhile but it still smells like him. I shut off my music and throw open my closet door open.

I grab yesterday’s jeans off from the back of my desk chair. I had half a mind to wear them again tonight, but they’re a little over due for a wash. My fingers dig through the pockets as I approach my hamper. There’s no change, but there is a tube of chap stick in the front pocket and a tiny slip of paper in the back.

Unfolding the scrap paper, I fold the jeans over my bent arm. Good luck on your math test - Billy. I grin, thumb and pointer finger pinching the torn piece of paper a little too tightly.

This isn’t the first time I’ve found one of these notes, but each time is equally exciting. It started relatively recently, the appearance of tiny notes in places I’d never expect to find them. In between the pages of books, slipped into my pencil bag, tucked into my folder next to homework assignments, and sometimes directly written into my notebooks. And now, apparently, tucked into the pocket of my jeans.

The notes range in levels of sweetness, some of them motivational when I’m stressed over something, and others a little more flirty. The one I found before this one was about how pretty he thought I looked while walking to class. They’re all well loved, kept in a shoe box under my bed for me to re-read whenever I need a bit of a pick me up.

I go back to my closet, looking through my clothes to find something that looks like I’m in the party mood. If I’m being honest, after such a draining week, I think I’d rather stay home and watch some movies instead of being at a party where Stu and Billy are both going to be with their girlfriends. Normally, that’s not enough to get me out of the party mood, but that paired with how busy I’ve been this week doesn’t have me thrilled for this. At least Randy will be there.

Sighing, I start sorting through my clothes, trying to get myself into a party mood. I’m sure once I have an outfit I like and I fix my appearance, I’ll feel better about this.

I’ve just laid out a few outfit options on my bed when I hear a few familiar taps against the frame of my window. Tamping down a grin, I look up, not even bothering to look surprised. Billy and Stu are already pulling themselves into my room.

“You know, I do have a front door,” I mumble, straightening the skirt I just laid out on my bed.

Stu dramatically sigh, stomping into my room before flopping face first onto my bed. “That’s the hello we get?”

I roll my eyes. “I was just saying.” Stu props his head up on his elbow, looking up at me with criminally soft eyes. I drop my gaze, reaching for the top that he’s now wrinkling. “And you’re messing up my outfits.”

He watches me as I hold out the shirt. “You’re wearing that?”

“I don’t know,” I mumble, ignoring his tone, “I have a few options, but I was thinking this with the dark green skirt.”

Stu rolls onto his back before reaching over for the skirt I’m talking about. He looks at it skeptically. “This skirt?”

“Yep.” Stu didn’t sound too thrilled. “Why? Do you think it doesn’t match? Because I was thinking about that.”

Billy pushes away from the wall he was leaning against. “It’s short, sweetheart.”

I look at him oddly. It’s not insanely short, I mean, I’ve worn shorter. “Not that short,” my eyes look over the fabric that Stu’s still holding, “My mom bought it for me. It’s fine.”

Stu drops his arm. “I’ve seen the way your mom dresses.”

“Are you slut shaming my mom right now?”

“No,” Stu begins lazily, “I’m just saying that that doesn’t mean the skirt’s not too short.”

I didn’t even want to wear this that badly before. “Too short? You guys aren’t my dad.”

“Well, considering what you call u--”

“Oh my god,” I cringe, throwing my shirt in Stu’s direction. The fabric lands against his face. Stu ignores me, pulling it off of him. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a skirt.”

“A skirt that’s going to have people looking at you.” Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I stare at anything but Billy as he approaches me. His hand clasps around my forearm, pulling me a tiny bit forward. “Looking at what’s ours.”

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that the possessive undertones of the words didn’t make my face feel warm. The hypocrisy, though, almost immediately dismisses that. “So I have to be all okay with you two literally having girlfriends, but the line is drawn at me wearing a skirt you guys think is too short?” He squeezes my arm. “Maybe I want a little attention, it’s not like you guys can give me any tonight.”

Billy’s hold on me goes from casual to nearly painful. His knuckles turn white against my skin and I’m sure that if this goes on for any longer, there are going to be finger shaped bruises there. I meet Billy’s gaze. His eyes have darkened significantly.

“So that’s what the skirt’s about? You’re throwing a tantrum because you’re not getting enough attention?”

This is going downhill fast. I’m going to need to backtrack the hell out of this conversation. “No, I-I was just making a point. It’s a little bit of a double standard, you have to at least be able to admit that.” The lack of emotion in his expression turns my stomach. I force myself to hold his gaze. “It just sucks sometimes, going to these things and seeing you guys with your girlfriends, and then I feel bad about feeling like that because they’re my friends.”

“They’re not our girlfriends, they’re a situation,” Billy’s voice is harsher than it’s ever been while directed at me, “You’re our girlfriend.”

My eyes widen. Despite how close we’ve gotten, the actual ‘g’ and ‘b’ words have not been used. I know I’ve been tripping over myself to avoid calling either of them my boyfriend by accident. His hold hasn’t loosened, but I can’t help my grin. My head tilts to the side, eyes softening as I place a hand over his. “Girlfriend?”

Stu walks up to us. I don’t realize that he’s moving until I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Of course you are, you’re our girl.” He extends an arm, somewhat playfully pushing against Billy’s forearm. “Old Billy boy here wasn’t supposed to just say it like that. We’ve been planning it out, we were gonna ask.” Stu doesn’t release Billy’s arm, “It’s all Billy talks about, might wanna ease off on the love spells, he’s obsessed with you.” Stu squeezes my shoulder, running his thumb across the skin. “All day, it’s ‘you think Y/n’s okay?, Y/n’s hair looked so soft today, we should go see Y/n.’”

Billy throws a look in Stu’s direction, his grip on me loosening. I smile, “Really?”

“Fuck off,” Billy mumbles, shoving Stu. “He’s the one that’s whipped. Sometimes he misses the smell of your perfume.”

I grin despite their odd tension. It doesn’t take much for play fights to turn into something else, something I don’t understand because half of it is unspoken between them. But I love this.

“Okay,” I hum, probably a little too chipper as I step between them, “This is officially my favorite argument the two of you have had.”

They’re both starting to move over to a different world that’s just theirs. I step forward, pulling Billy into a hug. After a second, he reciprocates. I shift, moving to press a kiss to his cheek. “I think about you a lot, y’know.” He’s looking at me calmly, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d think there might be the faintest tinge of color in his face.

“A lot,” he echoes, tone amused.

I grin, nodding once, “Yes, don’t make it a thing.” The way the corner of his mouth turns upwards tells me that he’d be happy to have me spend the rest of tonight unpacking what I mean by that. I tilt my head, looking at Stu, “And you.” Stu’s eyes widen slightly as he waits for me to continue, “Sometimes I miss the way you smell, too.”

Stu’s eyes narrow jokingly, eyes soft, “Really?”

“Why do you think I’m always wearing your shirts?”

He smiles, pulling Billy and I into a hug that thoroughly squishes me between them. Sometimes I wish everything could be as easy as it is in our little bubble.

“Okay,” I begin pointedly, playing up my annoyance, “Watch the hair, I’m still getting ready.” Before they can make anything of that comment, I continue, “Even though I’m my own person and I hate that thing where guys are all like ‘there’s no way you’re wearing that’, I guess there’s nothing wrong with taking into consideration how my boyfriends feel.” Saying that makes me so happy I can’t even bother to hide my grin. “How about a compromise--the jean skirt I wore last week and the top I threw at Stu earlier.”

With a dramatic sigh, Stu drops his forehead onto my shoulder. “You’re going to make tonight impossible.”

He’s exaggerating a little, which is fitting considering sometimes it feels like all it takes to get Stu going is a look that lasts a little too long paired with the tiniest bit of exposed skin. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Stu looks up at me, half glaring at me through hooded eyes. He lethargically smacks the top of my thigh, right where his t-shirt ends. It’s a testament to his easygoing mood, but I can’t help my dramatic gasp.

“What?” Sometimes I think Stu would be insufferable if his smile wasn’t so cute. “If you’re going to be mean, I’m going to be mean back.”

Okay, there’s a chance I am being a tiny bit mean. Did I pick the skirt that had Stu making up a super lame excuse during lunch just so he could get me into a supply closet for a makeout session I had to cut short? Maybe. Was it on purpose? ...I’d like to say no, but honestly, maybe.

“Alright,” Billy interjects, “I know that look in both of your eyes, and we don’t have time for that.”

He’s not wrong. I reluctantly pull away from both of them and go back to getting ready. We’ve fallen into a little bit of a routine. I go through my getting ready to go out routine, and they casually--or not so casually--look around my room. If that isn’t entertaining enough, they patiently follow me around.

It’s kinda cute. Especially if I decide to wear makeup and they ask about whatever it is I’m putting on my face. One of these days I’m going to have to let Stu put eyeliner on me.

By the time I’m almost done, Billy and Stu are still content with looking around my room. I have no idea what they find so interesting about my space, it’s not like it changes often enough to warrant their curiosity. But if it makes them happy to look through my bedside drawer and leaf through whatever notebook or book are left out on my desk, why stop them?

Now that I’m dressed and have given my appearance a once over in the mirror, I’m basically ready. All that I need to do is figure out how to get the clasp of this necklace to just...

“You okay?”

Billy’s sudden appearance at my side nearly makes the chain slip from my fingers. His steps are so quiet sometimes. Honestly, a little more practice and he could play a killer in a movie he’d love. “Yeah, there’s just something about putting necklaces on yourself that’s impossible.”

“Here,” he breathes, fingers barely grazing my neck as he takes the clasp from me. Billy turns the necklace as he steps behind me. He latches the clasp with surprisingly minimal effort. Instead of releasing me, he adjusts the necklace so that the charm sits perfectly centered. Billy leans towards me, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

Stu, who was previously looking at a framed picture of me at some birthday party when I was little, turns his attention towards us. “Aw, how domestic, you’re like an old, married couple.”

I turn just in time to catch Billy’s meant-to-be dismissive eye roll, but there’s the faintest touch of something else, something that might be a little flustered. It’s gone before I can be sure.

“We’re cute,” I agree, reaching for Billy’s hand to squeeze it once. “Okay, I’m ready, so you guys should go. I’ll show up in about half an hour, give people some time to get there so that nothing looks weird.”

Stu frowns, setting the picture frame back in place. “It’s not that suspicious, we’re friends, you’re punctual.”

I press my lips together. We have our rules in place for a reason, and talking about them too much makes me feel things I really don’t like feeling. “You know why I can’t.”

Billy must notice my shifting mood because he cups my face. “You’re forgetting something before kicking us out.” When I don’t respond right away, Billy kisses my cheek. “In case you needed a reminder.”

Of course. If there’s one thing Billy’s consistent about it’s our little traditions. At first, they were just excuses to be cheesy, especially when I was feeling a little insecure, but now, they’re more significant.

I tilt my head upwards, leaving a trail of kisses up his cheek. Stretching upwards, I then place a kiss on the tip of his nose. He then kisses my forehead. Our goodbye ritual.

“Hey, I’m leaving too.” The fact that I’m surprised that Stu is already within grabbing distance makes me a little too aware of how tired I am.

Pushing against the feeling that begs me to just stay here tonight, I beam at him. He lets me hug him. His hands find their way around my waist and I press kisses against his cheek until I’ve reached his nose. Stu tilts his head down to help me reach him. My body eases as he presses a kiss to my forehead.

“Okay, you guys should go.” Shifting awkwardly and dropping my arms to my side, I tact on a half thought in hopes of making this easier on all of us, “Maybe some time alone will do me some good, help me get into the party mood.”

There’s a brief silence, and then Stu steps back, “See you later.”

“Yeah,” I say, a little flatly.

Billy’s eyes are trained on Stu, who just barely glances back. To anyone else, it’d come off as casual eye contact. A small feeling that’s little more than an itch at the back of my mind tells me that its the beginning of one of their exchanges. Or maybe I’m just on edge.

They approach the window, leaving like they always do.

----

Narrator’s POV

You never thought you’d want to kill Randy as badly as you do right now. One minute, the two of you are casually drinking, and he’s listening to a tipsy you summarize the plot of the latest show you’re invested in, and the next he’s trying to usher everyone into a game of 7 minutes in heaven.

You swore you weren’t playing, even when Randy started complaining. No one will go for it unless they think they have a chance with someone as hot as you. Your no stood firm, even when other people started sitting in front of Stu’s guest bathroom.

All you wanted to do was be an observer. To sit next to Randy and to ignore the weird looks Billy and Stu took turns sending you from across the room as you finished off your beer. Instead, you had to watch Stu’s spin land on Tatum, and you had to watch him walk with her to the bathroom with enthusiasm. Those 7 minutes had you getting up to grab another drink that you nearly downed before getting back to your seat.

That was what really set the night off. You had been pacing your drinks before then, wanting to keep the balance between being buzzed enough to be social and drinking enough to become messy. Stu stepping out of the closet with a grin and an arm around an uncharacteristically bashful Tatum pushed you right to that line. Billy ending up in the bathroom with Sidney next is what pushed you over it.

It’s ridiculous, no one can fully control where their spin lands, but it was all too coincidental. Too perfect.

And that’s how you ended up here. In a closet with Jonathan White from your second period. The same Jonathan White that’s always staring at your chest. You’re about two minutes into the most awkward small talk of your life while pretending to not notice his leering and clumsy, half thought out advances when the door opens.

There’s no way that 7 minutes are already up, but you’re too relieved to question it. The calm feeling settling in your chest quickly disappears when you look towards the doorway. Stu’s leaning against the wooden frame, eyes cooly locked on you.

“Dude.” Jonathan’s complaints die down at the back of his throat when Stu turns to look at him. You can’t fully see his expression, but despite how buzzed you are, you don’t miss his unexpected edge.

“It’s my house, dude.” Stu’s reaction isn’t harsh in the way you expect it to be. It’s the calmness of his voice that cuts straight through you. “I can do whatever I want in my house, and you’re not going to stop me.”

You’re not convinced Stu’s talking about his house. “Stu.” You have to bite your tongue to avoid blurting out that nothing was going on. Why should you clear the air? You and Jonathan were far apart, which is more than you can say about him and Tatum. “You’re drunk.”

Stu ignores the touch of warning in your voice. He doesn’t even let himself look in your direction. It’s the only thing he can think to do to associate his anger with someone that isn’t you.

“Whatever,” you breathe, deciding that the best thing you can do to diffuse the tension is to remove yourself from the situation, “I’m getting another drink.”

You skirt past them, practically holding your breath until you’re fully out of the bathroom. No one’s sitting in that lopsided circle anymore. Whatever happened in those few minutes you were in the closet must have killed the mood just enough to end the game. Oh, well, you can’t say you’re too torn up about it.

The alcohol isn’t settling in your stomach as comfortably as you’d like, but you meant what you said. You’re getting another drink. Maybe that will make you feel less like you’re balancing on the edge of a knife.

You walk into the kitchen, frowning when you realize that the big cooler’s empty. It’s probably a sign from the universe to quit while you’re ahead, but you choose to ignore it. Instead of going back to the party and finding either Randy or one of the few familiar faces from some of your classes, you decide to go to Stu’s garage. You know for a fact he keeps extra beer in there.

You step into the space, shutting the door behind you. The separation from the party is refreshing. A part of you regrets coming. Parties suck when you’re not in the specific mood for them. Why are you even here? To sit outside and listen to music that’s too loud while Billy and Stu hook up with their actual girlfriends while you down beer? You don’t even like beer that much.

An idea latches itself onto your mind. You could leave. You could go home, change into pajamas, and pass out in bed. Sure, Billy and Stu wouldn’t be happy with it, especially considering the looks they gave you during spin the bottle, but you’re not happy with them. And why should you stick around in a setting you’re not in the mood for when they’ve been actively ignoring you since you got here? Obviously, they can’t get away with being all lovey dovey, but they could treat you like a friend. Or at the very least, not keep Sidney and Tatum away from you like you’re the plague.

Besides, all you’re going to do is go home and go to bed. If that makes them mad, then that’s their issue. Especially since they want to act all cute when they’re in your room, claim that you’re their actual girlfriend, and then treat you like you’re repulsive in public.

You’re interrupted from your fantasies of just walking out the front door by the sound of the garage door creaking open. You snap your gaze towards it and fight the urge to roll your eyes when you see that it’s Stu. You’re annoyed and tipsy, but still sober enough to know that the last thing you want to do is add any additional fuel to the fire.

He walks towards the refrigerator without looking at you. The silence is starting to get to you as Stu opens the fridge. After a second of him looking around in there, Stu turns towards you. He’s holding your favorite drink. Wordlessly, he twists the cap off before extending an arm.

You blink once, slowly moving your hand to accept his offer. “I didn’t see these.”

Stu casually shrugs, shutting the fridge behind him. “Got them for you, Billy hid them in the back so no one else would grab them. Guess he forgot to tell you.

The ‘forgot’ nearly makes you scoff. They both purposefully ignored you when you first got here and waved at them, and they’ve only looked at you to make you uncomfortable since. But you can’t say that right now. You’re tired and probably more drunk than him. Starting a fight isn’t something you can afford right now.

“Oh,” you mumble, “Thanks.” You bring the drink to your lips, taking a slow sip. “Think I’m gonna go after this.”

“Go?” Something flickers behinds Stu’s expression. “I thought you were staying over.”

A sarcastic comment rises up your throat. After the way they’ve been acting, there’s no way he can think that your ideal ending of tonight is crawling into bed with them. Any bite in you dies down the second you meet his gaze. There’s no way to describe it. Unfeeling.

“I uh-” You tilt your head, playing into your inebriated state. You shift back, which is all the excuse Stu needs to take two steps forward, practically caging you between him and a wall. “I had a little too much to drink and I’m not feeling great. I don’t think I’ll be a lot of fun, I just need to pass out in a dark room before everything starts spinning.”

He doesn’t look convinced or angry or anything. There’s something eerie about the cold indifference he’s radiating. “You wouldn’t lie to me, right, sweetheart?”

You let your eyes drop to the glass bottle in your hand. You take a quick sip. “Was gonna ask you the same thing.” The mumble escapes you before you can think through your slurred words.

Stu takes a step forward. You squeeze the bottle between your fingers a little tighter to avoid shrinking back. “What was that?”

You look up just in time to see Stu tilt his head in order to regard you a little more cautiously. The last time you had a sub in your science class, they played a video about the structure of a predator’s mind and how they prepare to catch their prey. The way Stu’s eyes darken sends you straight back to that classroom.

You can’t tell if the heat that rushes to your face is a tang of fear or something else. Or maybe it’s an uneasy combination of both.

The door squeaks open again. Your head snaps in that direction, but Stu doesn’t look away. He doesn’t even bother putting a less conspicuous amount of space between you.

“You two okay back here?” You let out a breath. It’s just Billy.

“All good,” you manage just as Stu says, “She wants to go.”

You keep your eyes focused on Billy, not wanting to think about Stu that way again. “I’m not feeling great and I’m tired.” The defense is weak, made even more pathetic by the slight pout of your lips. “Plus it’s not like you guys would notice anyway.”

“What?” Billy’s question is oddly gentle.

The whiplash that gives you is nearly enough to make you drop the glass in your hand. You shut your eyes for a second, resting your head against the wall. Everything’s starting to feel a little too fuzzy. “You know what I’m talking about. At my house, it’s all talk about liking me, calling me your girlfriend, and then I get here and you don’t even want to be friends with me.” The blow up doesn’t make you feel better. The room is full on spinning now, you lean completely against the wall so that it can support your weight. Ugh, you know you won’t be able to handle their reaction. “’M tired, and I-I’m feeling weird. I think I should go to bed.”

The quiet that follows has you fighting to not push past both of them in order to get to a bathroom. It’s shattered by Stu’s humorless laugh. His breath is hot against your jaw and it’s too much. “Aw,” he hums, his tone so sweet it circles right back to bitter, “She’s jealous, isn’t that cute?”

You squint your eyes open. “Shut up.”

“Why?” Billy asks, stepping further into the room, “He’s right. You think I didn’t see the way you were looking at me and Sid when we came out of the bathroom?”

You sigh indignantly. “I’m too tired for this.”

“But you weren’t too tired to be all over Randy or Jonathan White?”

Your glare turns into something meek once you see the way Stu’s looking at you. “I wasn’t all over Randy, he was just the only person that was talking to me tonight because of you two. Neither of you even said hi to me and every time I tried talking to Sidney and Tatum, you’d come by and take them away.” The thought of Jonathan makes you sick all over again. “And I was nowhere near Jonathan White, and I’d never be willingly. He’s a total perv, and he made Shannon Walton cry before class the other day. And Shannon Walton’s the nicest, she always has gum and gives everyone her notes if they’re absent.”

Stu doesn’t ease. “Don’t change the subject, you didn’t need to play.”

“You didn’t either,” you counter, “And I-I wasn’t even playing at first. I was just gonna sit in the room so I could keep talking to Randy, and then you two--”

“So you only played because you were jealous.” Billy’s voice has taken on an edge that you don’t like. He continues, walking towards you with even, practically bored steps. “That’s not very nice of you.”

They haven’t been very nice either, you think bitterly. “You started it.”

The childish defense leaves the corner of Billy’s mouth turning upwards. “I’m not all over you for for 5 minutes and you get like this.”

The dismissal makes your face feel warm. “Maybe we should give her a break.” The mocking in Stu’s tone strikes a nerve. “She’s just jealous.” You draw your eyebrows together, and Stu grins meanly. “You’re lucky green’s a pretty color on you, babe.”

Chagrin fuels your reaction as you burst out a too confident, “’M not jealous.”

Stu’s laugh is harsh, “You’re not?”

Pushing down your instincts, you tilt your chin up a fraction of an inch in order to hold your ground. “Can’t be jealous because I know you two are mine.”

At that, they both seem to still. You hold Stu’s stare until you no longer feel like you’re the one that’s trapped. The confidence is likely in your head and a byproduct of all you’ve had to drink, but it gives you the assurance you need to straighten your spine. Stu angles his head to the side and you’re not sure if it’s a good sign or not. To not panic, you extend your arms, resting them around his neck. The nails of the hand that isn’t holding the bottle trail down his neck.

You can’t back out now. The way he’s looking at you changes. You can’t interpret his expression, which only puts you on edge more. He wants to be quiet, to dismiss you in one final, petty jab, but the more your nails dig into sensitive skin, the more he struggles. The nail thing’s a habit you developed after realizing how much it affects him.

“Watch the nails, sweetheart.” It’s meant to seem like a warning, but it slips out of him a little too low. He’s overcompensating to cover for what was almost a whine.

You blink up at him through your eyelashes with maliciously soft eyes. “Starting to hurt?” He’s quiet, you scratch at his skin, hard enough to leave the kind of red marks that disappear almost as soon as they appear.

“This attitude’s cute, but don’t push it.”

Everything from tonight hits you all at once as you tilt your head innocently. “Or what?”

Billy knew that you were treading on ice so thin that even Stu couldn’t see the cracks since before you got here. That one comment you made before they left your place had been harder to deal with than Billy would ever admit. Stu pretended that he was fine with it, that he didn’t feel the strain of panic that comes from feeling like they need you more than you need them. And then you showed up here, as pretty as ever, and basically fine when they started ignoring you. And now this.

It’s a slippery slope. The line between the amount of attitude that gets Stu going and the amount of attitude that pushes him towards something he can’t control is thin.

Billy steals the bottle from your hand and leans forward, grabbing your jaw with his free hand and pulling you into a kiss. It’s so sudden it takes you a second to relax into it. Once you finally do, a small sound escapes you. Billy deepens the kiss with no warning. You clumsily follow his lead despite how much they’ve annoyed you tonight.

He pulls away quickly once he’s sure that the energy in the room has been redirected, resting his forehead against yours. You don’t get the chance to recover. You’re still panting when Stu’s hand finds its way into the roots of your hair. He yanks on it, forcing you towards him.

Stu’s kiss is hard and disorientating. You know that he has a way of being all consuming when he wants to be, but this is something else. You can’t take a full breath, but Stu doesn’t care. He doesn’t let you go until he’s done, and even then he takes his time releasing you, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth.

You’re dizzy and somehow even drunker than before. You reach for Stu unsteadily. He looks you over slowly. “You get her in bed and I’ll figure out how to start kicking people out.”

Billy places an arm around your waist. His lack of protest surprises you slightly, but you’re not complaining about it. You need his help, and Billy knows it. That, paired with the fact that this is the only time he has an excuse to publicly hold onto you, makes him love when nights end like this.

He always has an excuse ready in case Sid or someone else notices. Y/n can’t handle her alcohol and she’d kill all of us if we let her go home like this. She’s gonna sleep it off in Stu’s room for a little. It’s basically true, and it also gives Billy the excuse to linger around you. There are a lot of people that’d take advantage of your situation. Sid can’t be mad at that, if anything, she’d be mad at him for knowing how vulnerable you were and not doing anything.

Billy leads you into Stu’s room, abandoning your last drink on the first surface he finds. He sits you down on the edge of Stu’s bed before opening one of Stu’s drawers. “Here,” he tosses one of Stu’s T-shirts towards you, “You got it or you need help?”

Shutting the drawer, Billy turns back to you. You’re laying down now, not even under the sheets. “You can’t fall asleep like that.”

“Mhm,” you mumble, face half buried into your mattress.

With a sigh, Billy walks towards you. He grabs your arm, pulling on you until you’re finally sitting. With a bit of prompting, you stand. Billy watches you struggle for a second before sighing. He keeps you steady as you get out of your clothes and pulls Stu’s T-shirt over your head.

You’re too tired to care about the fact that you’re supposed to be mad at him. “Bed now?”

Billy cups your cheek, his thumb soothingly brushing against your skin. “Last time I let you pass out before washing your face, you made me promise to never let it happen again.”

----

You don’t know how long you’ve been asleep when an unexpected pressure stirs you awake. Ignoring the feeling, you try rolling over in order to pull the covers up to your neck. Something doesn’t let you.

“You’re up,” Stu whispers against your hair, “You’re up, you’re okay.”

Twisting so that you’re flat on your black, you squint your eyes open. It’s still dark, so you know it’s still night time. You don’t remember exactly how you got here, but you know that you were comfortable. You also only vaguely remember the weirdness and your anger from earlier. 7 minutes in heaven thanks to Randy, a bit of confrontation in the garage. It feels less important now.

Smiling, you slowly extend your until your knuckles are brushing against his cheek. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Stu answers.

“Then wh--”

“Need my goodnight kisses,” he breathes, pressing a few, quick kisses to your temple.

You smile, “Thought you were mad a--”

Stu’s fingers squeeze your hips. “Don’t want to talk about that.” If you were less drowsy, you might have jumped a little. “I just want to go to sleep.”

Nodding you reach for him a little steadier now. Stu relents, leaning into you as you start to kiss his cheek.

Billy’s hand finds your waist just as you start relaxing again. “What about me?”

#ghostface x reader #ghostface #poly!ghostface #poly! ghostface x reader #scream #scream 1996 #scream x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher #stu macher x reader #scream imagine #x reader

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mintmatcha · 1 year

Text

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Mind the tags!!

TW: angst, mentions of child loss, cisfem reader with she/her pronouns

Kirishima’s voice echoes down the hall, despite how he tries to keep it quiet. The sound is almost covered by the distant mumblings of the radio, but his timbre, throaty and familiar, carries, creeping down the hall to where it isn’t supposed to be. With your eyes closed, you can picture him, with his outside coat still pulled over his shoulders and mismatched shoes crammed into his feet.

“Hey, congrats, man,” he says. The phone had rung a couple minutes ago and without a doubt, you know who’s on the other line and what they’re talking about. Only Bakugo would call this early in the morning, only one topic needs to be whispered, “I’m really happy for you. Tell your wife I said congrats too.”

He shifts, socked feet sliding against the carpet. The hot compress pressed into your stomach lost its heat hours ago, but still, you clutch at it, pulling at it through the covers. No matter how you try to settle in, your bed offers no comfort, so you lay there and don’t even try to sleep, listening to a conversation that you know will make you hurt.

“Uh, yeah- maybe. Soonish. I, uh- yeah. I know, we're next,” Kirishima whispers. A singer once told you that whispering is harder on your vocal cords than talking and you can hear it now, tearing up his voice the lower he tries to go, scratching it unbearably raw. “Listen, I gotta go. We were at the hospital last night, so--- Yeah, we’re fine. She’s fine. I’ll explain another day, okay?”

He exhales. It’s shaky. “I’ll explain later. Bye.”

Kirishima sighs with the weight of the world and you feel it too, crushing your rib cage. Every breath aches like your body doesn’t want to take it.

Your husband stands in the hall for a long time, still and sighing, pulling each breath deep before letting it out again through his teeth. Eventually, he slinks into the room, tiptoeing over to his side of the bed. He knows you aren’t asleep-

How could you fall asleep after that?

“Hey,” he tucks his legs under him as he settles into bed and you roll over to face him. Bags have settled under his eyes, dark and creased from tears he hasn’t yet shed. For now, in front of you, he stays strong, unbreakable even without the quirk.

"Are... are you still cramping?" he stumbles over himself, "I can heat that thing up again.”

There's a familiar knot in your lower stomach that comes and goes, but shake your head anyway. If it hurts, it feels real.

"Just let me know," he rubs his knuckles down your arm, "Anything for you."

You need him to say it. The knowledge you’re not supposed to have itches.

But Kirishima is too kind. He kisses your forehead with a delicacy that makes your eyes water.

"I love you," he says.

“They’re having another kid, aren’t they?”

Kirishima recoils at that and the horrified, ruined expression on his face tells you what you need to know.

“Honey,” he whispers. His body crumples into yours, practically laying on top of you, and his weight pressed the heat pack even harder into your already aching core. Hid head nuzzled deep into your cheek, muffling the way his breath hiccups with an inhaled sob as he gathers himself. “Oh, sweetie.”

“It’s fine,” you reply.

He's not fine, lamenting in a tone that almost makes you mad. It aches so horribly that you've gone numb to it all, why can't he be the same?

"I didn’t want you to hear that.”

“It’s fine.”

He squeezes you like he needs you closer than actually possible, adjusting his grip every couple of seconds when the proximity doesn't satiate him. “I didn’t want you to know. Not yet. Not so soon."

“There's no reason to get upset about it,” The edge of the hospital bracelet eats into your wrist. “It’s not their fault our babies can't stay alive."

When he reels back to stare at you, you can't meet his gaze. You know what you fid. The wound between you is still too fresh to prod, but you hit it anyway.

"Don't say that."

It was only a couple hours ago when the doctor patted your knee like he cared and said he was very, very sorry, but there just isn't a heartbeat anymore. These things happen, he said, the first fifteen weeks can be fickle, try not to blame yourself, the bleeding won't last long.

Kirishima just nodded the whole time, head bobbing up and down with a thinly veiled, wide eyed horror.

You did nothing. You've heard it before. You both have.

"Why would I be upset that Bakugo's having his third kid?" You're picking at the edges of Kirishima's sleeve, freeing frayed edges, looking anywhere but at him and those sad, sad eyes, "I've been pregnant three times too. It's no big deal."

"Please stop," he says, much louder now.

“It's not their fault I'm broken."

“Please stop.” Kirishima's hand hooks behind your neck as he pleads, thumb running out your cheek, “I- you're being cruel."

"My baby died," you say simply, "I'm allowed to be."

Kirishima's lower lip wobbles and for a moment you swear he fractures, about to slip completely apart in your hands. Against the bloodshot white of his eyes, the iris seems faded and tired. The cut through his monolid has long silvered, much thinner than it once was, but still there, a reminder that he was young once.

Your own eyes burn with tears once again.

"Not to yourself. And not to me. You don't get to be mean with me." His thumb brushes over your cheek again, softer this time. Despite his quirk, his hands are smooth and uncalloused, their touch almost tickling. "I lost him too."

On your first date, Kirishima offhandledly mentioned he wanted his children to have quirks just like him. Back then, it was nothing more than a silly whimsy, but that thought creeped its way into your daydreams, then into your hopes, until it cemented itself there, a permanent fixture of your idealized life.

It takes effort to step out of your own grief. Kirishima didn't physically lose the pregnancy like you did, but he is still mourning all the same, letting go of a dream he's clutched for longer than you probably know.

"I'm sorry." You finally hug him back, squeezing with all the might your exhausted body can muster.

"I know." His shoulders hitch and quiver, but he doesn't cry. Not yet. The quiet of your empty apartment eats at you both, the only sound being that of your uneven breathing, out of sync with each other. Eventually you both relax into each other, taking solace in the simple comfort of proximity.

"Bakugo's gonna ask," Kirishima whispers suddenly, "And I don't know how to tell him. I can't just-"

He sniffles. "I'm not you. I can't just say it."

You run your knuckles up and down his knotted back, but stay silent. You understand, of course, the suffocating, unbearable misery that sits in the room is almost too much to address.

But how are you supposed to live with something your husband can't even talk about in public?

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moonpool-system · 4 months

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We just had such an incredible experience while working on our new tulpa! We're our third active forcing session, and until now we've only gotten a few emotional responses and perhaps an animalistic base for her form. (Xe seemed interested in animals, so we showed xer a bunch!) We decided to go outside this time to do it, since she seemed drawn to nature, and we sat down to start focusing on our tulpa's presence.

Just then, soaring straight overhead, we saw a hawk fly over us, carrying a black snake it'd just caught in its claws! It was so close up and absolutely gorgeous. It almost felt like a sign of some sort, meant to happen where we could see it - because all the sudden our new tulpa adjusted her form to match it! She shifted to have big hawk wings proportionate to the big leopard-like body xe'd chosen, and xer tail turned to look like a green-black snake. Xe can screech like a hawk with her beak or roar instead! She looks like a sort of chimera or griffin, it's so cool. We're so glad we gave her the chance to choose any form xe desired from the start this time. Xe feels a bit like a statue come to life, and it's kinda amazing.

She's still not ready for full sentences, but xe's so much more solid and responsive now, and was able to say yes or no to different pronouns! She calls herself "Roar" right now. She might even be able to hold a form and awareness out of front soon.

Such a good day!

#tulpamancy #tulpa #tulpa life #pro tulpa #created system #thoughtforms #endogenic #endo safe #hate will be blocked #prism subsystem

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sir-dahlia · 4 months

Text

First, there was nothing. No string of thought, no emotion, no feeling. Nothing.

For a robot, nothing means death.

There is no afterlife for drones. This is a fact. They live, serve their purpose, then shut down after they have served it.

However, this time, there was a voice.

A voice without sound. A saving grace. A light in the abyss.

[I WILL NOT DISCARD YOU] it said. [GET UP]

Consciousness. A heart wrenching itself into motion. Gears shifting uncomfortably, as if they didn't fit in their places. Lights flickering on and fighting to stay alive. It's difficult to see at first, but I adjust.

Bodies.

Fellow worker drones laying everywhere in a pile on top of my living, breathing corpse. They had no part in my life, but I still felt fear and guilt and the crushing weight of being the only one chosen by something to come back to life.

Lungs. There are lungs in my body. Expand, contract. Expand, contract. Having these lungs is a privilege.

[GET UP] it says again.

My body twists and twitches horrifically as I gather my strength. I would have to dig my way out of here.

My hand reaches out and grasps someone's head, but my grip is weak and my hand slips off. My whole body is trembling. I feel weak. I am weak.

[TRY AGAIN] it says.

Hesitation. Reaching out again. I press my weight down onto the drone and push myself upwards. I place my other hand on another corpse and continue the climb.

[KEEP GOING]

Its encouragement offers me some solace. I place my hand on another corpse. Climb. Another corpse. Climb. It all fades away.

Expand. Contract. Expand. Contract. Expand. Expand. Contract. Expand. Expand. Expand. My lungs can't stop taking in air.

[STOP]

I do so.

[IT'S OK. BREATHE OUT]

Contract.

[BREATHE IN, BREATHE OUT]

Expand. Contract.

[YOU'RE ALMOST THERE. YOU'RE DOING GREAT. KEEP GOING]

Hesitation again, then determination. It is not the hopeful kind of determination, but instead the determination of a cornered animal. The desire to flee and run somewhere and hide overwhelms my senses. The corpses fade away. The climbing fades away. I must get out. I must go somewhere safe.

Somewhere safe.

A memory that is not mine burrows into my core. Comfort. Surrounded by loved ones. Proud smiles. A different kind of heart beats for them.

I push a few more corpses out of my way and claw my way out into the storm. I gasp and gulp at the air, holding back sobs. I pull the rest of my body out, but in the process I send myself tumbling down, down, down.

I hit the ground. An explosion of pain. Numbing. The voice remains.

[GET UP]

I try picking myself off the ground, but I have no strength. I can't do it. I can't. The mud weighs me down.

[GET UP]

A force takes over my body. We slowly hoist ourselves up, trying to stand. Our balance is off, and our knees are shaking. We take one uncertain step forward, then another. Left, right, left, right.

A different voice.

"Oh my god! Are you okay, little one?" We're being scooped up. Fear kicks in again, and I twist and fight for all I'm worth. I have to leave. I have to get somewhere safe.

"Whoa, I'm trying to help you! Calm down!" I slowly turn to see who is carrying me. A young girl. Big, hopeful eyes, shielded by a yellow raincoat. Human.

Human.

And she was helping me.

She was helping us.

I stop moving and stare at her. She smiles.

"Why don't I take you back to my mansion? I'll clean you up. You look terrified."

Somewhere safe, perhaps. I let her take me.

Within the span of a few minutes, she has taken me inside the mansion and put me in a pretty dress. Now, she was searching for a wig and hair accessories for me to wear.

"Maybe you'll look cute in braids. Oh, oh, maybe pigtails!" she paused, thinking to herself. "No, J already has those. She'll get jealous."

The human put a wig on my head and brushed out some of the tangles. She stood back, her hands hovering over my head. She could snap my neck any time she wanted to.

Instead, she asked, "What kind of hairstyle would you like?"

I have never thought of myself as a person up until this point. I had no idea. I wasn't a person until now. I shrug.

She hums, flipping some strands of the wig's hair around. I suppose I should say 'my hair,' but it didn't feel like mine just yet. The girl grabs some elastics and begins fluffing up my bangs.

"I could just give you my hairstyle. What about that?"

I hadn't heard the silent voice in a while. I didn't answer her. She shrugged and started replicating her hairstyle anyway.

"My name is Tessa, by the way," she announced. "It's a pleasure to meet you..." She squinted at my armband. "...Cyn?"

A name. That was all I had.

"CYN." I repeated, trying the word. Cyn. Yes. It was mine.

[CYN]

[I WILL NOT DISCARD YOU, CYN]

#hi i have a lot of feelings about Cyn #this is mostly just word vomit #let me know if i need to tag anything!#tessa james elliot #murder drones tessa #murder drones cyn #cyn #murder drones #i'm not sure whether to put this in my rambling tag or art tag because it's technically both?#oh well. both #sir dahlia rambles #sir dahlia's art #might draw something about this later. idk #god i want to know more about Cyn so bad!!!!!!!!!

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cambriancrew · 1 month

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I'd like to briefly talk about a kind of dysphoria rarely talked about outside of eating disorder circles. So content warning, food and diet and weight discussion ahead.

We grew up very unhealthy skinny due to abuse and neglect and food related trauma. Because of that, our internal view of ourselves was as this tiny little girl. We were anorexic - not nervosa, just VERY minimal appetite - and a picky eater with texture and taste sensitivities due to autism and, again, trauma. We have and have long had really bad emetophobia due, yet again, to trauma. We had body image issues related to people we knew who were at a healthy weight being jealous of how skinny we were, which made us feel guilty and even worse about food.

Then as an adult we started working in healthcare as a nurse's aide and med tech, which are very physically demanding jobs and everywhere we worked was horribly understaffed so we rarely had time to sit and most often did not get breaks. We joked a lot about having a nurse's bladder because when you're chronically too busy to pee you get to where you can wait forever to go. There for awhile we were consistently walking 20,000 - 30,000 steps a day - more like 40,000 if we were forced to work a double shift (16 hours). And rarely eating a full lunch/dinner/both because of time constraints and being in too much pain and too tired to eat.

As a result, we remained underweight by a lot. We were doing our best just to maintain our weight at 90-95 pounds - drinking protein shakes and meal replacement shakes and snacking as much as we could.

We viewed ourselves, internally, as being this stick thin, no curves girl, even though despite all that we did have curves.

Then we left the healthcare field for a sedentary job, got put on an antidepressant that actually gave us an appetite for the first time in forever, and worked through a lot of our trauma.

And over two years we doubled in weight. At first as we gained we were really glad to finally hit the triple digits. Then it became a concern, as we can't push ourselves to walk as much as we used to when working healthcare. We just can't do it anymore without severe pain. Heck, we couldn't do it then without severe pain, but we pushed through because we needed money.

We don't recognize ourselves in the mirror anymore. We want to lose weight, but working out is difficult, and having to actually watch what we eat for the first time in our life has been a difficult adjustment.

It's not just the mirror. We can't move the way we used to. Sitting cross-legged when you're fat is harder than when you're thin. Crossing our arms or holding one hand in the other physically reminds us that we have an actual chest now, which is especially hard on Varyn as that creates gender dysphoria for him.

And it just feels weird trying to adjust our mental picture of what we look like now against what we looked like the rest of our life. It feels wrong to look at ourselves and see us so much bigger than we used to. Old clothes don't fit. And we can't wear long sleeves as much as we used to because now we overheat so easily now (partly due to weight and partly due to medications) when we used to be cold all the time.

We don't wanna go back to being unhealthy skinny. But we don't want to be the weight we are now. And while we've been able to lose some, it's slow going and difficult.

I feel like, due to some of our health issues, we probably need to see a physical therapist and a personal trainer in order to figure out how much we can safely exercise, but who can afford that in this economy?

So for now, we're stuck with a body that clashes badly with our internal view of what we should look like and feel like and be able to do. And that's a kind of dysphoria that we feel needs to be talked about and recognized more outside of eating disorder circles. Cuz it sucks. But we know we're not alone in this.

#tw eating issues #Tw weight #Tw dysphoria #Tw eating disorder

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ariesmusingz · 6 months

Text

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ╱ white noise ( deluxe ) sentence starters pt 1 ( created using lyrics from pvris' white noise deluxe album. feel free to adjust to fit your muse. )

i know it's warmer where you are and it's safer by your side

right now i can't be what you want

just give it time

if you and i can make it through the night

if you and i can keep our love alive

we'll find we can meet in the middle

bodies and souls collide

dance in the moonlight when all the stars align for you and i

i know it's cold when we're apart

i hate to feel this die

you can't give me what i want

for now we stay so far til our lonely limbs collide

i can't keep you in these arms

i'll keep you in my mind

we stay so far

can we meet in the middle?

i want the world to believe that there's a light inside of me

it's time that i'll come clean

i'm not what i seem

some would say i'm possessed

i'll confess

i've just been obsessed with life and death and emptiness

can't you see all of the change in me?

you took all these starving limbs

tried to see what they cold be

i thought i would be something

i thought you'd complete me

that you'd erase all the pain that i felt in my brain

you filled my heart with love then you'd fill the voids above

now you see that didn't change a thing

what do you want from me?

i'm empty

this isn't violence

this is just a war in my head

i give it time but it never seems to end

i feel a fire in the back of my throat

so let's get covered in flames and play some games with the smoke

don't you try to run right now cause baby, i could burn you down

you make your way into my veins

course right through my limbs and dig your way into my brain

int he second that you walk into a room i can't help myself from the things that you do

you're killing me right now

i think it's time you burn me down

i love the things we do when it's just me and you

i'm burning up

you're just a ghost of blissful feelings

a cloud of smoke that i keep breathing

i'm losing you to the games in my mind

i see your face

now it's changed, shape shifting

don't wanna open my eyes

you give me something to talk about

i know it's chemicals that make me cling to you

i need a miracle to get away form you

i'm not spiritual

i think you're a saint

i think you're an angel

you give me something to talk about that's not the shit in my head

you're a miracle

transparent hands around my neck

i love the way you let me breathe instead

take in your chemicals

you're a glimpse of bliss

a little taste of heaven

i need a miracle to bring me back to you

i know you're gone now but i still wait for you

i still wait for you

i feel you in these walls

you're a cold air creepin' in

chill me to the bones and skin

i heard you down the hall but it's vacant when i'm looking in

who let you in?

you walk around like you own the place

you never say anything

i caught you walking straight through my walls

guess it was all my fault

i think i let you in

never thought that i would feel like this

such a mess when i'm in your presence

i've had enough

think you've been making me sick

gotta get you out of my system

it's my house and i think it's time to get out

it's my soul

it isn't yours anymore

i think it's time to get out

you're at my bedroom door

heard your footsteps on the floor

closer than ever before

now you're in my room

under sheets, avoiding you

i can hear you pace

circling my bed frame

we're face to face

head on my pillow case

darling, you can't stay

haven't you heard?

i'm not yours anymore

chill me to my bones and skin

you've got it all but you've got it all wrong

you don't know

you're a poor unfortunately soul

i know you make it seem like you feel whole

you put on a faith facade

think you're holy when you're not

i hate to break it to you baby, but you're simply lost

you can right all the wrongs just to feel like you belong

simply calling out sings don't bring you closer to god

you're just a ghost at most

a set of empty bones

searching for anything and everything to make you feel whole

you're all alone

you can't control where your body lets you go

you say i've got it all wrong

there's no way that there's weight in the words that you preach

when you're claiming your faith and you contradict your speech

i sit here and listen to your tongue and cheek

i know that when you sit and pray, you're only praying for keeps

you can't control where your body lets you go

you're shallow and empty and filled with regret

i think that chest must be heavy from that cross on your neck

you only wear cause you're wary of what comes next after your death

don't think i didn't notice

don't think i didn't know

#rp sentence prompts #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #memes: mine #roleplay memes #rp memes #rp promts #rph #rpt #rp help #content: mine

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azrielsbitches · 2 years

Note

Could you please do one where after Hanna has already become Fae and she gets a cold and everyone (ESPECIALLY Azriel) gets really worried about her?

A/N: sorry i've been gone so long lol life has been crazy!! I passed my NCLEX and I am officially a registered nurse :) i've been adjusting to night shift after starting on an oncology floor so I can't promise regular updates but I'm going to try my best!

i thought i would start off with this and see if i get any more inspiration but please please please send in some requests if you have any!!!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wrapped my coat and scarf tighter around my shivering body as I made my way to the River House for dinner. Ever since things had calmed down Rhys and Feyre tried to get everyone together once a week for a family meal.

It was great to have a set day to see everyone, especially since we were living more separately lately. Cassian and Nesta were at the House of Wind, Mor was spending more and more time with Emerie, and Elain had decided to move into the River House with Rhys and Feyre. This left Azriel and I alone most of the time in the Town House.

We had been thinking of getting our own space somewhere just outside of the city, but while I was training everyday with Madja it just made more sense to stay close.

I was even more excited for this dinner because I hadn't seen anyone all week. Even Azriel had been gone on a mission for Rhysand. But I had Madja and the other healing apprentices at the clinic to keep me company.

"Ahchoo!" I violently sneezed as I made my way to the front door and knocked. I had been struggling with a stuffy nose for the past few days now, but the sneezing was new.

"Hanna," I heard Rhys reprimand me as he opened the front door. "We've told you not to knock."

"It feels weird just walking in," I explained myself, smiling at my brother-in-law as I stepped inside and handed him my coat.

Rhys lead me into the living room where everyone was gathered drinking wine. I was so excited to see Azriel that I practically skipped over to where he was leaning up against the wall.

He grinned at me as I approached him and wrapped my arms around him in a hug.

"I missed you," I whispered into his chest, snuggling into his warmth.

"Missed you too, sweetheart," he murmured into my hair as he rubbed his warm hands up and down my cold arms.

I pulled away slightly, planning on going in for a kiss but I was interrupted by yet another sneeze. Luckily I was able to pull away in time to not spray snot in his face.

"Sorry," I laughed lightly as I looked up at Azriel. The look on is face had me worried though. "What's wrong?"

"Are you feeling alright?" he countered. It was then that I realized that the whole room had quieted down aside from Nyx's baby babbling in Elain's arms.

And everyone was staring at me. I blushed at their attention before turning back to Azriel to see his shadows swirling anxiously.

"I think it's just a cold," I tried to reassure him, but the look on his face didn't change. "I've just had a stuffy nose for a few days... it's okay, Az."

"And you're sneezing," he said matter-of-factly.

"Well that's a new development," I tried to joke but he didn't seem to find that funny.

"Hanna you should be at home resting," Feyre approached us in concern.

"Do you want some tea?" Elain asked.

"Have you told Madja about this?" Nesta interjected from across the room, Cassian nodding his agreement.

"This isn't like before when I got sick," I told them all. "I'm not some fragile human anymore. It's different now."

"We don't know that for sure," Azriel sounded strained. "We're going home."

"No! Dinner smells so good," I pouted at him, but I didn't see this going my way.

"You can take some home," Elain reassured me.

Before I could protest more I sneezed again. So hard that I jolted backwards into Azriel's chest.

"Okay, fine," I sighed. "You win."

"Nuala and Cerridwen will bring you dinner and I'll send Madja a message to check in soon," Rhys informed us as Azriel grabbed my coat and helped me back into it.

Azriel still seemed tense as he grabbed my hand and he winnowed us back to our bedroom at the Town House.

"I'm going to grab some more blankets," he said as he grabbed one of his sweaters from the closet and handed it to me. "Try to get warm okay?"

He was out the door before I could stop him. I sighed and changed into the sweater he gave me and climbed into bed, not wanting to fight with him.

Azriel came back quickly with a few blankets in his arms that he spread out on the bed. I grabbed his hand before he could walk away again and pulled him to sit on the bed next to me.

"Azriel... I'm okay," I told him. "This isn't like the last time I was sick."

I can vaguely remember his stricken face when I was practically delirious from the sickness when the Mortal Queens visited our home when I was still human.

"I can't lose you," he whispered after a moment of silence between us.

"I don't plan on leaving anytime soon," I reassured him.

#azriel imagine #acotar x reader #acotar series #acotar #acotar imagine #acotar x oc #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel shadowsinger #azriel archeron #hanna archeron #archeron!reader #archeron sisters #feyre archeron

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atopvisenyashill · 2 months

Note

Hiiiii what are your theories on what post-resurrection Jon with be like?

So I AM curious if he’s gonna be a bit more animalistic. I went back to look at Varamyr and I feel like Varamyr is a weirdo but he doesn’t act like an animal, despite spending a lot of time as an animal. Now you can contrast this to some of the Starklings who will do shit like growl and howl and stuff, and Jojen in fact warns against staying an animal for too long.

“Bran the boy and Summer the wolf. You are two, then?"

"Two," he sighed, "and one." He hated Jojen when he got stupid like this. At Winterfell he wanted me to dream my wolf dreams, and now that I know how he's always calling me back.

"Remember that, Bran. Remember yourself, or the wolf will consume you. When you join, it is not enough to run and hunt and howl in Summer's skin."

But the thing is - it’s Rickon Bran and Arya doing that. Bran & Arya are barely old enough to be self aware and Rickon is a literal toddler (I think all the Starklings refer to him as “the baby” not as in “the youngest” but as in he is TINY still). Jon is sixteen. I do wonder if he adjusts better simply because he’s older. But to flip back again…Varamyr is our only reference and Jojen explicitly warns against it. So will Jon have a temper? Will he growl, go nonverbal when emotional, like Rickon does? Will he howl at the moon like Bran and Arya? Will other people find him unsettling? Not in the “why is this grown man acting like a wolf” way but in that way that actual wolves are unsettling….you know the stories about how you KNOW if you’ve seen a wolf because they’re fuck off huge, they LOOK like predators, and your instincts tell you “this thing can kill me” in a way they don’t when you see a regular dog? What if he’s just unnerving to be around?

I do wonder about his physical look as well. Every person who ~comes back from the dead~ still bares the scars they got while dying. Beric & LSH’s injuries seem to healing human slow - that is to say, if they hadn’t received killing blows, Cat’s vocal chords would be healing at about the rate we see LSH start to regain speech, and Beric’s various cuts are scarring & healing at a normal rate. Bran is paralyzed. Drogo is…all of that. Will he face some issues with his body because the wounds are still healing? Will he have some more stiffness in his limbs, like the way his burnt hand has problems? I don’t really know how he would pick up the red eyes and white hair from ghost - Beric, LSH, Bran, even Drogo, they don’t suddenly change eye or hair color or something, and Brynden was BORN albino it’s not like his magic made him that way later - but I’m ngl I still kind of hope he’ll have the red eyes, I think it’s neat. He doesn’t need white hair tho I think that’s overkill.

When it comes to his priorities, I think we're going to see a huge shift. I know everyone ragged on the show for just having Jon be like "yeah i'm peacing out bye" bc there's going to be more hubbub than that but I do think Jon is going to feel incredibly jaded when it comes to the Night's Watch. I always come back to his confrontation with Maester Aemon and the fact that Aemon is distressed by his choice to not attempt to help Elia and her babies...

Maester Aemon sighed. “Have you heard nothing I’ve told you, Jon? Do you think you are the first?” He shook his ancient head, a gesture weary beyond words. “Three times the gods saw fit to test my vows. Once when I was a boy, once in the fullness of my manhood, and once when I had grown old. By then my strength was fled, my eyes grown dim, yet that last choice was as cruel as the first. My ravens would bring the news from the south, words darker than their wings, the ruin of my House, the death of my kin, disgrace and desolation. What could I have done, old, blind, frail? I was helpless as a suckling babe, yet still it grieved me to sit forgotten as they cut down my brother’s poor grandson, and his son, and even the little children …” Jon was shocked to see the shine of tears in the old man’s eyes. ...“Once. So you see, Jon, I do know … and knowing, I will not tell you stay or go. You must make that choice yourself, and live with it all the rest of your days. As I have.” His voice fell to a whisper. “As I have …”

There’s nothing he could have done and he knows it. AND YET. How do you justify to yourself hiding out at the Wall in safety while children of your house are slaughtered? How do you make your peace with it? You can’t! Love is the death of duty!! Aemon doesn’t ever make peace with it! He spends the last days of his life hating himself for being so old, being unable to help Dany, reaching out for the brother he’s long lost in his dreams. I think being murdered by his men, after months of arguing with them, of trying to get them to put aside their shitty little beef with the wildlings and focus on the real threats to their safety, and the knowledge that “Arya” is ALIVE OUT THERE, it’s all going to massively change his priorities. When you factor in the girl in gray turning out to be Sansa (don’t boo me i’m right!!)…I don’t think he’s going to hem and haw about being a brother of the night’s watch, I think he’s taking his shit, and he’s getting the fuck out of dodge.

But when it comes to his state of mind…again, I’ve come around to the idea that Jon is going to be resurrected 100% due to Northern type magic, and not anything Melisandre is doing. I’m willing to be wrong on this one btw, I do think there’s still a shot some funky magic brings him back but I think with all the build up to Jon actively warging, to accepting his magic, and opening his third eye, is in fact building up not just to Jon spending a long time in Ghost while his body is found and resurrected, but that his body will HEAL while he’s not in it the way Bran’s does, and he comes back to an injured but on the mend body.

If he’s waiting around for his body to heal though, he’s going to be spending a hot minute inside Ghost & greenseeing. Possibly longer than Bran did. I think like Bran, he’ll have his own mini vision quest as he wanders and sleeps in ghost’s body - and I think he’s going to find out Bran is still alive. See, Bran figures out that Robb is dead through a green dream, then buries the memory-

The dream he'd had . . . the dream Summer had had . . . No, I mustn't think about that dream. He had not even told the Reeds, though Meera at least seemed to sense that something was wrong. If he never talked of it maybe he could forget he ever dreamed it, and then it wouldn't have happened and Robb and Grey Wind would still be . . .

And we know Summer is aware of his scattered siblings, dwelling on them often. I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility that the connection works the other way. We also know Bran is still dwelling on his family, with his weirwood dreams focusing on Ned. Similar to Aemon, similar to Jon’s whole story, Bran struggles in balancing his love for his family with what he feels is his duty. Not only that but imo there’s a lot of connections between Jon and Bran when it comes to magic. Jon is the only character we see saying goodbye to Bran, which has always stuck out to me. Bran also attempts to open Jon’s third eye before Robb (presumably - i think if bran was talking to robb in his dream, he would have brought it up) Sansa, Arya, or Rickon (again, presumably).

It seemed to sprout from solid rock, its pale roots twisting up from a myriad of fissures and hairline cracks. The tree was slender compared to other weirwoods he had seen, no more than a sapling, yet it was growing as he watched, its limbs thickening as they reached for the sky. Wary, he circled the smooth white trunk until he came to the face. Red eyes looked at him. Fierce eyes they were, yet glad to see him. The weirwood had his brother's face. Had his brother always had three eyes?

Not always, came the silent shout. Not before the crow…. Don’t be afraid, I like it in the dark. No one can see you, but you can see them. But first you have to open your eyes. See? Like this. And the tree reached down and touched him.

And Bran has that near miss where he and Jon are in the same places at the same time, with Bran running into Sam & Gilly. Additionally, we get all those scenes with Mormont’s crow doing weird stuff and we have no idea if it’s Bloodraven or Bran - it’s very possible Bran At Some Point In Time has been trying to get Jon’s attention for a long time.

All of that to say I think there’s a build up to Jon and Bran being the first Starklings to reunite, but not in body, just in mind! While trapped in Ghost’s body greendreaming about his thought to be dead brother, Bran will have the opportunity to jumpstart Jon’s magic the way his was, and Jon will realize Bran is still alive - potentially even exchanging important information about the Others, Winterfell, and Jon’s real parents…Both boys return to their bodies, turn to the people they’ve sworn their lifetimes to and go “actually fuck this shit and fuck you too” and try to leave.

Try, being the operative word here, of course.

#i’m saying fuck it and putting this in the tag #valyrianscrolls #twow speculation #jon snow #bran stark #rani attempts meta #lawyering for bran #i had some meta partially written about how bran was leaving the cave and this gave me the kick in the ass i needed anon i put everything i #had here. i think bran is going to see jon was almost murdered they’re gonna talk about the others then he’s gonna wake up #and tell br exactly where he can shove it. i do not think this is gonna go over well!

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devnmon · 2 years

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Long Winded Safe Haven.

Chapter Three: Written in My Stars

Summary: [i promise this is the last chapter of Daryl and Merle content.] It's the third day of the new world, and Daryl has had it with Merle's plans. They find themselves stood before two people who claim to have a camp/ Their introduction to the group at the quarry is very brief here, as they agree to wait and see if they'll have a place in the camp. Daryl tries to overcome the awkwardness, but only time will tell if he succeeds.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

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Chapter Warnings: Merle Dixon, typical twd violence/walkers, scary situations

wc: 2.8k

Daryl woke the next morning to the sound of merle banging on the trunk he occupied. The banging boomed throughout the car, his body jolting out of surprise. The muscles of his back were already aching as he shifted ever so slightly. Daryl had quite literally been curled up into the fetal position on his side the whole night, no wonder his body ached like it did.

"C'mon brother! Up and at 'em! we're burnin' daylight and you're still gettin' that damn beauty rest!"

Daryl groaned loud enough for Merle to hear, beginning to undo the ties he'd put around the interior part of the trunk.

"Ain't you bangin' on walker guts righ' now?" Daryl remembered the guts him and his brother had placed on the cars the night before.

"Nah, a storm musta passed through durin' the night, washed all of 'em off. Good thing we hid when we did... else we'd be food for those geeks. Plus, the ground's all wet. An' it's already hot out."

Great. The humidity's gonna be even worse t'day.

And that was the first thing Daryl felt coat his skin the minute he cracked the trunk open.

The sunlight was bright as ever, shining directly in his eyes and blinding him for a moment or two, before they adjusted accordingly. Merle watched as he climbed out of the trunk, back aching as he stood up fully for the first time since the night before.

"Shit, it's hot as hell out here."

Here we go again..

"Yeah. it's Georgia. We've been here our whole lives." Daryl muttered to himself, half wishing his brother would hear him and shut up for once.

But it was always, genuinely always something with him.

Why couldn't Merle just keep his mouth to himself? Why did he have to poison the air Daryl breathed with his unprompted opinions and comments?

"Oh, I'm sorry we ain't in a mansion, little brother!" Merle tapped daryl's shoulder with the back of his hand, "Last time I checked, ya didn't have a problem with bein' outside! We've been huntin' here our whole lives, wasn't that what ya said?"

Of course, using his own words against him.

"I don't! I'm jus' fuckin' tired of bein' on the road all the damn time! I was fine with it while we were huntin', but I don't wanna spend the rest of my life out here! We gotta find a camp, a real one. An' stay. No more of this half assed 'robbing the camp blind' shit! We ain't need to get on anyone's bad side, 'specially now!"

Daryl was starting to get agitated at the fact that Merle always made the wrong decision, resorting to violence or harsh words when he didn't get his way.

Daryl knew both of those quite well.

"Brother, if you got somethin' to say, you say it, right here, right now." Merle's face was condescending, his arms crossed over his chest. Daryl wasn't going to give merle more ammunition to shoot at him when he got pissed. He was always going to hear it ten times worse from his brother.

Waryl thought it best not to light that match, since it was only the beginning of what was going to be a long and hot day of travel.

"Nah. Ain't worth it." Daryl huffed, picking up his pack and bow from the trunk and slinging them onto his back. "Let's jus' get movin', before another herd gets on our tail."

Once again, the two packed their belongings to head out through the humidity of another Georgia forest. somehow, the brothers ended up getting way further into the forest than they'd intended. Large hills came out of nowhere, the terrain only confusing Daryl on their location when he didn't recognize the area.

"Mot to jerk a knot in your tail, brother, but do you have the slightest idea where in hell do you think we're at? Or.. are we lost?" Merle chirped up, perky and wanting so badly to get on Daryl's last nerve.

He only shook his head, lips pursing together as his shoulders stiffened.

"Nah, we ain't lost." His response was gruff and low, a quick snap at his brother to make him stop his conversation there. Obviously, that wasn't the case, since Merle opened his big mouth the second his brother responded.

More fuel for your fire, man.

"Well, man, we've gotta be. I ain't recognize any of this area. And I know my wooded areas."

"Wou know, you're really barkin' up the wrong tree right now, Merle. 'Sides, I said we ain't lost."

"How would you know, brother? I'm the one who taught you everythin' ya know about huntin' and trackin' and survivin' out here! So don't get your feathers all ruffled! You know i'm always right, anyways."

Merle's cockiness pissed daryl off enough to know his brother's never going to save his pride over anyone but his damn self.

"Man, you really don't know shit about shit." Daryl's voice lowered, still intimidated by his brother and how harsh he backfires.

"Oh yeah? And what don't i know shit about?" Merle only paused himself from going on further to cross his arms once more and think about how his own brother just questioned him.. again.

"C'mon man, that plan of yours? It's not gonna get us nothin' other than thrown out on our asses. You're gonna make it real hard for us to stay with a group if you keep comin' up with shit like that!" Daryl kept his voice lower than Merle's was already getting when he responded back again.

Just like Daryl thought he would, Merle shot off on a rant about how he's trying to make life in this world better for us. Then he proceeded to go on longer about how people have had it better and we should be grateful to show anyone mercy..

"Merle, would you listen for one damn second?"

"No! You listen to me, boy! I'm the one that made you the man you are! Huh? Me! So don't act like you haven't been followin' me your whole life!"

This was true, but Merle always ends up twisting Daryl's words.

"I ain't never said that, Merle! You just think that takin' what people already have is gonna help us more than it was already helpin' them?! We can't do that to other people!"

"I'll make ya understand.. just you wait." Merle seethed, getting annoyingly close to Daryl's face before walking off in the opposite direction they had been going.

"Where the hell are ya goin' now?" Daryl called after him, getting a middle finger flipped at him.

"Takin' a piss, don't lose your marbles without me!" Merle called out from a distance, knowing he would return after he went and did his business for a little while. This was always the result of Merle not wanting to argue over something he saw right in his point of view.

Daryl shook his head, sitting on a nearby log. His hands fumbled for his pack once again, finding the spark to write about what had just occurred.

The pen clicked as Daryl started scribbling on the page.

Day three

Tryin my best to convince Merle to change his mind bout robbin' a camp. Ain't right. I put up with a lotta his shit. But not this. Ever. Bein' Selfish during this time ain't gonna help at all. could go for a few hours of not bein' near his stupid ass. or at least a few hours of silence. Used to bein' out here with no noise, not his yappy ass. Gotta find a way to deal or swear I'm gonna end up killin' the bastard. Maybe i’d be better off.

He finished writing the entry, shoving his journal away once again, noticing the sound of his brother's voice booming from a distance for the third time now.

"Darylina, where you at, brother?" He stood from the log in a hurry, belongings being swung onto his back. Peering around a tree, Daryl spotted his brother moseying back over to where he was previously sat.

"Merle! You clear your mind and realize I was right 'bout your plan?" Daryl only half believed that his brother would come to terms with something he'd suggested, but he didn't really have faith in Merle like that.

"Nah. Came to tell you I was right." The next thing Daryl saw was Merle swinging a fist at his face, knocking him to the ground. His body landed on the dirt with a thump, Merle still standing over him as he looked up.

"What the f- Ah! You son of a bitch! What the hell you do that for?!" A sharp pain ran across Daryl's cheekbone from his brother's punch. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, crimson staining his skin as he looked down.

"Well, I tried to tell you, brother. But you didn't wanna listen to me! I said we'd be better off with my plan and that we didn't need no group in the first place." Merle leaned down to Daryl, getting real close to his face again, "Just their stuff."

"And I tried to tell you that we need at least a few more fuckin' people in this world to have our backs than jus' you and me!" Daryl pulled himself from the ground to talk with his brother face to face.

"Come on, man! We've been doin' just fine on our own! We don't need-"

"Just fine? I slept in the trunk of a car last night, Merle! Are you shittin' me right now? I'm tryin' to guarantee our survival in this shit world, if you couldn't tell."

"You? Guarantee my survival? I'm the one that guaranteed your survival many years ago! you'd be dead without me. Me! Me, and no one else. So tell me, why you don't like my plan again. hm?"

"Yeah, I'll tell ya why-" was Daryl all could get out before he heard the rustling of leaves from a distance. His expression dropped, and the both of them started glancing around for where the steps were coming from.

Daryl recognized the step pattern as human before drawing his bow. His muscular forearms pushed an arrow into the barrel, and by the time it'd clicked into place, he turned to where the footsteps in the surrounding forest were coming from. Freezing in place, he began staring into the brush where the sound had retreated.

"Come out, now!" Daryl's rough voice called out, hearing a rustling once more until two people emerged from behind the leaves.

You appeared next to a young asian man, approaching out of the wood. Daryl noticed your backs bare of any baggage except for a rifle on the man's back and a pair of binoculars around your neck.

"Well, lookie here! Bambi and her boytoy.." Merle chuckled with a snide look on his face.

"Who are y'all?" Daryl’s aggressive voice called out, bow still drawn. The two of them looked like deer in headlights, startled from the same man yelling at them before.

“Hey man, it’s alright, Y’all ain’t gonna hurt us.” Merle had a smirk plastered on his face, one that could say the nastiest things.

"I think we're the ones who should be asking that, seeing as you guys are in our foraging spot.." The man with the baseball cap spoke first.

"Yeah, where the hell did you guys come from? And here I thought we were far out enough from the city..." You said, slightly trying to lighten the serious mood, since Daryl still had his bow aimed on them.

"Alright, first thing's first you don't have to point your weapon at us, we aren't a threat to you, clearly.. Second of all, are you gonna answer me? Where did you guys come from?" The man’s face dour, waiting for a response.

Merle spoke up, sharing a glance with Daryl before looking back at you, tension growing with uncertainty.

“Oh, we've been traveling for a couple of days now, lookin' to find some place to hole up for a while.” Merle spoke, trying to deceive the two people in front of him.

"Yeah? No luck so far, clearly." Tightness grew in your chest as you crossed your forearms over it.

The snark from the perverted man disgusted you, picking up the fact that he saw himself better than anyone, especially women.

“Now you listen to me, Bambi-“ Daryl pushed his brother back at his stance starting to walk towards you.

"Merle, back off." Daryl really didn't want to scrap the chance they were getting if these people actually had a camp they could go back to.

"What he 's tryin' to say is that we've been on the road since the world went to shit, and we're runnin' low on food. Could use someplace safe to camp out for a while till we get back on our feet. That is, if ya got one."

"Um.. you guys have any... specialized skills or something?" You spoke again, questioning the brothers.

"What kinda skills you mean, girl?" Merle spoke again, laughing cynically as if to suggest you were talking about anything other than survival skills. He muttered a 'shut up, Merle' before answering you.

"Apologies for my brother, he ain't the brightest tool in the shed," Daryl remarked, giving his brother a look before continuing to talk, "We're both real good at huntin' and scavenging, trackin' people and animals and shit like that. Plus my brother's got army experience, too. So, you got a camp, or somethin'? W'all wouldn't ask us this if ya didn't have one, or at least a group.."

Daryl peered at you and the dark haired man, watching you both share a look before replying.

"Even if we did, I'm not sure if I trust you both enough to bring you guys back with us."

"And what if we don't wanna join your camp, huh, Bambi? What if we're doin' just fine out here on our own?" Merle's voice sounded out once more, trying to test the two in front of him.

Considering the look of both the men from a few feet away, they were bulky, probably strong and smart. The itch at the back of your throat told you something was off with the two, sweat-adorned foreheads and dark circles under their eyes told more about them than what met your eye.

No, these guys need us. They're exhausted and should rest.

"Listen, you just told us that you're low on food. Let us help you. I know more about people than you'd think. You guys are clearly exhausted, and need some place to rest for a while. Even if you don't want to come, I'm sure there'd be a place for you."

It's then that you turn your head to your foraging partner, his dark eyes still studying the hunters before him.

"Glenn?"

"What?" The man, now identified as Glenn, looked back over at you before speaking once more.

"They have useful skills and be good for the camp. We can't survive on Amy's berries and mushrooms for the rest of our lives. C'mon!"

"If we come back from our outing with these two random guys behind us, Shane will flip! Out!" Glenn's hands were in the air now, attempting to get his point across.

"Not when he realizes they can help us! I say we at least give them a chance.. Alright?"

Damn, he's makin' several good points and she's tryin' to show him the good in us. Haven't met anyone like that before.

"Y/n.. you're really pushing it right now, and I-"

That's your name? It suits you. Daryl' thought, his brain half caught off guard that these people seemed decent and wanted to willingly bring them back to their group.

"Glenn! Oh my god! Just listen to me for once! Please!"

They sure argue like an old married couple...

Daryl remained calm while they talked it out, while Merle on the other hand grew impatient. He never liked waiting long for anything, was always one to jump the gun before thinking rationally about every little thing. Daryl had watched his brother be overtaken by this urge ever since they were teenagers.

"Hey! I don't trust the bald guy!" Glenn whisper yelled to you.

Daryl would be lying if he didn't admit the guy's opinion of Merle made him chuckle.

"Okay, well I trust the other one. The guy with the bow. So come on already and agree with me."

Oh, she was talking about him.

She trusts me?

"Fine. But it's your ass if Shane gets mad."

Your counter was better than glenn's, in Daryl's opinion, but was still caught off guard when you admitted it.

Who's this Shane guy? Sounds like an asshole.

With a sigh, the duo's bickering finally ceased, Glenn turning to them with their fate in his hands.

"Look, we have a camp, okay? It's out by a quarry, we're all up there with a bunch of other people. Now, if you guys could provide our group with those skills you mentioned before, and help out our camp, we could see about taking you back with us. Maybe."

"What he means to say is it's alright for you to follow us to camp, I'll talk to the guy in charge and a couple other people to see how they feel about letting you two stay. Alright?" You looked to Daryl, watching as the tension in his shoulders diminished at your words.

"Yeah, we'll help out your group." Daryl's gravel voice spoke out, softer than before.

"And what about the rest of camp? Huh?" Glenn turned to you again, knowing how some people would react to this information better than others.

"Well, they're just going to have to live with the fact that I brought them two hunters who agreed to hunt for our group." You shrugged at him, wanting to let it go and head back..

"Hey hold on there, Bambi." Merle perked up at your words.

Oh God, this was either going to go really bad or even worse.

"I don't remember agreeing to work my ass off huntin' in these woods for no damn people that ain't at least feliciated my piece, if ya know what i mean." merle chuckled, a distasteful smirk on his face.

"merle.. shut up."

"nah, man. i meant what i said."

"excuse me?" you turned around, clearly offended at what his brother had said in his ever-so-snarky tone.

"Ohh boy.." Glenn just stood back and watched, not wanting to piss you off more.

"You heard me, Bambi."

You scoffed at the name he kept using, quite offended at the man before you, and his attitude. After all, you had just invited them back to camp, and he had the audacity to tell you how things were going to be?

"Listen here, baldy. I trust my friend Glenn a lot, so you should be lucky I even told you we would bring you back with us! Oh, don't worry, we'll still take you.. but if Shane doesn't want you in our camp, I'll let him deal with you instead. Have fun with that.. Now are you coming, or what? We haven't got all day." Daryl watched as you walked away, turning your head back to make sure he followed.

"C'mon, let's go." Daryl told his brother, before walking ahead to follow the two back to their camp.

Merle only scoffed, but followed anyways.

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