#onto volume 8 now and suddenly THINGS ARE HAPPENING that are making me go

[13eyond13]

@deathweak YES that sums it up 😭

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 2 - Post #8: Making the Bed [M]

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem Reader

Total word count: 2.3K (of 21K total in Volume 2)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, 18+ MINORS DNI *NSFW*

______________________________________________

VIII. Did you just hallucinate your alarm going off? It's probably time to start making your rounds. Wait, that's not right. You had to leave the hospital when...fuck, your head is so heavy. 

The Rebellion is over. There is no more hospital. You are not a soldier. Hell, you’re not even a real doctor. You’re a nursemaid now. You’ve fallen asleep sitting in the cockpit with the kid dozing in your lap, so just relax.  

Why is there so much shouting? 

Well, it's the emergency room of a field hospital in the middle of a galactic civil war. The new soundtrack of your life is a constant drone of yelling and sirens, and machines beeping. 

No, no. Remember, you’re not at the hospital anymore. You’re onboard the Razor Crest.

Ugh, it smells like low tide and rotting fish. Or did someone vomit? Did you? 

That would be so embarrassing if you just threw up on the baby. Mando would seriously start to question your fitness for child rearing. 

But, hey, you guys are partners now, right? Or you will be soon if you don’t fuck up this job on Berchest. 

Aaah! A hand grabs you roughly. You jerk back and struggle to get away, but the grip on your shoulder is too strong. 

No, no, no! 

Is this a battle? If it was, you’re likely about to die. If some stormtrooper had found you in this state…you’re completely defenseless. It might be better to let yourself fall further under rather than fight your way back to consciousness.

At least this way, you won’t feel what happens next to your mortal body. You’re so weary. Is there even any fight left in you? 

Where are you? When are you? Was this a stupid place to die, amidst the acrid smell of salt and sulfur? 

Had you been brave up to this point? 

Better to die now, peacefully, than to face torture at the hands of the Empire. You promised yourself that you’d never let them take you alive. Every Rebel soldier heard the stories. They would find the means to break your mind. Eventually, you would talk and betray your people. You could still sleep soundly at night after deserting the Consortium ... but to lead Imperials straight to their door? The blood of a billion Hapans would be on your hands. 

It's the reason why the penalty for leaving Hapes was death.

And there’s a certain relief in that, an easing in your heart, to know that you’d rather face death than endure capture. That made you brave.

May the goddess receive me...

Then, another hand seizes you. Someone was turning you onto your back. Suddenly, you feel weightless. Maybe this was ascension?

It felt like some… some thing, some entity was reaching out for you, beckoning you onward. The goddess? Was she welcoming you into her eternal embrace?

Stay with me...someone pleads.

The immensity of their love envelops you, chasing away any fear of finding loneliness at the end. Instead, you are surrounded by a yearning to be together always. Stay with me.

“Damnit, stay with me, Thuli!”

It was a blessing to be this loved. You feel ready. 

Expecting to see the aura of the Nebula one last time, that bridge to the gods—

When you open your eyes, it’s Mando’s black view plate you see. He's here, crouched on one knee before you. 

“My hero,” you smile weakly at him. 

It’s so dark behind the folds of the drop cloth curtain it takes a moment for you to notice where you are, sitting on the grated deck of the cargo bay with your back propped up against the weapons locker. 

“You’re awake.” It’s not until Mando pulls his hand away from your face that you realize he’d been cradling your cheek in his bare palm. 

Warmth rushes to your skin. The lingering touch from his fingers burns through the chill clinging to your bones, heat spreading throughout your body like wildfire.

You’ve never seen him without his gloves on before. The sight of his fingernails and the creases of his knuckles is so much more intimate than you expected. 

Why had he taken off his glove? Unable to stop yourself, you look up to stare into the view plate as though this time, with sheer force of will, you might be able to see through the reflective surface and find meaning in his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, a dark rumble in his chest.

You look down at yourself. Someone had put your robe on.

Well, someone had wrapped your robe around your shoulders and cinched it at the waist. It’s a thoughtful gesture, nonetheless, since your beautiful dress has been reduced to a few remaining scraps of fabric held in place by the generous curves of your ass and thighs. 

“I’m alive,” you say to yourself as much as him. “Are the kids safe?”

He nods, “Up in the cockpit.”

Everyone was safe. Praise the goddess! Except, she wasn't the one who carried you back to the ship.

“Thank you," you say with all due sincerity. "I knew you'd get us back home." 

“Home," he says quietly, rolling the word over his tongue like he's tasting it. Then he asks, “Does this make us even?” in his wry tone.

“I wouldn’t know, Mando," you reply, brow arched. "You’re the only one keeping score.” 

Still grinning coyly at him, you pull an arm through the sleeve of your robe and wince. Nope. Everything hurts.  

“You could have told me you got torn up on the ladder.” Beyond the anger, there was a lingering fear in Mando's voice. It was deep and gruff, surrounding you inside the small enclosure of heavy canvas.

Your fingers drift over your collarbone to where the metal shard had gone through. Your muscles tense, expecting pain, but it's merely an echo. And when you take a deep breath, crisp air fills your lungs instead of blood.

“How bad was it?”

“I thought I might lose you.” The Mandalorian says, at once full of aggravation and relief. “You were so cold. I could barely feel your heartbeat.”

Right. He’d taken off his glove to check your pulse.

“The torpor aids in healing,” you explain by way of an apology. 

“Not fast enough,” he replies flatly. 

There’s a sudden pinch at your neck, like the prick of an insect bite, and you instinctively raise your hand to slap away the sting. Then, every ounce of pressure melts away, your head starts to feel fuzzy, and your lips go numb. 

“Whoo! Okay, wow. I forgot about the ratio of painkillers in that batch.”

You place both palms flat against the floor to steady yourself as the ship begins to sway beneath you. “Just helping yourself to my medical supplies, I see?”

Mando twists on his heels to sit down next to you, the leather of his boots creaking. He extends one muscular leg out, and the other, he tucks under him, resting an elbow over his bent knee. “Captain’s privilege,” he says in a low growl.

“Oh?! Are you the captain?”

You snort, laughing at your own joke.

Careful, Thuli. The drugs and exhaustion are gonna make your tongue loose and foolish. 

Following his example, you stretch out your legs and cross them at the ankle. With both arms now secured in the fluttering sleeves of your robe, you wrap them closely around your stomach so the tip of your elbow only just touches his thigh. 

You clear your throat, “So how did I do on my first mission, Captain?”

"It's not a mission. And even if it were, I'm sure it's not your first," he huffs in disbelief. 

“Yes, truly! Seven years in the Rebellion, no one ever risked relying on my leadership before this.”

“Maybe they had better sense.” His helmet nods significantly towards the carbon freezer, an empty cartridge block prepped and waiting. “You are, as of yet, empty handed.”

“Hey, I was just supposed to find the guy.”

You stop yourself from punching him on the shoulder, which would undoubtedly hurt you more than Mando. It's always such a strange sensation to be this near to him. The cold of the Beskar and the warmth of his body radiating in equal measure. “He’s stashed at a safe house in Old Town, by the way. Apartment block D ... five two seven.”

Mando's deep sigh spills out through the modulator in a staticky crackle. “I didn’t expect you’d be this determined to prove yourself.”

“You must not know many doctors.” And you chuckle thinking about what a sick bunch of masochistic keeners you are all. It's a self-selecting profession.

“Can’t say that I do,” Mando answers. "Mandalorians are trained to be warriors, not healers."

“After seeing the scars all over your body, I don’t doubt that.” 

You’d meant the remark to be teasing, but of course, everything sounds suggestive coming out of your mouth. Yet, he didn’t stiffen or pull away this time. A voice inside your head urges you to enjoy the companionship before he remembers to be stern and closed off again. It seems almost dying in his arms has convinced the Mandalorian to cut you some slack. 

After a moment's awkward silence, he turns his helmet theatrically to give you a once over, adding, “You’ve got a few yourself.” 

You cough to hide the childish giggle building in your throat when you realize just how much of your body Mando must have seen while cleaning you up. The blood is washed from your skin, and your hair's no longer thick with salt. He must have put you in the fresher.

So distracted thinking about all the fuss he’d gone to, you almost miss him asking, “I thought your healing left no trace?”

He was talking about your scars. You shrug. “It’s true. I could remove them…but some scars make for good reminders.”

“What about this one?”

A little thrill runs all the way from your stomach to your toes when the bare finger of his right hand reaches over to trace the silvery outline of scar tissue encircling your elbow. He’s sitting so close, it wasn’t much of a reach. Your heart clenches when you notice how little space separates you, legs stretched out beside each other.

Your skin is cool against the warmth of his touch. The pads of the Mandalorian’s fingers were callused from wielding swords and blasters, but somehow, they were also soft, as smooth and soft as the inside of his oiled leather gloves. 

“These are old marks,” he says finally. “You were just a child.”

“Ten, I think.”

“And what lesson did this scar teach you?”

“Hmmm, I imagine Mandalorians must have some version of this fable…it starts with a beautiful princess.”

He pauses, then asks, “Are you the princess in this story?”

“It’s a fable,” you spread your hands helplessly. “There has to be a princess. Okay. So, on one of her walks in the forest, the princess came across a lion—”

“You were bitten by a lion?”

“I’ve told this story to school children who didn’t interrupt me this much. Do you want to hear it, or not?”

“I don’t know,” he says impatiently. “Is this related to the teeth marks on your arm?”

“The lion is caught in a hunter's trap and begs the princess to free him. The lion promises in exchange for her help that he, the king of beasts, will serve and protect her. The princess, thinking how powerful she will be with a lion at her side, opens the trap, and he devours her."

“What kind of—" Mando begins to ask before you raise a hand.

“The next princess who comes across the lion caught in the hunter's trap is less foolish. She wants to help the lion but fears that he will attack her once freed. Thinking herself clever, this princess asks for the lion’s oath to serve and protect her before she agrees to free him. But after, when she opens the trap, the lion devours her, too, because of her pride, thinking the lion would do her bidding.”

“This story reminds you to…what?” Mando interjects. “Never to trust an enemy? To strike at them when they are weakest?”

“No! Wait for the next part. By now, the lion has developed a taste for princesses, so he knows what to do when the next one comes across his path. He places a paw in the hunter’s trap and begs for her help. In exchange, the lion says he will vow to serve her.” 

Mando mumbles something about the absurdity of all these women wandering alone through the wilderness, but you pretend not to notice.

“This princess did not take the lion at his word. ‘You are a lion,’ said she, ‘it is not in your nature to serve. I will free you because it is an act of mercy.’ And instead of having the lion swear an oath he couldn’t keep, she showed him how to dismantle the trap and ran, knowing that by the time the lion was free, she would be clear of the forest.”

“So, she didn't free him?” he asks incredulously.

“What?” you laugh, which didn’t hurt quite so much with the Bacta working. “I think it’s implied that he gets free...but, like, after enough time for her to run back to her castle.”

It feels good to laugh like this, like his presence beside you didn’t make you nervous.

“Fine," he groans, exasperated. "So, are those bite marks on your arm from a lion?”

“Yes!” You raise your eyebrows dramatically. If he wasn’t wearing those damn pauldrons, you really would take a shot at him. “Lady Shaila, Duchess of Lemuria gave the Queen a litter for her birthday, and even though they ate table scraps from my hands every day as cubs, that didn’t stop one of them from mauling me. Because I was like the first two princesses, foolish and prideful.”  

“How did it happen?” Now that the allegory is over with, he's much more keen to listen. 

“I slipped or tripped, or something, running on the marble floors. The movement startled one of the cats while they were napping, and it snapped at me. Terrifying as it was, it was all over in a matter of seconds.”

“And this is something you want to remember?” Mando scoffs. “Bitten by a lion at the age of ten.”

“Which taught me caution!”

It’s a challenge to control the volume of your voice while flying this high on drugs. All of your mannerisms tend to amplify in the extreme. You try to keep yourself contained, sitting close as you were, from jabbing him in the stomach. But you find yourself talking with your hands, waving them about for emphasis. “It reminds me that some forces cannot be tamed. To be kind without the expectation of reward. There’s lots of important lessons in that fable.”  

“Will you keep this one?” he asks, pointing to the gash above your collarbone.

“I’m not sure what lesson to take from this.” You say honestly. “That I’m not a very good bounty hunter, I guess?” 

“I’ve known worse.” The dry humor in Mando’s voice brings a smile to your face. “It was a good plan,” he shrugs. “And you showed flexibility when it needed to change. Not everyone does.”  

“Hmm, I did successfully locate the target…but I also cried on the job. A lot. I bet Mandalorians don’t cry. Bet it makes your helmet all musty.”

“The crying doesn’t bother me half as much as you scaring the hell out of me.” That tangled mix of aggravation and relief fills his words again. “I just spent the past hour wondering if you’d ever wake up. Your heartbeat was almost non-existent.”

“I’m ok.” And without thinking much of it, you reach for the wrist of his hand and place it directly over your heart. “See? It's getting stronger.”

The Mandalorian startles at your touch. No, not because of your touch, you realize with some embarrassment, rather at the position you’ve pulled him into, with his body draped over you.

The drum of your heartbeat thunders under his palm. Heat pools between your legs, and you feel a sudden slickness between your thighs.

Don’t, you tell yourself. He’s been avoiding you all week precisely because you are too bold. Only a prideful, foolish princess would do such a thing. But with his hand resting on your chest, the heel of his palm lightly cupping your breast, you feel that same familiar beckoning that called you back to waking.  

Stay with me.

You reach for a shield to pull up around the painful yearning that imbues every lustful thought awakening in your mind—thoughts he will probably hear and feel. But your heart says not to. Don't hide it from him!

“Am I the lion?” He asks, seemingly out of nowhere.

Your heart skips a beat, thinking you’ve misheard him. “F-f-from the fable…how do you mean?” 

The warmth of his hand leaves your chest to pinch your chin, lifting it up so he can see your face. 

“If you’re the princess in the story," the Mandalorian says softly. "You showed me mercy—saved me—many times. And I've offered you my protection,” he continues, half under his breath. “Do you think you should run from me? That I’ll devour you?”

Ah?!

Yes, dear gods, yes! an eager voice shouts behind your eardrums, put your mouth over every inch of my body and fucking eat me alive.

“Um…”

What exactly is he asking?

Your heart is racing, your body consumed by a hunger your mind screams warnings against.

“I…” breath catches in your throat. The air around you feels thinner, like you might run out of oxygen.

Despite the Bacta, all your muscles tighten in sweet, agonized anticipation.

Are you really going to do this?

After standing on the edge of a cliff for so long, hiding behind coy smiles and laughter...are you ready to plunge into the abyss? To prove to Mando, once and for all, that you won't run from him?

You don’t want to answer with words.

You find his hand resting on your cheek and lace your fingers together. Holding his gaze, you slide your leg across his stomach and straddle his waist. His stifled gasp of surprise is, alone, worth the cost of courage.

Tendrils of your wet, tangled hair spill forward, cascading over your shoulders and onto his chest plate. With his hand still held to your cheek, you turn your head and tenderly kiss his palm, then further until you can kiss the tips of his calloused fingers.

They come alive, tracing the curve of your lips. You imagine he must long to kiss them, to feel your mouth open beneath his and explore. So that's exactly what you do—open your mouth so he can slide his fingers over your soft, wet lips.

"Mmmf," the Mandalorian's deep, guttural moan sends both the modulator and your insides humming.

He rolls his middle and forefinger across the slick surface of your tongue, his skin tasting of salt and the leather tannins of his gloves. Your belly clenches at the sound of his hitched breathing and the way he inhales sharply whenever your lips close around his fingers to suck them slowly.

Astride his hips, there's only the heat of his fingers as they glide down your neck, drawing a wet line between your breasts, circling delicately. Then, urgently, both his hands grasp your thighs almost painfully tight over the threadbare robe.

Pushing upward with the heels of his palms, the fabric parts easily under his firm grip. The inexpertly tied knot at your waist unfolds like blossoming petals to expose your breasts, stomach...everything laid bare beneath his gaze.

He pulls back for a moment to speak in a low, rough whisper, "So beautiful."

Fervently, his thumbs crest the curve of your hips, pressing soft flesh into the sharp concave of bone. His fingers would leave bruises. Good. It was proof for tomorrow that when you wake up, you'll know this wasn't just some fever dream.

The tips of his fingers reach down, grasping and gathering the swell of your ass in his hands before dragging them back upward, gently pulling you apart. Another clenching throb sends your body trembling with pleasure when his hips rock upward, thrusting himself further between your thighs until you feel the swell of him press against you.

Lifting yourself up atop your knees, you wrap your fingers around his neck, thumbs pressing into the warm skin above his collar. The force of his desire surges through your shared consciousness. You lean down and kiss the steel jaw of the Mandalorian's helmet—an absurd gesture, to be sure, but, in this moment, it feels full of uncomplicated yearning. 

This is what you wanted, since the first time he walked into your life, to realize your longing and admiration, and yes, love for him with the dizzying urgency of his hands threading into your hair and cupping your breasts.

His one naked hand glides over your thigh, slipping beneath the hem of your robe and pulling aside your dress so his deft, skillful fingers can dip between your legs, circling his thumb and whetting his knuckles between your drenched folds. A noise climbs up the back of your throat—something between a sigh and a whimper. Maybe both.

You're breathing in syncopation now. It's a heady, urgent rhythm that builds and echoes. Neither of you utters another word, worried you'll break whatever spell has brought this moment into being.

"Nnngh," he grunts next to your ear, and you honestly could come from listening to that sound alone. Your clit is throbbing like a second heartbeat.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, the Mandalorian pulls you back down into his lap, groaning between gritted teeth each time he rubs his thickening erection against you.

Oh fuck! Yes, you are definitely about to come.

Readying for the quenching of this agony—which was straining your soul to breaking—you don't really notice reaching between your thighs for the clasp of his belt. Not until he catches your hands by the wrist and pulls them away.

“What am I doing?” he growls hoarsely, his breath short and uneven. 

You flush and blurt out, “I’m—I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

What hadn’t you meant to do? You'd literally thrown yourself at him. The realization twists in your guts like a coiling knot.

“I—I thought ... was I wrong?” you ask, your voice breaking into a million pieces. “Oh, gods...” mortified, you bury your face behind your hands.

You'd felt his desire flooding over you, so forceful and certain—

“No!” Mando grips your wrists tighter in both hands, one clad in leather, the other digging into your skin. "Don't," he growls, shaking you until you relent and look at him. “Please, don’t think that.” 

“Then—”

You’re trying so desperately not to cry in front of him. If you weren’t sedated from the Bacta, you'd probably be sobbing already. When had things gone so horribly wrong?

“I just…I can’t,” is all he says. 

Can't?! He can't what?

Was that the price of his oath? Did his Creed ask him to banish this euphoric joy? To sacrifice love?

Would he look back at this as a mistake? A regretful lapse in judgment?

Thank the gods, you're too high to cry about this but not so high that you'd voice any of this out loud.

Neither of you says anything more. Instead, you sit in silence, waiting for your bodies to accept that whatever was about to happen isn’t going to happen anymore.

After what might have been hours or mere minutes, Mando heaves you both back onto your feet. Released from his grip, you shrink back, unable to look at him, waiting for the first moment you can crawl inside the sleeping compartment and die of shame.

"This isn't because—” the Mandalorian starts to explain apologetically, but you raise both hands to stop him before he makes it worse. If he says something about not wanting to hurt you...you're barely holding it together as is.

"You don't have to do that," you assure him. "I understand."

And he sighs in frustration.

Staring empty-eyed and straight ahead, you catch a flutter of movement in your peripheral vision—the curtain opening. His body is framed against the dim light of the cargo bay. 

"Will you be ok?" he asks gently. "I won't be gone long."

“You're going after him? The...target?”

“Yes,” he says, sounding lost—worried, even.

Running a hand over his jaw beneath the Beskar helmet, he suddenly adds, “Do you want to help me bring him in?” as if he's surprised to hear himself ask that.

The Mandalorian lets the question hang between you, fragile as glass, waiting for you to say something. To catch his words — or let them fall and shatter. The choice was yours.

But you can't bear to watch him go...

“Are you sure you need me?”

After a deep breath that shifted his pauldrons, he nods, "Always."

Then, holding the curtain aside for you, he says, "Come on, let's go." 

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

*Bonus post (Mando POV): Nothing Breaks Like a Heart

END OF VOLUME 2

Thanks for reading Volume 2 of my serialized Mandalorian Fanfic! Hope you enjoyed <3

Keep reading : Volume 3: 'I Know a Guy'

[pancake-breakfast]

I still have Thoughts on Volume 2, but I think it's time to start Volume 3. Maybe the Volume 2 thoughts will sort themselves out better in the meantime.

Archive

Trigun Volume 1: Covers + 1-3, 3 Detailed Thoughts, 4, 4 DT, 5-6, 5-6 + DT, 6 DT, 7-8, 9-10

Trigun Volume 2: Covers + Extras, 1, 1 Supplemental Research, 2-4, 5-6, 7-8

TriMax Volume 1: Covers + 1-2, 2 DT, 3-4, 3 DT, 5-6

TriMax Volume 2: Covers + 1, 2-4, 5, 6-7

Stream-of-consciousness thoughts for TriMax Vol. 3, Chapters 1-3 below.

TriMax Volume 3 Covers

Eyyyy! It's blonde Milly!

I kinda miss Meryl's long hair....

His life as a what?!?!

Whyyyy is Vash getting punched on the alternative version of the cover?? Hasn't this boy been through enough pain???

LOL, Milly eating the food from Meryl's chopsticks.

I just wanna point out that the kanji all over the alternate front cover just says "meat" over and over again. Sasha Braus would be proud.

Nooooo, send the puppet guy awaaaaaaay! No more puppet guy! *cries*

Yes, the puppet guy bothers me more than the otherworldly horror on the bottom of the back cover. And more than Legato, who is arguably also a puppet guy.

I'm a lot less sure about all the untranslated Japanese on the alternate back cover, but it looks like Wolfwood is saying something about meat, and the text bubble on the bottom left just says, "Meeeeeeeaaaaaat."

LOL, tiny poorly drawn penis on the giant monster-guy.

Chapter 1: Reservoir Dogs

Awww, look at everyone being deceptively happy! Even Kuroneko's making an appearance! (Also, yes, this is Wolfwood's happy face.)

I love how calm Vash looks here despite everything. Wolfwood, on the other hand, seems to have some different thoughts. But... he's actually onto something. That level of calmness despite everything is and should be terrifying. (I colored it because Vash is so pretty.) (Also, I legit forgot the smudge on his face was blood until I started coloring this.)

Pretty sure this guy is giving Wolfwood major tit window envy.

Heh, the real reason Wolfwood is swearing is because everything Vash has told him is messing with his head. What would normally be a point-and-shoot choice for him has suddenly become complicated with Thoughts.

Not sure what happened here. Something exploded... and... Wolfwood threw up??

Well, that cleared some stuff up for WW. Though I get the idea this guy can eat a LOT of lead before it gives him an upset tummy.

LOL, "Takin' out his hands is like disarmin' him." I'm not sure if the pun works in Japanese, but it's funny in English.

No no no no no! Put Puppetman BACK WHERE HE CAME FROM!!!

I don't even mind his horrible body-moosh-horror abomination as much as I mind Puppetman himself. (I know he's "Puppet Master," but he doesn't deserve enough of my respect for that.)

Is... the abomination trying to do a video game cheat code on Vash?

Shoot all the things, Vash! I dunno what you're shooting, but as long as you do, that's what matters!

Cool guy pose.

Awww, sad Vash. When this battle is over, someone needs to give him the biggest of hugs. He's earned it. He needs it.

WTF, bat wings??? From where?!

Oooh, creepy comparison shot of Vash plus Knives. I approve.

Dude. Now the creepy guy is digging trenches in his own face with his own hand. While wearing gloves. What the hell. Please get rid of him.

Untainted material?! Make him your puppet?!? Where's Wolfwood with his murder-cross? I need some murder to happen here.

Oh, he's in a hole.

"Yer name might remain, even long after ya die... but yer ideals join ya in the grave." I love this line. It reminds me of a favorite of mine from Mass Effect's Samara: "Only your actions will be remembered. May you choose them well."

I like how, all throughout this scene, Wolfwood's got the Punisher on a little leash like it's a boogie board or something.

Holy crap, the girls are here, too??? This is not a safe place for the girls. Or for anyone, really. But particularly people without some sort of superhuman something going for them.

Saved, by terrified toma causing delays!

Chapter 2: Cement

Legato, you freaking dork. Glad you're enjoying being carried everywhere in your weird coffin-iron maiden thing.

Heheheheheheh. Wolfwood the traitor. <3 you, Wolfie....

LOL, Wolfwood's absolute casualness at this accusation is beautiful.

Dude. Ninelives needs some dental work pronto.

For as much as he resents certain aspects of his life, Wolfwood really seems to revel in certain kinds of carnage. He's nothing but focus and falling bullets in this fight.

One must wonder, does the Punisher ever run out of ammo? Does Wolfwood even know that machine guns are best used in short bursts, or is he just that good at "pray and spray"?

Ninelives clearly ate ALL his vegetables as a kid. WW's looking a bit worried.

RIP Wolfwood's ribcage.

And the Punisher is so far away, too....

Ha! Pocket Pistol!

I just wanna say that despite this guy having a cat-like name, Ninelives is a disgrace to cats everywhere. He's nothing like a cat and that's not a compliment.

You know... using a big-ass industrial factory-type door to keep out the giant murder monster is a pretty good plan at this moment.

LOL, Wolfwood, you cheeky bastard.

I dunno if taunting Ninelives is a great plan, even if he's missing an arm. Congrats on finishing your disarming procedure, though, Wolfie!

Or is he the dumbass who dove right in and is now torn apart in this place...?

I don't have any idea why this chapter is called Cement. Like, usually I can make some sort of connection, but this one is lost on me.

Chapter 3: No Escape

Wait wait wait. Did that disembodied arm just CRAWL ACROSS THE ROOM AND OPEN THE DOOR?!?! Gods, someone kill it with fire, please.

This is just... so Wolfwood. You do you, my lovely foul-mouthed murder-friend.

I feel like Vash heard all that and is mad because Wolfwood is trying to kill someone again.

Gods, why did Nightow have to make Vash SO PRETTY in this arc??

Ew, Ninelives is gross. He's just gross. Puppetman is creepy. Ninelives is gross.

He's called Ninelives. Maybe you just have to kill him nine times....

Uhhhh... Ninelives has EYES in his belly?? PEOPLE IN HIS BELLY?!?! LIVING BELLY PEOPLE?!?!?!?!

For some reason, Wolfwood cocking the Punisher here amuses me. (The sound effect is "ga-kin".)

Scenes like this make me kinda glad this isn't in color. Then again, I got through Attack on Titan, Chainsaw Man, and Hellsing Ultimate despite all the guts and stuff, so *shrug*.

SO. MANY. GOOD. VASH PANELS. Ugh, I just want to pour them on pancakes and eat them all up.

Ugh, Vash knows as soon as he sees them. He has no choice but to know. The situation means there's no way it could be any different. But part of him would still hesitate.

Also, the baby pulling a gun is REALLY darkly hilarious.

This whole business is really mucking with Vash's instincts, and Puppetman knows it. Can we please throw Puppetman into Mount Doom now???

Wait, who's Emilio??

Ugh, I have to call it here for the night. I just want to get past this. I want Vash to get past this.

[kittyandco]

PWEASE ELLIOT AND HANS FOR THE COMFORT CHARACTER ASK MEME

THANK YOU 😭😭😭 elliot will be in orange and hans will be in pink (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

1. how long have i known about them

when i started middle school i started to get into a lot of different things, mostly manga, and hnkna was one of those!!! so i've known about elliot for a long time! my romantic feelings have apparently been simmering for all this time...

i didn't know a thing about hans until i watched frozen in 2014. december 19th, 2014. our anniversary! the very same day

so they have both been part of my life for, well, most of it!

2. whether or not they’ve ever made me cry

not quite... but it could happen. hnkna can be angst city 😭

yes, but only because i wish he could be here with me 💖

3. whether or not i have any merchandise/objects with them

NO, BUT I AM PLOTTING. i've always made my own hnkna merch 😭 i made a boris plushie and a finger puppet out of felt a long time ago. now that i have money and can search for things on my own, i bet i can find some elliots! (also hoping to see some at the next convention i go to in march!)

answered for hans! i only have a couple things though

4. what about their personality i like

EVERYTHING I ADORE THEM BOTH

5. what about their backstory makes me emotional

the fact that elliot was punished for an act of pure love will always make me SO emotional

do i even need to say it for hans?

6. the moment of theirs that made me the saddest

same answer for 5...

reading "a frozen heart" nearly had me in tears. hans lived a pathetic and hopeless life for so long. i wanted to jump into the book and protect him. and i still do

7. the moment of theirs that made me the happiest

i am absolutely LIVING playing the game. so many happy and cute moments with him 🥺 i can't even pick one

when he dances with and romances anna... kills me instantly

8. something about them that made me laugh

elliot is hilarious! his insistence that he isn't a rabbit will always get a chuckle out of me 😭

"you slipped on ice 🙄" is such a funny line i love the way he says it 😭

9. my favorite canon outfit of theirs

APPARENTLY ELLIOT HAS DIFFERENT OUTFITS? AND I JUST FOUND OUT ABOUT THESE (but many of them are very new and i am SO behind on the lore it isn't even funny. like 11 year old me i'm stuck in the first couple of volumes from the late 00s) i like his normal fit... but shout out to this one 😳

and you KNOW. YOU KNOW I GOTTA GIVE IT UP FOR HANS' BLUE CLOAK -- it isn't flashy like his other fits, which are both immaculate, but it does something to me

10. my favorite moment with them in canon

THIS ONE IS SO HARD BECAUSE first of all, elliot has SO MUCH material, and it can change depending on how i play the game... so i'll go with the first heart manga. i like his first appearance tbh. 😳 he's so willing to kill which is hot and then suddenly he's like "oh yeah i like you now alice sorry about that 😇" like boy??? idk why it's just really cute to me. get to see both sides of him 🥰

I THINK YOU KNOW what i'll say about hans. :)

11. my favorite relationship they have with another character

elliot is so sweet with alice, it's easy to project onto them 🥴 i mean that's the biggest reason why i sought out the game to play

ANNA, IT'S EASY TO PROJECT ONTO THEM. also i ship them 🥰

12. what i like about the way the fandom portrays them

i'm not very familiar with the hnkna fandom; i didn't start interacting with fandom spaces until very recently when i got to tumblr, which wasn't that long ago. but i've been in a server for it for a while and haven't been disappointed with their talk about elliot! everyone is actually supportive of me loving him 🥺

HANS FANS LOOK OUT FOR EACH OTHER, THEY FEED ME TIL I CAN'T EAT NO MORE. WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER WE LEGITIMATELY SHARE ONE BRAINCELL AND IT'S DEDICATED TO HIM

13. what i dont like about the way the fandom portrays them

see above! i really don't know, and the less i know the better sometimes

idk where to even begin, y'all are lost... so the frozen fandom has a long, weird history of major drama over hans fans just existing... and this section really goes all in and i don't understand it. it's bad. i don't even wanna get into it. it'll upset me

14. what i liked about the way canon portrayed them

i like that he has a sweet side! and that he lets himself be sweet and goofy with alice! it's very cute!

aside from making him the perfect man for me to love?

15. what i dont like about the way canon portrayed them

he's executed very well. however i hate blood so if he could be a little less loyal to him that would be good. for my sake. but KJDSKJFD

he's reduced to a joke, hardly gets to be cool, glosses over his past on purpose, and disney & canon constantly sidelines him. i'm working off crumbs here!

[kpopandmusicpassion]

Myla heard her cousin Arielle went to some castle ruins about 8 months ago and no body has heard from her since. So she decided to find where the ruins were and find her cousin she probably made new friends and decided to stay with them forgetting to contact her parents. She does forget to text or call sometimes. When she finally finds the ruins she looked at it in awe.

"No wonder she wanted to come here." Myla muttered. "She could have at least invited me." She pouted before going into the castle seeing Arielle's bag and camera on a table.

She rushed in looking around in worry.

"Arielle? Are you here? Arielle?" She yelled at a medium volume. Suddenly there was a fierce growl before a dragon landed in front of her startling her.

"A dragon? I didn't think any were left!"She exclaimed, observing him with amazement and curiosity. He approached her leaning into her personal space as he sniffs her. She smelled slightly like Arielle meaning she is a member of the girl's family. He realized now what happened when Yeosang claimed Arielle and how intoxicated he was by her scent. This girl smells heavenly. He shifted pinning her to the wall as she watched him in disbelief. She was about to speak when he smashed his lips against hers in a fierce kiss causing her to gasp letting his tongue enter his new territory. As he pulled away she was blushing and slightly panting.

He smirked proud he had that effect on her. He nuzzled her neck before he bit her harshly she bit down on her lip hard making it bleed. He licked it slightly soothing it. He kissed her again but gently. He grabbed her hand giving her the bag.

"I can take you to Arielle but you will have to ride on my back." He told her before shifting. She carefully crawled onto his back grabbing his neck as much as she could as he took to the sky. A few minutes after they took flight she started giggling enjoying the ride and the fresh air. About 30 minutes later he landed letting her slide off.

"Who are you?" A coyote hybrid asked.

"I'm Arielle's -"

"Myla! Oh my goddess!" Arielle tackled her cousin before she noticed the mark.

"He marked her, guys! Hongjoong marked her!" Arielle squealed.

Hongjoong, now in human form, pulled her into him. "I now understand how Yeosang felt when he met Arielle. She was at the ruins calling for you." He turned his attention to Yeosang's mate.

"I told you guys someone may come looking for me. I should have known she would find out and come hunting me down."The girl told Hongjoong.

"I'm mad at you, by the way. Why in the name of Hades did you not invite me to come with you?" Myla pouted at Arielle causing everyone to chuckle.

"Of course you'd be more worried about that than the fact you are bound to a dragon hybrid. Welcome. You're stuck with me, Yeosang, my mate who is the attractive panther over there, and these losers." The guys protested while she ignores them still focused on the dragon who marked her favorite cousin and best friend."I'm just sorry you're stuck with the mini dragon. Maybe you can handle Hongjoong Lord knows someone needs to."

"And just what the fuck do you mean you're sorry she's stuck with me? And I already told you assholes to stop calling me that!" He snarled.

"You may wanna get used to it sass and sarcasm run in the family. Sometimes it's a curse but most of the time we love pissing stupid people off." Myla snickered.

"I don't think they'll ever learn. Everyone still gets suprised when I automatically have a comeback. And I've been here for... How long have I been gone?"

" 8 months. We were worried so I volunteered to come find you."

"It's a good thing you did. I think you're just what he needs. Who knows? He may be just what kind of man you've been waiting for."

[theskyexists]

It's a bit silly that the arike that are responsible in part for all this shit have called Ramad a traitor three times yet they didn't compel them to speak on his role in this lol

And fascinating that they let all the credit and honour go to Bashasha...fascinating that Bashasha let that happen

But also - if demons can bring organisms back to life, how the HELL wasn't that common knowledge among Saredi??? This sure seems like a lot more important power than draining life!

And they keep letting Ramad come along even though he doesn't have anything to offer for their actual plan and he's a spy of Bashat who they've decided betrayed them. Ha

Seriously - why did Bashasha not make sure his allies were remembered for how essential they were. He must have died very early. Maybe Ramad the historian will set things right for the future....

In fact, he actually COULD have brought Adeni back to life if he had reached him in time. Or any other Saredi?

If Dahin already wrote 8 volumes on the hierarchs war then why is Ramad so wrong and ignorant

This is the first time that makes me think: hm. This guy can make air become a solid cloth net, the remains of a boat a boat, Ziede can fly and make a boat go and see through the wind's eyes and make it blow any which way..but they can't cut up a weed mat. Should've asked Tenes to come along?

How in the FUCK was Kai not a venerated hero of the alliance when he killed the second Hierarch and was essential in killing the first. I think insistence of that shit fucking sucks. Bashasha could have lauded him but clearly didn't?

Now the narrative admits that Kai COULD use magic to cut the weed mat..lol. Martha Wells always has great worldbuilding which only falls a little apart at about a third way through. Like. It is completely unclear what the limits are on 'intentions' - and why he couldn't clear the floor with a simple spell.

He literally dumped the hierarchs head onto their feet and they didn't fucking rejoice. That didn't go in the damn history books and the songs of victory and the tales of heroism?? Come ON

So it IS Bashasha's fault. He could have introduced Kai as a killer of a Hierarch. Could have done that every time

So magic is fuelled either by the underearth, but blocked by water, or pain/death. A great amount of death can create a well of magical power that can be drawn on. The Hierarch kill to replenish that Well. But what about the Blessed? They also have a Well.

So there's a faction of arike who believe demons and witches are evil (for no apparent reason) and the arike did all the heroics and they deserve the empire, plus high level blessed agents (men) plus leftover expositors. Strange how expositors even managed to survive long enough to pass on their skills. I wonder what their lore is so to speak. They come from a culture seemingly without homeland, subjugating and sterilising the lands.. and plus someone who knows. Has Tahren turned against them? That doesn't make any sense, but does explain why they were frozen instead of killed.

It also doesn't make a lot of sense in retrospect that there wasn't any contact with the people of the south but everybody still knew Imperial before the Hierarchs attacked

Seriously, he could have burned the weeds all along.

Kai could just stab himself a couple of times, endless energy for intentions, could easily long distance snipe anyone with stun intentions

They keep letting go of/killing anyone who could tell them what the fuck is going on. And also there was a'familiar figure' and Kai made no effort to find out who

Ok so but what. The hierarchs killed all the mortals, imprisoned all the demons. And then arn-nefa suddenly turned on Kai even though he freed them all and got them revenge - because he broke some ancient pact - even though the people the pact was with are dead and grandmother doesn't care. 'self-righteous' is right - what's all this bullshit about the corruption of mortals.

But they still don't kill them. Even though there isn't really any reason to keep them alive.

Literally ... BASHASHA WAS COUNTING PURELY AND ALONE ON HIS BRIEF REBELLION TO BE PROPAGANDA AND NOW HES NOT USING IT???? HES NOT SAYING: I KILLED A FUCKING HIERARCH WHAT HAVE YOU DONE LATELY FUCKER???

Anyway

[casspurrjoybell-21]

Pirate Chains - Volume 2 - Against Tides

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 8 - Easy Mark - Part 2

Nyx

"Wait. I can't just leave like this," I exclaim.

"Why not?" she asks.

"Doesn't matter... I'll sneak out," I reply.

Cherri frowns at me and for a moment i thought i saw something new in her eyes, sympathy, then her eyes settle on my leather collar.

I didn't want to be rude but I couldn't waste a minute more.

"Cherri will you help me? You can leave the camp and I'll sneak out and join you."

"And how do you intend to do that exactually? It's not like the camp is empty and excuse my but you don't look very sharp to me, with things like this or anything for that matter."

I was about to tell her that I would find a way and that she should just leave and I'll follow her when she continued...

"I'll distract your shit-head ship mates. You sneak out then. just run towards the forest and when you can no longer be seen, head east wards. You'll find me there, something tells me I'll be leaving after you but getting there before you."

In her twisted, insulting way, Cherri was trying to help me.

I nodded then hurried to put my shoes on.

I was panicking and in a hurry but at least I remembered Ace's scolding, so I made sure I had Agenor's dagger at my waist and I grabbed my sword.

When I turned to leave, Cherri had already exited the tent.

I snuck out when I was sure nobody was looking my way.

Now the hardest part was leaving the camp and reaching the forest without being spotted.

I watched behind another tent, as Cherri walked towards the pirates.

She circled around them and stood on the other side, making sure they were all looking the other way.

I noticed that her dress was pulled down, revealing her naked shoulder.

I felt so dishonoured, having relied on a woman's help and asking her to reveal her body to help me.

This was against everything my father had taught me but I managed to push those thoughts aside because I had no time for my whiney conscious right now.

When everyone was looking at Cherri, some even trying to touch her, I walked away towards the trees.

I kept looking back towards the pirates, making sure they were looking somewhere else.

When one of them stood, I halted and crouched and I remained still until Cherri walked away from the herd and then she suddenly fell over onto the sand.

I hesitated, my first thought was to go help her but then she glanced in my direction and I realized she did it on purpose.

Suddenly I notice Amos' eyes on me, he's seen me.

What do I do?

Oh God, he's going to ruin this and I'm never going to get the information from the merchant about my mother.

I panicked, until I saw Amos avert his eyes and went back to drinking.

I was frozen for two seconds, trying to understand what just happened but then my m,ind caught up and urged me to continue and close the small distance to the forest.

********

It was around half an hour since Cherri and I had started wandering around the forest.

My right hand was holding the pommel of my Jian, tightly.

I kept looking around us, in fear of coming into contact with thieves.

I distance we that we crossed wasn't praiseworthy though as Cherri was walking very slowly.

I tried to get her to walk faster but she wouldn't.

I even suggested that the forest was dangerous for her and that she should show me the direction and give me the merchant's name but she threatened to turn back and break our deal.

And when I tried again she told me to shut it... literally.

She looked me in the eyes and said 'shut the fuck up.'

She is so rude and quite frankly I have no idea as to make her walk any faster.

Cherri was also acting a bit weird as she was tried to lead us through some bushes but when she found it hard to continue that way she just took another path and didn't deviate to return to the previous direction that we were heading to.

I'm probably not use to finding my way about the woods but I can easily detect when we have changed directions.

"Cheri, please. If we are lost, just tell me."

"Ugh. I told you. We are not fucking lost."

But we are getting farther from the direction...."

"Just walk pirate."

Another fifteen minutes pass and Cherri is following some crazy path, that's not the easiest to go through. Either she is doing this on purpose or she has the worst sense of direction I have ever witnessed.

I decide, I can't let her waste any more time, than she already has.

I walk quickly, to pass her and then stand in her way.

"Look. We can't keep going like this. I get it. The forest is dense and it's difficult to navigate in it but I can get us to our destination faster. Just tell me the direction, is it east? Or tell me something, like it's near the port or it's close to where the sun rises on Esme Island?"

Cherri wasn't looking at me she wasn't even listening.

She wore a frown as she scanned the trees around us, over and over again.

I thought she was trying to recognise where we were, so I let her be for a moment.

Suddenly I heard some bushes move behind me and I whirl around, just in time to see a skinny man with coloured teeth smiling wickedly, approaching us.

I pulled my sword out and two more men stepped out from behind a tree and then within a few seconds we were surrounded.

Cherri went to walk away but I grab her hand and pull her behind me.

"Do not fear, my lady, just stay close and I'll protect you," I tried to reassure her but I was in need of that myself.

My mind was already torn with thoughts and worries of my family and now this.

I was in deep trouble...

[raggaraddy]

Sauna

Summary: Taehyung always makes you wait on him, but he is going to make sure you learn that he should never have to wait on you.

Trigger Warnings: Smut, Smut, Smut, abuse, Dom/sub-themes, examples of a bad D/s dynamic, ambiguous torture.

Taehyung

Yandere!Taehyung

Dom!Taehyung

You've been waiting for Taehyung for hours now. Once again work claims his time and focus. Luckily his luxurious house has plenty to keep you entertained. Knowing Tae, it could be anywhere from 30 minutes to 8 hours that he's locked away. So while you patiently wait for him to be available you decide to make use of the sauna. You know you'll be able to quickly shower and be ready for him within a few minutes when he calls. And he won't mind wet hair or a lack of makeup. He isn't interested in anything like that. He just wants you in position ready for him.

Spending lots of 20 minutes, you cycle through small sessions in the heat and steam with rests in between. It gets to near 90 minutes and on your fourth time heading into the sauna you can feel you are just about at your limit, your head starting to become a bit light.

After only 5 minutes more you decide to cut it short. You remember you haven't really drunk enough water throughout the day and you don't want to risk overdoing it and becoming dazed with Taehyung.

Standing up, you bundle your towel wiping at the sweat dripping from your forehead. You jump as you bring it down, startled by Taehyung standing in the doorway suddenly, looking displeased.

"Ignoring my calls are you?" He opens the sauna door questioning sternly. Your smile changes into a frown of confusion. He called? He never called. Or at least your phone never rang.

"No," you shake your head feeling flustered at suddenly being put on the spot. Passing him diffidently he backs out of the doorway and allows you to exit into the cooldown room.

"Then why did I have to come searching for you?" he berates.

You know you checked the volume. You purposefully made it as loud as you could because you wanted to make sure you would hear it over the music in the sauna. You pick up your phone only to find it dead. You checked the volume but not the battery, and you didn't think to look at it in the past hour, not wanting to touch it while you were sweaty.

Putting the phone face down, sheepishly you turn around. Taehyung hates to be kept waiting. It's something he never tolerates. And you know what he'll say. That being careless is not a sufficient excuse.

"I'm sorry, Sir. It won't happen again." You apologize contritely, nervously fiddling with your fingers.

"That's not what I asked girl." He demands an answer to his question. The laid back manner with which he stands does not match the harshness of his tone or wording. Usually, he calls you with some variation of little girl or baby girl or good girl. But when it's just girl, you know you've upset him.

"I- my phone died." You pick it up to prove it to him. "I'm sorry" you mumble.

“So what your saying is your lack of attention has caused me to wait on you.”  He scolds, his stare hardening.

While you feel bad, you’re starting to get frustrated. He's being hypocritical. It’s not like you did it on purpose. It was an accident and he’s being too harsh. “Well, I had to wait for you too. Like, nearly 3 hours.” You argue back, instantly regretting your stupid lack of impulse control.

"Excuse me," He challenges with a tight jaw. You know it's rhetorical and not meant to be answered. The best thing is to stay silent and continue to look down at your fingers.

For a moment too long he is quiet and motionless. Your eyes flick up to see what kind of response he is having, only to see him standing stiffly, his features tight as he assesses you unblinkingly. You're feeling dumb, knowing you've just put yourself in a bad position at the start of your weekend session with Tae.

You audibly whimper from nerves, wanting to undo some of the damage. "I'm sor-"

“Come here Y/n”. He interrupts, holding his hand out for you. From his demeanour, you know you're in trouble, but your not sure how yet. However, slightly apprehensively, you accept his outreached hand.

He opens the sauna door, holding it wide and gesturing for you to enter. You pause hesitantly unsure of where he is going with this.

"After making you wait so long for me, I would hate to interrupt you. Go back in. I'll even join you." Now it's his eerily pleasant tone that doesn't match his observable frustration and the slowly tightening grip on your wrist.

Lightly you shake your head, not wanting to say any variation of the word no. "I-it's okay, Sir. I was done."

"Go in." And now to your dismay, the chill of his voice and his body language match. He orders you into the sauna pointedly, his expression daring you to debate it further.

Swallowing heavily, you can't help the way his domineering tone is filling your stomach with butterflies. Even when he gets scary- especially when he gets scary- you find him so attractive. But you know you need to take this moment seriously, or risk getting yourself further into strife.

You nod, going back into the sauna, the warm wet heat swarming around you again quickly making your breath feel smothered. Sitting on one of the wooden benches, you get lower trying to get out of the rising heat. Sweat right away returning to your brow and neck.

After a few minutes, Taehyung comes in, having removed his clothes. He puts down a towel and sits alongside you, resting back with his arms up on either side, his eyes closed as he enjoys the warmth. You try to do the same. But even after a little while more, you're becoming more and more uncomfortable. You try to bear it as long as you can, but as another 10 minutes pass your head begins to thump, your eyes becoming unfocused.

"Okay." You say standing up with a wobble. "This was really nice. But I'm getting a little dizzy. I think I should go out."

"Sit down." He says without opening his eyes. You're looking through the glass door to the cool of the outside longingly. It's starting to hurt being in here, but you're sure Tae knows that.

"Please, Sir. I don't feel well." You try again to plead your point. Despite your discomfort, you still don't want to act on your own. Outrightly disobeying him would disregard everything that your relationship is built on.

"Do you really want to test me right now, little girl?" He says, his head rested back with a smirk.

"You're being unfair." You pout, lightly stomping your foot.

He chuckles, rolling his head forward. "The answer's yes apparently." He stands and your gaze drops to eye height looking at his collar bone. He steps towards you and you step back. And again. Pushing you to the other side of the room. Your legs come into contact with the bench and as he steps at you again, with nowhere left to go, you fall down onto the seat, coming face height with his lower stomach and crotch.

An embarrassed glow fans over your cheeks as you realize what your first impulse is. You stifle a giggle, biting your lip.

"Little Y/n, who's in charge here?"

Those words said in that deep tone have you momentarily forgetting how dehydrated and sick you feel. His voice sending a wave of shivers down your spine and up your neck.

"You are." You purr back, having to push your thighs together with a new kind of heat rushing through your stomach.

"And when I tell you to do something, you do it. Isn't that right?" His salacious words are accompanied by his hand curling around your jaw, his thumb resting on your lips pressing for entrance into your mouth. Instinctually, you open for him and suck his thumb, looking up at him with wide eyes. There's a small lustful smile on his face and in his eyes. But it's the way he licks and bites his lip that has another bolt of heat shooting through your core.

You nod to his question, sucking firmer, taking it deeper and rubbing your tongue along it. Emboldened by the ravenous look in his eye.

Taehyung removes his hand, it shoving your shoulder, making you crash back into the wall. He grabs your legs and roughly throws them onto the double-tiered bench, having you lay along it. Climbing on top of it, he pushes himself between your legs making you spread them wider to accommodate him. Right away you nearly melt feeling his hardening member.

"When I tell you to sit, you don't argue. Do you?" He leans over the top of you, his hand rested next to your head.

"No, Sir." You whisper back breathlessly, shaking your head.

He presses his hips down, rubbing himself between your legs, slipping effortlessly with how wet you already are. You buck upwards trying to encourage him to go further, trying to meet him that last little bit to get what your craving.

"And when I tell you to wait for my call, you make sure to wait patiently and be a good girl for me, don't you?"

"Yes," you pant.

He smirks, approving of your answers. His lips come to yours, licking over your bottom lip before his tongue enters your mouth. Slowly he sinks deep inside you, making you moan and whine.

"You don't need to ask Y/n. Cum as much as you want. But you don't move till I'm done."

A small excited smile fills your face, and you nod back. As far as punishments go, this one seems great. He's not denying you, and he said you can cum as much as you want, so he's not going to overstimulate you. At the moment, you can't see the downside.

Gradually he starts to move, and you bring your hips up to his to match his rhythm, groaning and moaning the whole time. It isn't long until Taehyungs skilled strokes have you exploding around him, giving you the ecstasy you sought after.

But as your high starts to fade, you again gain clarity and realization of your surroundings. You're no longer desperately working towards release and you can again feel the hot air going down your throat. The excess heat of Taehyungs skin on yours. The way your bodies slip along one another due to sweat, or the sweat dripping from Tae's body all over you. You're wet and sore and the longer he continues, even as he brings you to another orgasm, it feels tainted with the suffocation of the sweltering heat.

Taehyung can see it. The look of excitement you had, turning swiftly into one of worry and distress as your distraction faded. And he is revelling once again in how transparent your emotions are to him. Enjoying being able to see how you're suffering but still obeying him.

As he makes you cum for a third time, your body throbs in pleasure but your head thumps in pain. Your chest hurting and your breath short. Your eyes getting glassy. A sick feeling nudging at the back of your throat.

He keeps going, unrelenting for far too long. Keeping himself slow and steady, breaking to kiss and paw at you every now and then to draw it out even longer.

With a stolen glance at the clock on the wall, you can only estimate that he has been fucking you for at least 30 minutes. It's too much. You're so past your limit you can barely keep your eyes open or move. You want to ask him to stop, but you know his order not to move including asking if you could. And you are aware it wasn't a suggestion.

By the time Taehyung finally cums, you're completely spent, nearly unconscious. So much so that after taking a second to catch his own breath, he has to carry you out of the sauna.

As he lays you on the bench in the cool-down room, your body is shivering with dehydration. Any second now, you fear you're going to throw up. Or completely pass out.

But Taehyung doesn't care. He hates to wait on you and he knows he certainly made his point. His only care is that he makes sure you're not confused as to why your suffering right now. "The next time I tell you to wait for me, Y/n," He clarifies with a stern tone, tapping your face lightly to make sure your eyes are open, "I expect you to be actively waiting, and to come running the second I call. Am I understood?"

[hangovercurse]

Crash Into Me

You’d been MGK’s assistant for years, but you never thought you had a chance at anything more with him until one stoplight changes everything.

Request: “ok im so sorry if this is 2 specific but ive had this idea for ages abt pining!colson x an insecure/clueless!reader who has been his assistant forever. she gets into a car accident and calls him hours later to tell him that a temp will be taking her place for a few weeks (bc of injuries) and he's like ?? why?? she explains nonchalantly, then kells kinda freaks out and shows up at the hospital all worried”

Colson Baker X Reader

Warnings: Cursing, car accident (descriptive)

A/N: This was cute 😊

Word Count: 3185

“Alright Kells, I’m out for the night. I’ll email those tracks to the board when I get home and I’ll let you know if I get any updates for tomorrow’s press.” You told the blond man who was sitting on the couch as you put your laptop into your bag. You tried not to yawn as you heaved it over your shoulder, “anything else?”

You glanced at the kitchen clock that read 2 am and let out a small sigh. You were used to late nights given your job as assistant to a rockstar, but most nights you were able to leave before 8 pm. Tonight you and Colson had gotten really invested in the tracks you were editing and lost track of time.

“Y/N,” he turned to look at you with puppy dog eyes. He wanted something that you really weren’t gonna want to give him. “Could you come over early tomorrow to help me pick out what to wear for the Vanity Fair interview?”

You chuckled, “you know they have their own wardrobe department?”

He sighed, “yeah but you know me so much better than all those stylists. I trust your opinion more.”

You rolled your eyes as he tilted his head, begging you. “Fine, but I’m buying us coffee with your credit card.”

He broke out into a smile, “thank you, love you!” He called as you walked towards his front door.

“Whatever, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You told him, taking your car keys into your hands, and stepping out into the LA night. There was a soft breeze that shook the trees slightly, making you smile. It felt nice outside for the first time in a while.

Because of this, you decided to drive home with your windows rolled down, letting the wind flow through your hair. The roads were pretty barren by LA standards, so traffic was pretty much non-existent. You were sitting at a red light, your fingers tapping against your steering wheel as one of Colson’s songs played through your speakers softly.

You reached to turn up the volume as the light turned green. You pressed the gas, your car moving forward into the intersection. Suddenly you heard a loud squeal of brakes, looking over to your passenger window to the sight of two headlights barreling towards you. You tried to speed up to get out of the way, but it was too late.

The truck rammed straight into the side of your small car, pushing your vehicle over into the car next to you. You put your left arm up to shield you from any flying debris, but it was futile. The infrastructure of your car fell apart at the force, the dashboard collapsing onto your right leg. Luckily, your left leg managed to avoid the destruction.

You could barely feel the force of the whiplash due to the pain in your abdomen at the deployment of the airbag. Glass from the car next to you fell into your car through your open window, cutting into your skin.

And then all of a sudden, everything stopped. The truck that had hit you had stopped moving, allowing you to fully assess the damage. Your car was totaled for sure, and your leg was definitely crushed. You cried out in pain, breathing heavy and trying to see straight. You could hear the sound of sirens in the distance, giving you some sense of relief.

When the paramedics got to the scene, you were the last passenger to be taken out of the crash due to your car being in the center. A firefighter had to break the glass of your windshield, which was already cracked, in order to pull you out. When you told him your leg was stuck under the dashboard, he sent a team of men to lift it from your foot and another to pull you out of the wreckage.

They were all amazed you were still conscious but got very worried when you told them you couldn’t feel the pain in your leg. You rode in an ambulance to the hospital, the EMTs helping pick the glass from your skin and assessing your injuries. You made jokes with them to calm yourself down, something that you did with Colson and Rook whenever they got into accidents while you were out with them.

You thought about giving them Colson’s name when they asked about your emergency contact but decided against it. You didn’t want to worry him until absolutely necessary. You figured you’d see what the doctor had to say and if you wouldn’t be able to come back to work, then you would tell him.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly what the doctor said. In fact, you wouldn’t be able to leave the hospital for at least a week due to your shattered leg, bruised abdomen, and concussion.

The leg would require at least 2 if not more surgeries to repair and you would be on close watch for development of a more serious brain injury. After that you most likely wouldn’t be able to be back on your feet for another 8 to 12 weeks, which was kind of a requirement for your job.

It was almost 5am, so you weren’t necessarily thinking straight when you called Colson from your cracked phone. He answered, his voice conveying how tired he was. “Y/N? Everything okay?”

“Hey Kells, I’m not gonna be able to come in early tomorrow, or at all. I’m gonna start looking for a temporary replacement tomorrow if I’m feeling up to it. Oh! And I couldn’t send those tracks to the board, sorry.” You told him, only half registering the words you were saying.

The confusion was evident in his voice, “what? Why do you need to find a replacement?”

You realized you had forgotten to tell him what happened. “Oh, yeah! It’s kind of funny.” You started, chuckling but then realizing that laughing made your stomach hurt even more. “And by funny, I mean not funny at all. I got into a car accident. Some dude ran into my car in an intersection and now I’m in the hospital.”  

“Which hospital?” Colson asked, suddenly much more awake.

“Hollywood Presbyterian.” You told him, “why?”

He sounded like he was rushing around, which he was. “I’m coming to see you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, “why? I’m fine, you don’t need to do that. You have a big interview tomorrow, you should sleep.”

Colson sighed, “fuck the interview, I’ll be there in a few.”

“Colson you don’t-“ You started, but he hung up before you could tell him not to come.

Why was he rushing to see you in the hospital? Sure, you were friends, but he had much more important things to worry about right now. And besides, you were more casual work friends. He wouldn’t even know you existed if you didn’t work for him. Sure, you had a huge crush on him, but he was your boss, you were just someone he asked to do things he didn’t want to do.

 20 minutes later Colson ran into the hospital room, stopping when he saw you in the bed. Your face was red from chemical burn and a few cuts of glass. Your right leg was propped up with basic bandaging around it. His heart broke at the thought of how much pain you had probably been in.

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly, moving to sit in the chair on your left side.

You shrugged, “I’ve been better.”

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” He asked, eyes full of pity.

“I didn’t want to bother you unless it was serious. Figured I’d find out if I would have to miss work before telling you.” You said, squeezing your eyes shut as a headache washed over you.

Colson’s mouth gaped open, “you didn’t want to bother me? You got in a car crash and you weren’t gonna call me unless you would have to miss work?”

You shrugged again, “yeah. If my laptop wasn’t completely crushed in the accident I would’ve just found and sent a temp in tomorrow, but obviously that’s impossible.”

“Y/N you’re kidding me, right?” He asked, exasperated. You furrowed your eyebrows in response, causing a sigh to fall from his lips. “Y/N I don’t give a shit about a temp; I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh, I’m fine. A little shaken and these headaches are killer, but they gave me a lot of pain medication so, I’m fine.” You smiled at him, your thoughts racing as you tried to figure out why he cared so much about how you were feeling.

He nodded, hand reaching out and landing on top of yours gently. “So, do they have to do surgery? What all did the doctors say?” He asked, worry in his eyes.

You nodded, “yeah, at least 2 surgeries. One around 11 am and then depending on how that one goes they’ll schedule the next. And they have to watch me to make sure my concussion doesn’t get worse.”

He pulled out his phone, typing away. “What are you doing?” You asked, suddenly feeling very tired.

“I just emailed the PR liaison for Vanity Fair and told them I wouldn’t be able to make it to the interview.” He responded.

“Why did you do that?” You asked through a yawn.

He looked at you like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, “because I have to be with you right now.”

You were very confused as to why he thought he had to be here. “Colson, I’ll be fine. You should go to the interview. You don’t have to stay here.”

“I do have to be here. I want to be here.” He said, sternly.

“Why?” You asked, trying to keep your eyes open.

“Because I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll just call you after the surgery, it’s no big deal.” You responded lazily.

He shook his head, “I want to stay here with you, Y/N. Okay? I care about you.”

You were too tired to process what he was saying at this point, so you just let out a hum. “I need to make sure you’re okay. I need to see you being okay. When you called me, I swear I was gonna have a heart attack if I didn’t see you.” He continued.

You were barely awake at this point, letting out a simple, “I’m okay” before slipping into unconsciousness.

 Suddenly you were back in your car, “Bloody Valentine” playing from your speakers. The sky was dark green, almost like a painting. In front of you, the red light turned green. Like clockwork, you pressed the gas, moving into the intersection. Suddenly, the lights disappeared, and you heard the familiar chilling sound of breaks squealing. You looked over and saw those headlights coming towards you, getting closer and closer, brighter, and brighter.

You screamed at the sight, the familiar paralyzing fear coursing through your body again. “Y/N!” Your name played through the radio. That’s not in the song, you thought. “Y/N!” Colson’s voice rang out again before the truck made contact with your car.

You woke up in a cold sweat to Colson standing over you, hands shaking your shoulders lightly. “Y/N.” He said, relieved when your eyes began to open.

Your entire body was shaking like a poodle and your arms subconsciously reached for Colson, hanging onto his shirt for dear life. “It was just a dream.” He whispered as your eyes darted around the room. “You’re okay.” He reassured you.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, hands leaving the fabric and moving to cover up your face. “I’m sorry.”

Colson sat on the bed next to you, legs hanging off the side as he stroked your face gently. “It’s okay, baby.” He turned to the nurse who opened the door, a worried expression on her face. He shook his head at her, “sorry, she just had a nightmare. She’s okay.” The nurse nodded but stayed in the room anyways, checking your vitals.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled again, the words seeming to be the only thing you could say.

Colson shook his head, “stop saying that, it’s okay.” You pouted at him, trying to scoot over so he would lay down next to you, but it was way too painful. “What are you doin?” He asked, a smile on his face.

You sighed, “wanted you to sit next to me but I can’t move because of this stupid leg.” You motioned to the leg in question.

Colson chuckled, “I can sit next to you in the chair.”

“That didn’t work last time.” You whined.

He looked at you with an expression that was both amused and confused. You were definitely still high on pain medication. “What didn’t work.”

“It didn’t stop the nightmare.” You frowned, hand reaching for his. He chuckled, standing up fully and looking at the nurse.

She flashed him an amused smile, “If you want, we can try to move her. I don’t know how much we can do without hurting her ribs, though.”

Colson nodded with a gracious smile, “hear that? We can’t move you because of your ribs.”

You glared at him, “I may be very high right now, but I’m not that high.” You said, making him giggle. “She said you could try.”

Colson let out an exasperated sigh, one arm going under your back and the other under your left leg. “Is this what it’s like taking care of me all the time?” He asked and you nodded your head firmly.

“Yep. Except I am much smaller than you, so you have less work to do with me.” You smiled as he lifted you off the bed, which quickly turned into a grimace. “Ow!” You yelped and Colson quickly set you down, slightly closer to the right side of the bed.

“Fuck, sorry princess. Are you okay?” He asked, voice soft.

You nodded, sucking in your bottom lip to block the whimpers of pain that threatened to escape your mouth. “You probably don’t remember, but one time you were so crossed that you called me to pick you up from a party. But you couldn’t make it out of the car, so I had to carry you into your house. And then you demanded to sleep in your own room, so you made me drag you up the stairs instead of passing out on the couch like normal.”

Colson let out a breathy chuckle, glad you weren’t hurt too much. He carefully sat onto the cot next to you, pulling up his right leg to sit on the bed. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into him slightly. You shifted so that you were comfortable, left hand finding his own left hand and holding it. He brought his left leg up onto the bed so he was fully laying with you.

Your head rest on his chest, a soft smile on your face as his thumb rubbed circles on your hand. The nurse left, satisfied that you wouldn’t hurt yourself further. Colson pressed a small kiss to the top of your head, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

“What time is it?” You asked him, to which he responded by pulling out his phone and showing you the lock screen. 8:47am. You nodded, a frown on your face, “did you get any sleep?” You asked him softly.

“I’m fine, I was asleep for a few hours before you called me.”

You sighed, feeling guilty. “You should go home and get some sleep.”

You felt him shake his head from behind you, “I’m staying right here.”

Despite wanting to force him to go home, you couldn’t help the happiness you felt at his stubbornness to stay with you. “You know you don’t need to be here. I won’t be offended if you leave.”

He chuckled, “stop trying to get me to leave. I’m here. On my own accord, okay? I’m gonna take care of you.”

You paused, thinking about the word floating around your head. “Why?” you whispered.

Colson’s face scrunched in confusion, “what do you mean “why”? Because you’re my friend and I care about you.”

“I mean, yeah. But I’m not like a “drop everything” kind of friend, I’m just your assistant.” You muttered.

Colson made an “are-you-serious?” face and let out a snort. “Seriously? You are so much more than you give yourself credit for. You mean the world to me, of course I’d drop everything for you.”

You couldn’t think of a response, his words making your heart race. “oh.” Was the best you could come up with.

“Y/N, seriously, you think way too low of yourself. You’re amazing.” He said, nose burying into your hair.

You shrugged, “you only say that because I take care of you when you’re drunk and help you do all the things you don’t want to do.”

Colson’s expression softened, a frown forming on his face. “I’m saying that because I think the world of you. You’re the kindest, funniest, coolest person I know. I meant it, when you told me you were in the hospital, my heart almost stopped. I felt sick to my stomach just thinking about you being hurt.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I wish you could see how much you mean to me.” He mumbled.

You were quiet for a little while, processing what he had said. “You’re only saying that because I’m in the hospital.” You muttered, a frown on your face. You were trying to keep your hopes low, knowing once you were out of here, he would regret saying any of this.

“Y/N, are you being serious right now? I’m saying this because I’ve been fucking in love with you for the past year and a half.” He said and you could feel your breath catch in your throat. “I can’t believe you don’t see it.”

You bit your lip, turning to look up to him. “I just- I didn’t want- you wouldn’t.” You stumbled over your words, taking a deep breath, and starting again. “I didn’t want to read too much into it or get my hopes up. I figured you’d never be into someone like me so I just told myself you were being nice. I thought you only treated me well because I worked for you.” You mumbled.

He frowned, holding you tighter to him, “I am so, so into you. You are the only woman in my life who has ever stuck by me through my worst shit. Like even when I was a total jackass you stayed with me. How could I not fall in love with you?”

You bit your lip, tears threatening to spill at his sweet sentiment. You’d never had anyone say something that kind about you. You’d always assumed people only kept you around because you did stuff for them, but here was the man you were in love with telling you that he cared about you for you.

“I love you too.” You whispered, leaning your head further into his chest.

[monstas1ut2]

1/3 (Eren Yeager)

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

Bitches is my sons, that's why I be like, "Chile"

Chile, chile, chile, chile, ch-i-i-i-chile

At the lowest volume, Nicki was spitting bars. The LED lights on the brightest red there's to come as the window was covered with black out curtains. It happened to be bright outside but who opens their curtains at 8 am in the morning..? People who are productive and that's not you.

"Don't spend hours in there, brat."

A pout came onto your face, almost sucking your teeth... it wasn't going to be long until you were finished. Nonetheless though, your father always thinks you take hours to get ready to go somewhere.

"Im not ,daddy... Ion even wear makeup no more.. so it won't take long.."

Leaning towards the mirror, and pressing the lipgloss tip against your soft lips, your thoughts came around to your father.

Levi Ackerman, he's a short male who is quite intimidating, he IS intimidating. Despite his height, he's always winning a battle, whether it's verbal or physical. Which is why you always fail to win an argument against him. This was noticeable when you moved to his house ten months ago.

Before living with Levi, you were living with Hange.

Hange co-parents with Levi, the two were never together but they kept you happy and they are both Mom and Dad to you. The two are so different though. Hange would let you skip school, get ready late, almost everything in the book. She had to stop you from getting a sugar daddy though-

Levi is strict, he doesn't want anyone or thing touching his pretty Princess. Yes you're not biologically his but he still is your father, the only one you'd ever had. He taught you things, showed you the great life. He tried to get you to speak a bit more proper but he just stopped, oddly enough, he wanted you to embrace everything you had to offer.

It was a pain learning about your background, Hange was bad at doing anything for you as well. In result of this, your hair has dreads. Watching YouTube videos was Levi's new thing when you were younger. He managed to skillfully put dreads in your hair and... now they look quite amazing. Very long and pretty on you.

That's something you embrace, those pretty dreads. Knowing that your father put them in first , is one reason as to never take them out.

"I'm done, and, Mom said stop ignorin her... she wanna have a picture of me.. since it's my last year I guess.. ion know.. but she blowin up my phone.."

A bit of a smile casting on your brown skinned face. Fiddling with the phone in your hand. Today you were wearing a Jean like skirt and a black top to go with. Your med-long nails being a mix of white and gold, it complimented the melanin of your skin.

Levi glared at his phone that was vibrating on the nearest table and he'd sighed inwardly. Hange was so excited for your last year, while Levi was not. He also hates the fact that you are now going to the same school that he works at... the only bad thing being... the men there are complete perverts and prudes.

"Tell that bratty friend of yours to do it-"

"Connie isn't a brat, he just a lil mental..."

A lot of bald guys seemed to be mental, or is that just... stereotypical to say? Eh, either way, your Connie was mental. The guy was hilarious, he always knows how to put a smile on your face. Even though you two used to be fairly seperated. You now go to his school so at least you'll have one friend to lean on.

"dad, can you at least be happy for me...? It's my last year of school, not my last year of me bein in ya house.. cuz ion know how to cook... or do adult stuff.." a sheepish smile came upon your face, just staring at your father who happened to be suppressing a smile. He eventually did not though, but... you are the only person who can make him smile..

"I know, you burned down a kitchen before.." An evil smirk cascaded on his pale face. He knew that would hit you where it hurts, considering you were now silent but squinting your eyes playfully. It definitely wasn't Levi's kitchen, it was Hange's kitchen.. she had to get it remodeled.

Honestly, Levi liked that you couldn't cook, that way, douche bag men will stay away from you and it'll prevent them from making you barefoot and pregnant in a kitchen... he overthinks okay?

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

Gripping your wrist ever so tightly, the two of you were walking towards the huge school. It was more of a modern taste, probably because the school was built only 6 years ago. The scale of the school had caused your body to overheat from anxiety. So actually, Levi was pulling you towards the school, no effort needed.

Once that door was open, it was all over. The main entrance had a pretty scenery. It was pictures and everything, though something that was odd was that black people were limited, looked like-

Okay okay, you're overthinking, but this school really doesn't have black people. If they do, they are in sports... which is why there was a man constantly talking on and on about female's basketball team...

You have to admit, you are a stallion.

"She doesn't want to be on the team... Shadis... stop yelling in her face.."

A bit of a concerned smile came upon your face as you glanced towards your father. Who only gave a soft look towards you. Levi may be insensitive at times but when it comes to you being nervous.. he's there.

"Where the hell is the principle..." Levi grumbled under his breath, he was quite late for his class.. but he had to make sure you were going to be fine.. like the worried father he is.

And Like on cue, a fine.. smexy blonde man came from the back door of the front office.. oooh.

His eyebrows were thick and he had this smile on his face. Like he knew who you were, though at the same time he probably already did. This man was in pictures at home, Levi knew him personally.

Apparently this man changed your diaper when you were little too.. so.. low chance of him seeing you any different..

Principal Smith... oohhh

"Levi, I told you yesterday, she'll be fine in my hands.. I can make sure she gets to every class. I'll also make sure nobody messes with her.." Erwin hummed out, knowing these words that came from Levi last week. His voice was deep and sincere, his pretty blue eyes glancing you over.. gawd oh mighty.

"And?" Levi's eyes squinted hard, his face quite serious about the last statement that Erwin seemed to pass by... or forgotten.. Man, someone would think Levi is the principal... and not Erwin.

"I'll make sure Yeager stays away from her.."

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

The bell had rung oh so suddenly, the anxiety in you causing you to need to go to the bathroom but... your ancestors had to come down.

They whispered into your ear and explained that you are the baddest bitch in the world. Nobody can take that away from you, nor can the stupid anxiety.

"This is my daughter, (Y/n)... "

The baddest bitch with anxiety...

Every single eye was on you, in front of the class... it was obvious that most were just curious about you, mixed with shocked. When they heard the other day about getting a new student, they figured that it'll be someone... like them. At the same time though.. they could get used to the.. balance of the room.

The window across the room was beaming on your brown skin and it happened to make you look like a goddess. Your lipgloss sparkling as you glanced around, a soft smile on your face. Honestly, that only happened because of the fact that.. your bald friend was waving to you..

Connie...

The other day, a deal was made... Between you and your father. Who is also now your teacher for first period.

The deal was, you clean your room spotless and you get to sit next to Connie in class. Guess who succeeded?...

Your arms wrapped around male as he was blushing a tad. Being almost manhandled by you was everyone's dream at the moment. Especially a male who was behind you and Connie's table. He had this cool haircut, his face was long too but it fit his features.

"Why is she hugging the egg..."

"Jean you're just jealous.." the person who said this happened to be playing with their pencil. She had black hair and.. freckles.. it was cute. She looked mean though.

"Okay and..?"

Connie then began to of course, show off his best friend.. who happened to be you. Apparently what happened was that he told everyone about you one day. Nobody believed him, and Jean being the asshole he is.., he wanted answers so he -reluctantly- asked Levi if he had a daughter...

They weren't expecting someone like you...

Nor was.. this brown haired male who had his eye on you ever since you came in. His intimidating... blue, greenish looking eyes.. it's not something you failed to realize... but at the same time, you could feel your father's eyes as well.

"That's Eren over there, by Armin and Mikasa... he's a little coo-coo... so just talk to Armin and Mikasa.. then that's Bert , Annie, and Reiner, and Ymir, Jean, Sasha is the one eating and Historia.."

Honestly, you were never one to listen to someone when they say don't do something... Connie said don't talk to Eren... but some how... with the fluttering of your eyelashes.. you gave the long haired boy a wink. The wink sending him a burst of confidence that he already had..

it just got worse..

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ Masterlist 2

[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 8. solo

Previous | Next

[warnings: underage drinking, smoking, weed, near death experience?, crying]

"never have i dealt with anything more difficult than my own soul." — You leave the roof late in the night. Sal had gotten up and retreated into his apartment a little while earlier—but you'd decided to stay and make sure he didn't come back there.

Three days pass. They all consist of fleeting glances and irresolute tension. Things remain the same with the group dynamic, except for between you and Sal. Neither of you seem to know how to continue from that conversation on the roof. No one else notices, though. They'd never suspected anything from the beginning, it seems.

The beginning of your involvement with Sal involved a little bit of buildup and then a snap which resulted in a sexual encounter (or two).

Now it was a bit different. Now things were a little less lighthearted.

It's a Saturday—you'd planned to spend it inside as usual. That's until your phone starts ringing.

You flip your phone open, read over the contact, and answer the call.

"Hi, Ash."

"Y/N," she starts. You hear the excitement to continue in her voice. "There's a party tonight."

"Oh?" You get up from your seat on your bed.

"Some stoner Larry has connections with invited him and said to bring friends. He wants to bring us—save for Todd. He doesn't do parties."

"Wait," your eyebrows furrow. "Me?"

"Yeah!" She says from the other end of the line. "It'll be fun. Cmon."

You bite your lip nervously, anxiety knotting in your stomach. "I don't know. I've never really.."

Ashley is momentarily silent on the other line. She must be contemplating what to say to convince you. "Sal's coming too. Parties aren't necessarily his thing, either—so maybe you guys could try it out together?"

You open your mouth and then promptly close it. Something inside of you suddenly really wanted to go to this party. "Um... alright. Okay."

"Cool! What're you gonna wear?"

You look toward the drawer that contained your clothes and bit your lip. "Not sure yet. I'll update you on that."

"Okay, don't forget to text me! See you at eight."

The call declined from the other line. The phone that held the phone to your ear slipped into your lap. You pressed your lips together and tried to ignore the familiar feeling of sickening nausea and anxiety.

You don't rush yourself on getting ready for the party, because the time you're due to be done won't be for a while.

You take your time with the hours you have. You shower, take your time on eyeliner, mascara, and lipgloss—and finally decide on what you'll wear.

You decide on a square neck white cropped tank with short sleeves and your nicest pair of light blue, slightly washed out jeans. You slid on your favorite, sort of chunky white sneakers over white socks.

It isn't long after you finish when Ashley calls and informs you she's arrived at the apartments and Larry and Sal have already joined her out in the car. You give yourself a once-over in the mirror and then leave the apartment.

Your mother was nowhere to be found. She's either at work or drinking with her coworkers.

Once you've opened the door and climbed into the Ford Fiesta, you immediately realize your predicament—Sal is the only person in the backseat with you.

The drive there is decently long and painfully tense. Neither you nor Sal know how to speak to each other, so no words are exchanged beneath the heavy metal music emitting from the radio.

When you finally arrive at the party, it's recognizably crowded, drunken teenagers are flowing from the front door, in and out, and there's a good amount on the lawn. The newest radio hit is playing on a considerably loud speaker, and the vibrations are notable even from a distance.

"Woah," Larry says, staring at the house as Ashley pulls onto the side of the road. "Didn't realize he was so popular."

You all exit the Ford Fiesta and cross the road. You cringe as you watch someone vomit onto the grass, and another person ripping from a bong in the wide open.

Smoke flies into your face and your eyes as you enter the home. You cough, waving a hand as you blindly follow after your friends.

Eventually, the four of you find yourself on two couches directly facing each other. You on one, Larry and Ashley on the other. Sal is stood to the side.

Larry materializes a bottle of Fireball that you guessed he stole from someone on the way in, opens the cap with his teeth, and takes several gulps.

"Where did you get that?" Ashley laughs over the music, pulling the sleeves of her lavender sweater over her hands.

"Stole it," he looks to Sal and directs the bottle toward him. "Want some?"

"Sure," Sal replies, to your surprise—taking it from Larry's grasp and walking away and in your direction.

"You're drinking that?" You ask him, testing the waters.

"No, actually," you watch Sal round to the other side of the couch to linger behind you. "I'm limiting him. He'll thank me later."

Once he's out of your field of vision, you tip your head back and gaze up at him—your perspective on him being upside down. Your gaze zeroes in on the bottle of Fireball he's clutching in his hand.

"Hey," you say, meeting his eyes. "Give me some."

It was time to give him that excuse—the excuse to break the ice.

He leans in a bit, gesturing toward you with the bottle. "You want it?"

A grin pulls at your glossed lips. Instead of reaching for the bottle, you open your mouth and tilt your chin up.

Sal looks on for a moment but laughs once he realizes what you want. Everyone else at the couches seem decently distracted with each other and the overall environment—so he doesn't seem to worry about it too much.

He reaches his hand around and towards your neck, gripping your jaw in his fingers and holding you firmly. You feel his cold rings press into your skin when he tips your head further back just a bit—and then steadily pours a shot-amount of Fireball into your mouth with his other hand.

Sal stops at the right time, looks on as you pull back and sit up, and cautiously watches the back of your head as you assumedly swallow the whisky. But when you turn a bit in your seat to peer at him over your shoulder, you're holding your mouth closed and pressing a closed fist to your lips while soundlessly giggling.

"What?" He laughs, a hand moving to the top of the couch. He leans in a bit. "Can you not swallow it?"

Your shoulders shake slightly as you continue to laugh. You shake your head up and down.

"Do you need to spit it out?" Sal asks, his tone warming into concern.

You shake your head from side to side. You meet his eyes and swallow, gasping as the liquid slides down your throat and burns all the way down. You cough, the flavor of cinnamon and what tasted like Big Red gum overloaded your senses.

"God," you breathe out, giggling all the while. The alcohol is gross but you're feeling good. "It's not great."

"Yeah, that's why I'm holding Larry off, so he won't be puking his guts out later."

You look up to the boy, who's sat on the arm of the couch opposite to you. He's busy talking to some equally stoned guy, so you can't manage to catch his eye—but you catch Ashley's.

She had this look of astonishment on her face.

Had she been watching what happened? When Sal poured Fireball in your mouth?

Your face grew hot thinking about it.

Sal wanders away from you again, and you find yourself drinking more than you should. Eventually, your rationality disappears.

It's been a few hours and Sal hasn't seen you for a while. So when he hears about a girl wearing a white crop top walking across the roof of the house, he feels like he's going to vomit.

It takes him a record time of 6 seconds to get out of the door and onto the lawn. Upon looking up at the roof, his suspicions are confirmed. He shoulders past multiple people to place himself near the front of the crowd and gazes up in horror.

"Sal!" You yell, gesturing toward him with something between a wave and a point. "I'd recognize that hair anywhere!"

Multiple heads within the crowd turn away from you and towards him. He puts aside his social anxiety and the wave of unease that washes over his body and tries to focus on you. "Please come down," he rushes out, raising his voice just enough for it to be audible over the crowd.

You laugh like he's told a hilarious joke and he quickly realizes his mistake. That's the worst thing he could've told your intoxicated self. You move toward the edge of the roof, shaky and uncoordinated. "You want me to jump?"

"No!" He exclaims, his hands flying up, fingers splayed. "No. Don't do that!"

"Holy shit!" He hears Larry shout from somewhere closer to the front door of the house. Sal guesses he's just now catching wind of the current situation. Moments after, both of his brunette friends are at his side.

"What the hell is going on?!" Ashley yells, verdant eyes glued to the sight before them.

You lost your balance once again, but this time a bit worse—your foot catching on a shingle on the roof and effectively knocking the red solo cup out of your hand. It dropped onto the downward slope of the roof and the liquor inside of it spilled down the side.

Whenever Sal witnessed the toe of your white sneaker catch onto that shingle, he felt as though his very soul had been ripped from his body. Immediately after he watched you regain your footing and stable yourself, though—his heartbeat calmed to a steadier pace.

"I'm going up there," he stated beneath the chatter.

Both Ashley and Larry's heads whipped toward him.

"You'll kill yourself!" Larry exclaims incredulously. Ashley opens her mouth to assumedly second Larry's statement, but Sal cuts her off by walking away.

"Not before she does," he mutters, pushing his way through the density of bodies and forcing his way through the front door. His senses are disoriented like he's been submerged beneath water as the volume of the music scratched at his eardrums and pulsed the innards of his skull. Adrenaline courses through his blood like a drug whilst he shoulders past both mindlessly drunk and carelessly high teenagers.

Sal doesn't spare them a second glance, but their unconcern does remain in his mind. The fact that they're continuing their lives while he feels as though something that's growing into something of importance in his is about to be taken from him... it's mind-numbing.

He's never been an optimistic person, he's always tried to view things in the way they're most likely to happen—and all that's beneath that two-story house is a long drop and concrete. If you fall, you'll break your head open and you'll die.

He finally makes it to the stairs. He makes a break for it then, tripping over his own feet multiple times. Anything could happen in this amount of time, and he knew no one else was going to help him.

Sal's thoughts grow more and more disordered as he navigates the dark halls of the house. The music seems to have only grown louder, the deafening mixture of guitar and drums taunting him.

He remembers the window on the outside of the house. Sal estimates which room it would be, locates it, and approaches the door. He turns the knob, but it doesn't fully rotate.

The door is locked from the inside. Of course. Who would have a party and leave the bedroom unlocked so people could fuck all over your comforter?

He bites out a curse only he hears and prepares himself to force the door open.

Sal grabs the doorknob tightly, prepares himself, and rams the side of his body into the wood. He doesn't even feel the pain, just does it again, and again.

He goes until that half of his body is numb.

The door finally budges, and he wastes no time entering the room. He doesn't hesitate when he reaches the double-hung window he'd been seeking. He grips it at the bottom and pulls it up and open, clenching his teeth together painfully.

Sal stares out at the vastness of the night, the golden streetlights, and how they shine down on the crowd of people below him. They all seem to be looking at the same place, up, but not at him—and he can only swallow thickly.

Carefully, Sal moves to sit on the windowsill, gripping what was above him tightly, his legs outside. He then ducks to leave the room and shivers as cool air hits the front of his neck.

He starts walking the roof, steadily—like his life depends on it. Because.. it does.

Or yours. Yours depends on it.

"Y/N!" Sal calls as he finally reaches a point where you're in his line of sight. Momentarily, he's worried he'd scared you. But you turn your head, meet his eyes, and smile. Despite that, your face spells fear all over it. Something must have sobered you up a bit while he'd been inside.

"I'm going to come to you. Do not walk towards me!"

You blink lazily, because you were drunk, and nodded. You shivered, hugging yourself. It didn't seem to do much, though. Your arms were bare.

"Fuck," he breathes, gazing down at the fall that could await him if he misstepped and immediately reverted his gaze. Blood rushes between his ears as he steadily makes his way towards you.

"Please don't fall!" You suddenly exclaim, your hair tussling in the breeze. A strand blows over your face, so you quickly raise a hand to move it back in place.

He looks up from his feet and stares you in the eyes. "I won't," he affirms, you and himself, continuing across the roof. "Just stay put, okay?"

It doesn't take long to get over to you. He's mostly sober, so it isn't hard on that part. What's difficult is calming his steady heart.

He's not scared of falling. Not necessarily scared of injury or death. But he is scared of not making it to you.

Once he's at an arms reach of your shaking form, he reaches out a hand, palm facing the darkness of the sky.

You seem to read his mind, slowly grabbing his hand. Sal maneuvers your joint hands to where your palms press together and your fingers are interlaced. He doesn't know if it's the blood rushing through his ears or the distance from the ground, but it's as if everything below becomes very quiet.

You meet his gaze, your pretty eyes glossy with tears. The eyeliner you were wearing had just begun to collect beneath your lower lash line.

He squeezes your hand and leads you to be in front of him.

It's not long after that that he's gotten you off of the roof. Sal watches you slip through the open window before turning toward the density of people beneath him on the ground. He breathes in as he catches both Larry and Ashley's eyes—he can't read their expressions, but he wouldn't be surprised if there was shock written all over it—and then ducks back into the window.

As soon as the window is shut and it meets the windowsill once more, Sal whips his head toward you. "Y/N-"

Before he'd saw your face, and the language of your body as you were sat on the edge of the bed, he was going to scold you, and then go downstairs and find you some water and sober you up—all of that falls down the drain when he sees the stream of tears falling down your face. Every time you blink, more drop—quickly staining your cheeks with black makeup.

"Oh," he breathes, suddenly speechless. "Y/N-"

You attempt at taking a breath in, it seems—but it's a failure because it hitches and turns into a shoulder-shaking sob.

"I'm sorry," you cry, roughly dragging the tips of your fingers beneath your eyes. This only smears the running mascara further. "I'm just drunk."

Sal momentarily feels like breaking down in tears himself, that's how much this entire ordeal stressed him out. He approaches your trembling body and crouches down in front of you.

"Hey," he says, softly. "It doesn't matter whether or not you're intoxicated. Your feelings still matter, okay?"

You sniffle, still attempting to wipe your tears away, and reluctantly nod. "I'm sorry," you try again.

He places his hands on your knees and squeezes them firmly. "It's okay."

You jerk into a sob, leaning forward and pressing the side of your face on his shoulder. You slowly tuck your arms beneath his and cross them over the expanse of his back, palms flat on each shoulder blade. The convulsive gasps were hard to stop, making it hard to breathe.

Sal breathed out softly against the prosthetic, raising his arms and encasing them around your torso.

He didn't wonder about the reason for your tears. Assuming things wouldn't help you anymore.

"I don't know why I did that," you whisper, quieting yourself to swallow your saliva. "Maybe I do. I think I was trying to prove something to myself."

He finds himself holding you tighter, your chest pressed to his, feeling your heartbeat through the fabric that separated you both—oddly enough, even at this moment, it reminds him of that night in the car. You had been even closer to him then, though.

"It was stupid," you murmured. "Why would I do that, after what we had talked about last night?"

"What if we jumped together?" he remembers saying.

"Some things can't be explained," he replies earnestly. "You don't need to know why you did what you did. It was stupid, though. I'd probably walk across the roof of a two-story house for you again, but.."

You pull back and meet his eyes, your face wet. The majority of your makeup had been cried off and your lipgloss had been smudged.

You must've sensed his examination, breaking the visual contact and sniffling. "I know I look ridiculous right now."

Sal smiles. He knows she can't see it, but maybe she'll hear it. "I don't think so," he murmurs, looking off to the side. "I think that's a bathroom. You can clean up in there if you want."

You follow his gaze and then return your eyes to his and laugh a bit. You still sound drunk, he notes. Obviously. He'd poured a good amount of Fireball into your mouth and watched you drink plenty of other things.

"Feels kinda weird using a stranger's bathroom," you laugh, your breath hitching from the earlier crying.

Sal rolls his eyes humorously, gripping your knees tighter as he pulls himself off of the floor. "The guy who lives here is Larry's friend—and a stoner. I doubt he'd mind. And if he does get mad, I'll take responsibility for it. I forced that door through, anyway.."

Your gaze swivels toward the door, which is not shut but mostly closed. When he glances to where you're looking, he notices it seems a bit.. crooked.

He inwardly cringes. "I'll pay for it. Come on."

Sal follows you into the bathroom. You seem reluctant to enter first, so he does, opening the door and reaching to the side to turn the lights on. They do what they're supposed to—eventually. They're momentarily unresponsive before becoming alive—the illumination brightening the room with a dull yellow hue.

You step onto the tile and began to search for whatever it was you needed. You kneeled at one of the cabinets below the sink, opened it, and ducked your head lower.

"Oh!" You exclaim quietly, reaching in and pulling out two things. A bottle of half-empty makeup remover and a bag of some cotton rounds.

"Maybe he has a girlfriend?" He hears you say to yourself, standing up, nudging the cabinet closed with your foot, and placing the things you found beside the sink.

Sal reaches over and closes the door. He'd rather not have to witness the sight of some drunkards wandering in and fooling around on the bed.

"Lock it," you say. "I'd rather no one- no one see me like this."

His hand was already on the doorknob, so he just reaches down a bit and locks the door.

He watches you struggle a bit with the bag of cotton rounds, trying but failing to open it, so he reaches forward and delicately plucks it out of your grasp.

Sal slides the makeup remover over and pats the place on the counter it was previously. "Sit."

You peer into his eyes inquisitively but waste no time hoisting yourself up and onto the cold surface.

After that, he plucks the bottle of makeup remover off of the counter and douses the cotton round in the liquid. He reaches forward from the distance that your knees created between the both of you, but you spread your thighs and press the heel of your shoe into his lower back, pulling him in so he's between your legs.

Sal doesn't see it suggestively, because you're drunk—but he's glad you asked him to lock the door because, with his luck, Larry or Ashley would find their way into the bathroom and get all of the wrong ideas.

The firmness just beneath his navel presses into the edge of the counter as he cups one side of your face and began wiping away at the eyeliner and mascara and everything it messed up.

"Thank you," you say sweetly, blinking at him with appreciation in your eyes. "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

He remembers a silhouette. Her back was turned to him, golden hair cascading just past her shoulder blades. He remembers blue eyes that looked a lot like his own staring into a mirror, a hand which adorned a wedding ring wiping away makeup from the day.

"Read it on the label of the bottle," he replies, meeting your eyes and looking away.

As he's finishing up, he hears a rapping of knuckles against the locked door. He tosses the used cotton rounds into a trash bin in the corner and then locks eyes with you curiously.

"Occupied," he calls out, still looking at you. The knocking only gets louder, which makes you laugh.

"He said it's occupied!" You yell over the unintelligible music downstairs, your words breaking into a giggle. You press your knees against his waist, and he doesn't even realize it when his hands meet your thighs.

The knocking ceases, fading into a voice. "Is that you guys in there?"

Fucking Larry. Speak of the goddamn devil—that's what he would've said if he'd come knocking sooner.

The both of you seem to be thinking the same thing, locking eyes in terror. You quickly get off of the counter, and Sal unlocks the door and swings it open.

Sure enough, he's standing there—in all of his glory and highness. Larry blinks, the whites of his glossy eyes tinted red. He looks between the both of you before speaking. "Why were.."

"I had to pee," You choose to deadpan.

Sal feels himself grow even paler than he already is. "I came in.. after.. that."

Larry intakes a mouthful of whatever is in the red solo cup he's holding in his tan, lanky fingers, and swallows thickly. "Okay," he croaks, instinctively cringing as the alcohol passed through his chest. He gestured the cup toward you. "Uh..crazy stunt you pulled up there, huh?"

Sal saw your face shift in his peripheral vision. "Huge lapse of judgment," you reply.

"Nobody could tell who you were, so don't worry about that," the brunette smiles a bit. He returns his attention to Sal. "They've started playing country," sure enough, Sal hears the sound of a banjo from the speakers downstairs, effectively punctuating Larry's statement.

"Yeah.." Larry mumbles, sipping his drink and looking up and through his eyebrows. "Ash said to come find you guys so we can leave."

It doesn't take much, after that.

As you're leaving, Larry pulls the door open and furrows his brow at the condition of the hinges. "Wow. How old is this thing?" He mumbles.

Sal hears you snort.

The three of you descend the stairs, skirting past countless teenagers standing on the steps drinking or smoking. Sal makes the mistake of letting you fall behind and feels you stumble and smack him in the back. It's easy to steady himself, quickly gripping the railing—but he's concerned about you, so he turns around.

A guy with a cigarette balancing in his teeth is eying you with frustration pulling at his features. His gaze pulls from your face and down your body absentmindedly.

"Watch it," he murmurs.

"Sorry," you breathe, jerking your head away and meeting Sal's eyes worriedly. Keep walking, you express in the hues of your eyes.

Sal reaches forward and interlaces your fingers with his as he'd done on the roof. He makes a show of it, too—so the guy with the cigarette sees the rings on both of his hands. Sal gives him a distinct look when they lock eyes, rolls his jaw, and lets you lead him down the stairs, instead of the other way around.

By the time you're all nearly shot from weaving through the multitude of sweaty bodies and navigating through plumes of smoke thicker than fog, the three of you find Ashley petting what he'd assume is the host's dog.

No one questions it.

"You good to drive?" Larry asks, placing his cup on a nearby surface.

"Oh, yeah," she rises from her crouch beside the dog. The animal walks away, his golden tail wagging excitedly at the next person who would give him pets. "A gross sip of something put me off of drinking tonight a while earlier. And, uh.. the whole roof thing dried me out."

You sigh. "I'm sorry about that. It sobered me up, too."

She shakes her head, a wispy strand of light brown hair falling over her face. "It was stupid, yes, and I hope you don't do it again, but all that matters now is that you're safe."

Ashley blinks kind green eyes at you and smiles, reaching forward, taking your hand, and leading you away. Sal hears you laugh and follow after her as both of you head for the front door.

He turns to look at Larry once he loses sight of both of you in the crowd. He examines Sal with bleary dark eyes and looks as though he's about to say something, but he doesn't get to.

Even over the blaring country music, Sal hears a yell and then some fearful shouting. He whips around toward the sounds, which were toward the front of the house.

Red and blue flashing lights shine through the windows.

"Shit!"

"Ah, fuck," Larry groaned, nimbly wrapping his fingers around Sal's wrist and dragging him into the density of the panicked crowd. "Did you see where they went?"

Sal shakes his head. "No," he knows you're intoxicated. Panic settles in. He chews his lip, his eyes desperately scamming for a girl wearing a white top squared at the neck—you. "Y/N's had a lot to drink, Larry. If the police-"

"Don't worry about the Five-O, let's worry about the girls," Larry replies absentmindedly, keeping his firm hold on Sal.

"They must've gone to the Ford," Sal shouts over the music, which, for some reason, is still playing. "We were leaving anyway. I'm sure they're in the car."

Larry releases Sal and motions toward the back of the house. "There's a back door. I'll text Ashley and tell her to drive down the block and we can meet them on foot."

It was an agreeable plan. Waltzing out of the house and walking straight up to the car wouldn't be wise.

Larry does what he'd said he'd do. Turns out, Sal was right, they had made it to the car moments before the police had rolled up. Ashley informed him it was two squad cars and four officers. Seemed like overkill for a house party—but he wouldn't know. He didn't do this often.

When Larry was on the phone, Sal was very tempted to ask about Y/N, but refrained.

On the way to the back door, they crossed through the kitchen. Larry snatched an unopened bottle of alcohol of a brand Sal didn't recognize and carried it along with him for the road.

As soon as they made it out of the house, they both made a break for it, running between houses and into multiple different backyards on their way.

They slowed down once they were at a measurable distance from the party, gasping for air. Sal panted against the prosthetic, placing his hands on his knees and slowing his gasps into slow breaths, attempting to calm his racing heart.

They stood on the side of the road, the music in the distance (albeit a lot quieter) still pounding into the night.

Sal lowered himself down onto the curb. Larry joined him, raising the bottle he'd chose to bring with him to his mouth, and opened the steel cap with his teeth. He spits it onto the road and gestures it toward Sal.

"Bottoms up," he said, bringing it to his lips and taking several gulps.

Sal rolled his eyes playfully, eyebrows rising as Ashley's Ford Fiesta cruised down the road and slowed to a stop in front of them. He stood up from the curb and pulled Larry off of it as well.

They entered the car, sliding into the backseat. Larry continued to down the beer he'd found as Ashley turned around in her seat.

"The night's still young," she says. "Any ideas of what we could do?"

It's really not. Sal's a bit disoriented so he doesn't know what time it is but he wouldn't be surprised if it was 3 AM.

You then turn around in the passenger seat and grin mischievously. "Let's go to the lake."

Oh, great.

[lauras-collection]

beyond being friends | part 8

Harrison Osterfield x Holland!Reader

|| Masterlist || Series Masterlist ||

Summary: What happens when you suddenly realise you’re attracted to your brother’s best friend?

When you and Harrison cross the line between friendship and something more, it makes everything more complicated than the average ‘being more than friends’ relationship. Because he’s your brothers best friend and you’re all living together.

Words: 3k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ (a little oral, like one second [f receiving], fingering, biting [once], a little overstimulation, protected sex), if there’s anything else I should tag let me know! 

A/N: Not gonna lie this part is a bit of a hot mess...I hope you like it! 😅 

P.S.: I don’t know if the glasses Harrison wears sometimes are prescription glasses, so if they’re not let’s pretend they’re blue light glasses so it makes sense his wearing them before bed ok? ok. :D

Feedback is always appreciated ❤️

“You look happy,” Harry says, his face momentarily freezing on the screen. You can’t keep the smile off your face. There’s no doubt that you’re happy, and the fact that it’s so apparent your brother picks up on it through a FaceTime call and sees the need to mention it? Speaks volumes. 

“I am” You grin at him, his eyes squinting a little in playful suspicion. 

“Any particular reason?” He raises an eyebrow while shifting his position a bit. It looks like he’s in the apartment Tom and him have been renting for the past months, his arms stretched out in front of him, his chin almost touching the table.

“Wouldn’t you like to know” You can’t tell him, you remind yourself. As much as you would like to share the reason for your happiness you can’t. Not yet. 

“I would, actually” 

“Not telling ya” 

“C’mon! I wanna know what’s going on!” He pouts, giving you his puppy dog eyes. Not working this time mate. You just shake your head. Something pulls Harry’s attention away from the screen and one second later Tom appears next to him.

“Y/N!” Tom’s got a wide grin on his face. You greet him with a smile that’s just as big. It’s been a while since you talked to him. Yes, maybe you’d been avoiding him a little. But how are you supposed to talk to him normally? You’re not good at that. At pretending everything is fine. 

“Hi, Tom. You doing okay?” You feel your smile slipping and force it back on your face. You hope your brothers don’t notice the shift in your mood. 

“Yeah, filming is going amazingly. How’re things at home?” 

“Same old” You know, except for me being in love with your best friend. Of course, you don’t say that. As much as you want to. Your leg starts bouncing with nerves. The longer you talk to Tom the more nervous you get. You hate this. “You’re coming home Thursday, right?” You try to change the subject, afraid of Harry mentioning that something has to be different and then both of them pestering you about it. But now your so aware of the fact that there will only be a couple days left until they’re back home. You’ve been anxious for a while but it gets worse with each day that passes.

The screen freezes again before Tom speaks “We’re so excited. We miss you guys” 

“We miss you, too. I can’t wait” While you have to force the words out, they are true. After chatting with the boys for another few minutes you finally say goodbye. It’s almost midnight already, so you use that as an excuse. 

When you return to your room, Harrison is already tucked up in bed, scrolling through his phone. When he notices you, he takes off his glasses and puts his phone away. 

“You okay?” his brows are slightly furrowed in concern. 

“Yeah, but I was just reminded that Tom and Harry are going to be back soon” 

Harrison’s expression softens at that. He reaches one of his hands out towards you. “C’mere” he doesn’t have to ask you twice, you walk over to him and take his hand, letting him pull you into his lap. A soft smile appears on his face and his hands find your hips as if they were meant to be there. And with that, all worries fly out the window. It sounds cliche and sappy, but when you’re with Harrison nothing else matters.

You start running your hands over his pecs, then his shoulders. You love touching him, and you won’t be able to do that whenever you want to once Tom and Harry are home. Being close to Harrison and feeling his hands on your hips has the usual effect, a small pout appears on your face. Harrison lifts one eyebrow. "What is it?" His thumbs are drawing small circles on your hip bones, the fabric of your panties the only barrier between you.

“Now I'm horny" You finally whine causing Harrison to throw his head back laughing. "That's not funny! It’s your fault. Why do you have to be so fucking sexy? It’s not fair.” You pout again but Harrison keeps laughing, his hands squeezing your hips gently before he wraps his arms around you completely your chest now flush against his.

"You're adorable, you know that?" You try to shove him a bit but he doesn’t budge.

"I don't wanna be adorable. I want you to do something about it." You roll your hips into his. The amused expression on his face falls as a small groan leaves his lips and you can feel him stir beneath you. "Please?" You push your bottom lip forward and roll your hips again.

“Fuck, baby, you're gonna be the death of me." He grips your hips a little tighter and then, in one swift movement you're underneath him. Your arms automatically wrap around his neck, your hands going into his hair. He starts peppering kisses over your neck making you let out a sigh. You circle your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles you pull him closer

“You really are horny, huh?" Harrison asks, his hot breath hitting the sensitive skin of your neck.

"Mhm." You hum in affirmation.

“You want this?" He rolls his hips into yours, his clothed cock against your heat making you gasp "Want my cock?"

"Yes, Haz” You breath out, "want your cock so bad" At your words Harrison moans and slips his hands under your shirt, softly trailing up your stomach before they find your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples. You arch your back, leaning into his touch. Harrison's lips finally find yours in a hot, messy kiss.

Your hands grasp onto the fabric of his shirt, tugging on it until you’re able to pull it over his head. His hands and lips momentarily leaving your body.

As soon as his shirt is gone his lips are back on yours. You can’t get enough of him, his touch, his taste. You run your hands over his naked torso while his mouth is devouring yours. It doesn’t take long for both of you to get rid of the rest of your clothing. 

And as much as you’ve gotten used to feeling his naked skin on yours, it still makes you tremble. The feeling of his weight on top of you, his hips pressing into yours, his hard cock between you. 

“Need you” You mumble against Harrison’s lips. Why is he still holding out when he knows how desperate you are? 

“Turn around for me, baby. " Harrison murmurs against your ear. “On your knees. Ass up." His commanding tone turns you on even more and you're quick to obey. When you're in position, the side of your face pressing into the pillow, you impatiently wait for Harrison to do something.

It's almost unbearable to not be able to see what he's doing. Then you feel his hands on your ass before they move to your waist. Next, his hot breath hits your skin. Harrison places a trail of kisses down your spine, muttering praises against your skin. “So good for me. You're so beautiful, baby." He sinks his teeth into your left ass cheek, just deep enough so you can feel it. "My pretty girl" you gasp, whether that is because of his words or him biting you, you’re not really sure. You don't even have time to think about it because the next thing you know, Harrison runs his tongue through your slick folds. Your moans are dampened by the pillows, so Harrison pulls them away from your face and throws them across the room. "Wanna hear you" He places a sloppy kiss on your cheek, his chest pressing against your back. Suddenly, his finger is on your clit and the unexpected stimulation makes you moan loudly, your pussy clenching around nothing. 

"That's it" He keeps circling his finger around the sensitive nub, bringing you to the edge quickly.

"Harrison" You’re almost sobbing now.

"Hm?” Harrison knows you’re about to cum, he's familiar with your body and the way it reacts now. And being the tease that he is, he removes his hand, denying you the orgasm. You let out a whine in protest.

"I know you wanna cum Y/N. But I want you to cum when I'm inside you. Can you do that for me?" He’s panting, his breath hitting the shell of your ear. 

You nod quickly and gather your thoughts enough to say, "Harrison. Please. I can't take your teasing any longer."

"I got you" He places a kiss on your shoulder blade, then you hear a condom wrapper crinkle. You groan when, instead of finally sliding into you, he teases your clit with the head of his cock. 

“Harrison!” Your voice is muffled by the mattress, but your whine is clearly distinguishable. You feel Harrison’s chest rumble against your back as he chuckles. Then he lifts himself up, one of his hands gripping your hips, pulling them back up a bit.

And then he finally pushes into you. You both moan at the feeling. Your legs spread wider, slipping on the mattress but it doesn’t really matter because the next thing you know Harrison starts thrusting into you, his hands supporting his weight by the sides of your head. It feels so good you’re not even embarrassed about drooling a little onto the mattress. You try your best to meet his thrusts, but you can’t keep up with his pace, so you give up after a while. Harrison’s cock strokes against your g-spot with every thrust and your pussy is already clenching around him. You’ve been worked up all day. You won’t last long. 

“Ha-“ You can’t even form words anymore. 

“You gonna cum for me, Y/N?” Harrison presses out between his teeth. “Want to feel you cum around me” 

A few more thrusts and his wish is granted. With a guttural moan, you’re hit with your orgasm. 

“That’s it. Fuck. You feel so good.” Harrison keeps fucking you through your orgasm. All you can do is lie there, arms spread out as you try to come down from your high. 

But then he’s pulling up your hips again.

“You got one more in you?” He doesn’t give you time to answer, you wouldn’t be able to form words anyway. All you can do is push your hips up towards him. He shifts a little, lowering down on his left forearm while his hand finds its way between your legs. His fingers start drawing circles over your clit, your muscles tensing at the overstimulation, but you can feel the burning sensation in the bottom of your belly again. Your next orgasm building already. 

“Okay, c’mon. Want us to cum together.” Harrison’s thrusts slow down, syncing with the movement of his hand. His face is hovering close to yours now and you crane your head a bit to capture his lips, as soon as his tongue delves into your mouth you feel him twitching inside of you, and then suddenly you’re seeing stars. 

You have to separate your lips from his, both of you moaning loudly. 

When your highs have subsided, Harrison pulls out of you. You turn onto your side and rest your head against his chest once he returns to the bed after he disposed of the condom.

“You okay?” Harrison asks running his hand over your head. 

“Yeah,” You let out a feeble chuckle and snuggle a little closer to him, suddenly feeling cold. Harrison leans over to the side of the bed and picks up your blanket that had somehow ended up on the floor. He pulls it over both of you and you let out a sigh. You should probably clean up, maybe take a shower. But you’re too exhausted. 

So you relish the feeling of Harrison’s arm tightly around you, the even falling and rising of his chest lulling you to sleep.

***

The next morning you're awoken by the front door falling shut with a loud bang. Harrison stirs beside you and the fact that he's still in bed with you, and is therefore not the one at the front door, makes you sit up quickly. Who could it be? Your parents? Sam? Tuwaine? 

But Tom's voice is calling for the two of you the next moment. “Y/N? Haz? You guys home?” You quickly check your phone. Wednesday 11.34am. What was Tom doing here? He and Harry weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow! You asked them last night!

 Both you and Harrison sit up in bed. You’re both still naked.

“Y/N? Harrison?" Now it's Harry calling for you. You quickly reach for a discarded shirt on the floor, grab a fresh pair of underwear and sweatpants from your closet before dashing down the stairs.

The commotion captures your brothers' attention and as soon as Harry sees you he’s rushing over to you, wrapping you in a tight hug.

"I missed you" He mumbles into the crook of your neck. You hug him back just as tightly, patting the curly mob of hair on his head.

"I missed you, too" You breathe in his scent, immediately feeling more at ease. Suddenly, two more arms wrap around you. Now you're sandwiched between your two brothers.

"I'm glad you guys are back," you say when you finally need to pull away so you can breathe properly again. “Though it’s a little unexpected, weren’t you supposed to come home tomorrow?”

“We took an earlier flight.” Tom says “Surprise” And what a surprise it is. He smiles, the crinkles by his eyes appearing. He looks a little tired, but happy nonetheless. You can’t help but smile, too.

“Is that… Harrison’s shirt?” Tom’s eyebrows are creased as he looks at what you’re wearing. You did not pay attention to what shirt you picked up from the floor earlier, so now all of you are staring at the white shirt with the W and the red rose printed on the top left corner that you’ve pulled on. You can hear Harrison come down the stairs behind you. There’s no way you can talk about whether or not to tell Tom right away. And you decide that standing in front of him wearing one of Harrison’s shirt is not the best idea.

“Hm,” You cock your head to the side a bit. “Must’ve accidentally nicked it from the laundry.” You mentally pat yourself on the back for thinking of it so quickly. Harrison visible relaxes, too. “I’ve got a shirt quite similar to this” It’s not even a lie, who doesn’t have a white shirt?  

You don’t give Tom and Harry the chance to think about it for much longer “Have you been to mum and dad's already? I'm sure they're gonna be super happy to have you back earlier than expected"

“We haven’t. We wanted to take our stuff home first." Harry says.

“That makes sense” You nod. You need to get them out of the house as quickly as possible. There’s evidence of you and Harrison being more than just friends and roommates all over the house. “Why don’t you guys head over now? I’ve got some things to take care of but I’ll join you in a bit” You force a bright smile onto your face, hoping you can fool them. You notice Harry eyeing your suspiciously from the corner of your eye but decide to ignore it. 

“Sounds good. You coming with, Haz?" Tom looks at his best friend who seems a little lost in thought.

"Uh, yeah. I guess." His eyes flicker to yours for just a moment before returning to Tom "Let me just get dressed real quick."

You follow your brothers up the stairs and while they unpack a couple of their things Harrison gently pushes you into your room.

“What’s going on? Why aren’t you coming?” Harrison hisses, closing the room to your door behind him. 

You start gathering some of Harrison’s things while answering “We can’t just leave the house like this. If they take one look at my room they’re gonna have a lot of questions.” 

Understanding washes over Harrison’s face. “You’re right. How do you want me to handle the situation?” He rests his hands on his hips.

“I don’t know” You let out a sigh, putting some of Harrison’s clothes on your bed. “Just maybe make something up if they ask what I’m doing and… be normal?” It’s more of a question than an answer. Harrison quirks a brow. “I’ll join you in half an hour or so. This shouldn’t take too long.” 

With a sigh, Harrison comes over to pull you into his arms. “It’s gonna be okay” He places a kiss on your temple, then you hear a door closing on the floor above you. 

You and Harrison quickly leave your room and if you would’ve been only a second slower, Harry would’ve caught you sneaking out of your room with Harrison. Was this what it was going to be like from now on? Or, well, until you tell them.

When the boys are finally on their way to your parents' house you quickly start tidying up the house. All of the shared spaces are quickly tidied up, but your room is a whole different story. You’re pretty sure half of Harrison’s stuff is in here now. There are his glasses on your bedside table, his phone charger next to yours, and a few pages of a script on your desk. 

You gather as much of his belongings as you can and take them over to his room. You’re sure there are still some of his clothes in your room, but you doubt your brothers are going to rummage through your closet. 

When you’re finally done you let out a breath. You feel slightly better, but clearing your room of the evidence doesn’t mean you and Harrison can leave it at that. You know you need to tell Tom. And now you can’t really put it off any longer. He’s home now. 

A/N: Well that escalated quickly... all of it :D sorry if that smut scene was similar to the last one but I wrote this one in October or November and I didn’t want to change it :D  Let me know what you think!! ❤️

everything taglist: @spidermanlondon​ // @duskholland​ // @tutuabby28​ // @missevrythingg​ // @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh​ // @thenoddingbunny-blog​ // @emilykjh​ // @clara-licht​ // @hollandfanficlove​ // @calltothewild​ // @crybabyalexxx​ // @hazardosterfield​ // @calsthomas​ // @quaksonhehe​ // @strawberrytom​ // @thirzaholland // @tombrina​ // @outshineallthestars​ // @serendipitous-amor​ // @soincredible​ // @trustfundparker​ // @localfangirlx​ // @writertoo18​ // @viagracex​ // @skamlover200​ // @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ // @wehavetomakeourheartssitstill​ // @thearchersupremacy​ // @itstaskeen​ // @camimndess​ // @allyz​ // @technosoot​ // @fanficscuziranout​ // @parker-hollandx // @givebuckyhisplumsnow​ // @dangerouslovefanfic​ // @ertherealrose​ // @i-married-a-pineapple​ // @miraclesoflove​ // @bi-girlwrites-2000​ // @seasidetom​ // @katcontrreras​ // * * // @fallingforfics​ // @destinedbooklover // @parkerpeter24​ // @selfcarecap​ // @moonphoric // @just-a-littlebit-of-everything​ // @emistrash​ // @badreputationlove​ // @turtoix​ // @haloxmendes​ // @anjalika03​ // @iamsherloki-wholocked​ // @the-fan-18​

bbf taglist: @m-a-r-i-n-t // @mrs-hollandstan​ // @unicorn-princess-1999​ // @mimisparkle12​ // @bearsbeetsbarnes​ // @annathesillyfriend​ // @sydsquibbles​ // @vapingisntmything​ // @littlebookbengal​ // @quethekillerqueen​ // @love-makes-all-things-beautiful // @swiftmind​ // @pearly-pisces​ // @cocoamoonmalfoy​ // @parkersharthook​ // @hotforharrison​ // @hopeless-romantic-baby​ // @dreaminsuga​ // @thefallenbibliophilequote​ // @wizkiddx​ // @practicallylivesonline​ // @minejungwoo​ // @kenisnothere // @sunsetholland​ // @messagesinthesky​ // @robertpattinson-th​ // @osterfieldvol6 // @bvttercupbby​ // @gog0juice​

harrison osterfield taglist: @hjoficrecs​ // @lolychu​ // @hazardosterfield​ // @hollandbroz-n-haz​

series taglist: @softholand​ // @svturtles​ // @cloverrover​ // @goodgirlgonetom​ // @justafangirlduh​ // @thegirlwiththediary​

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Part Eleven - Them)

Prologue 1. Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 2. Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 3. Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 4. Arrival - Bit 1 | Bit 2 5. Orientation 6. Rescue Site 7. Investigation 8. Recovery 9. Retreat 10. Capture 11. Them

Some reveal in this one, lots of worry and some discovery. John is not a happy boy.

As always, many thanks to @scribbles97​​ @janetm74​​ @vegetacide​​ and @tsarinatorment​​ for all their amazing support. you guys rock ::hugs you to bits::

Tonight is a bit of a posting night. I will be posting the last chapter of The Cane shortly as soon as I finish proofing it :D Yay, for finishing things :D Callisto is currently at 45,000 words.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one.

-o-o-o-

Alan was out of his pod, screaming Scott’s name, but his brother was gone. The water as still as before.

“Alan! Status!” John’s voice was as panicked as Alan had ever heard it.

“Scott’s gone.” He dashed over to Virgil. His big brother was crumpled in a heap. In the low gravity, Scott’s shove had been enough to throw him up against the rock wall. “John, I need you.”

“FAB.”

Virgil was unconscious.

Again.

A quick scan and his vitals were good. There would be bruising ...as if his brother needed more. But there was nothing broken, thank god.

A scan of the still unconscious director proved her to be stable as well.

He shifted Virgil into a safer recovery position.

“Eos, can we scan the lake?” He eyed where his big brother had vanished.

“No. I can get no data beyond approximately ten metres below the surface. It is very frustrating.”

Alan continued to stare at the surface and its glass stillness. “Can you locate Scott?”

“John has already pinpointed the Commander. He has joined the other life form below the lake’s surface. There is no comms response from the Commander.” The AI managed to sound both worried and frustrated.

“Are there any other life signs in the area?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

There was a pause. “There is no life as defined by the search parameters programmed into Thunderbird Five’s sensors on the moon beyond what has already been accounted for by International Rescue and Callisto Base personnel. Did you wish me to change those parameters?”

Alan swallowed as the third dragonfly buzzed into the cave. “ I think we’re going to have to. There is something down here.”

-o-o-o-

“We can’t leave him!”

“We’re not leaving him, Alan. We need to get the director and Virgil back to base.”

“But Scott-“

“He’s alive. We will do everything we can, but first we need medical attention for Virgil and the Director and to gather more information to better understand what we are dealing with.”

Virgil groaned and dragged a hand to his face. There was an oxygen mask in all its cold and moist glory and he shoved it off.

The elastic caught in his hair.

“Virgil!”

The pounding in his head was so loud, he could barely hear above it. There were hurried footsteps and someone ...Alan, it had to be Alan...touched his arm.

“Virgil, are you with us?” John’s melodious voice appeared on his other side and echoed through his aching head.

“You gonna open your eyes for us?” Alan sounded worried.

Open his eyes? Oh, yeah. A flicker and suddenly his retinas were assailed by the red of Three’s tiny infirmary.

A sigh. What the hell had happened now?

God, his head hurt.

“Alan, get us back to Base.” John’s voice was calm and quiet but had that tone of command.

There was quiet for a moment as the infirmary walls faded in and out of focus, roiling Virgil’s stomach.

A sigh and his little brother acknowledged John with an exhaled FAB before leaving Virgil’s bedside with soft footfalls.

Hands strapped him into the bed, fingers brushing gently across the surface of his uniform before landing ever so softly on his temple. “Rest, Virgil.” His hair was brushed off his forehead, the fine grip on John’s glove catching strands. “You’re safe.”

Virgil let out a sigh and closed his eyes, willing his head to stop pounding.

Perhaps it was a sign of the severity of whatever had happened to him, that he didn’t realise there was a voice and a touch missing until he was caught in the spiral of pain-induced exhaustion.

The question of a missing big brother followed him into an uneasy sleep.

-o-o-o-

Berry for his eldest son.

It was an exchange Jeff wasn’t sure he was willing to make.

But the thought was arrested before he could consider it further, knowing that Scott would admonish him for even thinking it.

But in the depths of his soul, the father in him was screaming.

Berry was off loaded from Three and onto the gantry, quickly followed by an equally prone Virgil. His engineer son was only asleep according to John, but with Scott missing, Jeff found himself clinging to his second eldest regardless.

The automatic cams on the Dragonflies had picked up what had happened. It was blatantly obvious there was something with purpose at work, something not human, possibly sentient.

The word ‘aliens’ bounced back and forth in his head.

Virgil was returned to the spot in the infirmary he had left barely an hour ago. Gordon sitting on the bed Jeff had restricted him to, stared at his co-pilot with worried eyes. Alan, equally as worried, sat down beside his fish brother and Gords wrapped his good arm around him.

Virgil was ever so quiet.

Berry was surrounded by the Base doctors, a curtain pulled around her bed, hiding her from the rest of them.

Jeff had the urge to shove it all aside and demand answers.

John had an IR medscanner out and was scanning his brother again. He spoke up without Jeff having to ask. “He’s sleeping.” It was a repetition of the earlier diagnosis, but it was welcome anyway.

A frown and the astronaut narrowed the scanner’s beam, prodding its controls and bringing it closer to Virgil’s head.

“What is it?”

John’s voice was calm, but distracted. “Director Berrenger has some ear damage. Virgil...” Another prod of the device. “Damn.”

“What?” Jeff took a step closer.

But John stopped scanning his brother, adjusted the controls and then ran the medscanner over his own head. Frowning at the readings, he activated his wrist ‘projector and swiped the results to that display.

The two scans bobbed up side by side, close up details of Virgil and John’s auditory systems.

“Virgil has had a headache since he arrived. We thought it was related to the T-Drive. But it appears that he has been subjected to some kind ear injury.”

Gordon spoke up. “He got dizzy.”

John frowned and poked at the hologram, spinning it. The frown deepened a moment before the astronaut suddenly darted around the bed and aimed the scanner at Gordon’s head.

“What? What the hell are you doing?”

“Hold still.”

A flicker of yellow and John obviously got what he was looking for. A breath and he aimed the scanner at Alan’s head as well.

His sigh was a frustrated one. “We are all exhibiting signs of ear irritation, but Virgil’s is by far the worst. Dad?”

Jeff blinked as John waved the device over his head. His son’s glare at the scanner was almost enough to incinerate it.

John slapped his comms. “Eos, land the probe closest to the Crystal Cavern. I need physical contact with the rock. Activate mic input, scan the spectrum.”

“FAB.”

It took a few moments and Jeff found himself absently stroking Virgil’s hair.

“Contact made. Scanning...oh, my!”

“Let me hear it.” John was wired ever so tight, eyes on fire.

“Input is being received at a very high volume, but at a very high frequency far above the human ability to hear. Translating.”

The sound that emitted from John’s comms was a very loud discordant screeching. Everyone in the room clapped their hands to their ears. A nurse attending to Berry shoved aside a curtain and shouted at them, as John yelled at Eos to stop.

“What the hell is that?!” Gordon, as always, voiced what everyone was thinking.

John was already bouncing program variables over his wrist. “That is what we need to find out.”

-o-o-o-

It turned out it was the moon itself.

Jeff sat with Virgil as his son slept, unable to relax himself. Alan intermittently gnashed his teeth fretting out loud what all of them were thinking. Scott was missing and it tore at all of them.

Virgil slept on.

John could only be described as frantic. The space monitor swore a blue streak that had Jeff snapping at him at one point. The man’s response was throw up a hologram on his tablet that mapped out the sounds being emitted by Callisto.

It was like a nest of spiderweb laced around and through the rock of the Jovian satellite. Pockets of density existed in places along with patches of less. John reached up and poked a spot that was slightly different from the rest, but still drenched in lines.

“This is Callisto Base.”

“And what is that?” Jeff pointed at the fine lines darting all over the moon.

John sighed. “My guess is that we are looking at a communications network.”

Jeff’s eyes widened. “Who is communicating?”

“Unknown. There are no unaccounted life forms on this moon. Not life as we know it.”

“What about life as we don’t know it?”

“We’re working on it.”

Next question. “How did we miss it?” The moon was literally shouting loud enough to injure.

John deflated on the spot, obviously considering the lapse a failure on his part. “Sound requires matter to travel through. Thunderbird Five is not equipped to detect it unless we have something in contact with the atmosphere or a mic in play.”

“We have mics in our comms.” But Jeff knew the answer before his son supplied it.

“The frequencies are beyond usual pick up range. Far too high.”

“What about Virgil?”

John wilted. “I don’t know, Dad. Why is he affected more than the rest of us? Hell, why aren’t the colonists showing symptoms?”

Jeff frowned at that. “Why aren’t they? They’ve been here for years.”

“I can’t see how they could not be affected. We’ve only been here a short time and we are showing the effects.”

Something cold curdled in Jeff’s gut. A sudden suspicion roiled to the surface. “Leave that one to me.” He threw himself to his feet.

“Dad?” Aquamarine frowned at him.

“I’ll get some answers.”

-o-o-o-

His head was hammering both in dream and, as he rose to consciousness, in reality. “Oh god.” Virgil rolled over clutching his head and curled into a ball.

“Virgil?”

Alan? He clenched his eyes shut, hands gripping his hair.

“Virgil?” The softer more melodious voice of his older space brother. “Hold on.”

There were words not directed at him and Virgil must have faded out again because next he knew he was flat on his back and the pain had been reduced to a pale echo of itself, replaced with a light fog.

Someone was holding his hand.

“Scott?” It came out hoarse and barely there.

“Virgil, you with us?”

Alan. It was Alan. His little brother.

Rocket boy.

God, his head was sluggish.

“Alan? Where’s Scott?” He forced his eyes open and blinked against the light. Another groan and he moved on the bed, his body aching and stiff as if he had been in the same position for an eon. “What happened?”

Another slow blink and his memory landed in Crystal Cave and rescuing Director Berrenger, and then…pain and nothing.

“Ummm…Scott’s not here. Lemme get John.” There was the sound of an active comm and Alan calling for his big brother.

Huh?

“Where’s Gordon?”

“Asleep.” Alan pointed at the blue curtain beside them. “Dad had a go at him for not resting. Threatened to send him up to Five if he didn’t try to sleep.”

Oh, just fantastic. “What about you? Have you slept?” How long had Virgil been down for the count?

“I’m good. Been helping John detect aliens.”

“Aliens? What aliens?” Frowning shouldn’t hurt like this.

“Virgil, you’re awake.” John’s melodious voice was a welcome balm despite the fact it was stating the obvious.

“John.” Virgil tried to sit up, but a gentle hand halted him. A pair of aquamarine eyes telling him more than any words. “What happened? Where’s Scott?” Scott should be here. He was always here.

John sat down beside Virgil’s bed deliberately and quietly.

Oh god. “What happened?” Virgil pushed himself into a seated position despite his brother, determined to face whatever had happened…not lying down.

“Scott is okay, as far as we can tell.”

“As far as you can tell?”

John’s lips thinned and his eyes screamed apology before he activated his wrist comm and showed Virgil footage from the dragonfly cam that caught exactly what happened.

Virgil stared as his brother sacrificed himself to save him.

The expletive that fell from his lips was sharp and vulgar.

He pushed the fog in his head to one side and forced himself to focus. “I need details.” He shoved the covers off his legs.

A blink.

“And clothes.”

-o-o-o-

Jeff stared the Commander of Callisto Base down, every ounce of his height, every piece of history they held together. “What haven’t you told us?”

“Have you located Ju yet?” The shorter man set his shoulders and glared up at Jeff.

“We have discovered that there is likely another form of life on this moon. Were you aware of this?”

Graeme blinked. “Life? What?”

“My eldest son was captured by the same mechanism that likely caught your wife. My second eldest has taken ill with the effects of strong ultra-frequency sound. These sounds appear to envelope this moon. Are you trying to tell me, that with all your scientific staff and equipment, supplied by Tracy Industries, no less, you have yet to encounter this problem after inhabiting this base for over five years?” Jeff inched closer. “Think before you answer.” The threat was clear.

Graeme swallowed. “There was Jeremiah, but we thought that was an isolated case.”

“Jeremiah?”

“One of our geologists. Took ill, nausea, headaches, nothing we did helped. Are you telling me he died of exposure to sound?”

Jeff’s eyes narrowed as his heart lurched. “He died?”

Graeme’s eyes grew frantic as the dots connected. “Stroke. The doctors said it was stroke. I was going to ask you to take his body home to his family when you left.”

Jeff’s lips thinned ever so much more. “Anyone else?”

“Uh.” The man was obviously floundering and cursing himself at the same time. “There have been instances of nausea, dizziness and headache, but nothing as bad as Jeremiah. We put it down to long term low gravity and the environment. We are living on the edge of human experience out here. You know what that is like.” He stared up at Jeff. “What kind of life? Have you seen it?” A swallow. “What about Ju?”

What about, Scott? “We’re working on it. We hope to have more information once Berry wakes up.” They needed so many answers.

-o-o-o-

John glared at Virgil, but his idiot brother was as determined as any of them would be in the same situation. John dreaded what would happen when their father returned.

There was going to be hell to pay.

Virgil was given his uniform and Alan was scooted out of the closed curtained area. John refused to move and earned a glare for his efforts, but there was no way he was leaving Virgil on his own in this state, stupid determination or not.

Dad was going to kill all of them.

The rainbow of bruises across Virgil’s back as he threw off the hospital gown their father had so painstakingly helped the nurses dress him in hours earlier only served to impress on John the fact that this was ever so wrong.

“Virgil, please give yourself more time.”

“Scott doesn’t have time.”

“How do you know that?”

“He’s been kidnapped by goddamned aliens, John. I’ve seen enough sci-fi flicks to know where that leads.”

“I don’t think we need a Ripley in this case, Virgil.”

His brother yanked spacesuit onto his legs. “How do you know that? You haven’t even located the bugs yet.”

“I doubt they are bugs, Virgil.” With a sigh, he reached in and helped his brother pull his spacesuit up over his shoulders, not missing any of the multiple winces at the action. “In fact, I think they might be the crystals.”

Virgil turned to look at him. “The quartz?”

“Yes.”

“How? It reads as silicon dioxide.”

“I know. Thunderbird Five is not the USS Enterprise. We’re doing our best here.” John lowered Virgil’s red and green baldric over his shoulders, ever so gently letting it rest on what he knew were bruises.

This was madness. “You should stay in bed. You’ve been affected more than any of us. Long term exposure to ultrasound can be life threatening. Please, Virgil.”

His brother turned around, ever the rescue operative, the uniform wearing him rather than the other way around. “And what about Scott?”

“Let me, Virgil, please. We have Dad and Lee. You need rest.”

Dark eyes met his. “With Scott down, I’m in command. It is my duty to lead.”

“Virgil, this is not a military organisation and you are not a soldier.”

“No, I’m a Tracy.” With that, he threw aside the curtain and strode out.

John sighed. First Dad, and then Scott, when they found him.

Yes, there was going to be hell to pay.

-o-o-o-

The woman on the bed was an echo of the team mate he used to know. So much time had passed between them and, as it was always with time, it took as it left.

Berry’s hair was fading to white. Her skin had been kept relatively young by the lack of sun in her life. After all, it was a six to nine hundred odd million further kilometres away out here. But there was a frailness, nonetheless.

She seemed so small against the white of the pillow and bedsheets. Lacking the vivacity he knew she possessed.

“Kate?” He swallowed. She couldn’t hear him. Two broken ear drums would do that. He reached out a hand and gently nudged her shoulder.

He was relieved to see those familiar green eyes open and look up at him.

“Hey.” His voice broke just a little.

“Jeff?” Those eyes widened. And suddenly, before he could react, he was wrapped in eager arms holding him ever so tight. “Oh, Jeff. You came.”

“Could I do anything else?” But her arms were still around him. She couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t hear his words.

He found himself hugging her ever so tight back.

But he had to break it off. He needed information.

A gentle nudge and she relaxed back onto the bed, frowning up at him in worry.

Grabbing a tablet, he typed in the question and held it up for her to see. What happened?

“They caught us. The water kept us trapped. Couldn’t get out. Nga and Steve and then Chrisoula. They killed them. Trying to do something.” Her breathing elevated and for a moment there, Jeff feared he had lost her to whatever she was remembering.

He shook her shoulder gently, bringing her eyes back to him. Fingers on the tablet. Sound. They use sound.

She nodded and then closed her eyes as if in pain, a hand going to her head.

He squeezed her shoulder again. “Take it easy.”

A blink and he realised she knew he had said something but not what. He hastily tapped the words into the tablet.

She sighed as she read them, melting a little into the bed. “Where’s Ju?”

I was hoping you would be able to help us with that.

Realising what he meant, her lips thinned and her shoulders straightened a little on the bed.

“She’s still out there?”

He nodded.

“Damn.”

There’s a possibility your release was either an attempt at communication or a ruse to trap one of our operatives.

“Operatives?”

International Rescue.

“Your sons are here? To rescue us?”

That’s the plan.

She blinked a lot at that, moisture in her eyes, her lips twisting a little. “Thank you, Jeff.”

It’s what they do.

They. His own words struck home as he looked at the tablet.

A hand scratched gently at his arm, drawing his attention back to Berry.

“They kept us in a room made of water. The walls were continually moving, like a waterfall that never stopped. But with our lights we could see through it.” She blinked, eyes again focussing away from him, seeing something he couldn’t. “In the room, the floor was bare rock except for one of those crystal formations. Just one. But in the water outside, there was crystal everywhere.” She looked at him. “It’s the crystals, you know? They’re alive.”

-o-o-o-

TBC

[hunni-pen]

KINTOBER DAY 8: BAKUGOU/READER

Warnings: light quirk play.

Kinks: Hatefucking/rough, if yuh squint fisting

Notes: cracks my kunckles* I’ve been waiting for this one. Turning it up!

Word count: 1.3k

For the most part, your relationship with Katsuki was very good. He adored you, treated you like a goddess. He always catered to your needs, and you his, and the sex life was even better.

Up until recently. For the past two weeks you and Katsuki had been fighting nonstop. Over the smallest things! Dirty dishes, dinner, hero reports, who took all the hot water in the shower. And yea that last one insinuates that the two of you were so tense that you’d definitely argue in the shower.

Now what was causing all this tension? Well, your PR agent, yes the man who controls how the public perceives yours and Katsukis relationship, asked you on a date, in front of Katsuki. You had jokingly played along.

That was until Katsuki got butt hurt and started an argument about it. Declaring that you should fire your PR agent and hire a woman. So you responded “what do you could date her behind my back.” Way to go petty ass queen.

Of course that comment caused him to almost blow up. He had blinked at you once, then all at once snatched his pillow and left the room. So things had been on edge.

It wasn’t any better even two weeks later, the two of you had left the Friday hero meeting where you’d chosen to spite him by sitting next to Deku. The poor little guy was quaking during his report from the sheer force of Katsukis glare.

So the car ride home was very stale. But as soon as the door was closed Katsuki was already interrogating you about the whole scene. His jealousy was overbearing and so you covered your ears and walked to the bedroom.

This obviously irritated him to no end. Thus the name calling began. Finally you swing around right as he shouted, “you are acting like such a whore!”

Your jaw dropped, never in the year and a half that you had been dating the Bakugou Katsuki, he had never, never, called you a whore, at least outside of the bedroom.

“So I’m a whore now? Is that the conclusion you’ve come to? You are a nagging overbearing peace of shit! I can’t have my own life without you somewhere in it!” Your voice raised in pitch and volume surprisingly fast.

“You are so fucking insecure about yourself that you can’t even trust me! How am I supposed to be with someone like that?”

“Then we should just break up right?”

The room went dead silent and you took this time to realize how close to two of you were. Pushed up against the hallway wall, your noses almost touching. His eyes bared down on you with ferocity.

You smirked tilting your head back to rest against the wall. “You couldn’t break up with me if your life depended on it.”

Katsuki sucked in a breath and suddenly his lips were pressed hard against yours, and you kissed him back. He forced your arms against the wall your body following to fully hit the walls

He growled into the kiss, “I just want to fuck the shit out of you.”

“Are you sure you wanna fuck a whore?” You nipped his lip as he pulled away.

“Yeah, I want to fuck your brains out whore.”

He hooked his arms under your thighs and lifted you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist and he slammed you back into the wall. Lips already crashing with yours. You barely had time to respond before he was working his way down your neck.

You gasped and grabbed his hair when you felt his actual teeth hook onto your skin. You gave it a pull, your brow furrowing in pain. Yet oddly enough you wanted to squeeze your thighs together in pleasure.

“Just say you want me to fuck you,” he groaned into your neck.

You pressed a slow kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, “please fuck me.”

He pulled your bodies off the wall, marching to the bedroom where he tossed you on the bed. You immediately scrambled to toss your shirt off and unbutton your pants. Katsuki took his time with his buttons. Letting his pants drop and yanking his shirt over his head.

He grabbed you by your ankles and yanked you to the end of the bed. “You don’t even know what’s coming to you.”

You helped him slide out of your panties and he attached his lips to your entrance. He immediately slipped his tongue inside of you before licking a stripe all the way up to your clit. Your legs shook from the pleasure you received just from that one movement .

“I’m gonna fuck your better than those losers could dream, cause I am better than them. I’ll always be better than them, and I’ll have you screaming about it.” He was glaring up at you and you couldn’t help but glare right back.

“Like hell you could,” you responded back.

His hands that gripped your sides began to heat up and small prickling pops erupted on. Your skin. You obviously struck a nerve, his nails digging into your skin as he went back to fucking you with his mouth. His nails scratched down your leg before he inserted two.

He hovered over your body, pumping his fingers in and out at a fast pace for just beginning. Watching with cruel amusement as your face contorted and your mouth fell open a moan forcing its way out.

“Look at you, practically shouting from just two fingers. Let’s see what happens when I add one more.” He inserted another one, curling them up to press against your g-spot.

“Shit,” you gasped as he pumped them in and out at a faster pace. “Katsuki, s-slow down.”

“Why? I thought you wanted to be fucked. So I’m gonna fuck you.”

“You’re just going too fast.”

“Then, we’ll slow down, but we’ll add another finger.” He pulled the three fingers all the way out and groaned as he watched your dripping cunt completely swallowing the fingers. “Oh shit baby, you’re almost at a whole fist. Let’s just add the last finger.”

You started to sit up, “n-no Katsuki, no, no, no,” he added his thumb and you suddenly squeezed around his fist. You tried to blink back your tears, moaning his name loudly.

A few slow pumps of his fist had you cumming all over his hand and he pulled out. Completely ignoring the mess he flipped you on your stomach. Shoving his cock inside you without warning and immediately fucking you into the bed.

You squealed, grabbing the sheets with all your strength. Katsuki growled and groaned behind you. While you tried your hardest not to cum again so soon. The mixing of all this pain and pleasure you were currently receiving was sending your brain into overdrive.

Drool falling down your chin, a pained whine emitting from your agape mouth as your ass received an especially hard slap smoke coming from Katsukis hands.

“Look at you, making such slutty faces. Am I fucking you well?”

“Yes,” you choked out.

“Who’s fucking you so hard huh?”

“Y-you!”

“Who is?”

“You Katsuki,” you cried, another orgasm causing you to tighten around him. He groaned loudly, not expecting the sudden tightness. Yet he kept going.

You were so overstimulated it hurt. Every thrust caused another cry to come from your mouth, till he was spilling his load completely inside you.

He pulled out and you flopped down. Rolling on your side and curling up. That actually hurt a lot. Your cervix would probably be bruised for a while unless you got hurt at work and found an excuse to get healed up by the pros.

The bed creaked and he headed to the bathroom. Surprisingly he came back with a warm wet towel. Kindly wiping you down entirely.

You sniffled as he finished, “Katsuki, we really have to make this relationship thing work.”

“I know,” he murmured, he grabbed you and pulled you close.

“But you need to put more faith in me. I only have eyes for you. It’s the truth,” you exclaimed, getting more fired up.

“I’ll work on it.”

“I’ll hold ya to that.”

————

There may be a lot of errors at the end but I’m literally falling asleep.

[deathwishdaydream]

Dear Universe, Up Yours!

Chapter 8

I was suddenly awakened by a pair of arms shaking me gently. My eyes had opened patiently, as they still felt tired and dry, but I saw Gerard standing in front of me with urge. The desperation on his face went away as he noticed that I was finally awake. I stretched a bit, my arms and legs, then neatly sat up on the bed, staring beseechingly at him with confusion. I was also a bit pissed that I didn't wake up naturally. Like, by myself. I was an awfully tired person and was convinced it was an abnormal kind of tired. I needed a lot of sleep. Especially more than usual, due to the events of last night. It kind of felt like a fever dream. A nightmare. Oh shit. That actually happened. It did, didn't it? It did. I really fucking screwed up and murdered somebody last night. I wish it was a nightmare. But I quickly realized that it wasn't once I had woken up to Gerard in the tacky motel uniform shirt and behind him, the smoothly painted white walls of the nicer motel we checked in to. The motel that I didn't kill anyone by.

"We gotta go, c'mon," he says quietly, walking towards the door. He says this like in a rush, but it was still very calm. I noticed before that he had a folded map in his hand. I guess he found one then. I followed him and we both left the room, going to the lobby. It didn't take too long to check out, and I used the stolen money from the night before to pay.

We left the building and to the parking lot, getting inside the car. Gerard paused a bit. He looked out his window, and I adjusted my position to look at him from the side. He had soft, sad eyes, his eyebrows slightly upturned, and looking back again, his eyes were a little watery. And at this moment, I didn't know what was worse. Killing a human being or messing up Gerard's purity.

I thought about the blood again. Splatting on Gerard's face. His eyes opening as it stopped. His mouth opening as he realized. It kept replaying, over and over. Me stabbing the guy and the blood landing on Gerard's sweet, innocent baby face. I kept thinking about how much I ruined it, ruined him. It kind of felt like inanely knocking down red paint onto a remarkable painting you've worked endlessly with immoderate toil, ruining the whole goddamn thing. That's what it felt like. Really.

"I can't stop thinking about... it," he finally said, which brought me back to this moment, right now, giving the atmosphere some kind of volume. I watched his face become even sadder. But in a dull, very desperate way. And it was like I could still see the blood on his face even though he had probably washed it off so intensely. In my eyes, it was too visible. "I know you did it for me, to protect me, and the more I try to let it go and try to convince myself that everything's fine, it backfires and I become more paranoid." Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I'm so sorry I dragged you into this," I replied gently. I really was. I really didn't mean it. I kind of wished I didn't run away with him and just left by myself. Then I wouldn't have to see his face as sad as it is right now. He looked at me, watery hazel eyes straight into mine. When his eyes were lamentably filled with those impermissible tears, it kind of hurt my heart. And it was no exaggeration because I actually felt an ache in my chest as I saw him. When they were filled with tears, I couldn't even pay attention to his irises. I couldn't. Because all I saw was the raw red where the white was supposed to be around them. Seeing him look so broken, and knowing I have done this, makes me hate myself right now. I keep thinking, "What have I done?"

"Don't be," he finally said. I knew I was still going to be sorry, no matter what reassurance he says. He looked at me, then gave me some kind of weak smile. But it came off his melancholic, velvety lips as he wiped his eyes dry painfully with his thin, pale fingers. He left both his hands down on his lap, looking pensively at the window. And then, after a rather long pause, he added blankly, as if it were nothing important at all, "We're visiting my brother."

"What?" I asked immediately to his abrupt declaration, as he turned on the engine, putting on his seatbelt, making me do so as well. As in 'Glendale' brother? California brother? He started to drive out of the parking lot and went back on the road. What the fuck, what the fuck are we doing.

"Gerard, all the way to California, isn't that a bit... excessive?" I finally said, but he didn't respond at all. It was like I had said nothing. "What if we don't have enough money? We need gas, food, all that shit to travel across the country by car," I added frantically.

He doesn't say anything after, which completely agitated me. However, I decided to let it go. Unexpectedly, of course. Again, I was a very impatient person. But I mean, he just witnessed a person stab someone in the head. And it was me. I'm sure he's not okay. I'm not either. I don't really feel like myself at all right now. I murdered someone. And usually, I'd be yelling at him if he kept ignoring me. But the pain on his face before had made me feel so sorry for him. It was my fault what had happened.

If he wants to go to California and visit his brother, then he will.

He made a U-turn and the rest of the drive was mostly straight ahead, and maybe just a few turns at different times. The silence was just deafening me. And I couldn't tell if my stomach hurt from hunger or it just ached. Either way, I wanted the feeling gone. I wanted the silence gone.

I opened up the glove box and grabbed one cassette. I examined it for a bit, then I decided to put it in the player of the car, adjusting the volume knob shortly after. Maybe this would do... something, at least.

The music heavily filled the car now, and I didn't have to experience the same grueling silence as before. I recognized the song that was playing once I heard the chords of the acoustic guitar. "There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" by The Smiths. As soon as it played, Gerard started to tap on the steering wheel with his finger in rhythm with the song. The cassette was a mix tape, probably one that he made himself. His music taste was pretty remarkable.

I started to mumble the lyrics as my head rested on my palm, my right arm on the armrest of the door. And soon, we both started to loudly sing the chorus and eventually the entire song. We threw our arms around, looked, and pointed at each other occasionally as we sang along really badly. He sometimes took his eyes off the road to look at me as we did. It was like we were a few extremely drunk bums at a karaoke bar or something. Though, it was a better, cheerful moment than the events that happened before. I felt a little better, knowing Gerard broke out of his whole silent trance. His voice was gorgeous too, even though he exaggerated it for the fun of it. He really had potential, and hearing him sing like that had made me feel something again.

The song ended afterward and I decided to take out the tape, knowing that the small bond formed by the singing would make the silence we'd have between us comfortable, at least, if it continued.

I smiled at him, then looked out the window and we passed a familiar building. Wait, what the fuck? I looked back and then turned my head quickly to the front, and more buildings I remembered from Belleville came into sight. Fuck! Is he taking us back? What if he goes to the police? Is he taking me to the police? What the fuck is he doing?

I looked at him and noticed that his grip on the steering wheel was relentlessly tightened.

"Gerard," I said firmly. I was getting angry. I knew it. I forgot about everything before so suddenly. "Why are we going back?" No goddamn response. "Don't do what I think you're doing."

"I thought you said we were in this together, and you weren't going to leave me!" I continued, seeing Gerard's eyes water once more. Goddammit, his fucking eyes.

I looked out the window, nature and green in the view. I saw many familiar buildings and stores. We were definitely back in Belleville.

"G-" I huffed as he turned right, slowing down, and when I was about to complain once more, I froze entirely.

"Glendale Cemetery & Mausoleums"

Oh.

"We're visiting my brother," he said.

Oh...

He parked by the street, and got out of the car, shutting the door after. He bent over to look at me through the window. I opened my door and slammed it closed as I got out, walking beside him. Complete, utter silence once again. Oh shit. His brother.

We walked on the soft, deep grass, passing by many headstones. The ground was a bit unstable as we walked. The weather was chilly and the sun was covered by dull gray clouds as the air was filled with a strong petrichor scent. Gerard finally stopped by one headstone, standing in front of it and looking downwards, hands in pockets. I looked over to see what it read.

"In

Loving Memory of

MICHAEL WAY

Beloved Son, Brother, and Grandson

September 10, 1980 - November 7, 1993"

Wait, '1980-1993?' 13 years old? And just last year?

"I'm sorry," I finally said. I truly regretted stressing him out further by nearly yelling at him when we were in the car. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"It's... fine," he replied dully, continuing to stare at the gray of the headstone, his own brother's name carved into it. Gerard wasn't fine. His face looked a bit pale like this was the first time seeing the grave.

"Wh-what happened?" He was young, it could've been an accident. Maybe he tragically got run over by a car while crossing the street.

He gulped, a long silence following shortly after.

"Drug overdose," he eventually replied, voice cracking toward the end.

Fuck. What the fuck. What had happened? Was it some accident? Was he sick and took too much without knowing?

Gerard kneeled down, pressing his hand softly on the tomb.

"I'm back," he began. "Just a few days later than my weekly visit, so... I'm sorry about that.

"I miss you. Death has taken you when you were too young to even understand how it is or what it does. What it does to you, what it does to me... I can't believe it's been more than a year," he sighed, pausing for a second. "I'm running away from here. This place, this town, it's too traumatizing. Every time I mindlessly go around the house and open the room to your door... I'm always brought back to it. That sight was something I never expected, nor anything I thought I'd ever see in my entire life. The fact that death can take someone at a time after someone else is feeling cheerful and- and ecstatic, trying to get to you, you feel numb. You've forgotten what the happiness was and all you see is your dead brother on the floor, froth coming out from his mouth." He began to sob, breathing unstable, and his hand that was on the tomb, trembling, yet gripping it tightly as if it were the only thing that could save his life.

"Y-you had your wh-whole life in front of y-you, you-you still had s-so much to do because you were just thirteen! Thirteen... I... I remember you were so excited to become a teenager... And I know that you'll-you'll never be back and I'd have to make a deal with the devil to do so, but know this, I... I love you so much and I miss you every day. I think about you constantly and I try not to be sad, but that's all I can be, knowing you're truly gone. I'm sorry I-I failed you, and I should've watched over you. I'm sorry my own sadness rubbed off you and you understood what those pills could do. No thirteen-year-old should ever know what those things do.

"I'm sorry... And I love you with all my heart and I miss you dearly. I'll come back soon, I promise." he finished, tears running violently down his cheek. This was so heartbreaking. I had wished my assumptions before were right, that it was some innocent accident. I felt so bad for Gerard and his family, hell, even Mikey. But I don't know if Gerard wanted my pity or anything. Coming from a family that avoided problems at all times, optimism was essentially forced. So of course, I did not know what I was supposed to do for Gerard at this moment.

I think being at a cemetery and hearing Gerard speak to his brother made me realize how much I hated cemeteries. Honestly. His brother was practically buried in the ground with other dead people. And I know it's kind of fucked up to see it that way, but that's what it really was. Mikey was buried by people who died of old age, drowning, suicide, murder, cancer, and disease. He was just buried in the ground where kids or animals will just mindlessly walk over. Everyone else was. And I feel shitty for calling everyone else 'everyone else' because they have a name and probably have even more meaningful lives than my own. And I hate how people just put makeup on the body for the viewing. They can't leave it the fuck alone if you're putting them in a casket and underground anyway. I never really got that. People were messing with dead bodies to make them presentable. And I know that maybe they'd be happy to be buried in their favorite attire, but it just didn't seem right at all. I began to think about how people would cremate their loved ones instead. I thought that was more ethical. Instead of rotting and decomposing with the bugs eating at your flesh, you could just be ashes and be scattered out in the dirt or the ocean or the wind instead. In my opinion, it felt more right to just be buried underground, casket eaten by termites, and body being decomposed. It just seemed right.

I looked at the boy next to me. He looked much smaller this way, weeping silently, his hand covering his mouth so tragically. It fucking hurt me. Seeing him upset always did. And I wasn't some kind of empath or had much sympathy for others, but when I saw Gerard like this, it was like I was also breaking. So I did the only thing I thought to do. I leaned down and hugged Gerard, and instantly, his arms quickly and tightly embraced my whole person, his sobbing crescendoing. His head was buried in my neck and I felt his warm tears on my skin. It was really depressing. I thought I was going to cry. But I didn't. He then pulled afterward once finally calming down. I looked at his face. I was able to see his hazel eyes, glazed by his tears, and it somehow made them look even more beautiful. But it was still so miserable.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked him gently. I knew it was a stupid question. It was personal and he probably didn't just want to say it aloud again. He was probably used to saying that his brother was at school or something, before what happened.

"I didn't think such words could come out of my mouth to another person asking about my brother," he replied, tearfully. Hearing his voice like this was even worse. It made me feel like my stomach was crashing in on itself and my heart was being ruthlessly torn. "We were really close."

"I'm so sorry," I said. I hated how that was the only thing I could say and probably the only thing he hears every time it was brought up to somebody. I was still extremely shocked by his brother's death, his age, the cause. I wish there were things better to say than 'I'm sorry,' but it was difficult. I never really confronted someone in this sort of way and I could never fully understand it and empathize. So I felt even more miserable saying the same, basic thing he hears all the time.

"I remember I got back home from the comic book shop," he started, smiling slightly. It was a very weak, forced smile. "I was s-so excited to show Mikey these cool, limited edition comics that I bought for us to read." His smile turned into a frown, eyes soft and glossy, and started to quiver. The way his voice formed words, he still wept. "I walked home... And I excitedly opened the door to his room to show him the comics... And then... I saw him...

"He was laying on the floor, eyes dead and wide open, one of his glasses lenses broken from a fall. There were two pill bottles around him, and there was froth coming out of his mouth. I screamed. I screamed so loud and I remember my parents rushed in, looking at the sight. I fell to my knees, and I cried. I cried, I cried so fucking loud and so fucking much. I never knew that he would do this. I knew that he was having a hard time at school, and was being bullied, but I didn't know it was that excessive to the point where he would kill himself. Sometimes I think it was an accident and he didn't know what those were because he was that young. I fucking failed as a big brother. I should've paid attention to him more, I remember the day before, he was acting a bit off, but I didn't look that deep into it. I feel fucking terrible and there's nothing I could do to have him back."

I grabbed his hands. I know this was another thing that he hears all the time, but it was purely vital. "Listen. Don't blame yourself. You didn't fail as a big brother. It was so abrupt that you didn't know it was ever going to happen. That's the thing. Nobody ever knows when someone is going to do that, so the best we can do is just try to confront someone if they act a little out of the ordinary." I said, looking into his tragic eyes. "He was so young, and he didn't deserve it. In fact, nobody ever deserves that feeling and that kind of death. I'm so sorry about everything, but someday you have to move on from grieving and know that you didn't do anything wrong."

My right hand let go of his left to place it on his shoulder, rubbing it a bit. "You'll be okay. I promise."

I stood up, and put my hand in front of him. He looked up at me for a while, his tears still drying. But then he finally took hold of my hand, pulling himself up. His eyes were still a bit wet with his eyelashes all sparkly, but I could see a bit of faith in his eyes. It was a corny thing to say, but nothing else could really explain it. It was extraordinary. There was a slight curve at the end of his lips, as they gradually formed a smile. It looked like he believed what I said, even though deep down he still hadn't. That part was what killed me inside. But I smiled back at him and then we walked on the grass, back to the car.

We got inside the car and Gerard turned on the engine and shifted the gear as we finally drove away. And he was getting out of Belleville, I knew the road.

Before I could even be optimistic about anything, I realized how horrible I was for killing that man. I could have just punched him, taken the gun, and ran away. But what if I was too scared of it and didn't want to touch it? And if I kicked it away, would it have gone off, shooting someone? Shooting Gerard? The worst part is, this is the second time Gerard has ever seen a dead body, and for me, this is my first. And if death had reminded Gerard of his brother, then this whole situation is just shit. Why couldn't I have thought of a better way to escape the man? Why did I have to kill him, right in front of Gerard? Why couldn't I have checked in the drawer for our room key so we wouldn't have to go to the back of the building for a more idiotic plan? It's so hard for my brain to process that I killed somebody. I stabbed someone in the head with a knife, leaving him to bleed out and die. If this version of me told the version of myself seconds before it even happened that I killed a guy, they wouldn't believe me. I wouldn't believe me.

I couldn't imagine how Gerard felt with all this heavy stuff upon him. I realized how much of a burden I was to him. I got him to drive us away from town, disobeying his parents, and I just murdered a man. His second time witnessing death in front of his eyes. It's so crazy to even think about right now. I felt that if I just left him, I wouldn't be bringing him the insane problems he doesn't deserve. What if I have been making everything worse for him since the start? I knew right now I was beginning to hate myself, more than I ever had. But what I hated more was how much shit Gerard's been through. The universe can just go fuck itself.

[reyeslonestar]

I can’t face the world without you

Available on Ao3

a little (long) follow up to this fic. I hope you enjoy

TK x Carlos, Angst with a Happy Ending (yay), Coma, Proposal

tw, mention of a panic attack and cardiac arrest

1.9k words

TK sits in the uncomfortable hospital chair that he’s claimed as his own for the past week, tapping his fingers absently against the velvet box he’s holding in his hands. It’s the ring box that came out of Carlos’ uniform pocket when they’d had to cut the blood stained clothing off on the operating table - the final straw that broke the camel’s back of TK’s emotional capacity on the day that Carlos was shot. There's another box in his pocket - the ring inside the one that TK bought a few weeks ago. The one that he was going to offer to Carlos that Friday night after they'd crawled into bed, holding each other close as they revelled in the wonder of each other’s company.

They should be fiancés by now.

Instead, he’s watching the unnaturally silent stillness of the man he loves most in the world; the slow rhythm of the heart rate monitor a soundtrack to the fear in his head that he might never get the chance to ask that question, or to ever hear it returned.

Because Carlos has been in a coma for 8 days. And while the doctors are hopeful, TK knows there’s no certainty that he will wake up.

TK nearly had a panic attack when they told him Carlos went into cardiac arrest on the operating table, the fluids Tommy gave him in the ambulance not quite enough to counter the amount of blood he lost in the field. He was in a critical condition for some time, but the surgeons managed to pull him through the surgery and he was moved onto a ward in an induced coma. They eased off the anaesthetic the next morning, and from then it’s just been a waiting game.

TK refused to leave the hospital for the first three days, sleeping fitfully on the unforgiving plastic chair pulled up against the side of Carlos’ bed, his head pillowed against his boyfriend’s side - the side without all the bandages and the stitches that are holding Carlos’ organs and tissue in place.

On the fourth night Owen was adamant for TK to go home, have a shower, and sleep in a proper bed, and it was a testament to TK’s exhaustion that he couldn’t bring himself to argue. However, after waking in a cold sweat at 3am from the horror of having to helplessly watch Carlos bleed out in front of him over and over, this time without Tommy and Nancy and the ambulance supplies there to save him, TK had ordered an uber and snuck back through the hospital corridors in the early hours, trembling with relief to see Carlos alive and breathing, even if only thanks to various plastic tubes criss crossing his body, and even though the sight of him so unnervingly motionless burnt a sour taste down the back of TK’s throat.

Carlos’ parents have been here every day, too, coming by the room to sit quietly on the other side of Carlos’ bed, and each time the nurses wheeled Carlos away for scans and tests, Andrea and TK would sit together in silence, gripping tightly onto each other’s hands for support. There were a lot of tests in the first couple days, and scans to try and gauge his brain activity, to know when he’d wake up and what kind of state he’d be in. Apparently the results were hopeful, indicating everything looked to be normal for the circumstances, and that Carlos would be back with them soon.

But Carlos still hasn’t woken up. And TK is losing the fight against imagining the worst.

Grace and Judd had stopped by the night before - the whole 126 have been in and out of the hospital over the last week to visit and lend their support. Carlos became part of their family when he became part of TK’s and TK knows they’re missing him just as he is. Judd had pulled him into a tight hug, whispering that Carlos was strong, that he’d pull through, before planting a kiss on the top of his head, ruffling his hair as they’d parted. Grace’s hug had been softer, but no less loving, and they’d both sat by Carlos’ side for a time while Judd took Andrea and Gabriel to get some more coffee from the hospital cafe.

He’d felt her eyes on the way he’d been fiddling with the ring box, the same way he has been ever since he found it.

“You know I wanted to propose that night?” he’d said suddenly, voice scratching with the first words he'd willingly volunteered in days. “Nothing extravagant, just- in a way that was us,” he’d added, volume diminished to a hushed whisper on the last word.

Grace had squeezed his arm gently. “So did he,” she’d said quietly, and TK had just stared at her, unable to put anything into words. She’d shrugged slightly. “He was going to make you dinner that night and propose then. He wanted it to be special, but like you say, in a way that was you.”

Tk has felt too numb with fear to cry since he broke down on that first night, but he’d been pretty damn close then.

“I can’t lose him,” he’d whispered, barely loud enough to hear himself, but Grace had heard him anyway.

“I know, honey, I know,” she’d told him. “The same way I know he’s fighting to come right back to you.”

As much as TK wants to believe her words, as the hours creep late into Carlos’ ninth night in this bed, he’s wondering if maybe Carlos has fought all he can. Maybe his strength finally gave out and the beeping machines next to him is the only thing keeping that chest steadily rising and falling.

Tucking his chair as close to the bed as he can, TK draws Carlos’ hand to his lips as he rests his head against the bedcovers, settling in for another night of interrupted sleep.

“I need you back, Carlos,” he whispers, holding back the tears that threaten to spill down his cheeks. “I dont- I can’t face the world without you.”

-

Tk wakes to the feeling of a gentle hand stroking through his hair with slow movements. He blinks slowly and looks up to see warm brown eyes smiling at him.

“Hi,” Carlos whispers, his voice a hoarse and grating sound from a week's disuse.

It’s the most wonderful sound TK has ever heard.

He cries Carlos’ name brokenly, launching himself at Carlos' neck to hold him close. He can feel Carlos chuckling slightly under his chest even as he pulls TK closer and he closes his eyes to soak in this feeling.

“I missed you,” he mumbles into Carlos’ neck and Carlos holds him even tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he hears Carlos whisper, and he pulls back abruptly.

“No,” he says firmly, wiping away the tears that have slipped down his face. “No, you have nothing to apologise for.” He stands up, shifting into action. “Let me get you some water and then we need to get your doctor, get you checked out-”

Carlos’ hand tugging on his interrupts him. “I love you,” Carlos says, voice still scratchy and rough, but he’s smiling at TK, who sits heavily back into his chair.

“I love you too,” he says, squeezing Carlos’ hand painfully. “I love you so much and I thought I was going to lose you and-” he stops and takes a breath, halting the runaway train of his fear in its tracks. “I’m just so happy to see you again,” he finishes with a whisper.

“I’m here,” Carlos says. “And I’m not going anywhere without you.”

-

TK hovers by Carlos’ bed for the next few hours, only stepping far enough away to allow the doctors and nurses to check Carlos over, run tests and eventually remove the various apparatus that have helped keep him alive. Gabriel and Andrea are a teary mess when they see their son sitting up, breathing, talking, alive, and TK can’t blame them. He feels like he’s been holding his body up through sheer stress and worry, and now he knows Carlos is going to be okay, he’s ready to collapse with relief.

At long last, though, the hospital staff retreat and Carlos’ parents head to the cafe to leave Carlos and TK alone once more and TK doesn’t miss the way Carlos sighs with relief.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Do you need something? I can get you something to eat, or drink, or if you need to sleep-”

“I just want you,” Carlos interrupts gently. “I want to ask you something.”

There's something in his voice that makes TK sit up straighter and he frowns slightly. “What’s up?”

“When I woke up- you were holding a box,” Carlos starts, and TK, realising what he’s referring to, pulls the two ring boxes from his pocket and holds up the one from Carlos’ uniform so Carlos can see it. He nods, taking it from TK’s fingers and studying it as he carries on, “I had a whole dinner planned, you know? I was going to cook for us, lay the table out on the terrace and then after we’d eaten I was going to get down on one knee, and ask you. I definitely didn’t plan for this to happen but-” He opens the box carefully, turning it so the ring faces TK and takes a deep breath.

“I love you, TK. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up every morning and know that the love of my life is lying next to me. I want to have a family with you, and make every house we live in into our home. I want to make you dinner whenever we feel like it and spend half our day off in bed even though one in the afternoon is outrageously late for a lie in.” TK chuckles slightly at the dig at his unwillingness to get up in the mornings and Carlos smiles, so bright and warm.

“I didn’t know I could love anyone like this until I met you.” Carlos continues, “You’ve filled my life with so much happiness and I want to try and make you as happy as I can for as long as I can, so - Tyler Kennedy Strand, will you marry me?”

TK smiles tearfully as he ruefully holds up his own box, laughing slightly as he sees realisation dawn on Carlos’ face. “Beat me to it, didn’t you?” he jokes, opening the box to look at the simple platinum band set with diamonds inside. “I’m afraid I didn't plan a dinner, or a big speech. All I knew was that I wanted to ask you, because I want all those things, too. You’re my family and you’re also my home. You’re the best thing in my life- Carlos, you nearly died and I-” he pauses, swallowing back the shadow of choking fear that threatens to mute him. “I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re everything to me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I don’t want to go another day without asking you to marry me. So yes, Carlos Reyes, I will marry you, but only if you marry me first.”

Carlos laughs through the tears welling in his eyes, pulling TK in by the wrist to kiss him, whispering “I love you” against his lips. When they pull back, he gently threads the ring onto TK’s left hand, his own hand trembling when TK returns the gesture. TK brings Carlos’ hand up to his lips in a mirror of the last night of Carlos’ coma and kisses the ring, warm lips against cool metal.

“I love you,” TK says quietly. “And I can’t wait to love you for the rest of our lives.”