#and we need to reckon with that if we want to move past them
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eight: don't let this darkness fool you
Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader.
Chapter summary: after the reappearance of the junction, you try and find a way back to some form of normal
Chapter warnings: Reader is a single parent to a teenager, mentions of breakups, discussions of cults/religious movements and violence within these, threat of a gun, tension, lightly implied panic attack/anxiety, 18+ blog mdni,
Notes: Chapter title is from Call Your Mom by Noah Kahan (and the song that I personally credit with helping me through a rough patch last year) Thanks for all of your patience with this chapter - my life irl has been hectic but I'm good!
Word Count: 3.9k
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You can’t even remember how you got home, but you’re in kitchen and somewhere in Jackson right now Sean is talking to your son, trying to explain it all to him and Beau and Joel are … they’ll have killed Ethan by now.
The loss of power, of agency in your own past’s return to Jackson makes you feel sick. You should be the one talking to Gabe, it should be your final blow to Ethan. This is your mess, this is your life, not theirs. Having others involved feels intrinsically wrong and yet, you’re grateful to have them to share this burden. So grateful.
Maria makes you tea in your kitchen without speaking. She’s told you that you can stay, that’s something. You wonder if she’ll ever truly trust you again though.
You open your mouth but you can’t find the words, you don’t know where to start. You selfishly don’t want to talk about it. You feel tired in your bones, in every single part of your body. It’s a weight pulling you down.
What if Jackson is at risk though?
“Will they come after him here?” Maria finally asks.
“I don’t know,” you reply.
“And you don’t recognise anyone here?”
“I’ve been out of that group for almost seventeen years, Maria, I - I don’t think I would know if they were here. Hell, you could be one of them for all I know.” You laugh bitterly and take a sip of your tea. “I don’t know how much he would have told them, he’s secretive. They could be … I don’t know.”
“Okay.”
Maria pauses. If this was a film then this would be the moment where you confess everything, where you bare your soul over tea and cry together. Maria would hug you and tell you everything would be okay, or perhaps say it’s too much, that she was wrong, you do need to leave.
You just have to say something. There are so many conversations you owe people now, Maria included, but in the immediate aftermath you don’t have any words.
Eventually it’s just you in the kitchen with a cold cup of tea and silence as your companion.
You’re alter when Gabriel comes home with Sean and you inwardly count your blessings that he even returned. You wondered if he would.
The silence is protracted and stilted in the kitchen around the three of you. You’re not sure what to expect: anger, upset, hurt, a combination of everything?
Sean has taken his hand of Gabe’s shoulder, has moved to leaning against a counter exactly halfway between you and your son who loiters in the doorway, illuminated by the hallway light.
“We should talk, Gabriel,” you say finally, rising from your chair and placing your cold tea mug down.
“Yeah, I reckon so.” You wonder when he grew up, when he changed from a little boy - your little boy - who believed in myths and legends to the almost man before you. Gabriel folds his arms and looks at the ground. “Was he really -”
“We’re your -” We’re your family you want to say, it’s us and it doesn’t matter about Ethan. He’s irrelevant.
It’s not what he’s asking though and it’s not what you owe him. You are all too aware that one wrong word will send him running like a skittish animal, that every syllable matters right now.
“Yes.”
“I look like him,” he says quietly. “When I looked at him, I could see … I could see it.”
“You look like you,” you say gently, “You’re you and only you, you’re not me and you’re not him.”
Gabriel swallows. “Did - am I-”
“No,” you reply vehemently before he can even finish the sentence.
“So, you don’t regret me?”
You pause, taken aback that your son would ask you this. “You saved my life, Gabriel, I would never regret you. Never.”
“How did I save you?” your son asks, curiosity flashing across his face.
“I knew I was pregnant and I didn’t want that life for you, that’s what gave me the courage to talk to Sean, to find a way out, for something better.” You think maybe with everything that’s happened today, the fact that leaving led to a difficult journey where you gave birth in a bombed-out warehouse and then a more than decade long misadventure in the Kansas QZ can be glossed over. You’re in Jackson, you’re here, right?
“That’s … I didn’t know that.”
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Gabe.”
“But if you had a time machine, if you could erase being with him”
“Then there wouldn’t be you and that’s not a decision I want to erase, that’s not a life I want. Would I have wanted you, just you, in a different world without infected or any of that? Sure, but I’d still want it to be you and without all this around us - maybe you wouldn’t be you and that’s not okay with me. I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
“I - I don’t know what to make of all this. Sean told me … he told me some of it, a lot of it I think, but he said I’d need to talk to you and I want to. I do. I’m just …” Your son looks exhausted, eyes red from crying, his posture more crumpled than you’ve seen it before. “I didn’t know what it was like, I didn’t know why or what or … it’s a lot to take in. There are years, years that you’ve told me different things and it’s all muddled in my head. I’m angry about that, really angry, but I - we can get through it, right? I want us to be honest now, please?”
“Yes. We can talk about it whenever you’re ready,” you say, “I’ll do my best to tell you what I can, Gabe, is that okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry for all of this.”
He nods.
“I don’t think I can talk about it all any more tonight,” he admits and you exhale slowly. “There’s too much for one night.”
“Today’s been a lot, it’s been … I can’t even imagine how you feel, but I love you so much. Sean and Beau love you and none of that has changed, could ever change in fact. I’m sorry I kept this from you, I wanted to protect you. I never thought something like this, like today would happen.”
“Sean said you all thought this group - you thought that they were around here recently.” Gabriel pauses, “Is that why you broke up with Joel?”
“We needed to be able to prepare, to run if needed. I need you safe.” It’s easier to just stick with that to admit than that being so close to Joel, to this kind and solid man had been too overwhelming throughout it all. That losing him was a suitable sacrifice if you could bargain your family’s safety. That the pain was the appropriate punishment.
“You liked him though,” Gabe says, “you haven’t been like that with a guy for a while. I mean … he’s okay, you were good together or whatever.” From Gabe, this is the highest endorsement any man you have ever dated has received.
“I thought you were at the age where the idea of your parents dating repulsed you?”
“Oh, I am and this conversation is something that’ll I never admit it. I just, I do want you to be happy.”
“You too.” You move closer, wrapping him into a close hug. “You too, kiddo. I was so scared,” you whisper, “I was so scared I’d lost you.”
Relief floods through you, you haven’t lost him, you haven’t.
Maybe there’s a way through this.
Maybe there is a way to stay.
You’re avoiding Joel. You’re avoiding as much of the town as you can actually. In the wake of the Junction’s reappearance to your life, you bunker down in your home like a hurricane is still to come.
It’s been over a week now and your creativity in avoiding the town surely deserves recognition. You’re immune to Gabe’s frowns now, to the whispered conversations between Beau and Sean.
You can’t face it yet.
This isn’t permanent. You know you should speak to Maria and Tommy, to offer some sort of guidance on how to tell if the cult is entrenched in Jackson, rotting your home away from the inside, but Sean seems to be handling that for you now. Everyone around you is treating like a wounded animal, afraid of you either self-destructing or lashing out.
You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do now, you’re not sure what comes next.
The bench calls to you.
You find yourself walking there without thought. You need peace, you need to be in a place where the buzzing in your mind can quieten down and where you can avoid prying eyes that mean well. If Sean looks at you one more time with those giant sympathetic eyes of his, you might scream.
You didn’t expect the bench would be occupied.
“It’s okay,” Joel says as soon as he sees you, “I can go if you want to be alone.”
“No, no,” you say quietly, “I want you to stay, Joel.”
You did that to him.
Guilt courses through your body and you look away from his careful gaze immediately.
It’s quiet at this time of night. So quiet. Even the wind is still tonight and while this serene silence would usually bring you peace, tonight is different. You can feel the weight of all the words you should say, and can’t say, and want to say in your stomach.
You sit down next to him, not meeting his gaze and instead remaining transfixed to the night sky ahead.
“I’m sorry you had to do this,” you finally say, pointing at his hand, “does it - does it hurt?” It’s not the question Joel expected, or even you for that matter.
“Hey,” Joel carefully reaches to touch your arm and then hesitantly withdraws, clasping his hands in his lap instead. “It’s not on you.”
“You can’t mean that,” you protest, “if I had said something to Maria, if I had stopped him before-”
“You can’t do this to yourself,” Joel says firmly, “Trust me, you did - you made the best choices you could then, right? Not just for you, but for your kid and that’s got to be enough. It has to be.” There’s something desperate in his expression, something you can’t understand because his reaction feels too vehement, too firm for the occasion. “You did what you did for your kid and I can’t argue with that, no one can.“
“But I could have changed things. We might still be in danger because of me.”
“We can’t live like that, can’t punish ourselves for things we’d never have known. None of us can. Not now, and certainly not before. It won’t help you. Trust me.” Joel exhales. “I spent years agonising over decisions, over every single move I made the night that - that Sarah - I went through everything I did, what I should have done. If I’d just bought the damn cake, if I hadn’t picked up Tommy, if I hadn’t worked a double. Maybe I could have made a different turning, or I coulda said something else to the soldier and then it would be different. I spent years on that.” Joel exhales. “I tore myself up every way I could over it.”
“It was an accident. It was a tragedy,” you say, “it wasn’t joining a damned cult, or dragging your best friend into it too.”
“And how’d you have known that then?”
“I know, I know all this. Logically it makes sense but it just can’t - I can’t make it fit in my head.” You sigh. “I have blood on my hands.”
Joel looks at his own hands before he speaks, “I don’t think anyone who’s alive now doesn’t.”
“You and Beau shouldn’t have had to -”
“I don’t want a man like that near Ellie, near my town, near the people I lo - care about,” Joel says simply. “Beau was of a similar view.”
“What - no, I - is it wrong I don’t want to know?”
Joel looks at you seriously and shakes his head. “Not at all, not at all.”
“Still, I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I mean, we’re not - not anymore. You shouldn’t have been obligated or anything.”
“Beau let something slip earlier,” Joel says carefully, “That you’ve suspected that group was nearby for weeks.”
“I know, I should have told Maria.”
“Right about the time you told we couldn’t - well, you remember what you said.”
You feel your cheeks heating up. Joel’s a smart enough man, if Gabe had worked it out, of course Joel would have.
You want to say it was because of the Junction, that you still want him. That you haven’t stopped thinking about him since then. Only it’s not entirely true, is it?
You’ve spent weeks in fight or flight, your only thought has been survival. Now people are telling you the worst is over, that you can start to heal again but you don’t know that. Even if it’s true, your body doesn’t know, it certainly can’t feel yet.
You feel on edge, nervous and unsure.
You want to jump onto Joel right now, feel his embrace and touch once more as you pretend the last weeks were just a bad dream. You also don’t want him near you, you’re scared it’s you, that you made Ethan’s worst side come out. He wasn’t a cult leader when you met him after all.
You want Joel, but you’re not sure if you’re ready to jump back in yet. You can’t go from planning an emergency exit, to confronting the man you thought was dead, and then straight back into some sort of mythical romance just like that. Joel might have slayed Ethan, but unlike a fairytale, there are marks on you that won’t immediately heal.
“I am not going pressure you into anything, I just want to say that if - oh hell, I don’t even know what I’m saying.” Joel swallows.
“You can just blame it on being moondrunk.”
“Moondrunk?” Joel asks with a chuckle.
“Yeah, look at that view. Moondrunk.”
“Moondrunk,” he repeats gently. “I mean it though, I- I’m terrible at this, but when you’re ready, if you’re ready …”
“Thanks, Joel.” You wring your hands together. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”
“Live?”
“That simple, huh?”
He smiles wryly, “That simple.”
“So, you’re back at the bench, huh? Haven’t seen you here in a while,” you comment, keen to change the subject.
“I thought you were there first, figured it should be yours. But I - tonight I needed to come here, clear my head. I didn’t know if you’d be here.”
“Are you okay I am?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course.”
You shut your eyes for a moment. For a second you allow yourself to pretend it’s weeks ago, that you and Joel are still together, the Junction a distant memory. For a moment you thought this would be your life now.
Can it still be?
Joel’s still here, he’s patient and kind and good. “When I’m ready,” you begin softly, “when I’m ready, you’ll know.”
You don’t open your eyes but you swear you can feel Joel’s smile. “Okay, that’s okay with me,” he says.
The two of you stay there until sunrise.
It’s the library that finally makes you leave your home. Sean lets slip that it’s been closed since you started your retreat from the town and it pulls at your heart. There are people who rely on the library - it’s an escape for them, or a chance to learn. It feels wrong to keep the place closed, another failing.
The library, like the bench, is a sanctuary for you. Only, unlike the bench it’s for the whole town. It’s a safe and comforting place. You’ve built something there.
“You should go back,” Gabe says one night as he picks at his dinner.
“I should?”
“To the library.”
“Oh.”
“You loved it there and it - it’s your place,” he says simply, “I think you should open it again.” It’s a truly polite way to challenge your new hermit state. You notice Sean and Beau raising eyebrows at each other from the table.
“I- I will.”
“When?”
You raise an eyebrow at your son. “When I’m ready.”
“I think it would be good for you,” he says.
“I will listen to that, Gabe, okay? I just -”
Sean says your name softly and the way everyone in this house suddenly infuriates you. You don’t want their kid gloves or quiet observation, the continued sense that you’re staying inside too long, that you’re becoming someone that they don’t recognise. It’s overwhelming.
“I’ll open it tomorrow,” you say, desperate to make them change the subject, to see that you are okay.
Beau looks over at you with surprise in his eyes. “You don’t have to. I’m sure that Maria can get someone to cover -”
“They’ll shelve things wrong, Beau, we all know that. I’ll - I’ve got this,” you say as decisively as you can muster, before stabbing a potato with your fork. You’re fine, you can do this.
For Gabe, you can do this.
The following morning, you find yourself nervously standing in the empty library. It smells fustier; the tension hangs in the air as you notice the books you were partway through shelving before you left it for the last time.
You curl your arms tightly around yourself and open your thermos of tea with shaking hands. It’s been too long hiding away, you’ve built up nightmares in your head of the Junction running into the library, or Jackson residents turning against you.
No one even glanced at you as you walked to the library this morning.
There’s no one here though. Perhaps word hasn’t got out that you’ve reopened the library yet, or perhaps Maria has told people to give you space when you eventually emerged from your hiding places. You appreciate it and throw yourself into rearranging a display, in picking out books for the school class who usually come by on Fridays.
“Hi,” a voice says from behind you.
You spin around to see Ellie standing ahead of you. Her hands are shoved into her jeans pockets awkwardly and she looks nervous as she meets your eyes.
“Ellie,” you say gently.
“Joel said I should give you space.”
“Did he now?”
“So did Maria in fairness.”
“Right. Of course they did.”
“Do you need space?” she asks as you pull yourself to standing from the floor you were kneeling on.
“Not from you, Ellie.”
“Good, because it’s been a while, man. How much space can you need?”
“You sound like Gabe.”
“Can’t all be wrong, huh?”
“Absolutely, so did you finish that space book?”
“Mmhmm and I’m going to be honest that I may have swapped it for another book while you were out.”
“The library was locked, Ellie.”
“There was a window and I got Ca- a friend to give me a booster. Joel and I had to do it a lot in um, when we were travelling.”
“So you learnt your break in skills from Joel?” You ask, fighting the smile on your face as you make a show of crossing your arms.
“Technically, I was breaking into places with my friend Riley … well, one time anyway. ” Ellie shrugs. “At least I owned up, right?”
“Sure. I feel you’ve pretty much exhausted our collection of books on space though. We could move you on to fiction though - sci-fi, lots of space.”
“That could work.” Ellie purses her lips together, clearly battling against saying something. You wonder what she really came here to say; is she angry that Joel got involved, that you endangered her and the town? Does she want you to leave?
You wouldn’t blame her.
“I’m sorry about what happened with that guy,” Ellie says.
“I should apologise to you, Ellie, you got caught in the middle and you shouldn’t have. None of you should have.”
“It’s not your - it’s nothing, honest,” Ellie says and her sincerity somehow makes you feel worse.
“I appreciate that, Ellie, thank you.”
“I wanted to talk to you, because - because before we came to Jackson, there were these people we came across.”
Your blood runs cold. What does Ellie mean? Did she and Joel come across the Junction, or something worse? Why would she say this? You look at the young girl and wonder what her and Joel’s story really is, the chemical burn, the vehemence at you not being involved that. What happened to Ellie?
“Ellie, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“I want to tell you. Do you not want me to?”
“No, it’s fine, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to share something you may not want to.”
“Noted. I’m good though. So this group, they were these … I don’t know, cannibals? but this guy, he was like religious, or so he said and it was -”
“I’m sorry, you ran into a cannibal cult?” you ask incredulously.
“Kinda.”
“Fuck, Ellie.”
“I mean, it wasn’t a cult centred around cannibalism, that was more incidental.”
“Oh, well, that makes all the difference.”
“Right? Anyway, we got away. I - I got away. Joel was hurt before and so I was on my own and I know he feels bad about that.”
“Elie”, you whisper quietly.
“For a long time, I tried to figure out why this guy, Da- he was so … respected and so …. I don’t know. He was dangerous but quiet about it. I always thought the threat would be like a clicker or bloater, something visible. You look at it and you know that’s bad; you know what you’re up against. Plus on our way here I saw so much. Hunters, well at least they don’t hide it. This guy did. I - I almost bought it.”
“I’m sorry, Ellie.”
“It’s fine. It was almost a year ago now. It’s the past.” Ellie pauses and looks up at you. “I just wanted to tell you that.”
“I appreciate that, Ellie.” You take a deep breath. “For what it’s worth, the understanding the guy thing? It’s not like it starts off dangerous, it’s just normal at first, maybe a little different but within respectability. It … appeals to you, this sense of belonging, I suppose.”
“Belonging?”
“I’d never felt like I fitted in anywhere and then the world ended. My parents were …. all I had left was Sean and I didn’t want him to think I was clingy and end up with no-one. So there was this group and it seemed normal. It was normal at first. It was a slow change and then really fast and I don’t want to, I’m not sure if I should - you’re a kid, Ellie.”
“I’m-”
“A great and cool one, and one who’s seen a hell of a lot and is very brave, but you’re Joel’s kid, Ellie.”
“He’s not my - ” Ellie breaks off. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”
You scan through the pile of books you were shelving and pass one to Ellie. “Try this one next, I think you’ll love it.”
“Thanks,” Ellie says, saying your name kindly, “I’ll read it next.”
“Well, let me know what you think. I’ll be here.”
Ellie smiles. “Good, I’d hate to have keep breaking in to steal books.”
Tag List
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#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader#joel miller#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal character#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us#your hand in mine fic#fic: your hand in mine
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People who are against both fossil fuels and nuclear really need to read up on their early modern history. Even at a bare minimum subsistence level humans need energy for cooking and (in a great deal of the world) heating and if you want to support a certain level of population (I.e. a level that most of the world passed by 1900 and and the rest by 2000) in most of the world you're gonna need the products of industry to produce sufficient food (like have fun doing earthworks on heavy soil without metal tools). By 1800 much of Western Europe and Eastern Asia (especially the more densely populated parts like like England and France in the former and Shandong and the Yangzi delta in the latter) were facing severe ecological stress due to the high wood demand for both household and industrial uses(even while they imported large amounts of it from less dense areas like the Baltic coast, North America and South East Asia). This loss of forest lead to a range of issues like soil erosion, rising water tables, increased flood damage and even localised climate change (many people believe that the "European Monsoons" of the late 18/early 19th century were the result of deforestation while forest loss is used to explain north Chinese rainfall patterns to this day).
Southern China was only barely able to stabilise the situation through developments in cooking/hating fuel use efficiency and the use of a range of alternative fuels like dung and crop residues (and maintaining this level of crop and livestock production required yet more imports like beancake fertiliser from Manchuria) while the situation in the North continued to deteriorate into the 20th century. Meanwhile forest cover and soil health in Europe only began to recover when use of coal both fully displaced wood as an an energy source and allowed the development of other technologies to reduce the level of land clearance necessary to support society. That's not to say this solution was perfect of course (I'm sure we all know what effects this use of coal has had on the global climate, while part of the return to forest in Europe was the result of Europeans importing land intensive commodities from other parts of the world; essentially exporting the forest clearance) and we are in desperate need of an alternative, but when deciding on which alternative you need to reckon with this. Flat out "de-industrialisation" is not only an intensely cruel solution in human terms but simply isn't environmentally viable either. Wind, water and biofuel could barely support a planet of 1 billion people how well do you think it'll fare with almost 8 billion. And if you think modern renewable technologies can make up the difference you're gonna need the number to back that up; good vibes is no substitute for the quantity of kilojoules humans needs to survive
#Stella Speaks#I'm sick of seeing not only full on anti-civs but similar sentiments articulated by a range of people#Fossil Fuels are not pleasant but there are very important reasons why they were adopted#and we need to reckon with that if we want to move past them
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tempest in a teapot
gojo finds nothing more delightful than seeing your annoyed frown in the middle of a storm— why should he need the sun to break through the gloomy clouds, when you're right there in front of him, huh?
teen!gojo x fem!reader; fluffy & not-very-lwk sappy [xDD]; lovesick gojo; realisation of feelings; gojo loves you— you're compelled to tolerate him; he is sort of... obsessed w you but not in the toxic way yet; implied bullying [gojo isn't involved!!]; he wants to be your knight in shining armour sooo baddd; 'one-sided enemies to lovers'; 2.5k wc
belongs to the series 'fictitious force' but can be read as a stand-alone if you wanna!
header frm pinterest // divider by @/isisjupiter // jjk isn't mine
gojo believes, there exist two kinds of people.
one, those who aren't but love to pretend being better than everyone else— and two, those who aren't but will do anything to be viewed as the worst in the world— the second category housing no one except you—
tingles dancing behind his ribs, down his arms and right to the tips of his fingers, the boy hums when asked why he wishes to meet you out of all the people he could. that too now, the sky darkening from a mix of night and storm— that too, to meet you.
candy crushed between molars, gojo grins.
"let's just say i'm a little curious about her, shall we?"
then pauses, grin mellowing when he finally feels your cursed energy— if his six eyes were working just fine and not fatigued after today's spree of killing curses, maybe he could have known your location too in an instant or so... and not have had to rely on others for that...
the blinding beacon that your cursed signature is, brushes soothingly against his exhausted self— he adds, "also maybe 'cause i'm a little in love with her— she's really sweet, y'know?"
whatever response he might have been expecting, a scoff is definitely not one of them.
utahime makes a face. almost as if she just bit into a lemon... almost as if she doesn't believe gojo can fall in love... almost as if she deems you to be not sweet... that last implication nearly makes him want to throw hands with the girl, opting to ignore the fact that she's shoko's girlfriend—
but he stops when she jabs a thumb to the corridor to the left.
your cursed energy caresses his six eyes gently. something burns at the back of his two eyes. he begs his mind to listen to the directions being given to him. the directions to you!!
"go down this hallway then turn right at the end. she will still be in the gardens—" the rest of the sentence doesn't reach gojo.
nor does anything else, for that matter.
nothing does. except for the steady thump!thump!thump! against his ribs and in his ears. and, of course— how did he even forget this— the lodestar your brilliance is to his too impatient self, too stumbling feet, this squally evening as he skids past empty hallways...
your smile is the first thing the boy notices.
so sweet. so sweet. it is the sweetest thing gojo reckons to have ever seen in his life. the pretty little smile carving your lips and illuminating your equally lovely face, as you lie on your stomach on the grass. legs swaying with the wind. gaze dancing over the fluttering pages—
everything changes in a beat— or perhaps even less than that— with your eyes no longer on the book.
they are on him. drowning him. suffocating him. squeezing whatever infinitesimal life left in him after the past three days' missions. taking every bit of who he is, all for themselves to glare at so sweetly.
your pretty little smile falls into an adorable frown. "why are you here, senpai?"
"why am i here?" he echoes your query. your frown deepens. he grins, brushing his bangs away out of his view. "to see you, of course!! mind if i take a seat beside you?"
you do mind. gojo knows, yet doesn't find a fault in you minding him so— shutting your book, you don't waste an extra second to move to sit upright. nor to scoot away when the boy takes your absence of an answer as an invitation to plop down onto the grass.
your scowl stays unfazed, gojo watches, heart lurching and tumbling. falling onto his back, he shifts to lie on his side, an elbow propped up to support his head. and hums.
"why do you look so mad, sweet—"
"please don't call me by such terms," you cut him off, sharp and terse, "and please don't pretend you don't know why i'm mad— acting like a fool doesn't suit you."
"acting like a fool doesn't suit you either, darling," the boy replies, not borrowing even a moment to mull over his words. it's honestly so like playing with fire... arguing with you, that is. but he is nothing if not an extremely devoted lover of danger, so he will keep doing whatever he is doing now— plus, don't the two of you seem so 'married couple'-y right now, huh?
he continues— not disturbed, rather delighted by how your features tighten and stiffen. eyes narrowing a touch. lips pursed a pinch— he wonders if you know how much you're endearing yourself to him the longer you keep looking at him that way—
he allows his grin to simmer down to a sly twist of lips.
"but i'm not going to question that... your love for your family is pretty cool—" not really. gojo finds it boring at best, and stupid at worst. but since it's you... he tries to deem it as neither. "— so whatever amazing plan you've concocted: pretending to be weak, so you aren't sent to a mission, so you have a 100% chance of staying alive anddd your dear family doesn't have to get sad—"
"why are you here, senpai?"
obviously, to see you, silly!!
— is what gojo should say. is what gojo wants to say. but he finds his tongue numb and unmoving. rendered useless by the sight you, your cursed energy, both have become...
if you were a fire before, you're nothing less than a solar flare now.
and the boy loves it. his six eyes love it. the boy loves you—
your brows gather close. his stomach does a flip. your voice assumes an adorably serious tone. "you didn't come here to ask me out, again, did you, senpai?"
did he?
oh, gojo doesn't really know.
maybe he did... he does want to take you to his favourite restaurants. but maybe he didn't... seeing you has been the only thing on his mind ever since he was informed of his mission being in otsu, shiga.
only fifteen kilometres away from the kyoto jujutsu tech— you don't allow him to utter a single syllable in reply, however. gojo wonders if this is how all your future arguments will be like— he decides it's not that bad.
not when you lean a little towards him. gaze narrowed. tone earnest.
"look— i know keeping another's secrets is a big deal, and some folks need some sort of... uh, reward for that— but how about this? instead of me going out on a date with you, why don't i buy you a box of them gourmet chocolates? or, a ticket to your favorite band's concert? or, a gift voucher of your favorite clothing store— this is better, isn't it?"
better... it would have been... if only he was dead set on making you reward him, as you oh so eloquently put it, for keeping your secrets.
but the thing is, he isn't. the boy doesn't want any sort of silly reward from you— he just wants to take you out on a date. always has, since his eyes met yours few weeks ago and he felt something strange and sweet unfurl within his chest—
making it seem like a payment for him shutting his mouth about you, was only a tactic. a very cheap tactic, the boy chides himself, looking at the worry etched into the dip of your lips.
slipping his shades off, he sits up. and offers a tiny smile. it feels... too weird... too soft on his lips.
"you do know who you're talking to, don't you?"
it takes you a while to reply. throwing back a question of your own. "is this you telling me i can't buy a rich guy's silence, senpai?"
he is. he very much is. but heaven knows why you make it sound this rude— the same as before, you don't stop speaking. not allowing him squeeze a single word in.
"but everyone likes free stuff, don't they? i mean, i'll be buying all that for you, and you won't have to spend even a single yen..." you heave a sigh. so minute, he almost misses it. but he doesn't 'cause he's pretty much focused his every sense on you—
exhaling yet another sigh, you ask, "don't you like freebies, senpai?"
he does. he very much does. even more when you say it that way with your cute little frown and exasperated little tone—
"you're too sweet, y'know?" he breathes out, hoping he sounds just as fond as he feels of you now. extremely likely, forever. "i don't really get why utahime doesn't see you to be so."
you make some sort of a noise then.
it isn't exactly a chuckle... nor is it a snort... it's very cute, nonetheless.
you hum, "iori-senpai is the kindest out of everyone here. if she thinks i'm not someone sweet... i don't know but doesn't it ring some sort of warning bell inside your head, hm?"
"hell no," gojo mutters in that same instant— a little miffed at how you refer to utahime, a quiet respect lacing every letter you say— not-too-little miffed at the implications behind you calling that sharp-tongued girl the kindest here—
for the first time in your company, the boy feels his lips collapse into a frown.
it's something, he realises you realise too, the way your lips part a tad. in something akin surprise... but not the very pleased kind.
he doesn't really think before adding, "the only bells i can hear when i look at you are—" you frown. he bites his tongue. perhaps... he should think a bit before speaking...
chuckling, he continues as if you did not just shoot his soul a look.
"never mind what i can hear... but the thing is you can never be one who rings warning bells in others' minds— like, hell no!" he repeats. letting some force seep into his syllables. into his unwavering stare, fixed on you. on every minute expression you're making—
he really decides to think, however. softening himself on noting your shaky exhale. your nails digging into the cover of your book— he lets himself borrow a beat before resuming.
forcing his face into a bright grin when he does so.
"feel free to text me the names of those dipshits who have ever made you feel bad, by the way— but don't worry," he adds, the memories of his previous error of ways hitting him in the face.
"i won't ask you out on a date in return for that— i'm just in need of an intensive punching practice, and you will do me a big favour by doing as i asked you to— you will text me, won't ya?"
yeah. no. thank you. fuck you—
you say nothing.
nothing, nothing, nothing at all.
for a very painfully long ten seconds.
during which you do nothing except look at him— just look, that too! neither glare nor gape nor gawk— just a quiet, scarily quiet looking— gojo swears his heart skips a beat when you finally open your mouth.
and inquire, words so slow and soft.
"this isn't some ploy of yours to get my number, right?"
"hey, no—" he rushes to explain. fuming at himself 'cause how the hell did he fuck up this bad again!?!?— but as is the norm, you don't allow him to speak any more than that. cutting him off with yet another one of your queries— except this time, it's not so slow.
and more of a statement than a question, now that he thinks about it— "you did not really tell anyone about my secret in these past weeks, did you?"
no, he didn't. obviously, he didn't.
gojo satoru might be several things, but an intentional villain isn't one of them... something skids across your face when the boy tells you as much— but he finds himself not too sure.
thanks to the lightning streaking across the sky.
and the torrential rains following not an instant late.
and the way your gaze jumps from him to the sky, to the book in your hold— only to come back to his face. wide, unblinking, all-consuming for a scanty moment there—
gojo tries his best not to collapse into the mud when you break into a sprint for cover from the downpour. he tries his best not to follow you as he feels your warmth go farther and farther away. his six eyes gaze at the trail of your addictively bright and hot— and his six eyes aren't talking about just the temperature— cursed energy—
the boy tries his damnedest best not to shout, overwhelmingly happy and relieved as he realises the rapidly reducing distance between him and your cursed signature.
the thud of your sneakers on the cement floor of the building sounds nothing less than the best music the boy's ever heard. or maybe, it is the best music in this whole wide world...
yet another lightning streaks across the sky. he twists himself around just in time to catch the awe-filled look you offer at the sight. features something out of this realm as your eyes trace its path, not even a bit bothered by the deafening thunder that sounds next—
gojo thinks he'll die happy if he dies now.
or maybe he can die later, he changes his stance quickly. on noticing you dash towards him through the mud, face fixed in a deep scowl as you struggle to open an umbrella, and balance a pretty heavy-looking bag off your forearm.
you huff when you reach him.
the boy wonders if it's your finally-open umbrella, or you, who shields him from the numbing cold of the torrential rains—
crouching down before him, you drop the bag into his lap.
and exhale a quiet sigh. his breath catches in his chest when he spies a hint of something... maybe fondness? curling up the corners of your frown, as you speak.
"next time you wanna flirt with someone, try not to do that after your missions— it is very difficult to be mad at a person if they look just a push away from passing out, y'know?"
[no... gojo doesn't really know.
but as he lets you press the handle of the umbrella into his palm— an odd look flittering over your features before you turn on your heel and hurry back into the school building— and his eyes fall on the contents of the bag you've left with him—
cans of green tea. chamomile tea. dark chocolate. biscuits. water—
the boy muses if this is your attempt to buy his silence. by giving him enough food and drinks to prevent him from blacking out from sheer exhaustion while on the train ride back to tokyo...
oh. it's enough for him to not worry 'bout tonight's dinner as well, he tells himself on finding two cups of instant noodles at the bottom of the bag—
gojo smiles.
deciding not only his silence to be yours, but also a part of his heart— albeit... weren't either of them yours to begin with, huh?]
hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️
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I'm yours (Alex Walter x Reader)
Summary: When Jackie comes to town your best friend, and childhood crush, Alex Walter falls head over heels leaving you left behind but when you attend Will's wedding with someone something changes...
Warnings: Swearing, kissing, heartbreak
Words: 6.1k
(Not my GIF :))
The day Jackie arrived in town was an interesting one to say the least. The Walter house was a second home to me all my life, growing up at the ranch next door meant I grew up chasing around the fields with the Walter kids.
It was during dinner at theirs, Walter games night, that Katherine announced her dearest friend had passed away in a car accident and her daughter was going to move in with them. The reactions around the table were mixed, but mostly everyone was just shocked. Over the next months there were whispers and chatter, but I was not prepared for what it would be like when she arrived.
“Morning,” Katherine says when I walked through the front door, her and George were putting on their shoes and jackets.
“Off to get Jackie?” I asked already knowing the answer, I was curious about her, it would be nice to have another girl around.
“Yeah, are you staying around for dinner tonight? It’ll be nice for Jackie to have another girl around today I reckon,” Katherine asked, quite literally reading my mind.
“That would be nice thank you,” I answered, and George let out a laugh opening the door, Katherine gave him an inquisitive look, one brow raised.
“I thought we were past asking each other stuff like that Y/n practically lives here,” Katherine and I looked at each other and burst into a giggle, he wasn’t wrong.
“Alright well we better be off, Alex is in the living room with Issac playing some kind of video game,” Katherine announced grabbing her coat and leaning over to kiss the top of my head.
I muttered back a thanks and headed deeper in the Walter house and to no surprise I found my best friend exactly where Katherine said.
“Y/n hey!” Alex examined practically jumping out of his seat
“Dude! Dude the game- we’ve nearly-” Issac stood with the remote but quickly slumped back down into his seat as the television made a noise to signify the end of the game, “What the hell Alex, that was the closest we’ve ever gotten!” he continued to complain.
“Y/n’s here,” Alex simply pointed out, that Goofy smile on his face, all his teeth showing in his grin.
“Yeah, yeah Y/n’s here,” Issac mocked rolling his eyes at his cousin but giving me a smile and a fist bump as he walked past.
Soon enough Alex and I found ourselves laying around on the sofa with snacks and a random film on. I suggested we head outside, I wanted to work on my tan but he said him and Cole argued again and he was out there with some of the other Walter siblings. I tried not to roll my eyes, I know these boys love and care for each other so why make it so difficult.
“Your parents out of town again?” he sat up to look at me, I reluctantly tuned my head away from the tv and put down the popcorn bowl on the coffee table.
“Uh yeah, they’ve got another showcase a couple towns over, won’t be longer than three days,” I answered, mom and dad were well known by their refined tastes, before I was born they started being judges in all kinds of food showcases all around the country, it all slowed down after I was born but they were still offered lots of positions and sometimes they just couldn’t say no.
“You’re more than welcome to crash here,” Alex said, some of his smile seemed to crumble a little. It’s not that my parents weren’t good parents we just weren’t as close as the Walters and that was that. Plus, I have school, even if I wanted to travel with them when they did it wasn’t always possible.
“Hey, I need to look after Daisy,” I said with a smile, my golden retriever could not sleep unless she’s in one of our beds, “Plus everyone else is still there,” I said confidently kicking his leg to brighten his mood. Mom and dad offer a program where you can come live on the ranch and help with the work for a small wage and all accommodation provided, people who want to travel jump at the opportunity all the time, we have a waitlist, it’s nice being able to meet people from all around the world.
“You know I’m always here for you right?” He asked all serious, hand reaching out to touch mine, I gave him a smile and his hand a squeeze and pulled him into a hug. It felt different somehow these last couple of weeks. I’ve liked Alex, like liked Alex for as long as I could remember and recently it started feeling like maybe he liked me too.
“I know, I’m here for you too,” I whisper back.
“We’re back!” George’s voice announced to the house, Alex stayed sitting on the sofa, but I walked up to the doorway.
“Jackie this is Y/n, Y/n Jackie,” Katherine said with a bright smile. I gave the girl a smile, she looked exactly as I expected she would, beautifully luscious hair and clothes with a scarily perfect posture.
“Hi,” I said reaching out my hand,” I live next door but half the time I swear I spend more time here,” I laugh, and a smile appears on her face, and she shakes my hand.
“Oh, and this is Alex,” Katherine says as we walk past the living room, my eyes go to him like muscle memory, but his don’t even glance my way, he’s looking at her. I feel something then near my heart, a new kind of pain, but I put on a brave smile.
“Theres still two bags in the car would you mind getting them?” George asked Alex who shook himself slightly out of his trance. He stood quickly and headed towards the front door.
Unsure what to do with myself, this was a new feeling, I followed Katherine and Jackie to the kitchen, she poured us some lemonade when her phone started to ring, and she excused herself. From what I gathered she was being called for a job, Katherine was incredibly hard working and did not get half the recognition she deserved.
She apologised and said she was needed for an animal emergency. The job of showing Jackie around was passed onto me and Will who had just walked through the door and introduced himself.
We headed outside and finally I was blessed with the rays of sunshine dancing on my skin, the weather was truly magnificent. Will continued pointing everyone out to Jackie and I looked at each of the Walters outside in turn, I really was lucky to be surrounded by these people, and Jackie would soon know that she ended up with the most loving people in the world.
“Who’s that?” she whispered to me when a certain blonde, very dramatically, flipped back his hair and climbed out of the pool. I shook my head turning to see her practically gaping at him and let out a giggle.
“That’s Cole, the big flirt of the town,” I explained, her eyes never left him.
“Do you want to introduce yourself?” Will asked, he was too busy answering Parker’s question to hear Jackie and I.
Cole sat back on one of the lounge chairs brushing his hair back with one hand, the other already resting under his head. He opened his eyes ever so slightly to look in our direction, “She’ll figure it out,” he said in that teasing Cole voice.
“Told ya,” I continued, and Jackie laughed, I looped my arm through hers, ‘I’ll show you to your room then,”
“And Cole and I will start brining up your belongings right?” Will commanded more than questioned, Cole let out a groan but got up.
After a few minutes Alex had bought up Jackie’s other two bags and started helping Cole bring up her boxes of stuff which there seemed to be a lot of. I sat there with Jackie helping her unpack her suitcases and giving her some insight into town and the school. I had to watch both the Walter brothers try to make her laugh and shine their beautiful eyes at her each time they interchangeably came up.
“So, are you related to the Walters or?” She asked when Alex left after dropping off another box, I couldn’t help but let out an audible laugh.
“Oh no, no, I’ve grown up next door so basically know them since we were all in diapers, but no not related” I explained and she nodded, placing some stationary precisely on her desk, “So if you ever needany blackmail let me know,” I whispered and we laughed together. Katherine was right, I hope I was making this easier for her.
Katherine arrived back in time for dinner, George prepared a barbeque, Alex and I set up some tables outside and bought paper plates. It almost seemed like any other dinner apart from the fact that Alex spent almost all of it staring or talking to Jackie. He wasn’t the only one though. Cole. This was my new reality I realised and start bracing myself mentally.
Even with the family’s insistence I left right after dinner with the excuse that I had some last minute homework I needed to finish for tomorrow’s English class. It had been a long day, and I just needed some space to process and breathe.
I was almost to the gate when Alex ran up to me, “Hey you alright?” he asked walking alongside me, I nodded and told him that I still needed to finish reading that one short story, which was true, and before he could tell me to just read his copy hear I asked him a question.
“What do you think of Jackie?”
“She’s, uh, she seems really nice,” he almost seemed a little flushed, “I’m excited to get to know here, I think she’ll like it here,” he said, “What about you? You guys seemed to get cozy gossiping away”
“She seems lovely, this obviously isn’t easy for her, it’ll be nice to have a girl my age around the ranch,” I said honestly, things were going to be different now, so I just had to learn to roll with it and make the best of it, even though I see exactly how this is going to play out, I need to gossip with Danny about it, see if he agrees.
***
It’s been just over two weeks since Jackie has arrived at the ranch, and so far things have been pretty normal, if not better. We hung out every day, I showed her around school, we avoided Erin together and I introduced her to Tara and Skylar, but her and I got close quickly.
I had to finish my group project with my science class mates and it was the worst experience of my life, they were all absolutely useless, as much as we aren’t really fond of each other I’d hope they’d be able to put those feelings aside just to finish this project but no, they like to make things difficult. Now I wanted nothing more than to flop on Alex’s bed with some ice-cream and complain about it for half hour whilst he tried and is mostly successful in making me laugh.
My plan was not going to go quite as I wanted though, I walk through the farm’s beautiful, wooden gates only to hear Alex and Jackie talking. At first I reminded myself to not think anything of it, they too were starting to become good friends, which was good- so why did it hurt hearing her laugh that enchanting, contagious laugh from inside the barn that contained the loft. Kid’s heaven as we liked to call it. Alex and I called it our getaway when we needed to talk about something serious, it was also a non-judgement zone.
I approached the barn cautiously in hopes of not being spotted, this wasn’t spying it was- information gathering to make the best possible choices going forward. Who am I kidding this was stupid, I needed to walk away or make myself obvious. Running a hand through my hair I turned to walk towards the house, maybe Katherine was around.
“Spying are we y/n/n?” Cole asked, causing me to jump slightly, one of my hands landing on my chest.
“Jesus Cole I’d like to live to my thirties- at least,” I let out wacking him on the arm, he let out a laugh, one too similar yet so different from Alex’s, yet his knowing glance didn’t change, “No I was not spying I just didn’t want to interrupt,” I said defensively brushing past him.
“Whatever you say…” he started, managing to get perfectly in step with me, “Suppose I don’t need to tell you then,” he continued to tease. I kept my sight ahead of me, lips pursing together, running my tongue over my front teeth, I would not give him the satisfaction.
Cole found out about my little thing for Alex from Erin, her and I used to be best friends before she became ‘popular’ she used the information to get Cole’s attention in the first place, but this didn’t mean I needed to give Cole the power now.
We kept walking towards the house in silence, it was eating away at me and my lack of patience. I let out a huff as we got onto the porch, “What were you going to tell me?” I asked reluctantly.
“Oh how I could bully you right now,” he clasped his hands together mischievously and I turned away from him to go into the house, “Okay, okay,” he said grabbing hold of my arm and pulling me back towards him, we both leaned over the railing.
“He likes her doesn’t he?” I asked even though I already knew the answer, I could see Cole nodding his head in the corner of my eye. Damn how quickly Alex Walter fell.
I turned to face him; he kept looking out at the fields.
“You like her too,” I said in a whisper, it was a realisation I hadn’t meant to voice out loud. He sucked in a deep breath.
“I mean I don’t really know her, she just moved her but-”
“You feel like you’ve known each other forever? There’s just something fascinating about her that you can’t let that little flame of hope give out?” I asked, completely monotone, I related too much to what I was saying.
“Wow we’re saddos,” he laughed nudging me to the side.
“Yeah we really are,” I said, leaning against the railing again.
“But you don’t want to hurt him do you? We don’t need a repeat of the Paige situation,” he tensed up at my words, even though Alex is my best friend all of the Walter kids are my friends and they’re all family. I know Cole didn’t know about Paige and everything was blown out of proportion. But the fact that it was all a miscommunication but we were still suffering the consequences now and we did not need another destructive wave.
“Come on lets crash their little moment,” he said changing the subject, refusing to talk about it, the normal playfulness of his voice gone. I sighed and nodded, we headed towards the barn in perfect time to see Alex brushing Jackie’s hair out her face.
“Uh-um” Cole’s voice beamed into the mostly empty building, both of them turned to us and stepped apart.
“Oh y/n I have to show you this new board game Jackie and I bought in an antique shop the other day,” he came towards me, turning around to smile at Jackie once more, “Don’t forget the book, it’ll be nice to talk to someone who actually likes the Hobbit,” he said playfully turning to me, “Unlike some who don’t appreciate the art,” he continued.
That comment should not have hurt as much as it did, it was a light-hearted joke but it felt like it was leaving a gap in my heart causing my heart rate to increase.
“I’ll see you in a bit Jackie,” I said with as much of a smile as I could muster, she nodded back, clearly not wanting to be left alone with Cole after the whole bleach situation, and the good friend part of my didn’t want to leave her stranded, but Cole is a good guy- for the most part- and he deserves a chance to apologise for his sometimes stupid behaviour.
Alex started to describe the game excitedly as we headed towards the house, we were walking up the stairs when a voice called from behind us.
“Hey, Alex, Y/n hold up! I’ll come play with you!” Jackie shouted jogging to come meet us, and that’s how I ended up playing a board game with the two of them subtly flirting for two hours before finally having a chance to excuse myself.
***
Mom and dad have never gone away over a holiday before, but this thanksgiving I was left all alone in our house. Or more accurately I was being left with the Walters. This was a different kind of travel though. My grandmother from my dad’s side was getting continuously worse but they didn’t want to interrupt my holidays and wanted to keep me in a routine, so they asked me to stay and took Daisy with them.
I had slept at the Walter house last night, Jackie and I fell asleep on the sofa watching Lemonade Mouth, I knew Jackie was dreading today and did not want to cook so I promised I’d cover for her and cook a plate in her honour instead while she went on her food delivery rounds. Little did she know her uncle Richard was coming to the dinner.
I wasn’t supposed to know either but I had accidently walked in when Katherine was on the phone to him and she did a little excited dance move when I assumed he agreed. I think this will be good for her, seeing a familiar face. Getting her to come back to the house for dinner without revealing the surprise was going to be harder.
I thanked Katherine for grabbing the supplies for some bacon-topped green bean casserole, mom’s favourite recipe and stepped into my chef era in the kitchen. My side dish can be eaten cold or heated up so I decided to cook before everyone else piled into the kitchen.
Singing along to one of my playlists I moved around the kitchen like it was my dance floor, I’m not a fantastic cook, but I’m not the worst so I just tried to make it fun whilst stimulating my short attention span.
I heard footsteps and a voice, not a great one, joining in. I smiled and looked up from the cutting board to see Alex dancing awkwardly around the kitchen island.
“Oh I love this song,” he enthused coming towards me, I tried to move away and resist, but he took the knife out of my hand cautiously and pulled me closer, both his hands in mine and we rushed around the kitchen singing our favourite song. I should have known the second this tune came on it would act as a whistle to the Walter boy.
He twirled me around five or six times causing me to get a little dizzy, we giggled like five year olds without a care in the world. Unfortunately, as the song came to end so did our moment. We stood there for a couple moments trying to catch our breaths. I couldn’t help but gleam.
One look at Alex’s red, out of breath face and I burst into laughter again.
“Stop it! Come on stop it I need to breath,” he managed to get out between attempted breaths and laughter.
“Well, I didn’t know you were such a confident dancer Walter,” I said winking at him. He smacked my arm walking around to put some bacon in his mouth, “Leave it alone or we’ll have none for later,” I chided playfully.
“More of a confident dancer than a confident cook,” he said and I couldn’t agree with him more, “Thankfully mom has let me get away with just making the mash this year,” and we all thanked her for it.
“Do you remember that time you were trying to cook some chicken and somehow managed to get it spilt half over the floor and the rest drowning under the undercooked cheese sauce and almost gave both of us food poisoning?” I asked chucking a green bean into my mouth. He covered his eyes with his hands and sighed at the memory.
“How many times can I apologise for that? Also come on I was like twelve, how much can a twelve year old boy know about cooking?!” He asked running a hand down his face.
“Well, I’d assume more than that, your mom and dad are incredible cooks,” I said, then got interrupted when the phone on the counter started playing a happy tune, it wasn’t mine.
Alex picked up his phone to look at the caller before turning back to me, “Give me a sec just gotta answer this,” he said before sitting down and speaking into the phone. I run my hand over my nose and returned back to my station and cutting up the bacon into smaller slices, every now and then looking up to Alex, watching the smile that takes over his whole face, trying to guess who was on the other side of the phone even though deep down I think I already knew.
“Yes Jackie I’ll make sure to remind you about that later, okay bye,” he said followed by a laughter. My suspicions were confirmed and all of a sudden there was nothing more interesting in the room other than my cutting board, I was nearly done then I could get out of here for a couple of hours. If Jackie could so could I, especially considering I didn’t actually live here.
“I’m going to talk to her today, I’m going to tell her how I feel,” Alex announced bravely.
My hands stopped in motion, and I looked up at him, not quite sure I heard him right, “ You’re going to do what? Do you really think that’s the right thing to do? I mean especially now at thanksgiving when she’s missing her family and-” I started but cut myself off before I could ruin Jackie’s surprise for anyone else.
“Things have been going really well y/n, I thought you’d be happier for me if I’m honest,” a bit of his smile faded and I looked back down at my cutting board, throwing the rest of the bacon into my casserole.
“I just meant you guys live together, let’s say things go south, what happens then?”
“Why do you always have to be so negative about this, every time I talk to you about Jackie you get like this,” he was hurt, I could tell by the slightly change in his tone.
“I’m being realistic, you’ve got to think about the rest of the family as well,” I defended myself turning around to wash up everything I used I wanted to add you’ve got to think about me, how after all this time, when we too acted like that can you didn’t see me too.
He huffed and then just as his steps came closer they got further way, and with each beat my heart sunk further and further.
I spent the dinner watching him watch her, watching Cole watch her, and the whole debacle with her uncle go down and Erin sat two seats down from me- what was happening? How quickly do things go so out of control. He wouldn’t even spare me a glance, all of a sudden I felt invisible at the Walter table, which now I suppose that could happen effortlessly with purely the number of us.
We all sat in the living room later that evening, after Jackie decided she was going to stay, playing card games and laughing along to some general knowledge game show where people were barely ever right because the questions were so bizarre. Jackie left after a little while claiming she just needed some time to process this whole day.
What hurt was the way Alex followed her up a few minutes later like a lost puppy. I knew where he was going, what he was going to do and say, it was making me feel physically sick. Like someone was squashing both my stomach and my heart at the same time. I went to get some water. I took a few deep breaths while standing at the sink, but I still felt like I couldn’t breathe so I went out towards the barn. I sat on the fence and looked out onto the ranch, not allowing myself to look back at the house.
That wasn’t the worst of it though. I thought it couldn’t get worse, more painful, but never say never. Jackie called me up to her room later, I’m staying the night at the Walter’s for two more nights until my parents got back. Hearing her explain what happened in detail was much, much worse than sitting on the fence outside and imagining how it played out.
She sounded so excited talking about how they kissed and how he gave her this whole cute proclamation, she didn’t realise that every word, every description she gave me pushed a knife a little deeper into my heart. He took her to our spot where when the sun starts going down it shimmers perfectly between two tall trees. I nodded along and tried my best to feign excitement, but I couldn’t tell how good of a job I was doing, she was too caught up in her giddiness to notice if I was doing a shit job.
I knew it could be worse though I told myself, this whole explanation could be coming out of Alex’s mouth, and if it did I think I would actually, physically be sick. I couldn’t see him right now or talk to him. I needed to not be at the Walter house for a couple of days so I could avoid the incoming PDA.
I told Katherine one of the volunteers ended up coming back early after the holiday and that I offered to go spend the evening with them, so they weren’t alone, she wasn’t too thrilled about the idea but she let me go, I think she sensed my urgency but didn’t want to press. I think she probably knew more about what was at play here than we realised.
***
Over the next couple of weeks, the sight of Jackie and Alex became imprinted in my mind. I didn’t avoid either of them, but I didn’t go out my way to spend time with them either, mostly because they were always together and always touching, but it’s not like they showed much of an effort to reach out to me either. I knew of course that they were in the honeymoon stage, but I also knew the best way to stop breaking my heart was to limit contact.
When I realised that this thing was going to be a thing for a while I started reaching out to my other peers more, hanging out with new people in the time I used to spend with the Walter’s and Jackie. Turns out one guy from my science group was actually quite nice, and he wasn’t bad looking. No matter what he was not Alex but I could see myself being happy with Seb. We talked, called, and hung out more and more until we officially started dating, he agreed to attend the oldest Walter brother’s wedding with me which was kind of him since he didn’t really know any of them very well. I think that was why I was drawn to him; he was outside this bubble and I desperately wanted to get out too.
“Aren’t you excited? You love the Walters,” Seb asked as we walked through the big wooden gate. My arm was looped through his. I took a deep breath and smiled, it was genuine, I was excited that Will and Hayley were finally doing what was going to make them happy and that we all got to be here to celebrate with them, in the place that we all love. Mom and dad already joined the Walter’s earlier to help set up.
We were met with the twins by the entrance to the field, and for today the wedding venue, many guests were already sitting down, Nathan sat on the other side of the gate tuning his guitar, I’m so glad they let him do this, it’ll be a memory he’ll hold for the rest of his life.
“You look beautiful,” Danny said as we got into conversation, Seb was seemingly finding many common subjects for them to talk about but my mind was distracted as I tried to stop myself from looking around and looking for him. Blue was my colour he’s said it himself many times before, maybe he’ll give me a compliment too, like he used to.
“Looking good Jackie,” Danny said as she came our way, mom said she basically planned this whole event by herself.
“You look great Jackie,” I added with a smile, she also wore a beautiful baby blue dress with a shoulder cover, her style choices never missed and whoever came up with the colour scheme should be given a bonus.
“You too Y/n, feels like I barely see you now a days, but we’re seated together so we’ll have the chance to catch up,” she smiled and reached out to hold me hand, “come on lets sit down we’re going to start in a minute”. I called Seb and we went to sit down.
“Hi y/n you look lovely, Seb,” Alex came up to us to sit next to Jackie, we’ve talked here and there, and god did I miss him and his goofy smile. He put his arm around Jackie and we all talked a little, Seb’s hand landed on my knee and whilst usually it was quite nice right now it felt suffocating, like I was in a prison of my own making.
The actual wedding ceremony was beautiful, they both looked great and you could just tell by the glimmer in their eyes that they’re so in love. Everything was going smoothly until Cole’s speech, he didn’t do anything wrong, he was honest and spoke from the heart, whether I could believe entirely that it was just about Hayley and Will I wasn’t sure but who else but us kids would be able to tell.
It was during the speech that Alex started getting fidgety, I wanted to reach out and hold his hand, run my thumb over his skin soothing him but I couldn’t, Jackie wasn’t helping much either, staring at Cole as if he’s some kind of god, eyes almost watering as he spoke.
Seb put his arm around me and I learned into him, my head on his shoulder eyes closed. When I opened them back up after Cole finished Alex was looking directly at me. I gave him a smile, but he looked away quickly.
I regretted complimenting the flowers as soon as Nathan explained their meaning and Jackie’s and Cole’s eyes found each other like magnets again, but when I looked to Alex his eyes were once again on me, he put his arm around Jackie and whispered something in her ear, she nodded but her eyes were cautious, unsure.
The dancing began soon after, Seb quickly asked if I wanted to dance sensing the awkward atmosphere at the table, he wasn’t so good with dealing with awkward bless him. Jackie and Alex didn’t take long to join us, they danced closer together whispering in each other’s ears, his hand ran up and down her arm.
I couldn’t watch any longer, “I’m sorry, I need to just take a second,” I hurried out of Seb’s, who now looked very confused, arms and towards the house. I could hear him faintly asking if he wanted me to come but I couldn’t answer, I grabbed onto my chest trying to get myself to breathe normally. I hope my exit wasn’t as dramatic on the larger scale as it felt.
The downstairs bathroom was girl heaven in this house, the one place where all you could smell was some kind of flowers, every surface was constantly clean and it was a clear zone from the Walter boys.
“Y/n/n,” a voice asked followed by a series of knocks, I would know that secret pattern anyway, I wiped my nose again, I wanted to tell him to go away, I didn’t need him seeing me like this, pitying me. “Come on Y/n can we talk?”, after a few seconds he still stood there, waiting, “I know I’m idiot, please,” this time I could clearly hear the desperation in his voice.
I opened the door and leaned to sit back down on the side of the bath. I didn’t want to meet his eyes. He reached out for my arms and lifted me up, my gaze still on the floor. I wasn’t expecting him to pull me into the biggest embrace of my life. I frozen for a second unable to move, but I melted into the hug, my hands sound their way around his neck and he pulled me closer.
“I’m so sorry Y/n I’ve been an idiot, who didn’t know what good he had until he lost it,” he pulled away just enough to see my face, “and now I’ve made you cry, wow I really am the worst,” I chuckled at this.
“I ended things with Jackie, I think we were both pretending that we worked because we were both scared,” he said with contemplation.
“Scared of what?” I asked but it came out as a whisper.
He looked between both of my eyes, his hands unravelled from around me to secure a place on my face. We were so close I could feel his breath on me.
“To do this,” he whispered back and closed the gap between us, his lips met mine, my hands went to his waist and he pulled me closer and closer. When he pulled away it seemed like I was in some starstruck haze, we’d kissed before at some party playing spin the bottle but that was nothing compared to this.
“Will you forgive me? Can we start this over?” He asked hopefully. I wanted to immediately jump into his arms and kiss him again but then there was Jackie and Seb.
“What about Jackie?” I asked weakly.
“I think we both know her and Cole have had this connection from the beginning it, but I was her safe option, just like she was mine and Seb is yours, my god I couldn’t watch any time his hands came anywhere near you, knowing that should have been me, it could have been me all along,” he said and this time I went on my tip toes, arms around his neck and kissed him like I’ve never been kissed before. Now I would just have to figure out a way to tell Seb.
“Don’t think you’re completely off the hook for ditching me for a girl,” I said walking out of the bathroom with a glance over my shoulder.
“Oh no I know I’ve got to work for it, but where are you going I want to kiss you, I need to kiss you come back!” he called trailing behind me.
“I need to talk to Seb,” I said solemnly, though I’ve got to admit a wedding is the worst place for all of this to work out. Seb was very understanding, I think he could tell what was coming from miles away but wanted to give me the benefit of the doubt. We hugged one last time and he went over to talk to Danny and some of the others.
Jackie started walking towards the barn, Cole must have ran away too, I chuckled to myself, she turned around for a second meeting my eye. She gave me a bright smile and put up both her thumbs up at me, I put a thumbs up back, and that was how I knew we were okay.
“So you want to dance?” Alex asked pulling my attention back to him. I agreed but only if it was proper dancing not whatever weird arm tugging thing he was doing with Jackie.
And so we danced the night away, all of us kids being the last ones left out in the night. We sat around and talked, played board games in one of the tents till morning, it was finally like everything was in place.
I leaned my head on Alex’s shoulders as everyone started heading to bed. Now everything was in place.
MASTERLIST
#alex walter#alex walter x reader#my life with the walter boys#mlwtwb#romance#cole walter x reader#netflix
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Cregan Stark*Princess
Pairing: cregan x princess!reader (team not specified)
Kinktober Day twenty-one: face fucking with Cregan Stark: to gain his loyalty Cregan demands that you earn it, and he enjoys watching the tears streak down your face as you do
Warnings: cregan being a bit of a dick, arguing, m!reciving oral, face fucking, tears, deep throating, slight praise, suggested further smut, smut 18+
Word count: 1535
Masterlist Here
Kinktober List Here
You were a princess, a Targaryen, the future queen of the seven kingdoms and this stubborn northerner who had tried to refuse your stay. Cregan stark was a fickle man at best and an arse at worst. You had tried to talk to him in the halls, but he left, tried to join him at his table but he moved his plate, tried to catch him at the gods wood but he walked faster than you.
Now you found yourself rattling on his bedchamber door as his guards rapidly approached. You span on your heels, glaring at them, “Dreamcatcher is on the other side of that wall. Try it,” you spat at them when you saw them reach for their swords.
“If you’re done threatening my men,” Cregan’s voice had you spinning back around to glare at the tall northerner, “Can I help you with something princess? After all it is far past your bedtime,”
“Let me in now,” you demanded, ignoring the squeaks of the men behind you, “I didn’t come here to be ignored,” you stated, pushing past him into the bedchambers.
The doors shut behind him with a thud as you angrily began to pace the room, “You’ll wear a hole in my carpet,” he warned, moving to sit on a chair by his desk.
“I didn’t come here to sit in a cold room twiddling my thumbs- “
“Then why are you here?” he barked, cutting you off with no care of rank. Your pacing paused as you turned to glare at him, “Here to buy my loyalty with some false promise you never deliver on? The north doesn’t need your Targaryen nonsense,”
“This isn’t nonsense,” you spat, arms flailing in shock of his attitude, “This is the crown, the kingdoms future- “
“No Targaryen king nor queen gives two shits about the North and you know it,” he said, standing up from his chair, “So why should I care for wars that will do nothing but starve my children and kill my men?” he questioned as you began to take in the sheer size of him.
Not only was he tall but his shoulders were broad, and his hands could break through several inches of ice you reckoned, “Perhaps we have something you need. Gold or ships- “
“What use is a ship on frozen lakes?”
“Grain and livestock then,” you sighed, “The queen-my mother, we need the North. You care about your people well I care about mine. So, tell me your terms since you clearly don’t want to listen to mine,”
Cregan paused for a moment before his head dipped and he sank back into his chair. You were ready to huff and leave on dragon back when you noticed his eyes trailing up your frame, “If its marriage you want- “
“I want a dragon,” he said, his head finally raising to meet your eyes.
Your eyes grew wide for a moment, but you quickly tried to cover your shock, “The north is far too cold for a dragon and there’s no way I’d hand over my child to- “
“I didn’t mean that kind of dragon- “he said, cutting you off once more as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “I want you,” he stated, his eyes hungrily trailing your frame, “I want to tame a dragon,”
You felt your mouth grow dry, “My betrothal has already been set- “
“The north is far too cold for a dragon,” he cut you off once more, this time standing from his seat and slowly crossing the room towards you. you felt your feet carry you backwards, but he did not pause, “I don’t need a wife. I need proof of your loyalty,”
Your back hit against the cold stone wall, your eyes gazing up at his in shock as he moved only an inch from you. “You want me to tarnish my maiden head? That is the price of a stark’s loyalty?”
Cregan’s chuckle was dark as were the eyes that hungrily gazed at your lips, “You may keep your maiden head, it would dishonourable of me to ruin your virtue,” he said, his deep voice making your mouth grow dry, “But if you want my loyalty,” you didn’t move even as you felt his hand cup your jaw, his thumb running over your bottom lip, “You’ve got to earn it little dragon,”
Your jaw was already slack in shock, so it did not take much effort for his thumb to slip in, pulling down your mouth for a moment before resting on your tongue, “Suck it,” he commanded. You weren’t sure if it was his tone or the way his eyes looked at you like a hungry wolf, but you soon saw him smirking, “Good girl,”
His hand slipped away from your mouth but not before he smeared your spit across your bottom lip, “Tell me princess,” he commanded as his hand trailed down till it past your breasts, “Have you ever been touched like this?” he said, his hands squeezing your tits suddenly over the fabric of your dress making you gasp.
“No, my lord,” you stuttered out, biting back a whimper as he leaned his head down to the crook of your neck, catching a peak of what lay under your clothing.
“Ever been kissed?” he asked but he said nothing else when he felt you shake your head no. instead his lips crashed onto yours, his hands grabbing your arse tightly as he pulled you flush against his chest. You gasped into the kiss, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, but it only allowed his tongue to slip in.
It knocked the air out your lungs and no sooner than it had started it had finished. His hungry eyes met yours again, “Kneel,” he commanded, and you did without complaint. You looked up at the man who towered over you now, seeing how sharp his jaw truly was from down here.
As his hands tugged at his waist bands he asked you a final question, “Ever had someone use this pretty little mouth of yours?” as he spoke, he slipped his breeches down, revealing an already hardened cock, precum leaking from its tip. You were too shocked to answer his question, but he no longer cared about that.
“Kiss it,” he said, and your eyes darted up to his, sudden insecurity washing over you. his hand moved to cup your cheek, a single tender action in this whole time.
Your hand moved up slowly to grab his shaft and you heard a small groan come from your touch. You looked up one last time before leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to his tip making a louder groan fall from his lips. “again,”
more confident now you began to place soft kisses down his shaft, then trailing back up to his tip. Cregan’s hand moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, groaning when he felt your tongue run over his tip. “Fuck,” he murmured, his hand slowly tightening in your hair, “Open,” He commanded and as soon as he felt your lip’s part you gasped as he thrust his member in.
“Fuck,” he groaned loudly, hand tightening in your hair. Your hands reached out, grabbing at his strong thighs to keep yourself steady. Slowly he began to guide your head down, bobbing around his cock as his spare hand moved so he could lean against the wall, caging you between him and the stone.
“That’s it,” he muttered, drawing in breath the further down you reached. Your movements became more confident with each praise as a warm feeling spread through your stomach. You felt his tip hit the back of your throat, your movements faltering for a moment, but a switch seemed to snap in the Stark.
A low growl left his throat as he swatted your hand off what had not been able to fit. You couldn’t even question him before you felt his hips begin to buck. You tried to speak but your mouth was otherwise occupied as Cregan began to fuck your face, curses and groans falling from his lips.
“Fuck,” he gasped, and you could feel his cock twitching in your mouth as spit dribbled around the edges. Your hands snaked from his thighs to his balls, cupping them gently in your hand making him groan loudly.
His thrusts were messy and hard but grew sloppy as you squeezed gently. You felt his body tense but before you could tell what was coming a salty taste filled your throat. Cregan’s hand moved to hold the back of your head gently, his thrusts far slower as he rode out his orgasm.
“Fuck,” he murmured as he slipped his member out your mouth, his hand moving to cup your jaw. He tilted your head, forcing you to face him with spit dribbling from your lips and a few stray tears that had fallen during his fun. “Get on the bed, “
“But- “you tried to object despite a flutter rising through your chest at the suggestion.
His hand tightened around your jaw, “Now princess. You’ve earned my loyalty now let me return the favour,”
Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @jacesvelaryons
#cregan stark#cregan stark smut#cregan stark x reader#cregan stark imagine#cregan smut#cregan x reader#cregan imagine#house of the dragon#house of the dragon smut#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon imagine#hotd#hotd smut#hotd imagine#hotd x reader#kinktober
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Ooh. Enemies to lovers but the roles reverse....like what if Reader is working with Shadow Company and Ghost is angsty...before, after or during the mission where Graves betrays them maybe???
I also gotta say the last one you did was so beautifully painful and I love it. 😂
- ☁️
Love doth grow in the shadows
I'm not the proudest over this fic but I hope its what you asked for and yes, I am giving this a happy ending because I'm a good boy.
Relationships: Ghost x Male Reader
Synopsis: Shadow soldier you couldn't possibly be with him. Years later, you meet him again.
A/N: Written to cardigan by Taylor.
Master List
Your heart is his. It was never meant to be his, you know that clearly. Nothing was ever meant to be yours or his. Infiltrating the 141 was easy; you with your charms and quips made you a hit with Gaz and Soap. Your experience made you a hit with Price and eventually, with Ghost.
You think you would be closest with Soap and his antics, ever funny and outgoing but he draws your attention greedily. The masked lieutenant, Ghost is stoic but you find him to be a rock in sea of nerves. Steady as ever and a presence to be reckoned, he is the stability you’ve never had growing up.
And how generous he was with it. He doesn’t say much but his presence is all encompassing. It’s warm, like blanket after use and occasionally, he gives some advice when the road gets tough. The advice is always realistic, as he must be, but with free of judgement and from a heart scarred by the past.
Illicit affairs, is what this is. Instincts are screaming to stop this farce before you are in too deep and no longer able to escape. Graves is up to no good and your hands are no longer the same steady ones at the start of the mission. The image of them in a ditch bleeding out and dying haunts your sleep.
Would you still be able to kill them if Graves commanded it?
Shadow soldier you don’t belong here. But the smiles and the casual interactions are fire to moths and you can’t help if your heart desires to be cherished. To be needed. To be wanted by someone.
“Good job, soldier. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
His words are the blossom of flowers in spring and the sun on the wilted fields of your heart. It’s so cruel, to desire what is within reach but never to stay forever.
Does he know what his words do to you?
Your scars, bleeding from the hearts he drew around them. The late nights when you accompanied him in piles of paperwork is some of your favourites. Getting to be with him, and just him in his office where you pretended this was what mattered in the world.
Just him and you.
He’s sardonic and weathered by the rain and time but in the shell of a man, there’s a good heart beating there. He’s helpful around the recruits. He’s always there to lend his ear even if he has mountains of work to get through. He’s been there every time you needed him.
And a week ago, he took you out to a cat café. Paid for the drinks and to thank you for helping him with the paperwork. The mind is a maze but at the end is the scenes of domesticity, you and him in an apartment lazing on the couch while the TV plays something meaningless.
It makes it all the harder to what needed to be done when all the heart wants is to just be with him. Hold him and be his. You split from the group and stopped beside Graves before the convoy sets off for Alejandro’s base or soon-to-be Graves’ base.
“In twenty, we will relieve them of their duties. Hop into the vehicle with them and keep them in. Don’t mess this up, shadow.”
Soap and Ghost are in the backseat of the vehicle and you take the front passenger seat. The sergeant is in high spirits and Ghost is relaxed into the seat with his shoulders lax and head against the headrest. The men are in high spirits and the convoy starts to move. It’s a death march towards base and Graves is in the lead car with Alejandro.
Fingers grasp the sidearm in your thigh holster. His eyes are in the rear view mirror and it hurts, hurts everywhere to shatter the trust you’ve scrounged together with him. He doesn’t deserve this and he blinks slowly.
What’s wrong?
The Shadows weren’t new to compromised agents and previously, you scoffed at the mention of it. How could good men ever betray their comrades and fail the mission?
Now? You aren’t so sure and the wavers in your heart are shaking the needles of your moral compass. When did the road forward vanish into seas of sand and leave you stranded in the junction of decisions? The warehouse comes into sight and the vehicles stop.
Graves give his whole speech about taking the base and Alejandro is knocked out first. The men are on edge and Graves gestures for you to move to him.
“Come here, Shadow.”
Soap is surprised and Ghost is gripping his rifle. His eyes are hurt, and they ask you, is this real? You knew he would curse your name for eons to come as you step away from him to stand beside Graves. The look of hurt is replaced by an anger ferocious as the sun in his eyes.
It hurts more than anything in the world.
“Nobody needs to get hurt today. Put down the guns and stay there.”
Your body moves on autopilot and raise the rifle just as the other soldiers do.
“This is what a Shadow should be. Discreet, fast and blending into their environments. And now, we have ourselves a victory.” Graves pats your shoulder. “The honours is all yours.”
---
The celebrations are huge but it’s hollow. Meaningless beyond comparison with your birthday spent with them and the party Soap threw. Drinks are served and shadows congratulate you on the victory.
The cells are quiet and you stop before his cell.
A click using the key easily swiped from Graves’ office and the door unlocks gently. He is fast and your neck is caught in a grip of immense strength. The anger simmering in his eyes are covering the hurt deep down and he knows.
He knows you will let him do whatever he wanted.
“You don’t have a lot of time. There’s a vehicle parked outside idling.”
The door to Soap’s cell unlocks easily and the guard is off on his piss break. An embrace is all you want from him and he looks to Soap. Ignoring you like the stain on his boots.
“I trusted you.”
“I know.”
“I shouldn’t have.”
“You never should have.”
They are running down the halls and out of the base through a back door before anyone can notice anything. The vehicle takes off and you put on an act when the base alarm sounds upon the guard’s notice of the missing prisoners.
---
Retirement is a bitch. Graves never did find out how they escaped and the last thing you heard was the man dying in a tank explosion. The latte is sweet in a café in Munich and you reach for the place where a straw is supposed to be.
“Oof, excuse me,” as you bump into someone on the way to the counter.
You look at the person and it’s him. Even without the mask and the heaps of military gear, it’s him.
“Simon.” He reaches his hand out.
He nods at the sound of your name and shakes your hand. Maybe there is a chance to still start over with him. An old cardigan, he puts you on and calls it his favourite in a quiet Thursday in a café in Germany.
---
I knew you would come back to me, as I would to you.
#fanfic#cod mw2#male reader#x male reader#x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x male reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x male reader#ghost fanfiction#call of duty
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And I'm petrified of being alone, now |
Part Twenty-Three
Matty Healy x reader
Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.
What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?
Authors Note: Another update this week?? I'm as shocked as anyone else, but hopefully this one will make up a little for the last! It's longer and a little less, um, idk, I can't say emotional?? because that would be a lie:/ Still, there are some developments! Also, it'll make sense a lot later but the 2nd image and the use of a Ride song are used in this one!
Hope you enjoy! Also thank you for all the love on this current series, it means a whole lot and keeps me writing xx
Warnings: similar to that of the last post! so pls look back there if you'd like to know!:)
> Last update: look back here if you'd like!
Masterlist
“I said no.”
Stressed was a feeling beyond words at this point. The past couple of days all I’d had was press hounding at me, calling and texting, emailing at all hours of the fucking day. They wouldn’t let up, even after I’d stayed silent. Adi reckoned it was mostly down to Teddy’s involvement in the whole thing. I didn’t want to think much more about it, although I knew she wasn’t wrong.
“Give me a reason at least?"
I shot a scathing glare over my shoulder before turning back to the filing system I’d taken to reorganising. It was my first morning back at the studio since... yeah, well Finn had Teddy- another factor to my current load of stress- whilst Adi was off doing something or other. I hadn’t asked, fearful of putting more of a strain on her current friendship- relationship??- with Ross, so instead I’d just chosen to tidy and rearrange the entire setup we had going on here. Because that was perfectly normal. And not a fucking way to evade talking or thinking about the mess that was my life. Okay?
“I don’t need a fucking reason, I just don’t want to.” I retorted, hissing slightly when I suddenly cut my thumb on the edge of a document. I withdrew my hand quickly and raised it towards my mouth, letting my eyes slip close for a moment when I heard a footfall step closer.
“Let me see.” Jamie sighed, probably thinking I’d done something worse to my hand than just a papercut. To be fair, the cabinet was old. One of them filing types from the ninety’s that we’d gotten for a score down at some boot sale, so I wouldn't be surprised if one of us did eventually end up losing an arm.
I shook my head and pushed the cabinet drawer closed, “It’s fine, just a papercut.”
Jamie huffed an amused chuckle before settling down on the edge of the desk nearby. It was Adi’s, you could tell from the sheer amount of shit she had accumulating it.
“One thing after another with you.”
My head tilted towards him with a deadened expression, “Ha ha.”
The older man raised his hands up in a mocking surrender, showing he hadn’t meant any real harm. “Too soon?”
I kicked at the toe of the leather boots he wore in retort as I moved towards the kitchenette, aware that he was just trying to lighten my horrendous mood but not really in the right mind for it.
“You want a brew?” I asked, not bothering to give him an honest reply to that question of his. Too soon? Yes, that was all too fucking true.
“Have a coffee if there’s one going.”
I dipped my head in a slight nod, filling the kettle and setting it to boil before snagging the coffee often reserved for guests on the show from a shelf nearby.
Jamie moved to better face me on Adi’s desk as I did so, wearing that same expression he’d turned up in, all concerned and weary. It bothered me a bit, seeing as though it was all I had garnered since the press had had their field day with my life, but I could also understand why. They all just seemed to feel for the idiot stupid enough to fall into another of Matty Healy’s traps.
“Stop.”
“Stop what?” He wondered around a light chortle at my demand, hands falling to rest between his thighs.
I gestured towards his face whilst I poured a splash of milk into my mug, “Looking at me like that, like I’m gonna break or something.”
With a sigh, he pressed his lips together. “You know it’s not like that.” I rolled my eyes in return but he just bounded on, “You know it’s not, I just care is all.”
I forced out a breathless chuckle, “That why you’re here trying to get me to hear him out then?”
To be fair to him, Jamie had come right out with it when he’d first popped by, having messaged me asking after my whereabouts earlier this morning. I’d told him, having spoken to him quite a bit over the last couple days, and then found him on the doorstep.
Jamie had been good with everything. He’d let me vent, rally against one of his friends and clients, question his own motives- and hadn’t even complained one bit. But now he was here asking me to give Matty a chance, a lot like he’d done that first time around in that small cafe all those months ago.
“I know you’re angry, you have every right to be.”
“Of course I’m fucking angry!” I immediately shot back at him, the rattle of the teaspoon ringing out as I dropped it into a mug, “I wouldn’t care if it had just been me he’d gone and fucked over! But he brought Teddy into this shit, Jamie. My son! So tell me, how am I supposed to hear him out after he’s done something like that and then lied about it? For weeks, mind you.”
Jamie looked back at me, wearing that ‘this meant business’ mug of his. I slumped at the sight, pressing my knee against one of the lower cabinets to continue stirring the drinks. I didn’t care, I didn’t care, I didn’t care.
“There’s a lot you don’t know, Mouse.”
My eyes slipped closed at his words and I took a second to just breathe. Because I wasn’t angry, not really. I was hurt and humiliated, and just so fucking sad. Fed up with it all, if I was being honest. Enough so that I knew that Jamie was being truthful here- and not just because it was a fact that I hadn’t spoken to Matty since things had fallen apart, but also because I hadn’t had the heart to ask Teddy about things yet. Or if ever.
The kid was four. Four, and asking after a man every night before he fell asleep and then as soon as he opened his eyes the next morning.
He knew something was up, he was smart like that. But what was I meant to do- to say? When I was just as confused as he was.
I’d ended up leaving him with Finn today, having had no other choice in the situation because the nursery was closed for an inset day, or some shite like that, and it seemed I had no other friends than the few around me.
Could quite literally count the lot of them on one hand.
But still, Finn and I’s relationship had still been rather rocky after that whole incident with him and Matty, and hadn’t improved since. In fact, he’d been a little unbearable about everything, always one to toot his own horn whenever he was right about something. But it was always slyly and I couldn’t help but feel as though it was a constant dig, like even when he wasn’t commenting on it he was still thinking it whenever he looked at me.
Which felt so horrible to think, let alone say out loud. He was my best friend. So I’d kept my mouth shut and just dealt with it, like I did everything else in life.
“He’s messed up about it.” Jamie then spoke, his voice having startled me a tad, breaking me out of my musings. He was watching me again, only when he did it, it didn’t feel as condescending as everyone else's. Like he understood my position. And I guessed that he probably sort of did.
“I bet.” I scoffed quietly, an airy titter escaping through my nose, and then I turned to toss my teabag away.
“It’s true.” Jamie shrugged, then nodded in thanks when I pushed a coffee his way. “He’s been ‘round Ross’s ever since shit hit the fan, hasn’t left the flat. Driving the lot of us mad, but he’s torn up, Mouse.”
Tongue in cheek, I wrapped my hands around my cup and propped my hip up against the counter, staring into the still swirling liquid. “Serves him right, I guess.” I replied with a soft shrug of my own, though we both knew I didn’t quite mean it.
Jamie looked over towards one of the windows to the right, most of them were either way too long or too tiny for the space, an odd build, but this particular one gave way to the skyline lying over the remainder of the city. I often wondered what the lower levels might look out at, thinking it was probably the majority of the surrounding buildings, and couldn’t help but feel a little thankful that we’d managed to snag this unit.
When he glanced back over at me, I took a sip and let him speak.
“A lot went on, that much I know, and it’s your choice how you deal with it. But, I saw the two of you. I saw him change. Which is stupid to say, I know, but it doesn’t stop it from being true. He was different with you, he actually tried in other aspects of his life and not just with the band and the music. He looked genuinely happy.” He smiled softly at the eye roll I gave, but it didn’t appear to deter him. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you didn’t fucking cure him. Don’t work like that, does it? But you helped. You and Teddy both.”
I looked away then, back towards the window, unable to really help it, and instead allowed my eyes to trail over the clouds which powdered the dusty blue sky.
“It was different. Things were different, and I know that there was love there. There couldn’t not have been. The way he looked at you…” Jamie shook his head ever so slightly as he breathed out, unaware of just how deeply his words had cut. But then he peered over at me and I found myself already looking back, air caught somewhere in the swell of my lungs.
“Don’t.” I choked out, the grip on my mug having tightened tenfold. “Just,” I shook my head.
Jamie put his coffee down on the desk and moved to stand, hands raised to convey he wasn't a threat. “I’m not saying this to hurt you more, love. Just telling you how I saw it.”
I licked at my lower lip, casting my eyes downwards. Our silence stretched and all could be heard was the odd car horn and chirp from beyond the walls of the studio, until-
“Anyone here?”
I blinked back the tears which had started to well in my eyes and sniffed, head shooting up just in time to spot a familiar giant ducking their head under the beam of the doorway, limbs following right after.
George entered but then stopped short when he spotted his manager stood by me, and I laughed to myself at the way the pair of them seemed to eye one another, before stepping in, “Didn’t hear you ring the buzzer.”
Kind eyes darted over to find my soft smile then, welcoming him in, and so George finally moved in closer, laying the jacket he wore to rest over one of the armchairs.
“Yeah, someone was just leaving and let me in.” He answered my unasked question, shrugging as he added, “Dunno whether they recognised me or if they just let anyone up.”
“Probably the second,” Jamie piped up, seemingly having broken himself from his previous bout of surprise, “This lot ‘round here don’t give much of a shit about crap like that.”
I rolled my eyes, but was glad to have a reason to smile slightly. “Or they spotted the BFG making his way over and wanted to avoid pissing him off.”
Jamie cackled whilst George just shot me a narrow-eyed look, “Hilarious. That pot just boiled?” He asked me as he wandered over. I nodded in turn and moved to grab him a cup, only faltering when he lowered my hand with his own and shook his head. “I got it.”
I dipped my head slightly, blinking before taking a step back to let him work. He made a quick go of it, rummaging around the cupboards briefly to find what he needed and only asking for the spoon I still held for some odd reason when he was near done.
Jamie appeared to have been watching him too, a calculating glaze to his eyes, and he chose that next moment to speak up, “How you been anyway, George? Not seen much of you lately.”
Something unspoken passed between them when George glanced over at him, but I couldn’t tell what.
“Good, busy.” Was what the taller decided on, throwing Jamie a quick smile when he crossed to toss his own teabag in the bin before settling on the counter to the left of me. “You?”
It almost sounded sarcastic, not how he said it but simply because he’d asked it at all, knowing everything that had recently occurred. It must have been a right nightmare for Jamie these last few days, what with him being the band’s main man.
Jamie just laughed though, goodnaturedly, though it was apparent that he was still trying to suss out what was going on, what with George’s sudden appearance. Seeing as I’d never once mentioned him to Jamie.
See, things with George had all started after that studio session Teddy had attended, followed by my wishing him a happy birthday just before Matty had gone and done what he did best. Wrecked it all.
Teddy had become all too smitten with the drummer since he’d first been introduced to the band and their many songs and music videos. He enjoyed the guitar he’d been gifted an awful lot, often playing with it and practising, but each time any sort of song played on the tele or the radio, or even in the car, it wasn’t hard to note the way Teddy instantly mimicked George’s swift movements, pretending to drum along to whatever beat heard.
George had messaged me on Instagram later that same day, seeing as how apparently Teddy’s appearance at the studio had stuck with him, and asked after him a little. It seemed strange worded like that, but George reckoned that Teds had a real streak of a musicality about him, even as young as he was, and wanted to see if Teddy would be up for learning some more.
Which had been a Godsend, honestly, what with how the next couple of days had gone down. I’d given him my number via dm just before the storm had started and then the afternoon that had followed the plethora of articles he’d called.
He’d asked how I was at first, almost consoling me in that easy way of his, so full of little words, which had been all too refreshing in truth.
I’d had texts and calls off of practically everyone I knew, even Ronan, the utter prick. And none had managed to soothe me quite like George’s had, seeing as the man had been there too. Not quite in my position, sure, but near enough. He’d even let a little of it slip when he’d popped on over that same day, bringing a bag of takeaway and a roll up drum mat as a gift for Teddy, who had been cooped up with me on the sofa for most of the afternoon.
The two of them had bonded over it rather quickly, Teddy having been caught off guard by George’s sincerity almost as much as I had been. But then I'd found myself getting to know the drummer too and very much appreciating the unnecessary gesture he’d made for me, even with the pair of us not knowing one another as well as we could have.
I had no idea what was going on between him and Matty, I hadn’t had the balls to ask, but he’d mentioned he hadn’t heard much of anything from him since the night of his party, as well as the fact that his girlfriend, Charli, had been just as annoyed with everything that had gone down.
I knew he’d be stopping by at some point today, we’d made plans to get lunch once he’d heard I was back at the studio on my own, but not recording. I reckoned he was concerned and this was his way of showing it, but it was hard to tell with him most of the time seeing as he’d made it out as though I was doing him a favour here. An effort I came to find I much appreciated.
“Work, you know how it is.” Jamie replied after a long pause. He was still standing in the same position he’d been in since George arrived, but seemed to move then, picking up what was left of his coffee and pouring what remained down the sink. “But I’d best be going, got a couple calls to make. You gonna be at the studio tomorrow?”
George hummed around his next sip, pulling away with only a dip of his chin. “Should be.”
Jamie smiled, nodding, “Good, I’ll let the rest of them know then.”
I caught George’s slight wince at that, though he didn’t protest his manager's comment. It made me wonder.
Jamie turned to me then, shucking on his jacket. I perked up, not having realised that he really was rushing to leave now. “Remember what I said, alright?”
I blinked, but then nodded. How could I forget? I wanted to ask, but instead said, “You don’t have to head out so quick.”
He sent me a reassuring grin as he flipped over the collar of his coat. “You won’t miss me much,” He then teased before roping me into a hug, “Weren’t lying when I said I had a couple calls though, so it’s best I get out of your hair whilst I still can.”
I smiled softly at the sound of his lighthearted chuckle and nodded before following him over to the door, “Stay safe.”
Jamie rolled his eyes, all too used to my typical parting now, though amused by it all the same. “Can’t promise anything.” He retorted with a smirk, shuffling over the threshold whilst his eyes flickered back to where George still stood once more. “So, about before?”
I inhaled shakily, though Jamie didn’t seem to notice, fingering the pockets of his jacket in search of his mobile. “I’ll think about it.” I told him.
He flashed me a grin at that, pleased, then let his heel trail over to meet the top step of the metal grating. “Talk to you later then.”
I nodded and watched for a second as he descended the staircase, head bobbing down the first set before he turned and disappeared from view. Sliding back inside, I shut the door quietly behind me, taking a second to steel my nerves before facing the room again.
During that time, George had seemingly gone and made himself comfy on the settee, his mug settled on a coffee table coaster. I moved to join him after putting both mine and Jamie’s cups under the tap to rinse before just leaving them to soak.
George was fiddling with something when I sat down beside him but shuffled over a tad to allow me to get more comfortable, “So what was that about?” I questioned.
“With Jamie?” He asked and I nodded, even though I reckoned he already knew what I was on about.
He shrugged slightly and I noted the way his finger trailed over a slip of folded paper, it was creased as though it had been played or fiddled with a dozen times too many. My brow seemed to furrow at the sight of it.
“He tried phoning a few times but I’ve not been too keen on answering, learnt that I’ll just get dragged into the drama if I do.” George finally answered, and for some reason I felt a wad of guilt pool in my stomach upon hearing it, even though I hadn’t been the one to cause this mess.
Or maybe I was just kidding myself.
“Sorry.”
George huffed as he turned to peer over at me, elbows resting on the tops of his knees. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He told me and then gifted me a sweet smile, “None of this is on you. Just thought we were in the clear, you know?” He looked away at that and his smile dimmed into something smaller, almost sadder. “Figured I wouldn’t have to go dodging my mates calls anymore, or be roped into cleaning up everyone else’s messes.”
He reached a hand out to settle on my knee then, probably having noticed the way I was chewing on the insides of my cheek, or maybe the fact that my lip was now trembling. I’d never felt so shitty. So at fault for something I hadn’t really seen coming, nor could I prevent.
“Not your fault, remember?” He reiterated to me, squeezing my joint softly before pulling away. I sniffed before looking up at him with a tiny smile.
“Promise I don’t usually cry this much. Just been a shitty week is all.” I told him, laughing pitifully as I toyed with the hem of the jumper I’d put on earlier that morning when I’d purposefully avoided the hoodie that had been left on my desk chair, as well as the cupboard full of clothes that didn’t belong to me.
I felt the settee dip slightly before I found him sitting right beside me, lifting an arm to wrap me up in a hug. His cheek came to rest on the side of my head and I felt my heart break that little bit more, because it reminded me that in a second, or two, I wouldn’t have that sense of protection he now offered, shielding me from the rest of the world.
“You’ve been put through the wringer.” George murmured and I had to laugh just a little bit, he laughed too, the sound of it reverberating through his chest to where my head rested. “Fucking cry if you want to, alright? No judgement here."
I spluttered a little on my next chuckle, smiling as I wiped at my eyes. George’s arm just tightened its hold by a fraction, as though he knew it would make things that little bit easier. We both sat there like that for a while, and I appreciated the fact that he was okay with a bit of quiet. That he didn’t run scared from it or try to start up an awkward conversation simply to fill it.
Silence was something I’d come to realise that George often favoured. Because sometimes that was all you really needed.
I don’t know how long we continued like that before he shuffled and pulled that same piece of paper from earlier back into view, holding the corner of it between his forefinger and thumb. I pulled away slightly, looking down at it and then back up at him with a small frown.
“What?”
George merely blinked, staring down at the paper with an odd look before he finally placed it in the hand I had resting on my thigh. My frown only deepened.
“What is it?” I asked him, finger trailing over an edge just as he had done when I’d first spotted it. When I went to unfold it from the opposing corner, he stopped me.
Confused, I turned to raise a brow at him, only to find him already looking back at me. He bit into his lower lip and then flattened his mouth into a stern line, “I found that when I was last in the studio.”
My chest tightened for some reason, but I was still so baffled. “Okay?”
We were sitting up better now, George’s arm having slipped from my shoulders to come to rest in his lap, fingers trailing over his left hand’s rigid set of knuckles.
“I figured you should see it.” He added in his usual drawl, though his eyes flickered up from the paper to catch mine then and I realised it must've been important. He seemed wary enough to warrant it.
I went to unfold it once again, but then his hand really reached out to stop my own, “I don’t know if I should be here when you do.”
That alone made me even more curious, although there was an edge of caution that now warred at me. “Why?”
George gifted me a gentle smile, the hand that still laid over top of my own squeezing kindly. “I’ll go grab us some food, alright? If you want to open it then do, if not. I won’t mention it again.”
He moved to stand then but my hand shot out to grab at the sleeve of his arm, “George.” But I didn’t know what else to say, I knew I was fearful though.
His fingers moved to meet mine, resting there for a short moment, “It’s your choice. Just, I couldn’t keep it from you.”
I swallowed thickly as he pushed to his feet, the scuff off his heavy boots bouncing off the hardwood floors. Slowly he moved to grab his jacket, giving me time to say no, to deny his offer. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t do much of anything really.
The door shut behind him with a soft click a minute later and the quiet of the studio suddenly consumed me. When I glanced back down at the paper I held once more I saw the slight tremble of my hands. I forced myself to exhale, but even that was shaky.
I was careful as I unfolded it, listening to the rustle it made before scrawled lines that had bled through to the other side caught my attention. Pausing, I took a moment to just look at them and then thoughtlessly hurried to reveal the rest of it, taking in its full form. My throat tightened at the sight of familiar scribbles.
You had me from the start
Pulling all the stops out
On the down low, secretly
But I think you knew your psychology
Was working on me
Infatuated
And doing this all wrong
You've got
My number and my name
And you've got me going
Yeah, you've got me going
Can I see you every day?
Do you love me
Like I love you?
Ah, you've got me going
Yeah, you've got me going
(Song: Ride - Future Love)
It was as if something in me had shifted and then turned, sparking itself its very own flame on a bone too sharp and growing and growing until its singed edges burnt and blackened every part of me.
I must've sat there staring down at it for ages. Crying silently and alone in an empty room, something I’d been avoiding doing since this had all started. Though I supposed it had been inevitable.
His words. His thoughts. Bared to me on a single page. Him none the wiser to any of it. Probably having not even realised it was gone, or missing. And George had read it. He’d seen it and still, after everything, had given them to me.
A tear dropped from my chin then, blotting the page and I could only watch on as the dark ink appeared to cling to it, seeping further and further into the paper. Smudging the ‘Do you love me’ enough so that my breath stuttered and I was suddenly moving all too quickly for my mind to catch up with my thoughtless actions.
Not even a second later my phone was in my hand.
Messages now
To: Jamie O (glasses!)
When can he meet me?
–
Matty had always had a thing for Sundays.
There was just something about them. Not all that Godly shite that people preached about it being holy and the first day of the week, ‘cause to him Monday would always hold that title- and Monday’s fucking sucked dick.
No, it was because there was just something peaceful that settled on Sundays, it took him back to simpler times, of days when he’d just been a kid and roast dinners were spent ‘round his nana’s house. Or when Newcastle would play on afternoons and his dad would finally be home to watch with him.
There was just something about them, you know. He didn’t much believe in luck, typically only the bad sort. But if someone held a gun to his head and told him he had to claim a day which would forever work in his favour, it would just have to be Sunday.
Still, he was unsure on where he currently stood with that sentiment as of late. Seeing as how he was currently in the backseat of a cab, jittery hands clinging onto shaking knees whilst rows of houses, broken up by hues of green and blue, rolled on past him.
It hadn’t been a last minute thing, but it felt much like it. The anticipation was getting to him, he knew that much, sweat licking at the back of his neck whilst his shoulders worked their way up to the lobes of his ears.
Jamie had somehow managed it.
Called him up late last night just before Ross had headed off to bed to tell him that she would finally see him. Jamie’d asked if he’d be alright going alone or if they’d prefer a buffer there, but Matty had immediately declined. So he was doing it alone. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a misstep on his part, if it would have made things easier on her having someone there, or maybe just given him some semblance of relief as the car slowly drove its way over to her house. The very place he hadn’t stepped foot in since the night of George’s birthday party.
But he hadn’t earnt that reassurance. Felt wrong to bring somebody else along either way. So he was stuck, toying with his phone, hoping or praying that a text wouldn’t come through saying that she’d gone and changed her mind.
It had been just under a week since he’d last seen her. But it felt as though time had dragged out slowly, mocking him or maybe even torturing him for all of his many wrongdoings.
He fretted over what she might say when she caught sight of him, he himself having only spotted the state he’d worked himself into when he’d been getting ready that morning.
There were heavy bags set beneath his eyes from where he hadn’t really slept and his cheeks were hollowed in that way that they used to revert to when he’d have a particularly hard weekend way back when. If the papers caught wind of him he already knew what the first articles would say, what they would so obviously claim. But he knew the truth, just hoped that she would know it too.
He was startled from his mind at the jerk of the car pulling up onto the nearest curb. His eyes widened in sudden alarm when he realised just what that meant and then caught the look of dismay that crossed the driver’s face when the bloke looked back to announce that they’d arrived. If the man didn’t already think he was on something, then now he definitely did.
Matty swallowed stupidly and then tried for a smile, struggling to undo his seatbelt with the kickstart of shaking that overtook his hands. The driver took pity on him though, turning away to fiddle with something up front that probably didn’t need fiddling with, and finally Matty’s thumb managed to catch the button.
Releasing himself from the confines of the car, he paused just before the door could slam close behind him, handing the man a couple notes in tip, if only to apologise for his edgy behaviour or buy himself a little more time if the driver had somehow managed to suss him out even with his hat, hood and scarf. “Cheers.” He said.
The man blinked at the onslaught of cash and then nodded repeatedly, “Yes, thank you.”
Matty exhaled shakily and then dipped his chin in another goodbye, stepping back onto the curb and watching the cab pull away before he found himself alone once more.
This was it, he supposed.
The street hadn’t changed much in a matter of days but his mind made it seem as though it had. As though suddenly he didn’t belong. The odd man out.
He shoved his hands into the confines of his pockets, pivoting on his heel to face what he’d come here to do. But nothing had prepared him for the way his stomach suddenly bottomed out at the sight of her front door.
The sound of a car horn a way away spooked him, causing him to jump, but did eventually force him forward off the curb and onto the cracked pavement. He stared down at all the dips and curves they had to offer him the entire way up the path until finally, he reached her front steps.
If anyone asked, Matty would tell them it was as though he’d been working on autopilot when he pried the silver knocker up from the wood and let it rap twice. Though that would be an utter lie. His head screamed at him the whole while and his fingers blurred before him when he’d raised them up to grasp at the chilled metal.
He’d never felt so sick, just standing there, the seconds slowly trickling into minutes, or perhaps even hours. It honestly felt as the day was slowly growing colder the longer that he stood there, staring at a coat of familiar paint, before finally hinges creaked and the door opened, revealing a sight that would’ve surely cured sore eyes, if only it hadn’t gone and broken his heart first.
It wasn’t immediate, the effect the past couple days had had on her. It was more in the way she held herself, the sadness which clung to her every fibre, the way she wouldn’t quite look him in the eye.
She stared, caught in a standstill, and for a long moment did nothing before silently and slowly she withdrew enough to allow him through.
Matty didn’t dare utter a word, let alone breathe. Careful to avoid brushing against her or stepping on her toes as he slowly crossed over the threshold to get in, though the hands he’d hidden in his coat pockets curled into fists to keep himself steady.
The first thing he noted upon first entering was the significant state of the flat, it wasn’t messy or untidy by any means, but looked nothing at all like a house typically inhabited by a child should, or at least a monster as chaotic as he knew Teddy to be. It was almost as though Mouse had been expecting a letting agent to pass through with a couple dozen couples, what with how clean it was. He almost reckoned that if he were to crouch down right there he’d probably be able to make out the seam of his jeans in the reflection of the floors.
“You can just hang your-”
“I know.” Matty whispered, not intentionally meaning to cut her off but unable to help himself anyway.
It hurt, feeling as though he was just a guest in a place he had practically considered home not too long ago. He coughed lightly and shrugged off his coat to do so anyway, hanging it up where he usually did, something which made him pause for a split second, wondering whether this could possibly be the last time he’d have the privilege of doing so.
“Right.” Mouse murmured somewhere behind him, snapping Matty out of his thoughts. She stepped on by him just after, eyes trained on the end of the hallway until they reached the living room, “Erm, I’m just starting on a brew. You can wait here if you want.”
He wanted to follow after her, to fall down onto his knees and fucking sob there at her feet, but he was scared he’d dirty her floors or more than likely end up looking like a total knob. He would. Fucking felt like one just from thinking it. So he did as instructed, moving towards the sofa, taking note of everything and anything the room had to offer him.
Matty’s eyes flickered over to the kitchen doorway when he realised she’d stopped there, fiddling with her nails before she caught him looking and dropped her hands. “Just realised I didn’t ask if you wanted anything.”
God, it was so fucking strained.
He took a short breath in and attempted to smile, “Tea sounds good.” Was all that he said, and watched on as her brow wrinkled, head tilting with it.
“Uh, I still have that coffee you like. The one you brought over, if you’d prefer.” She told him and he recognised her confusion for what it was, or maybe it was just her weariness over letting him know that his stuff was still where he’d left it. Or, maybe, just fucking maybe he was reading way too much into everything.
“Tea’s good.” Matty murmured, feeling a little less tense now that he knew that she was sort of sitting in the same boat. “But thanks.”
Her chest rose and fell with her next breath and he watched her nod with difficulty at him, still not meeting his eye. “Right, just be a sec then.”
She disappeared past the door with that, whilst he simply stood and listened to the run of the tap and then the flick of the kettle, feeling stupid for having missed something he hadn’t even realised he’d taken note of before.
But that was just typical, wasn’t it? To miss something so mundane now that it was no longer expected.
Once he heard the clink of mugs Matty allowed his gaze to roam, trailing over the bundle of neatly folded throws settled on the wicker basket by the sofa, ones he knew that if Teddy was here would still be scattered all over the floor before the tv.
There were a couple of coasters laid out on the coffee table, though the fruit bowl had since been removed, something he knew Mouse did whenever there were only a few pieces left or none at all. There would probably be grapes or something of the sort in the fridge though.
She had a couple of receipts left out on the shelf below the mirror she’d hung up on the wall when she’d first moved in, and the picture frames beside them were still the same. Only one was missing, and he knew which.
He noticed that the candles over by the lamp were new though, expensive if he remembered rightly because he was sure that he’d spotted them round someone else’s place recently. He wondered briefly over who could’ve gifted them to her, knowing that she much preferred her usual scents, only ever splurging on the larger Yankee Candle jars they had to offer in the local Debenhams.
He found himself smiling at the thought.
It was then that she shuffled back into the room though, stalling his observations. She carried two mugs in her hand and a small plate loaded with biscuits on her forearm. Immediately Matty moved to help her, taking the plate from her even with knowing that she had it handled.
“I could’ve managed.” She murmured, though not unkindly, and then thanked him quietly once she’d gone and placed the mugs down.
Matty followed her lead, settling the biscuits near the edge of the coffee table, between the two coasters, before fumbling for a second over where to sit. Squeaks seemed to take to one end of the settee so Matty perched on the other, though closer to the middle crease than the arm.
“You got hobnobs?” Matty finally asked, breaking the silence again, eyes flicking over to the plate he’d just held before shooting back over to find her.
She blushed faintly at his comment, then shrugged. “You like them, don’t you?”
Matty scoffed lightly, a soft smile limning his lips, “Yeah, but you hate them. Once claimed that they were like digestives only after being shat out.”
She wrinkled her nose at that, though Matty was quite sure he could spot the mirth that flickered across her face. “Want them or not?”
Rolling his eyes in fond exasperation and knowing not to push it, he picked one up and settled in a little more comfortably into the sofa cushions.
The silence would’ve been almost unbearable if she hadn’t had the foresight to have turned the tv on low before he’d arrived. So whilst a documentary played on one of the many BBC channels, Matty struggled with himself to find the best thing to say. Though he needn’t have bothered, she was always one step ahead.
“So, I think I should start by saying that I um, I know I held a lot of expectations.”
Almost simultaneously, Matty frowned.
She just wrung her hands together once before thinking better of it and laying them flat in her lap. Matty merely wished to reach out and take them in his own. “And I get that it must’ve been a struggle for you, to basically go from like one end of a scale and then jump right off the other side. But, I-”
“What are you on about?” Matty interrupted, unable to help himself in truth, so beyond baffled by the sudden speech she’d started. She stopped and blinked over at him, finally looking him in the eye. At last.
“What do you mean?” She retorted with a pinch between her brows, “Listen, I planned this all out, alright? So can I just get out what I want to say?”
Matty stared, then forced out a breath of air. “Squeaks,” She shuttered at the name, closing off slightly, enough so that Matty took quick note and wished he hadn’t said a thing, but yet, he still carried on. Desperate to save any blundered attempt he’d make. “Look, this weren’t on you. None of it was, okay?”
Her eyes trailed back over towards him at that, though her expression was almost unreadable. Matty struggled with that bit the most, he’d always been able to read her for the most part.
“So, this crap about expectations and me struggling with whatever idea you’ve made up in your mind is stupid.” Her eyes narrowed then and he watched her work her jaw, obviously none too happy about his retort. He withheld a heavy sigh, “I’m not- Look, I’m not trying to be difficult I’m just saying that- What I’m trying to say is, that every relationship has goals or expectations, that’s normal. But nothing you ever did forced me do what I did. That shit? It was all on me. It was me being insecure and scared, yeah? So, don’t go trying to excuse it. Because I’ve had people do that for me for far too fucking long now and hearing it come from you...”
He sort of felt himself slump at that, a little bitter and resentful over the fact that she’d since come to think of it that way. As though his mistakes were all just down to her and her inability to do right by him. He realised though, belatedly, that if anyone else had done exactly that, or even attempted to, in any other scenario he just might have taken up the offer and ran with it. But this was her, this was Squeaks.
She was quiet for a time, then she picked up her mug, eyes trained on the movement of it before, “What then?”
“What?” Matty frowned once more, shuffling forward in his seat in an attempt to catch her eye again.
“Why did you do it then? Why’d you lie, why didn’t you tell me about Teddy?”
That knot he’d been feeling for weeks now. The one at the very end of his tongue, all tied and tangled in the back of his throat, suddenly shrivelled up and slackened, leaving a bitter aftertaste and a plethora of guilt behind.
Matty’s gaze wandered over to the window, to where Teddy’s guitar sat in its stand just before a heavy set of grey curtains. He withheld the urge to pick at his nails as he searched for the right words to give her, wanting so honestly to tell her the truth, to give her a play by play of what had happened in detail, as well as every thought that had gone through his mind.
“It wasn’t what it looked like for a start.”
Mouse scoffed a little at that, and Matty couldn’t be mad at it. If he was sat on the other end of this he’d been doing more than just that, he’d be up in arms, tossing shit about and raving to all who would listen.
Still, his eyes trailed down to where his hands now laid in his lap and he pressed his thumb to his palm. “We were on the highstreet, on the way back here.” He started, voice quiet as his stare tracked the faint lines of his hand, “The guy you saw in the pictures came out of nowhere really. Me and Teds had just been at that ice cream shop a way down, I didn’t even spot him until he was there, in my face.”
Matty wet his lower lip, mouth suddenly going dry. Mouse just waited.
“Teddy was quick to hide behind me, you know? The loudmouth didn’t even really notice him until the last minute. But you have to know, all I wanted was to get him out of there. To avoid staying too long and attracting the wrong sort of attention. Okay? So I’d said I had to get going as soon as he'd spoken, told him I didn’t have time to stay and chat.”
He took a quick breath with that, eyes still centred on the deepest groove of his palm. “But then he, then he brought up Luke. Said something about the funeral he didn't go to and wanting to celebrate his life.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Squeaks’s hands still from their previous bout of fidgeting. “But I told him I was clean. He didn’t believe me at first, which,” Matty huffed out a self-deprecating laugh, “Well, I can’t blame him for that, what with my track record.”
He heard her inhale then and looked up, it seemed as though she was going to say something but thought better. So Matty bit down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from asking before he exhaled slowly, digging a nail into that groove.
“He got a bit aggy, started calling me a toff and whatnot, because I 'spose I was just a rich boy who bought him a couple grams of coke every now and then.” He clucked his tongue thinking about it, but eventually shrugged. “Then I don’t know, he must’ve looked down or something ‘cause that’s when he,” Matty paused and his gaze shot over to her, then away again, “That’s when he spotted Teddy.”
Mouse wrinkled her mouth, then tried to nod, obviously wanting him to continue. Though she kept her eyes trained on the rim of her mug.
“That’s when he said some shit and I reacted.”
“Said what?”
Matty startled a little at the sound of her question but was hasty in his attempt to answer. “Just, he reckoned that Teddy was mine and that I had to have knocked someone up. So now they were just using me for the money.”
Her eyes slipped closed and her fingers tightened their grip on her cup.
Swallowing thickly, Matty went to continue, “I shoved him and told him to do one- that’s what they caught in those photos. I didn't take anything he offered, I didn't even look back after. Just walked away, thinking of Teddy, trying to get him out of there. The bloke, he kept on shouting, saying some crap about this and that. But I carried on walking.”
Matty was proud of that fact, even with everything that had happened since. Not too long ago, a different version of him would have handled it all too severely. It was a step, a tiny one, sure, but it was progress.
“Then what?” Mouse voiced, prompting him along with just a look.
“Then we walked home.” Matty replied, feeling that familiar cloud of shame dawn over him. “We didn’t really speak, I- I was a bit of a mess, trying to figure out what to do next, what to tell Teddy, to say to make it right again. But Teds, he,” Matty hauled in his next breath, all too fucking close to bawling, that he could admit. “He called for me and I looked down at him. All I could say was sorry, Mouse.”
She nodded tightly, the knuckles she had wrapped around her tea cup had whitened.
“He,” Matty felt the corners of his mouth lift as he remembered the bittersweet memory of Teddy trying to soothe him, “He told me it was alright, that we were okay, but I just kept on saying sorry. He said that the bloke was just a bad man, and I assured him of that. Wanting him to know that we were okay, that the guy was long gone. But then he-”
Matty stopped altogether then, a picture of Teddy's little face coming to the forefront of his mind, and Squeaks immediately took note.
“Then what?”
Her eyes were so full of emotion, but which ones he wasn’t too sure. Still, the sight tightened every muscle in his chest as he forced himself to finish what he’d started. “He said we couldn’t tell you.”
Matty knew he couldn’t have imagined the sharp inhale that sounded from her then, as though she'd just received a blow to the chest. And he so desperately wanted to reach out, to wrap her up and just fucking hold her. But he couldn't. It wasn't his place.
He watched on as she licked at her top lip though, blinking back the wetness that shone in her eyes, “Why?” Her voice cracked on the question but she did not cry.
It was a simple answer. “He didn’t want to hurt you.”
Mouse stood then, placing the cup down with some force before she hastily made her way over to the front window. Matty stayed seated, unsure if he’d be welcome near her.
“It fucking broke me, Squeaks.” He admitted after a moment, his lips now tingled with the sheer amount of effort it took for him to not let his emotions get the better of him. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“You should have told me.” Was her reply, sharp and cutting, enough that it fucking wounded. Because Matty knew that she was right.
“I know.” He answered.
“You should have fucking told me, Matty!” She repeated, turning then to face him. He saw the tremble of her shoulders, the curve of her mouth and how it quaked. He stared, couldn't bring himself to look away.
“I know.”
He swallowed, throat almost aching as much as the hole that made up the majority of his chest.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
“I don't know.” He murmured, mostly to himself.
#the 1975#fic#matty healy#angst#radio host#reader#x reader#x you#george daniel#ross macdonald#the 1975 band#adam hann#fluff#humour#smut#matty healy fic#matty 1975#matty healy x reader#matty x reader#matty healy x you#ao3#fame#strangers to lovers#mum reader#kid fic#getting together#SLOWBURN#mutual pining#Warnings#aipoban
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The Good, The Bad, and the Undead
Season 1: Episode 3
Context: The truth is out. You have to leave your humble abode behind. You run into a figure of your past, who was thought to be long dead.
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"FERNANDO" You call out as you walk towards the man who has just arrived on his motorcycle, "We need to talk."
He all but grunts, he knows this conversation is inevitable, it must happen. After all, Fernando knows that you deserve to know the truth, he knows that even though you're young, you are smart and capable.
"Alright, can't keep you in the dark forever. Vayamos adentro (Let's go inside)." Fernando says.
Carlos and Charles are also called inside, as their sparring lesson comes to an end. You are all seated on the dining table, a thick air of tension is in the atmosphere, just waiting to be cut by someone. Fernando takes that step and begins,
"I have been telling you all the half truth." He pauses then continues, "Every time I go out, there have been more and more of these monsters, around our perimeter. We may need to leave soon or we'll be overrun."
You did have a rising suspicion that this may be the case but hearing it, you felt your stomach drop and disappointment seep in. You finally thought you wouldn't have to move anymore, finally a place you could call home. Should've known that in this world, home is nothing but a distant dream, you thought to yourself.
"Carlos, llévalos y sal a hacer compras, yo empacaré todas las municiones y cosas necesarias para el camino y será mejor que nos pongamos en marcha pronto (Carlos, take them and go out for a grocery run, i'll pack all ammo and stuff needed for the road and we better get moving soon)." Fernando instructs Carlos as you sit still thinking, mentally preparing yourself for the exhaustion that is to come in these days of travelling, reminiscing the horrifying memories of when you were on your own, fighting to survive and barely making it, if the two spanish men hadn't found you.
A tap on your arm gets you back to reality, it's Charles. He seems to notice your mood and the anxious look on your face. While Carlos goes to prepare the car and Fernando gone to pack all essentials for the road, you two are the only ones left at the table.
"You okay?" Charles asks you tentatively.
"I..." You are at a loss for words. You honestly don't know if you are okay. "I am just so tired Charles. I was by myself for quite some time moving from place to place in some hope of finding someone alive. I would have died if they had not found me."
"Listening to you, I can't help think of what my little brother is going through. Hell I don't even know if he's alive, I just want to find him." Charles says wearily, putting his head in his hands.
You put your hand on his back soothingly and envelope him in a hug, in hopes of comforting him. Before you can say something, you're interrupted by Carlos, "Get ready. We have to leave so-" He pauses a moment analysing the position you and Charles are in,"Am I interrupting something?" He says through gritted teeth in hopes of hiding his burning jealousy.
You guys part and get up from your chairs. "I'll get my sword." You say as you leave the two men alone, with tension brewing in the air to which you are oblivious to. As you take your katana and come downstairs to see the two men still waiting.
The car is so silent and you can definitely sense the tension between the two men now.
"Soooo..." You begin but you're not sure of what to say.
"So?" They both say at the same time.
"Do you reckon we'll run into someone alive on the road?" You ask.
Carlos speaks up first, "It would be unlikely, if people are alive they would likely be hiding. I mean no one would be stupid enough to be roaming around."
You and Charles silently agree to his words. They're likely dead or zombies, you both think dejectedly to yourselves.
As you arrive to the desolate gas station, while Carlos is keeping watch and filling up gas in the car, you and Charles go inside to scavenge for food items.
When you're done, you suddenly hear a some commotion outside. You guys carefully go outside to find Carlos with a gun pointed towards him, the man, with shoulder length blond hair who is pointing the gun, has his back faced to you. You indicate to Charles to pull out his gun but stay hidden as you quickly pull out your katana, tread lightly towards the man and place the sharp blade right in front of neck, lightly nicking the man's throat.
"If you even attempt to move, I will slice your throat." You threaten the man.
He seems to be muttering something in german and you get a strong sense of familiarity from this man.
You feel as though you know him but how?
"Schatz is that you?" The man says.
Your eyes widen, there's only one man who calls you that, a man you thought was long dead.
"Seb?" That's all you can say as you drop your sword on the ground.
The man, Seb, turns around and you quickly envelop him in a hug. He reciprocates the action. You start to break down and soak his blue shirt with your tears. While Charles comes out of his hiding place, he and Carlos both are staring at you and this Seb.
Who is this man and what is his relation with you?
Taglist: @thefuckwasmyname @sam-f1 @authentiqsunsets @fefa-la-printcessa @ameliashideout @neilakk
#f1#f1 x reader#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz#carlos sainz jr#f1 imagine#formula 1#carlos sainz imagine#formula one#charles leclerc drabble#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc au#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fic#carlos sainz one shot#carlos sainz jr one shot#carlos sainz jr imagines#carlos sainz jr imagine#carlos sainz jr fanfic#carlos sainz x female reader#carlos sainz jr x reader#fernando alonso x reader#fernando alonso x you#f1 apocalypse series#sebastian vettel x reader#formula one x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic
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Crimson Frost {Part Four}
18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}
Part Four
Your reunion with Nikaus and Elijah doesn't go as planned and betrayals are revealed. Threatening the peace and safety you fought so hard for.
♡♡ Thank you for your patience with this one! there will be a final part (five) I have it finished, just have to edit it some more xoxo~ ♡♡
5.5k words - Warnings: Viking AU where the Mikaelsons are completely human (no magic, werewolves, vampires... etc) lots of violence, injury, illness?, betrayal and setting up some juicy juicy dramaaa...
{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Three}
The sight of you, holding your sister, safe and alive, was a gift from the Gods, a blessing that made Niklaus nearly shed a tear.
There you were, battered and bruised but living. Telling him that his brothers were possibly still alive, Elijah, his closest friend, and Henrik, his baby brother, the one who looked up to him, saw him as a true warrior, a leader, a hero.
"I won't leave without Elijah," you had said, your eyes fierce, determined.
He admired you so much, your strength, your courage. You had changed in ways he couldn't quite decipher, but you were still the girl he had grown up with, the one who had held his hand when he was scared, who had kissed his bruises and scraped knees. The one he wanted to make his wife.
He watched you run to safety, holding your sister close, and he paused for just a brief moment to imagine the future you would have together, a world free from danger, where you could raise your children, surrounded by his family, putting the past behind you.
Then he ran in the opposite direction towards the docks, the green and blue of his shield and tunic, standing out amongst the black and red of the Blackthorne's. He had to find Elijah and Henrik, had to finish the job, and get all of you out of this wretched place.
When he caught sight of his brother he felt such relief, he couldn't believe he had found him alive. Elijah was a bloody mess, his tunic torn and shredded, his skin covered in bruises and cuts. He had seen him fight before, had sparred with him plenty, but he had never seen him like this; he was a true warrior, a killer, his skill and determination making him a force to be reckoned with.
Niklaus ran forward, his axe held high, and brought it down on a slaver's arm, severing it. The man screamed, the sound deafening, his face a mask of pain.
"Elijah, let's go!" Niklaus shouted, grabbing his brother by the arm.
Before they could even move, a slaver's sword landed into Niklaus' leg, cutting through the leather armour, making him stumble. He managed to keep his footing, grabbing the slaver's face and breaking his skull against a pole, instantly killing him.
Another jumped onto Elijah's back, but Elijah grabbed him by the hair, throwing him into a stack of crates, the wood breaking and splintering under the weight of the slaver's body.
Niklaus cursed under his breath, his body tensing as he saw another attacker rushing towards them, his blade raised. He swung his axe, the blade connecting with the man's chest, blood spraying from the wound. The man stumbled backwards, his eyes wide, his expression one of shock.
They fought back to back, the battle raging around them, the sound of weapons clashing, the shouts of the blackthorne warriors, the smell of blood and death filling the air. It was clear to both of them that they were outnumbered, that they needed to run, that fighting was pointless, but they were surrounded.
"We have to go," Elijah shouted, "now!"
"I'm not leaving without Henrik," Niklaus shouted back, his expression one of defiance, of determination.
"We can't find him if we are dead," Elijah countered, his eyes scanning the crowd, looking for a way out.
They were outnumbered, the odds against them, but Niklaus wasn't about to give up. He was a Mikaelson, he had fought, had killed, had bled for this village, for his family. He would gladly go to Valhalla beside his beloved brother, he had already made his peace with the Gods, had already accepted his fate.
He allowed himself to grieve you once again, the first time allowed him to lay with Tatia, this time it was knowing you would be safe. It made him feel hollow, empty, but it also gave him a sense of purpose, a reason to keep going, to fight.
He grieved the same for Elijah, always doing what he thought his elder brother would do. But with Henrik, he couldn't pretend, couldn't hide behind his duty, it was his baby brother, and if he was lost, he didn't know how he would live with himself.
Elijah turned to look at him, his gaze filled with pain, the anguish and sorrow etched onto his face. Niklaus knew he felt the same way, he would carry the guilt of not saving him forever, and he would make sure to avenge his death, no matter the cost.
"What's done is done," Niklaus said, his voice firm, his grip tightening on his axe, he tried not to let his hands shake, to let his emotions get the better of him. He pushed the images of sweet Henrik, his eyes filled with wonder, his laughter infectious, out of his mind, trying to focus on the present.
"We have to move, Niklaus," Elijah said, his tone sharp.
They turned and ran, losing the pursuing slavers in the main market. They both slowed, pulling their hoods up, keeping their heads down, trying to blend in with the crowd. They weaved their way through the throng of people, dodging and ducking, moving as quickly as possible.
"I saw my sweet y/n with Gerda, thank you for saving them," Niklaus said in a hushed tone.
Elijah nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd, "What of Rebekah and Kol? Where are they?"
"In a village about a ways north from here," he said, keeping his voice low. "They are safe and well, although Kol remains a pain in the ass."
Elijah let out a relieved sigh, a smile forming on his lips. "Good, good,"
Screams and shouts echoing through the market, their pursuers were gaining on them, they could feel it.
"Do you have a plan?" Elijah asked, his voice filled with urgency.
"We split up, lose them, meet back at the forest," Niklaus said, his tone brokering no argument.
Elijah nodded, they were outnumbered, this was their only chance, and they both knew it.
"I'll see you there," Niklaus said, pausing for a moment to look at his brother, taking in his face, committing it to memory.
Then they both embraced, their arms tightening around each other, their shoulders shaking, their emotions overwhelming them. Niklaus hadn't realised how much he needed his big brother, how Elijah made him feel safe, grounded, strong.
They pressed their foreheads together, not needing to say anything, just pausing for just a moment, and then without another word, they went their separate ways.
Niklaus made his way towards the stables, his pace quick, his movements fluid. He found a horse tucked in a quiet corner and he was about to mount it when he heard a scream.
Your scream.
He ran towards the sound, pushing people blindly, not caring if the slavers were following him, not caring about anything but getting to you, saving you.
When he found you, you were standing over Elijah, who looked to be passed out on the ground, your axe raised, your face a mask of fury, your body tense and ready to fight.
You were beautiful, fierce, a true warrior, a Valkyrie come to life.
You swung and landed a fatal blow to a blackthorne's head, his body hitting the ground with a thud.
Niklaus couldn't believe his eyes, he couldn't believe that you had killed a man, that you had fought so hard to save Elijah. You were covered in blood and he didn't know if it was yours or not, his stomach turned, his body moving before he even knew what was happening.
He charged at the remaining attackers, his axe swinging wildly, his fury and rage driving him forward.
When he dispatched the final one, he turned to see you on your knees next to Elijah, your hands holding his, tears streaming down your face.
"Nik, help me," you cried, your voice raw, "we need to get him out of heret,"
Niklaus knelt beside you, his eyes roaming over his brother, checking for injuries. There was a deep gash across his chest, blood seeping from the wound. He pulled a dagger from his belt and cut a piece of cloth from his tunic. He placed it on the wound and pressed down, the pressure causing Elijah to groan.
"He saved me," You said in a quiet voice, "again,"
"You should not have come back," Niklaus growled, his eyes flashing.
"I couldn't leave him," you said, your voice barely a whisper, "I couldn't leave either of you,"
"He is strong," Niklaus said, his voice barely above a whisper, "he will make it,"
You nodded, your gaze turning to the sky, your eyes taking in the setting sun, the colours painting the sky.
"We should get going," you said, getting to your feet, "before more men come,"
Niklaus helped his brother stand, putting his arm around his shoulder, supporting his weight.
"Henrik is with Gerda in the forest," You said, taking Elijah's other side, "let's get the hell out of here,"
"Let's get him on a horse," Niklaus said, his tone urgent, "we can ride double,"
Elijah shook his head, his expression filled with pain, his face pale. "Leave me,"
"No," both you and Niklaus said in unison, your voices hard.
You helped him onto a horse, getting up behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist.
"Go," you cried, "now!"
Niklaus mounted his own steed, his face tense, his jaw clenched. The three of you raced towards the forest, the horses' hooves pounding the ground, the wind rushing past.
As you entered the woods, you could feel the change in the atmosphere, you felt relief, a sense of safety as the canopy of trees became thicker, blocking out the last rays of the setting sun.
Elijah's head drooped, his body leaning against yours. You would not let him die, not here, not after everything you'd been through.
The sky was a brilliant orange, the leaves of the trees tinted red. You gazed into the dark trees of the forest, looking for any sign of Henrik and Gerda.
Your eyes searched for them, and then you saw a glimpse of movement, and heard a snapping of twigs. You caught your breath, hope flaring in your chest. Then you saw him, Henrik, the bravest little warrior. He was holding a stick he had whittled, his eyes wide, his body shaking.
Niklaus immediately dismounted his horse, running to Henrik.
"You're alive!" Henrik exclaimed, his voice filled with relief, immediately dropping the weapon.
"So are you," Niklaus said, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
Niklaus picked him up, squeezing Henrik so tight it hurt, the two of them laughing and crying at the same time. Henrik had his arms wrapped around his neck, his legs dangling in the air.
"I got him," he whispered, his voice shaky. "The one who killed Finn,"
Niklaus looked at you in surprise and you nodded, Henrik beamed with pride, a wide smile on his face.
"Einar Blackthorne was no match for a Mikaelson," you said, your tone soft, gentle.
Niklaus smiled at that, his eyes crinkling.
Gerda, Henrik and Niklaus quickly made camp, setting up a small fire and putting together a makeshift bed for Elijah.
Niklaus watched you tend to Elijah's wounds, the way you carefully cleaned the gashes and cuts, your fingers gently brushing against his skin. He felt a pang of jealousy, a feeling he was unfamiliar with. You had never been particularly close to Elijah, but there was a tenderness in your touch, an intimacy he didn't like.
He noticed the way Elijah's eyes met yours, the way his lips curved into a smile, and it made him angry. But he told himself that you had been through a lot with him, that perhaps it was nothing, just the stress of the situation.
All of you sat around the fire, telling stories of your time apart, catching up on everything you had missed. What Henrik and Gerda had gone through was difficult for all of you to hear, and there was an undercurrent of pain and sorrow that hung over the group.
Niklaus shared the darling tale of how he, Rebekah and Kol escaped the raid. How Kol saved Rebekah and how she did the same for him.
You told them about what you and Elijah had endured, the aftermath of the raid, the storm, the cabin. Leaving out the part about the hot springs, now was not the time to tell Niklaus about what had happened between you and Elijah, it could wait until you were safe in the village.
As the night wore on, Henrik and Gerda curled up close to each other, their hands clasped, their eyes heavy with exhaustion.
You, Niklaus, and Elijah sat in silence, the tension palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. Niklaus was eyeing the two of you suspiciously, his brow furrowed, his gaze intense. He had no right to feel such things, not when he had bedded Tatia. And yet, he did, a deep, gnawing ache in his chest.
"I'm going to get some rest," he said, standing up abruptly, "will you join me?" He asked you, his voice tight, demanding.
You glanced down at Elijah, his eyes closed, his breathing steady.
"I should stay with him," you said softly, "I want to make sure he is okay,"
Niklaus frowned and his fists clenched.
"Very well," he replied, his tone cold, distant, "I'll see you in the morning,"
He walked away from the camp, his body tense, his mind racing. He felt like he was losing you, and it made him feel angry, frustrated, helpless. Perhaps this was his punishment for betraying you, for not being there when you needed him the most.
Niklaus woke as the sun rose, his head pounding and his joints aching. He rubbed his eyes, blinking the sleep from them, his gaze falling upon Elijah. He was drenched in sweat, fighting off a fever, his skin pale, his lips cracked. Niklaus grabbed his flask and held it to Elijah's lips, the water trickling down his chin.
He placed a hand on his forehead, the heat radiating off him, a sheen of sweat covering his body. His pulse was rapid, his breathing shallow, and his eyes were moving rapidly beneath his eyelids. Even though Niklaus hated seeing him in this state, he was improving, his fever lessening with each passing hour.
You had not left Elijah's side in days, cleaning his wounds and administering herbs and salves, anything to help fight the infection. Your hands had been tireless, working until the early hours of the morning, tending to him. Niklaus looked around for you, and when he couldn't find you, his chest tightened, a fear gripping him.
"y/n?" He called out, his voice hoarse, his tone anxious.
"She's in the woods," Henrik said, his voice quiet, he was whittling at a stick, preparing to hunt some small game for breakfast. Gerda was sleeping next to him, her hand resting on his leg.
"Where is she?" He asked, his tone sharp, impatient.
"She just got up suddenly and ran off," Henrik replied, shrugging his shoulders, his expression neutral.
Niklaus stood and walked into the forest, his eyes scanning the area, his ears straining for any sound. He heard terrible retching coming from behind a tree, his feet carrying him towards the noise.
You were hunched over, your body wracked with tremors, the sound of your stomach emptying echoing through the trees. Niklaus knelt beside you, placing a hand on your back, the other holding your hair back.
"What's wrong?" He asked, his voice laced with concern.
You straightened up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes watering.
"I'm fine," you said, your voice shaky, "I just... I couldn't sleep,"
Niklaus stepped closer, his eyes taking in the sight of you, your face pale, your body trembling.
"You don't look well," he said, his tone worried, "did you eat something that didn't agree?"
"No, I..." you trailed off, your mind racing. "It's nothing," you said, a weak smile on your lips.
He placed a hand on your forehead, you weren't overly warm, and he didn't know if that was good or bad.
"We should get you back to the camp," he said, his tone firm.
"I need more herbs," you said, trying to push him away, "for the salve, for Elijah's wounds,"
"We have enough," he said, his voice stern, "and you need to rest,"
"I'm fine," You snapped, pushing his hand away, your expression hard, "I can take care of myself,"
Niklaus was taken aback by your reaction, by the venom in your voice. He reached out and took your hand in his, his touch gentle, his eyes filled with concern.
"He will be okay, his fever is breaking, and his wounds are healing," Niklaus said, his tone calm, steady. "We will be able to travel soon,"
"I know," you replied, your voice barely a whisper, your eyes downcast. "It's just, I'm worried, and tired,"
"We all are, but the gods will not be so cruel as to take my big brother," Niklaus said, his voice soft, reassuring.
You let out a sigh, your shoulders sagging, a tired smile forming on your lips. The two of you headed back to the camp, the smell of food filling the air, Henrik and Gerda cooking some kind of stew.
You sat down next to Elijah, pushing his damp hair away from his face, checking his temperature. He was still too warm,his skin covered in a sheen of sweat, but Niklaus was right, he was improving.
"You'll be fine," you whispered, your voice cracking, your chest tightening, "just hold on a little longer,"
Henrik and Gerda handed you a bowl of stew, you ate very little, your stomach still upset. You needed to eat, you needed your strength, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it.
You helped Elijah sit up, leaning him against a tree, feeding him the broth, trying to get him to take as much as he could. He ate slowly, his eyes dull, his face blank.
"We have to keep him hydrated," you said, your voice firm, your eyes meeting Niklaus'. "He's lost a lot of blood,"
Niklaus nodded, his gaze drifting towards Elijah, his expression dark. "I know a healer who can help him, in the village we need to get to,"
"What's her name?" You asked, your voice low, your tone soft, still looking at Elijah.
"Tatia," Niklaus replied, his voice quiet, his tone grim, his jaw clenched.
You nodded, not pressing further, a feeling of dread forming in the pit of your stomach. Everything was going to change when they arrived back in the village, and not for the better.
The journey home had been arduous, the days long and tiresome. You had done your best to avoid Niklaus, choosing to ride alongside Henrik and Gerda. Elijah was healthy enough to ride, but not on his own, so you and Niklaus took turns supporting him.
You tried not to think about your little problem, the thing growing inside of you, but it was difficult. Your thoughts would stray, wondering how things would change once Niklaus knew. What would happen to you?
As the village came into view, relief washed over you, the weight of the last few months lifting. Niklaus had told you this place was safe, a haven for those seeking refuge, and you were grateful.
You followed him into the village, the people going about their business, the hustle and bustle reminding you of home.
An older man greeted you, his name was Ansel, he shook Niklaus hand, his face splitting into a grin.
"Niklaus!" Ansel exclaimed, his voice booming, his tone jovial, "welcome home,"
"Thank you, Ansel," Niklaus replied, his own smile matching the older man's, "this is y/n, my betrothed,"
"Y/n," Ansel replied, his gaze drifting towards you, his eyes lighting up, "what a beauty, congratulations,"
"Thank you," you replied, smiling at the older man, "it's nice to meet you,"
"Let's get you all settled in," Ansel said, gesturing for the group to follow him, "you must be tired after your journey,"
Before you could take another step you were lifted off the ground by a pair of strong arms, a familiar voice shouting with excitement.
"Kol!" You exclaimed, hugging him back, a wave of happiness washing over you.
"We missed you," he replied, placing you back on the ground, his hands still on your shoulders, his gaze searching yours, "we were all so worried,"
Rebekah practically shoved Kol out of the way, her arms wrapping around you, the two of you embracing tightly.
"You're safe," she said, her voice choked, tears falling freely, "I'm so glad,"
"Me too," you replied, holding her close, the two of you not letting go
“I'm so glad you're home," she said softly, pulling away from you to hug her siblings.
"So am I," you replied, watching the siblings reunite, a genuine smile on your lips.
Kol and Niklaus led the way to the healer's hut, the two of you following behind, Elijah resting between them.
Tatia was outside, tending to her plants, she glanced up, her eyes meeting Niklaus', a flicker of emotion passing over her face. She was beautiful, her features delicate, her long, dark hair was loose, flowing down her back.
"Niklaus," she said, her voice soft, melodic, "you're back,"
"Tatia," His voice went soft, his gaze intense, "I've missed you,"
"And I you," she replied, her eyes roaming his body, taking him in, her lips curving into a smile.
You looked between the two of them and could see the chemistry, the heat, the electricity. You thought that you should perhaps feel jealousy, but there was none. The two of them looked good together, the perfect pair, and you felt happy for him.
Tatia turned her attention towards Elijah, her face becoming serious.
"Bring him inside," she said, her tone clinical, her expression neutral.
She helped lay him down, her fingers examining the cuts and gashes, her lips pursed.
"He's lost a lot of blood," she said, her voice quiet, her eyes meeting Niklaus, "but he will recover, with time and rest,"
You let out a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding, the relief flooding through you. You felt lightheaded and your vision started to swim, the ground coming up to meet you. Niklaus caught you, his arm wrapping around your waist, his body steadying yours. He led you to a nearby chair and kneeled before you, his eyes full of concern.
"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice low, his hands resting on your legs, his touch comforting.
"Yes," you replied, a weak smile forming on your lips, "I'm fine, just tired,"
Tatia handed you a cup of water, you drank deeply, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.
"Thank you," you said, your voice hoarse, your eyes meeting hers.
"Of course," she replied, her tone warm, she turned to look at Niklaus, giving him a gentle smile, "you've all been through a lot, you need rest,"
"Come 'Nik, they are having a feast tonight, in our honour," Kol said, his tone light, his gaze falling on Rebekah, "they want to celebrate the return of their brave warriors,"
"That's very generous," Niklaus replied, his eyes never leaving Tatia, "but I think I'll stay here,"
"Nonsense!" Rebekah exclaimed, her eyes shining, "Elijah will be fine, and y/n needs to rest,"
"I'd really rather just-" Niklaus began, but you cut him off.
"Niklaus," you said softly, your eyes meeting his, "Go and enjoy the festivities,"
He hesitated for a moment, his gaze moving between you and Tatia, conflict etched across his face.
"Very well," he replied, standing up and kissing your cheek, his eyes softening, "I'll check on you later,"
You watched him and the rest of the Mikaelson family leave the hut, with only you, Tatia and Elijah remaining. Tatia stood over Elijah, her fingers working to clean and bandage his wounds, her gaze focused, her expression serious.
"Thank you," you said, your voice barely a whisper, your gaze meeting hers, "for taking care of him,"
"It's my duty," she replied, her tone matter-of-fact, her eyes never leaving Elijah, "the people in this village rely on me, they trust me to take care of them,"
"I understand," you said, nodding, a small smile forming on your lips, "It's not an easy job,"
"No, it isn't," she said, her gaze moving towards you, a look of understanding passing between the two of you, "but it's a job that someone has to do,"
"But one must not neglect oneself when caring for others," Tatia continued, a smile spreading across her face, "we cannot be our best if we are not our healthiest,"
You watched her heat some water over a fire, adding some herbs, stirring the concoction, the smell of it filling the hut.
"Here, drink this, it will help with the fatigue," she said, handing you a cup of the herbal tea, "are you hurt anywhere?"
"No," you replied, taking a sip, the warm liquid soothing your aching muscles, "I'm fine, just a couple scrapes and bruises,"
Tatia nodded and knelt down and pressed her hand into your stomach, feeling around.
"Does this hurt?" She asked, pressing harder, her eyes meeting yours.
"No," you replied, confused, your brow furrowed, "should it?"
"When was the last time you bled?" She asked, her voice low, her expression neutral.
"About two months ago," you said softly, you already knew what she was going to say, but you didn't want her to ask, that would make it real.
"Have you experienced any mood swings, nausea, fatigue?" She asked, her tone matter-of-fact, her expression serious, "Any tenderness here?"
She pressed into your lower abdomen, her fingers feeling around, the look on her face one of concern. "Is there a possibility that you may be with child? Have you been with a man?"
"Yes," you whispered, so quietly, your throat suddenly dry, you instinctively looked to Elijah and Tatia followed your gaze.
"The father is not Niklaus, is it?" She asked, her tone gentle, her expression sympathetic.
"How do you know?" You asked, surprised, a look of shock on your face.
"It's my job to know," she replied, a small smile forming on her lips, "and to help those in need,"
"Can you... can you get rid of it?" You asked, your tone tentative, uncertain, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach.
"Is that what you want?" She asked, her voice soft, her gaze searching yours.
"Yes... No... I don't know," you replied, tears welling up in your eyes, the emotions flooding through you.
Tatia didn't say anything more, just squeezed your hand, the two of you sitting in silence, her presence comforting.
Elijah stirred a bit on the cot, his eyes opened and he sat up slowly, wincing as he did so.
"You're awake," Tatia said, her tone calm, reassuring, "how are you feeling?"
"Like I've been trampled by a herd of wild horses," he replied, his voice raspy, his gaze drifting towards you, "how are you? And the others?"
"They're fine," you replied, the smile on your face faltering a bit, "we're all okay,"
Elijah looked relieved, accepting the tea that Tatia had brewed for him, sipping it slowly.
"I'm grateful," he said, his eyes meeting Tatia's, "thank you,"
"It was my pleasure," she replied, her tone genuine, "but you need to rest, both of you,"
She ushered the two of you to another part of the hut, the beds soft and welcoming. You climbed on to the cot, exhaustion washing over you, the stress of the last few months catching up with you. Elijah settled down on his own cot next to yours, grunting a bit, his wounds still sore.
"How long has it been since the raid?" He asked, his voice quiet, his eyes meeting yours.
"A little more than three months," you replied, your tone grim, the events of the past few months flooding back to you, "It feels like a lifetime,"
"I can't believe it's been that long," Elijah said, his eyes filled with sadness, "so much has changed,"
You didn't respond, not sure what to say, the truth hanging heavy between the two of you.
"Come here," He said, his voice barely a whisper, his gaze soft, inviting.
You did as he asked, climbing into the bed next to him, his arms wrapping around you. The two of you held each other, your bodies pressed together, the warmth of his skin against yours, comforting.
You wanted to tell him that you were carrying his child, the words on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak, the fear gripping your heart. He was still so weak, so vulnerable, and you knew he would immediately tell Niklaus, and you couldn't risk that, not yet. Niklaus never took betrayal well.
"We did it," Elijah said, his breath ghosting across your ear, his lips brushing against the side of your head, "we made it back home,"
You smiled and closed your eyes and let sleep consume you. You were safe, at least for now.
Niklaus weaved his way through the crowded longhouse, the celebration in full swing, his eyes scanning the faces, looking for his younger brother. He found Kol in the middle of the room, a group of young women gathered around him, their laughter filling the air.
"Kol," Niklaus said, wrapping his arm around his brother, admiring the group, "who are these lovely maidens?"
"Nik," Kol replied, a wide smile on his face, his eyes roaming the young women with the same hunger as his brother, "let me introduce you to everyone, this is Elsie, Ingrid, and Helene,"
"Pleased to meet you ladies," Niklaus said, his eyes twinkling, he took a long swig of his ale, his third or fourth mug of the evening, the alcohol buzzing through his system. He didn't realise how badly he needed to let loose until that moment, the stress of the past few months fading away.
"Kol has been telling us stories of the raids," Ingrid said, her tone breathless, her gaze focused on the handsome Mikaelson, "it sounds like you had quite an adventure,"
"My brother is a hero, he saved our sister with great bravery," Niklaus replied, his tone playful, his eyes dancing, "and the bards will sing songs of his valour for generations to come,"
"He's very brave," Helene chimed in, her cheeks flushing, her eyes never leaving Kol's, "I think we should reward him, don't you agree Elsie?"
"Yes," Elsie replied, her eyes bright, a mischievous grin forming on her lips, "he does deserve a prize, for being such a great warrior,"
The three women took Kol by the hand, leading him off to dance, their movements fluid, sensual. Niklaus watched them, a smile playing on his lips, he had missed this, the easy banter, the flirtation, the revelry.
He turned to see the most beautiful woman he ever laid eyes on approach him, a fresh mug of ale in her hands.
"Tatia," He said breathlessly, his eyes roaming her form, taking her in, "you are a sight for sore eyes,"
"Niklaus," she replied, her lips curving into a smile, her voice melodic, "are you enjoying the festivities?"
"Very much," he said, his eyes never leaving hers, the familiarity between them evident, "but it's not the same without you,"
"Is that so?" she said, her tone light, a flirtatious grin forming on her lips, her gaze meeting his. He could see her expression falter, a storm of conflict and pain lingering behind her eyes.
"I suppose you will be married soon, the village will be so happy, it's been so long since we had a wedding," Tatia said, her tone tinged with sadness, her eyes looking anywhere but his.
"I will," Niklaus replied, his voice low, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin, "I'm sorry, I thought my y/n was gone, I would have not laid with you if I'd known,"
"It's fine, really," she replied, a small smile forming on her lips, "we had a wonderful night together, and I will always treasure it,"
"So will I," Niklaus replied, his gaze intense, his emotions conflicting, "will you dance with me?"
"Of course," she said, taking his hand, letting him lead her to where the others were dancing, her body pressing against his, the two of them moving in sync, lost in the music, swaying to the beat of the drums.
"I have some news, but I'm afraid the gods will be angry with me if I tell you," Tatia whispered, her breath hot against his ear, her eyes searching his.
"The gods are forgiving," Niklaus replied, his voice soft, his eyes searching hers, wondering what she had to say.
"If one betrays to reveal a betrayal, do you think the gods will forgive?" Tatia asked, her tone tentative, conflict etched in her expression.
"You speak in riddles, Tatia," Niklaus said with a laugh, his hands cupping her face, "please,just tell me what worries you so,"
"Your y/n," Tatia said, her tone quiet, her voice shaky,
"She is with child."
{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Three}
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semblance of touch - part three
prologue - part one - part two
pairing - bakugou x gn!reader
warnings - cursing, training fights, descriptions of pain (but not injury), mild angst, mild arguments (title from sedated by Hozier), this one's a long one guys!
The days after the conference had proven quite boring for the both of you. Since you had been hit by the quirk, you and Bakugou had been understandably banned from patrol. Effects from the girl’s quirk had proved too much of a liability to allow you two to risk your lives or health on the field.
Stagnation wasn’t something Bakugou enjoyed.
Something you could tell, because the man had been non-stop bitching for the past 24 hours. If he talked in his sleep, you were sure he would be complaining then too. He had exhausted all of his hobbies apparently (even though said hobbies consisted of gym work, studying and cooking - and that was being generous), and had resorted to sitting on the couch, watching your classmates go by. Not only that, he had been embellishing his people watching with foul mouthed commentary.
You watched as his red eyes danced over where Midoriya and Ochaco were snuggled up on the loveseat opposite you two. You were sure, if you squinted, you would probably be able to see the cartoon steam bursting from his ears.
“Fucking Deku and his fucking girlfriend, do they have to do that shit in public?” he grumbled, bitterly.
You rolled your eyes.
“They’re not in public, they literally live here”
“Still, get a fucking room”
You sighed, lifting yourself off of the couch. As much as the couple were slightly heavy handed on the PDA, you recognised that Katsuki was experiencing a weird off-brand cabin fever. And, to be honest, his complaining was pissing you off.
“C’mon shithead, you need to get out of the dorms”
You punctuated your instruction by running your fingers through his blonde locks and giving them a brisk tug. Bakugou sucked in a breath, one which you attributed to him trying to keep his anger under control.
“Kirishima!” you called for the redhead across the common room, “wanna come spar with us?”
The redhead in question immediately perked up at your suggestion. Patrols had been slow for everyone the past couple of weeks, ever since things with all for one had settled down it had mainly been low level criminals. Such criminals had proved consistently easy to deal with. Unfortunately, this also meant that it was not only Bakugou who had begun to develop that itch under his skin of wanting to do something more.
Sero poked his head round the corner.
“Uh, you mind if I tag along?” he questioned, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
Bakugou growled. A swift elbow to the ribs from you cut off his emerging protests before they had the chance to bubble over. The amount of time you had spent together had caused you to develop an effective balm to his sharp tongue, even for others.
“Absolutely, we would love that” you smiled at the two boys in front of you.
Sero cast an amused glance over to Kirishima, the both of them shared a small smile and nodded back to where you and Bakugou were standing.
“Right, we need to get ready so move it or lose it, asshole” you sang and pulled your roommate along by his collar.
—
The training room was a welcome sight when you entered. Due to the nature of your incident, you and Bakugou had been without training for the past couple of days. The two of you rarely trained with one another, and hadn’t for the past three years of your schooling. Now that you were adults, and almost done with your education all together, you still had yet to be in a one-on-one sparring session with the loud blonde.
Obviously, this wasn’t something you had taken much issue with, having seen the way he treats others during training. Unlike Kirishima, you didn’t have the non-metaphorical thick skin to be able to deal with those blows. There was no doubt that Katsuki was a force to be reckoned with in every aspect of his life. If you had to deal with the personal side of it because of your unfortunate situation, the training side can keep to itself as far as you were aware.
The flow of aircon in the gym caused your loose tee to flutter around your torso as you stepped into the room. All four of you had elected for casual gym clothes rather than the more formal training uniform. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but let your gaze travel over your three companions. Sero, despite his deceptively lanky appearance, had elected for classic black gym shorts and a tank with obnoxiously wide arm holes - showing off not only his defined arms, but the lithe muscles of his torso too. Kirishima’s tight black training tee stretched over his defined arms and chest in a way that had you reminiscing of many conversations during girls night. He paired this with loose fitting red sweats that cupped his strong thighs nicely. Both of the men were impressive, and if they weren’t such good friends of yours, there’s no doubt you may have ogled longer.
In Katsuki’s case, ogling couldn’t be helped. He had managed to wear more clothing than the other two combined, and yet show far more off. The neck of his tank was stretched obscenely wide, showing off the peaks of his collar bones and muscled chest. Muscle wraps were smoothed over his forearms, providing the stability his gauntlets would have usually provided if it was any other training session, and bright orange KT tape tangled around the muscles in his upper arms. The shorts he had on were almost sinfully short, the orange piping up the side of them shifted like silk over his wide thighs whenever he took a step. Under the shorts were a pair of compression leggings so tight they looked almost painted on. The leggings had teasing mesh cutouts on his lower thighs and in triangles up from his ankles - displaying heavily muscled calves. The tank bunched up at the waist of his shorts, which only proved to further accentuate his tapered waist that was so often on show in his hero suit.
You gulped dryly.
What was it that Mina had said last time you were watching the boys spar? Sluttiest thing a man can do is have a tiny little waist. Your brain helpfully supplied the quote, causing the skin of your cheeks to flush warmly.
“Oy, why did you stop?” a gruff voice questioned.
“Oh uh sorry” you excused yourself, traipsing through the open gym door, “just thinking that’s all”
You didn’t miss the arched eyebrow you earned from Sero as you walked into the gym, he had obviously caught her staring. Their redheaded companion snickered slightly through a poorly hidden smile and you threw a dirty look his way - only furthering the man’s giggles.
“What are you two chucklefucks laughing at?”
You froze up, spinning on your heel to pat at your companions' clothed chest.
“Nothing for you to worry about blondie, let’s get to training” you hurried.
After an annoyed tut, it seemed you had convinced him good enough for you four to get on with what you actually went to the gym to do. As always, Kirishima and Bakugou paired up with each other for sparring which left you and your raven-haired friend to partner up with each other.
“They’re so well matched i’m almost jealous” Sero mused at you, both of you observing your friends immediate start into training.
“He’ll never say it outloud, but Bakugou really does love training with him” you whispered back.
Sero snorted.
“Emotional walls are up so high he can’t even tell his bro he’s a good sparring partner”
“He can’t even tell Sato he likes his baking dude, just grunts like a caveman”
Sero chuckled from his stretching position, peering up at you with humorous dark eyes.
“He’s nice to you though”
You double took, avoiding eye contact with the man next to you. Instead, you focused on your calf stretches and tried to still your beating heart. That didn’t seem at all true in your mind. Bakugou had never particularly been nice to you. Of course, he didn’t treat you like complete shit, you were definitely higher up on his mental nice list than Todoroki and Midoriya, despite how far they had all come in terms of friendship.
“I wouldn’t say that” you muttered, “if anything these last couple of days have proved it”
“Oh really? We all saw the press conference”
You cringed at the reminder of the blunder.
“He doesn’t talk about everyone like that”
“Please, he was pissed cause that woman insulted our hero work, he probably wouldn’t have said anything if it was just me”
Sero rolled his eyes, gracefully tumbling up off the floor.
“If you say so” he conceded, “maybe you’ll see it the way we do someday”
You snorted, standing and pushing his shoulder away.
“Okay Socrates, are we sparring or what?”
Within moments the two of you were at blows with one another. Both of your quirks, unlike the two men next to you, were more long-distance friendly so you had taken up the majority of the space in the gym. Sero’s tape had become all the more powerful after years of training at UA, as well as apprentice placements at agencies. Because of the range of your quirks, you two were even placed at the same agency for one of these - meaning not only were your quirks evenly matched, but your training capabilities too.
You veered sideways, dodging a bolt of tape coming straight for you. The side of the tap had caught your lip slightly, causing a rivulet of blood to drip down your chin.
“You’re getting rusty Hanta” you sang.
Using the spare bolt of tape to swing round and land a kick to his shoulder that sent him reeling across the floor. You landed down on the soft mat of the gym floor, pounced up on one foot and sent yourself flying through the air towards your target. The training may have been casual, and therefore not very high stakes, but Sero had been your friend since first year and you two had developed a friendly amount of competitiveness when it came to winning fights. Apparently, even playful ones.
One of your feet came crashing down just an inch from his head, the other below his spread arm. The raven haired man looked up at you from the floor and he was obviously slightly dazed at your quick movements. Reaching down, you placed a hand on his chest and smiled up at him.
“One, two, three” you counted, drawing out the three.
“And he’s pinned, I win! Ding ding ding first round goes to me!”
You stood up and withdrew yourself from above your sparring partner. Said man grumbled as he watched you dance around, caught up in the glee of your victory.
“Yeah yeah, rub it in my face why don’t you”
The tape-hero grumbled, sitting up and rubbing his sore back from where you had planted him on the ground. You beamed at him.
“Don’t get salty cause you lost dude,” you teased, “I’m just the best, you never had a chance really”
Snickering from the other side of the gym caught both your attention. Kirishima and Bakugou had evidently taken a break from beating the shit out of one another and had apparently seen the end of the fight between you and your butt-hurt sparring partner. Which meant they had also seen the gloating and victory dance you had been performing just moments prior.
Bakugou glanced up at you through blonde lashes. His gaze was never soft, so to say, not like the way Midoriya looks at Ochako, or even the way Kirishima looks at a good meat skewer. But there was something light and airy in there this time, akin to amusement you would say if you didn’t know any better.
“You really let them beat you?” grumbled Katsuki to the man on the floor.
Sero’s sputter was undignified. He waved his hands in protest, before the words actually managed to find their way out of his mouth - you interrupted.
“What do you mean ‘let’, asshole? He didn’t let me do shit, I beat him fair and square” you huffed, squaring up to the blonde.
He chuffed, standing up and strolled over to where you were standing. There was less than a foot between your faces now. Still, you were unphased. Defiantly, you poked a finger onto his solid chest and stood even straighter.
“Go on, if you think i’m so easy to beat,” you challenged, “you and me, sparring, right now - let’s go”
A chuff of amusement hit your face, the minty fresh breath of your future opponent did nothing to quell the butterflies in your abdomen.
“I’ll squish you, princess, don’t even try”
You raised a brow, leaning on one hip and crossing your arms rebelliously.
“Try me blondie” you snarked, “or are you too much of a pussy? Surely you’re not scared I might beat you”
That seemed to hit the right target. A growl emitted from the man in front of you, one that you weren’t even going to pretend wasn’t attractive. There was pretty much steam emitting from his skin at the challenge. Whoops.
“Fine, but don’t cry when I win”
“I’m not Sero”
“Hey!”
Said man's indignant cries of protest were ignored as you followed your challenger onto the training mat once again. Sure, Katsuki was a formidable opponent and sure, you had never actually sparred with him. But you were all best of the best for a reason. You deserved to be here just as much as he did. Plus, you knew your training was good and that you were an amazing fighter, this would be a piece of cake.
Kirishima counted you both in but neither of you broke eye contact with the other. The soft glint from earlier had all but disappeared, replaced by the harsh determination you knew to expect from Katsuki - whether it be from the past couple of days or the last three years of being in class with him.
Still, you tried your best to seem unphased. Katsuki was the type to find and exploit any opponent's weakness, as he had done several times in the past with actual villain encounters. And you were all too aware he wasn’t shy of using the same tactics during in-class training.
“2-1, Go!”
Without a moment's hesitation, the blonde leapt at you from across the mat, giving you little time to dodge. You knew from training that he moved quickly but Jesus, that was a little much. There was hardly time to catch your bearings before he spun seemingly in midair and swung a crackling hand towards your face. You managed to doge again, grabbing the man's arm and using his momentum to swing him towards the training mat.
Unfortunately for you, Bakugou grabbed the back of your tee as you pulled him over, slamming you onto the mat along with him.
You felt the thin fabric of your t-shirt tear straight down the middle of your back, the rest of the fabric fluttering off of your body in torn rivulets. Not one to be precious, you tore the rest of the scraps off - leaving you in a tight training vest. The sweat dripping down your forehead was quickly wiped away and you steeled yourself for the incoming blow from Bakugou.
Ever the opportunist, he had used your momentary distraction to swing his popping, crackling fist towards your stomach. Within the split second of seeing it coming, you knew there was no way you’d be able to dodge it. Instead, you tensed your stomach muscles the best you could and prepared to swing your own elbow into the side of his face. But as his fist and your elbow made impact - there was a blinding golden light that illuminated the entire gym.
When your vision came back to you, excruciating pain emitted not only from your stomach, but also your jaw?
The wind had been thoroughly knocked from your chest. Laying, gasping on the mat, you could only blink up as Kirishima’s concerned face popped into your field of vision. There was an attempt to communicate with him yet all you could manage was a pitiful whimper. The pain flowing through your body, pulsating from your stomach and jaw was overwhelming. Despite your excessive training having desensitised you to a lot of pain, this was unlike anything you had ever felt before. It was like molten lava was flowing from the impact spots on your stomach and jaw. Tears began to gather in the corners of your eyes. How embarrassing.
Katsuki seemed to be in a similar situation if the pained groans echoing from across the training mat were any indication.
“Shit, Sero get Mr Aizawa, you’re quicker than I am” you heard Kiri’s concerned tone over your own heavy breathing.
“I’ll get recovery girl too”
You were full on sobbing now, wracked breaths forcing their way out of your chest. It felt like every cell in your body was burning up at once, exploding into themselves like a collapsing star.
“Katsuki” you whimpered, reaching towards the man across the mat.
“Kirishima, bring him here”
Kiri looked concerned at leaving you in this state, but it was clear what you needed at that moment. For some reason, your body was yelling at you to be closer to Katsuki, even if him beating you up had resulted in this in the first place.
Rustling could be heard across the room from you and you found yourself thanking the gods for Kirishima and his strength. The view of the redhead cradling his friend's writhing body in his arms made your heart race slightly, hoping that Bakugou wasn’t in as much pain as you were. His teeth were gritted and his eyes seemed hazy, unable to focus on anything in the room. It looked to be exactly how you felt, but he was handling it slightly better it seemed. You sniffed some of your tears back.
Kirishima laid Bakugou next to you and you felt the pain in your body let up slightly. The tugging in your cells didn’t cease until you managed to drag yourself to curl sluggishly into the crook of the blonde’s arm. His body smelt like it always did, slightly muskier maybe but the subtle aftershave and bonfire smell stuck around through almost anything. Your body was screaming at you to make some kind of contact but you couldn’t bring yourself to move an inch. The pain radiating from your body pulsed and writhed through your muscles like scalding water, twisting your body into a painful shape on the mat.
A muffled screech escaped from between your gritted teeth but you managed to pull yourself half on top of Bakugou. Your head hit his chest and he grunted slightly at the impact. Incessantly, the pain throbbed on through your muscles. Stupid fucking Bakugou in his stupid nun-ish exercise wear. He may as well have gone all out and worn a habit.
You grasped weakly at the tank covering his torso, only to find your grip not strong enough to move it any considerable distance. A groan echoed above you. Katsuki had seen your struggle and was moving one of his outstretched arms to curl around your bare shoulders.
As soon as his skin made contact with yours it was like a cooling water poured through your body, soothing the intense ache and burning it had been feeling. You were finally able to draw a proper, painless breath into your aching lungs. Never again would you take that ability for granted. The pain hadn’t yet fully left your body, still sore like an old bruise. There was no way of telling what the damage actually looked like but you were sure it wasn’t good.
The door of the gym slammed open, your capture-weapon clad teacher marching his way towards where your two bodies collapsed on the floor. Coughing weakly, you flitted your eyes up to meet his. The older man grumbled, sitting on the floor next to the two of you.
“Why can’t you two go five seconds without getting into trouble?”
You chuckled weakly, still under the hostage of Bakugou’s arm. The man himself grumbled underneath you in a weak attempt at protest.
“You think we do this shit on purpose?” he snapped, half-heartedly.
“That or a cruel trick of fate,” Aizawa muttered.
“A solid possibility,” you groaned, “but i’d rather it not be that”
The ensuing argument was interrupted by the arrival of recovery girl and a very out-of-breath Sero. The small woman pursed her lips at the two of you. Obviously, you were a sight to behold - a tangled pile of limbs and fabric breathing heavily on a training mat. It still felt like all of the energy had been zapped out of you, even if the pain was lessening more and more by the second. The tear tracks on your cheeks had dried out by now and were uncomfortable crusty on your face. You would definitely need a shower after this.
“There’s nothing I can do here”
Katsuki’s arm tensed around you and you could feel the snarl bubbling up his chest from where your head was laid.
“What do you mean there’s noth-”
“You’re not injured” she stated, quite promptly, “there is nothing physically wrong with you for me to heal”
“Recovery girl” began Kirishima, “what happened then?”
It was clear seeing two of their close friends in pain had shook Kirishima and Sero up slightly. The taller man was leaning into Kirishima’s hold, gnawing at his lip. Kirishima, meanwhile, had wrapped one of his strong arms around Sero’s shoulders and was rubbing his hand up and down his arm comfortingly. You reached up to pat at Hanta’s leg, the closest attempt at comfort you could scrounge from your fatigued body.
“Despite their quirk incident earlier this week, these two thought it would be smart to try and train with each other,” recovery girl explained.
She sounded sick of your shit. Not that you blamed her.
“And in doing that, they caused a quirk reaction”
You groaned. The explanation seemed so simple when it was laid out in front of you like that but it hadn’t even occurred to you not to spar Katsuki. The quirks' effects weren’t exactly wearing off, but the ache in your wrist where the girl had grabbed you had disappeared completely as you two had been staying close enough to one another. You supposed it was odd to forget about it but you only wanted to get back to training.
“And in doing so, have shortened the distance allowed between them”
“Oh my god” you groaned, thumping your head down onto the mat this time.
“This would never have happened if you didn’t get so cocky,” Bakugou complained.
You shot him a look as best you could from face down on the mat.
“If you weren’t such a prick, I wouldn’t have responded like that in the first place, would I?”
Aizawa leaned forward and pinched both of your ears.
“Stop whining, you’re both at fault. Now go back to the dorms”
Both of you huffed like children being scolded by a nursery teacher. With Aizawa, it still felt like that sometimes, despite the fact you were now all technically pro heroes. Still, you rolled out from under Katsuki’s arm and tried your best to stand.
In doing so, you leaned too far away from him and your wrist started flaring with the familiar burning sensation. You hissed and gripped the appendage, bringing it and yourself closer to Bakugou.
You looked at your wrist in disbelief.
“That was barely three feet” you whispered, meeting eyes with recovery girl.
She tutted.
“You made your own bed dear, time to lie in it”
taglist - @yizhoutv @champagnetvstes @lexmarine @shadowsingers-redhood @h0nestly-though @bby-chloe1999
sorry this one took so long! I was doing uni exams but I should be pretty much free (apart from work maybe) for the rest of the summer soooo! comment or send me an ask if you want on the taglist for the semblance series
I've also completed the first chapter of Kirishima's section of the choose your own path series so lmk if you want to be tagged in that! replies and reblogs are much appreciated muah >3<
#bnha x reader#bakugou katsuki#bnha#bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader#bnha imagine#bakugou imagine#bakugo imagine#bakugou katsuki imagine#bakugo katsuki imagine
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The Gangsta's Wife (Part 1)
DESCRIPTION: (1920) You live a pretty normal life. Living with you're two younger sisters, having moved back to your hometown from when you were younger. This is where you meet the infamous Thomas Shelby who gives you an offer you cant refuse
WORD COUNT: 3364
Next / Master List
WARNINGS: smoking, implied violence, slight sexism, swearing, drinking
DISCLAIMERS
This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand
I have not watched Peaky Blinders so this may not be accurate to the actual TV show. It will also not follow the timeline of the show. But I hope you enjoy.
The three brothers sit around the table inside the little room. The one in their pub. The soft chattering of people outside as they play a game of poker. "Play the next hand will you" Tommy says as his two brothers look at him in shock.
"Can you just run past us what you just said again? I think my hearing must be going as I swear you just said you wanted to get married" his younger brother says
"You heard me correctly"
"So who's the lucky lady" the older says
"I've not found her yet" they both laugh "I know it sounds like a ridiculous fantasy. I reckon if we got a girl that has no prior relations to us or the type of stuff that we do then people would be more likely to trust us. Therefore wanting us to be in business more. It will get rid of some of the negativity we have surrounding our name"
"I'm sure we could easily find one off the streets for you" the younger teases as he lets out a low laugh
"I want someone who doesn't get scared easily. Don't want her to get spooked and run off during the honeymoon"
"Well we wish you luck on that journey" The older says as they finish up their game. Calling it a night they head out. Putting on their hats and coats as they start walking. Tommy lighting a cigarette as the three of them walk. His two brothers walking on slightly ahead as he goes to throw the last bit of his smoke down. It had gotten late by now that they didn't expect to bump into someone. Quite literally.
You run down the alleyway. Turning to face behind you to see if he was following. You turn back just as you bump into someone. He grabs your elbow as to stop you from falling straight onto your ass "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry" you stutter out. Eyes going to the alleyway. The strangers eyes fall to your neck. The dark bruising around it. He looks down the alleyway. His hand falling from your elbow as he meets your gaze again.
"Tommy?" you hear someone calling as you dart your eyes between the three figures
"I- I need to go" a mild panic in your voice as you start to walk away. Your eyes constantly go back to the alleyway. You turn away from him. Bumping into the two other men as you walk past. "I'm sorry. I need to go" they move out your way as you run past them.
-
Some people would call you a thief. You prefer the term con woman. And a good one you are. Allowing you to be able to steal jewels and money without people noticing. This allowed you to keep up your income. That's what had caused the bruising around your neck though. You got caught by someone who didn't take your petty theft lightly.
You run to your house. Opening the door you pretty much slam it behind you. Your little sister jumps out of bed.
"Flo!" she calls out. Hugging you. You hug her back. Seeing your other younger sister opening here eyes at you.
"We were wondering when you'd be back"
"I'm here now" you kiss your sister on the top of her head. You grab into your coat pocket. Pulling out a necklace and bracelet. Followed by a pair of earrings. Elizabeth grabs it from you as she sits up on the bed.
"Oh my god!" she looks at it, holding them up to her ears "what do we think?"
"Ooh very fancy. Look like a proper little lady" she grins at you causing you to chuckle. She hands them back to you as you put them back in your coat. "I plan on selling them tomorrow. Then we can get that house we were looking at. Until then though we should be getting to bed. Come on" she nods. Jumping back into bed. You pull the covers up over the both of them. Stroking the hair out of their eyes as you grab a blanket. Going over and sleeping on the sofa on the adjacent wall.
You'd managed to sell the items the next day. Getting a good amount of money in exchange for the house. That and your savings from the previous months. You find the current seller of the house you were wanting. Him smoking outside the building, chatting to someone else. You walk over to him "I'd like to buy this house" he looks at you, eyeing you up and down
"You can't afford it" you reach into your pocket handing him a wad of cash. He looks at the money. Then at you
"Why don't you get your husband to come along. I'll talk to him. Alright sweetheart?" you take out some more money.
"I'm buying this house today" he looks back at the money in your hand.
"Ok then love" he goes to take the money from your hand but you move it away. Holding out your other hand
"The keys" he chuckles. Going into his pocket he takes out some keys. Handing them to you as you take them. Then handing him the money.
"Thank you gentlemen. Now excuse me" you go and open the front door. Going inside your new house.
A few days had passed. You'd fully moved into your home. Not that you had much to move from your small box house. Your sisters loved the new place. The three of you had been so used to sharing the same bedroom for years that it felt strange to have your own personal spaces. But you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the privacy.
You walk down the street. Arms crossed over your torso as the winter air chills you. You feel a couple of spots of rain. Quickening your pace in hopes to get home before it starts hacking it down. But you're to late. You quickly run over to the nearest building you can as to keep dry from the poor weather. Opening the door as you go inside.
Dripping onto the nice floor as you look around the pub. Empty. You walk over to the bar. Taking off your coat and placing it next to you on the stall. Listening to the rain as you wait for it to calm down. You don't pay much mind to your surroundings. Jumping as you hear a voice.
"I think you're in the wrong place" you turn to look as you jump up from your seat. Two piercing blue eyes watching you from one of the booths. His body slumped against the back of the chair.
"Sorry Mr Shelby. I just- its pissing it down out there and the door was open so I-" he raises his hand slightly. Causing you to stop. He tilts his head at you. Eyes scanning over your body before he speaks, motioning at the seat opposite him.
"Sit" you look at the front door. Hearing the wind picking up more. Your body screaming at you to run. Get out of this place. But going against your better judgement you stand up from your stall. Your body tense as you slide into the booth opposite him. He pours a glass, pushing it towards you.
"I'm ok thank you"
"I insist" you look at his eyes. Then at the drink. Picking it up as you take a sip. Placing the beverage down onto the table and passing it back to him. "You're that girl from a few weeks ago"
"I don't know what kind of night you had a few weeks ago but I can promise you that we've never met before" he chuckles at your statement. Your boldness intriguing him.
"You ran into me. You had bruises around your neck" his eyes go to your throat. You shuffle slightly under his gaze.
"Even if it was me then my business is my own" you say confidently. Eyes meeting his as he nods
"I can drink to that" he picks up the glass. Taking a sip of it before placing it back down in the center of the table.
"Why are you drinking here alone?"
"Like you said. My business is my own" you nod, half smiling as you lean forward and grab the glass from the middle again. Drinking the remainder of the liquid. Placing the cup down. He takes it, pouring some more. Sipping it before placing it back to the middle of the two of you
"I should be getting back" as if on cue you hear the rain start to pick up more. "Or maybe not" you say, a slight annoyance in your voice
"Looks like you're going to be here for a while" he says. Motioning at the bar "Grab another glass" You look at him. Then look at the drink he's already poured. You stand up, going behind the counter and grabbing one. You head back over to him, sitting down as you place the cup down. He takes it from you. Pouring you a glass and handing it to you. That's when you notice the blood on his knuckles. Your breath hitches slightly.
He's fully aware of what you've seen. There's no way he can't know that you've seen his hands. But he remains unfazed. Instead he calmly drinks his drink. Eyes on you as he places the cup onto the table. Watching you. "Do you have a pack of cards on you?" you say. More to try and help your nerves then to make small talk. Avoiding his cold gaze as best as you can as you. He shakes his head as you let out a soft 'oh'.
"What's your name?" He asks as he reaches into his pocket. Taking out some cigarettes. He offers you one. The pack facing you. You reach over, grabbing one out
"Florence. My friends call me Flo though" you say, placing the stick into your mouth as he takes one for himself. Grabbing out a light he lights his one.
"What can I call you then?" Before reaching over with the lit match. You lean over the table as he lights the end for you. Putting the match out as you sit back down onto your seat properly. Taking the smoke from your mouth as you look at him. Head titling slightly
"Flo" you say, causing him to half smile. He takes the item from his mouth, replacing it with his drink before speaking again
"You new around here Flo?"
"I grew up here but moved to London when I was about 12. Moved back a few months ago"
"Is it anything like how you remembered?" you laugh slightly
"I have a lot of fond memories of this place from when I was a kid. But now... lets just say that things are a bit different now that I'm older" he nods. You have some more of your drink. You go to say something else just as the door opens. You recognize him as one of the Shelby boys. John you believe his name to be.
"Tommy we need you back home" he says, his eyes falling onto you as you turn to face him. "Who's the girl?"
"No one" he says "what do you need help with?"
"Family matter". You stand up
"That is my cue to leave" you say. Going over to the bar again and grabbing your coat "thank you for the drinks Mr Shelby" you say, smiling softly at him as he smiles back. Nodding towards you as you head outside. Going past the younger brother half cautiously as you walk back home. You must've been in the pub longer then you remember as the rain has practically stopped by now. Letting you have a relatively dry walk back.
It had been a week since you moved in. Your sisters were at school so you decided to have a day out. Going out the front door. Turning around to lock it. Just as you see your neighbor coming out of the house next to you. You look and see John coming out. You look away quickly. Locking he front door as he turns to face you
"You're the lass from the pub" You face him and smile slightly
"I don't know what you mean" he nods slightly. Looking at your house as you walk into the street more. "Have a nice day Mr Shelby" you smile as you walk off. Trying to get rid of any business you may have with the Shelby family and the Peaky Blinders.
You go on a bit of a shopping spree during your day out. Not buying anything to ornate but possibly spending more money then you should have. Buying fresh fruit and veg, some bread and other necessities. You meet up with one of your friends and have a chat with her.
You head back to your house. Unlocking the front door and heading inside. You place the food down onto the kitchen side, starting to put the stuff away. A few minutes go past before there's a knock at the door. You look, unsure of who it could be. Elizabeth and Mary would just walk in knowing you leave it unlocked for them. You go to the door. Opening it. John and Tommy standing by it. Johnny leaning against the door frame. Before you have time to speak (or close the door on them) the youngest brother speaks. A smile on his face that you can't read.
"Mind if we come in?" your eyes dart between the two men
"Sure" you manage to say. Moving out the way and motioning for them to come in. Body tense as they both head inside. You go into the living room "Do you want anything to drink?" Trying to keep your cool as John sits down. Tommy leans against the wall as he watches you.
"No. You see we've come to have a little chat" the younger says
"About?"
"Are you spying on us?" the older says
"Why would you think that?"
"You bump into us late at night, then you come into the pub. Now you're living next door" the younger says, leaning back onto your sofa as they both watch you. His eyes darting as he expresses his words with his hands.
"Its a small town Mr Shelby. Purely coincidence" he stands up. Turning to face you as he takes his cap off. Your eyes dart to the object before going back up to his face "I am aware of who you are. What you are apart of. But I am not a spy. So there will be no need for you to use that" you motion at his hat. Your eyes fixed onto his as you feel yourself shaking slightly from fear. Trying to regain your composure.
"We asked around about you. No one seems to know who you are. An introverted young woman. No husband or family. Only recently moved in"
"I am orphaned. My mother died when I was young. Father died during the war. I lived in London for a while but made some enemies recently so moved back here where I grew up. If that is all the questions you have then I would like you boys to leave my house" John places his hat down onto the side table. Sitting back down on the sofa as he looks at you. Smiling
"I think I'll take that drink now"
You clench your fists slightly but nod. Going into the kitchen you make them both a drink. Resting your hands against the counter top as you curse at yourself slightly. How did you end up here? You really did not want to make the Peaky Blinders you enemy.
You walk back in. Placing two cups down. You stay standing. Folding your arms over your body in an effort to hide your hands shaking. You hear the front door open. Your sisters walking in. "Flo you'll never guess what happened today at... school..." Elizabeth says the last word quietly as she walks into the living room. Mary coming in and grabbing her sisters hand as they look at the two men, then you.
"Why don't you two head upstairs, hmm?" she nods slightly. Her eyes going to the two men before she goes up to her room. Taking her sister with her. You shut the living room door. Shutting your eyes as you lean your head on the door. "Fuck" you mutter. Turning back around as the older one speaks
"You told us your family was dead"
"No I said I was orphaned. I never said my family was dead. Very different things" he nods as he keeps watching you.
"What enemies did you make in London?"
"None that I can't handle" the younger brother laughs. Making you turn towards him "I've dealt with far worse then either of you boys could imagine. I know how to be safe"
"Don't you get worried about your sisters though?" you stay silent "I mean, the reason you didn't tell us about them must've been so we would never find out about them. Never be able to harm them" the younger says. Almost mocking. You take a step closer to him. Keeping heavy eye contact as you speak
"If you ever touch my sisters I will personally rip you apart. Limb by limb. Do you understand?" he stands up. Taking a step towards you
"Was that a threat?" he says. Starting to walk over to you. Tommy moves, facing towards his brother as he puts a hand onto his shoulder as your eyes stay on each others.
"Johnny" he says. A sternness in his voice making the younger look at him. "Go for a walk" he looks at his brother, looks at you. Mutters something under his breath as he opens the door. Leaving. You hear the front door slam shut. You avoid his eyes as you start babbling an apology.
"I'm sorry about that I-"
"I want to make a deal with you" he says. He leans against the wall again. He folds his arms over his torso. His demeanor was a lot more relaxed then yours. You couldn't read him though. You turn to face him properly. Your silence making him continue "I am looking for a wife. I need someone that has no previous associations with myself or my businesses. A positive beacon to my currently negative lifestyle. One that can make me seem trustworthy for future business opportunities"
"Mr Shelby" you say as a soft whisper, your eyes fixed to his as he continues talking
"You said yourself that you have a lot of enemies. Putting not only your life but your sisters lives in danger. I could protect you. The family you have would be safe. I can provide you with money. New clothes. So much food that you would never know what sleeping hungry felt like again" he takes a step towards you. Bringing his arms down as he places them into the pockets of his waistcoat. "You'd be my wife. You'd come with me to professional settings. Help me gain the trust of people that I couldn't on my own" he reaches down. Picking up both the glasses you poured. Handing you one "what do you say?".
You blink at him a couple of times. Taking you a little while before processing what he said. "I am flattered Mr Shelby but... wouldn't a girl of higher status be more rewarding for you? I come from nothing. I have nothing to give you" he pauses for a moment. Eyes unmoving from yours.
"Every time I've met you you've shown me a bravery that no one else has. That is something I value more then riches and materialistic items" you nod slowly as you look down. Thinking through your options before lifting your head up, meeting his gaze as you gently take a glass from him
"Looks like we're getting married" you softly say as you clink your glass to his before downing the liquid. Him letting out a soft chuckle before doing the same
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#Cillian Murphy#cillian murphy fluff#cillian murphy angst#cillian murphy smut#Peaky blinders#peaky blinders smut#peaky blinders angst#peaky blinder fluff#Thomas shelby#tommy shelby#thomas shelby smut#tommy shelby angst#tommy shelby fluff#peaky blinders tommy#peaky blinders tommy smut#peaky blinders tommy angst#peaky blinders tommy fluff#tommy x reader#thomas x reader#smut#angst#fluff#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#tommy smut#tommy angst#tommy fluff#thomas angst#thomas fluff
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If Betty returns in season two, what kind of plot lines and character arcs would you like to see for her? Which characters do you want to see her interact with?
oh man. okay buckle up because you are about to endure my full frontal autism.
first you're going to have to go into this post knowing that i am insane about betty grof. i am aware of this. but they also called me crazy back in 2012 when i said simon and betty probably loved each other very much despite the fact she disappeared, and that she was probably a huge chaotic badass, AND I WAS RIGHT so.
all of this aside, here are a couple things i think would be epic and sexy of them to address:
~betty's past~
GIRL WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS.
no, seriously. i hate that the cut content from the storyboards revealed so much about her that didn't make the final 'jerry' cut. betty is passionate, intense, and liked simon's work because he was this weird little guy who proudly had all these "out there" theories. she even stated that "ancient magic" was once her major, so it's no fucking wonder she was so jazzed to find the one other guy who studied and believed in the strange things she did.
how did betty come to have these strange beliefs, and to the point of pursuing it in fucking grad school? was she just always like this? did her interests and beliefs put her at odds with others when she was growing up, little miss dig-her-way-down-to-the-devil, and that's part of the reason she wanted all the more to support simon?
reading that scene in temple of mars where magic betty laments "what remains" of her original self after spending so long dedicated to simon, even if you take into account the way MMS is warping her perspectives and cranking her obsessive tendencies to 11, i find it hard to believe betty didn't grow up with some kind of instability or trauma that made her more prone to throw herself completely at someone who showed her genuine love and kindness. this isn't necessarily a fault on simon's part, he probably didn't even clock it because he was so caught up with trying not to fuck things up with her (he's got his own issues). but it definitely seems like this is something deeply coded into her being, especially when you consider she was willing to leave everything she knew behind in an instant for him.
and i NEED to know more about the wacky shit she was up to in ooo, before and after becoming magic betty. did she ever go to wizard city? did other wizards even know about her? what does she think about her time as magic betty? moreover, how the hell did king man even get betty to agree to his weird idea of cognitive behavioural therapy?? how did she actually go from literally willing to kill herself via time travel to actually accepting that she needed help getting over simon?? did prismo and the cosmic owl get involved?? what is their connection to king man and mars anyway, i mean we know grob gob glob grod hung out with them?? do you think betty knew at any point about simon's head holding the fionna and cake universe?? SO MANY QUESTIONS RAAARRGHGHHGHH
also, not to get super sappy, but i want to see the enchiridion expedition from her perspective!! i want to see her progression from 'hell yeah im going on an adventure with that guy whose research i admire' to 'oh my god i love his stupid ass help????'.
~betty's guilt (feat. regrets)~
i don't care what the alternate bus stop scene said, you will never convince me betty grof has "no regrets". i think she has 'no regrets' in terms of loving simon, and she would never want him to think that she regrets their relationship because of what it "did" to her (turned her into a kaiju). i think this scene was betty trying to give simon a modicum of closure by reassuring him of that fact, and trying to help him reckon with the fact that there's no going back and changing how things ended up for the two of them; from here on out they can only move forward.
that being said, we know that betty will often push simon into doing things she thinks are best for him, whether he wants these things or not, such as not getting held up by snakes or not dying. she's a quick thinker and a risk taker who doesn't like looking at the 'big picture', and these are things she's probably very aware about herself.
i think, in the 12 years that they were apart, betty probably had a lot of time to reflect on her decisions after the crown came into their lives. how her hubris in trying to study magic ended up in her becoming "magic betty", how magic betty nearly ended/condoned the end of the world multiple times, how she ultimately did cure simon but almost killed him in the process. most of all, you cannot convince me betty wouldn't agonize over how her split-second decision to jump into the future affected simon. you really think betty fucking grof would've have been totally unaffected by the revelation that simon spent nearly ten human lifetimes agonizing over driving her away?
in her last interaction with him, magic betty's recklessness cured them... only to then be grotesquely crushed to death inside of golb. but he didn't get upset with her, he didn't panic, he didn't even fight it, he just... gave in. there's this air of acceptance to him, an acceptance that comes after prolonged and complicated grief, that i'd argue, wasn't the culmination of being cured, but the culmination of his long and painful battle over losing her; he was content to die as long as he was with her. that must have been... really something for her to mull over.
i could easily see her developing a bit of a complex over it. i think it would be fascinating to see a betty who now, after all the dust as settled, has looked at their history and concluded that she was the common denominator in all of this, that she is bad for simon, that in a way she is a "curse" to him. and that it would be the perfect justification for her staying away from him all these years, thinking without her influence he could finally move on from her and live the rest of his human life happily with his new magic future friends.
i don't think betty has necessarily "moved on" from simon, i think she still loves him dearly... but as i said, thoroughly convinced she'll only damage him further if she keeps trying to pursue him, and that simon's breakdown during season 1 was only more evidence to that fact.
i think she's trying to lead him to get over her 'for his own good', and that she's purposefully being vague and simplifying conclusions about their relationship so he doesn't try to fight her on it like he always does when she makes these huge decisions for them. she's not bringing any of the stuff she actually regrets up with him because only betty sees it as a problem. simon is so enamoured with her he probably wouldn't even entertain the possibility that she had negative effect on him, but he would believe the reverse in a heartbeat.
this isn't me saying they're ""toxic"" at all, i'm saying that these are two very damaged people who would benefit from multiple types of therapy. and that, as they are, they currently are more likely to keep going in loops with unhealthy behaviours and blaming themselves ad infinitum rather than try to reckon with how they can change, and how it is a problem that they'll always do it for the other, but never for themselves.
even if all of my above ramblings turn out to be bunk: betty grof needs some kind of therapy for her pre-existing self sacrificial tendencies and self worth issues, a space for her to process and work through all of the things that happened to her in ooo, couple's counselling, and the biggest blunt known to man.
you might be wondering "emery, why are you talking about her like she isn't beyond such things? she's golb now, the embodiment of chaos! her ""arc"" is over."
~golbetty conspiracy theory time~
i'm not entirely convinced betty is golbetty as we've come to understand her. i stand by this with my crumbs of a conspiracy theory in that when simon first did the ritual, it was ORIGINAL golb's face that flashed over the scene (not golbetty or even the statue's face), and how golbetty seemed to transform back into Golb Classic after she blew simon away into the void. there's also this weird thing where golbetty had these holes or rips on her leg when she rotated; i thought it was an animation error but then it was also in the storyboards so idk what to believe...
plus the boards ive seen seem to only refer to them as "GOLB", never 'GOLBetty', which i just find... interesting
and i keep thinking about simon info-dumping about golb to betty in the 'come along with me' flashback and the specific wording that was used: "imagine if we could somehow harness all that dank energy..." and then comparing it to the specific wording of betty's wish "... however it has to happen, I wish for the power to keep Simon safe"
there's a couple lines in 'you forgot your floaties' regarding betty's work before becoming magic betty that i feel often get overlooked, one being how tiny manticore describes the situation as "she thinks she can save her BF, Simon, by finding the source of magic," and in betty's own words: "studying [magic madness and sadness] could lead me to their underlying cause, and then I'll control the forces that hold sway over Simon"
i've always wondered if part of the reason betty's wishes to "banish golb from this world/for golb to disappear" didn't work was not just because they didn't tap into her heart's deepest wish (keeping simon safe), but because a wish like that would also require some kind of fundamental change to the laws of the universe first in order for it to work. magic betty even references golb as "the most powerful force in the universe," so how would the crown ever hope to compete with that? according the ancient candy elemental, wish magic has the potential to cause "irreversible damage to the very structure of existence". maybe the crown itself couldn't banish golb with a simple wish, but it could restructure the world to create someone who was powerful enough to control even golb, if only it were structured through the correct wishing language.
and it would make total sense for betty to become that person.
i've been thinking about the way the candy elemental tries to warn evergreen from using the crown: "this wish may see things in you you cannot see yourself, can you truly say you know your heart's truest desire?"
i wonder if there may have been two elements to betty's wish, and the part of it that betty "didn't see in herself" was her worded in the language of "power"; betty's desire to gain control over forces of the universe no human could ever hope to fight against, let alone win.
she spent her human life fascinated by ancient magic, fighting to get her's and simon's work recognized as valid and worthwhile. then, she's suddenly in the future, fighting to stop simon from dying, physically fighting at times, and fighting to find a way to gain control over these "forces" that held him prisoner. she essentially is fighting to become the conqueror of magic, madness, and sadness... and she fails, becomes a victim of it. and it all goes downhill from there, the loss of control over herself, over her mind, over her goals, yet the most 'betty' thing about her is that she's still fighting, albeit a bit crooked and to the detriment of all else. in the end, she's even fighting with herself, fighting to remember who she even is without the fight, not even sure if that person exists anymore.
and then she's freed, suddenly, from the confines of MMS to the literal confines of a quickly shrinking prison. when you watch the two of them in that scene, she isn't fighting to escape the same way finn is literally fighting the wall, but you can tell she's not giving up. part of her is still fighting to think of a way out, even when it feels like there's absolutely no hope left.
her desire "for the power" could mean, in a sense, to have the ability to be in control of all that she couldn't at one time or another: time, fate, magic, life, death, chaos... but this was articulated through her love for simon, because it's the only way she probably even recognizes it within herself.
this is why i don't entirely think betty and golb are fused, or that betty is solely "golbetty". i think being "fused" with no possibility of escape would be antithetical to the language and possible wider implications of her wish. this is why i think she's something above even golb, like a being with the ability to possess/harness the power of other deities. and i think she does this specifically in scenarios where simon is in immediate danger and she needs to control them or harness their power in order to protect him.
i'm ready to be proven wrong, and i probably will be. still, i rotate these thoughts in my head at a dangerous velocity, and none of you can stop me.
~ok i'm done ill stop being insane now (lying)~
so to... actually answer your question, i REALLY want betty to meet fionna and cake, because it sounds to me like they remind simon a lot of her. i would just love to see the absolute fucking tornado they'd be when put in a room together.
also, obviously first and foremost, I NEED BETTY TO TALK TO MARCELINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
anyway, as far as season 2 goes, something is definitely up with prismo. and since he's guardian/creator of multiverse entities, who the fuck knows what that means for the fabric of existence if he's glitching out.
all im saying is, i wouldn't be surprised if our main trio end up having to save the multiverse and have to do so with help from other... entities. bettities, even. (hehe. bettity)
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chapter 5: killer
Pairing: Victor!Treech x fem!Reader
Summary: Your very first Hunger Games as a mentor comes to an end, and you are forced to reckon with the aftermath.
Warnings: Cursing, Suggestive Themes, Mention of Injuries, Character Death, Weapons, Violence.
Word Count: 9.3k
Taglist: @nekee-lilac02, @mr-panda357, @yourfavmiki, @blackoutdays13, @dialuvsbangtan
Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Bee has disappeared, but the alarm remains silent, and the girl from 2 is still swinging. You force yourself to blink past the tears rapidly welling in your eyes; you will have to save them for later. As of right now, you still have a tribute in the Games. But where is she?
From his place before the camera, Lucky Flickerman cries out in excitement at the feat.
“And Little Bee from 10 pulls off a miraculous disappearing act!” He displays an array of cards, waving them back and forth before making them vanish in one smooth movement, punctuating the end of his sentence. To your left, Treech sinks further into his seat, frustration palpable. You are still standing, heart beating at the erratic pace of a jackrabbit, and time moves unbearably slow as you continue to scan the screen for some sign of life.
And then it comes, and really, you aren’t sure what to say. The boy from 11 appears first, crawling out the shrub’s other side before Bee joins him, her hand tightly clasped in his own. They are careful, making little noise as they emerge, but the quiet does not last. The moment they are on their feet, they are moving with a speed that can not help but be loud, feet pounding against the forest floor. The girl from 2 makes no effort to chase, seemingly accepting the defeat of the moment, and you note, with a sinking feeling in your chest, that Bee turns back, for just a second, to eye Colt’s unmoving form, sprawled across the ground. Still, she does not stop running.
It catches you off guard, the nudge from Teff, but you follow his finger as he indicates the television with Bee’s face spinning in a slow circle. Her sponsorships. They are increasing. You want to scream, to admonish the people of the Capitol for their pity money. She had no worth to them before, and now here was her grief, a commodity to them. You say nothing but give a curt nod in thanks to the District 11 mentor for pointing it out.
When the boy tugging Bee along eventually pulls her to a stop, it is in a clearing already occupied by another: Trawl’s girl, Mags. She spins on her heel, clearly readying a speech of some sort, but stops herself when her eyes settle on Bee.
“What the fuck is this?” Her voice is tense, not like you expected from the girl who put her life on the line to hold her District partner as he lay dying and took in the alliless boy from 11.
“She needed help; I saved her,” he says.
“We don’t need another person. She’s gonna slow us down.” And you know it is not her intent to be cruel, only logical, but her words sting.
“She’s smart. And she’s small; she can hide like me.”
“Jadam– I am barely taking care of us; what made you think I could handle someone else?” Mags’s arms fly out in exasperation.
“I just thought that–”
“No. Okay? I won’t kill her, but she has to go.” The panic in your chest begins to rise. You have to do something, and quickly, too. Your eyes flit to Bee’s mounting donations, beginning to dwindle at the 430 mark before traveling down to your screen and the price of bread. A single loaf would cost you 400. All her sponsorships out the window in a single move. Still, it is a risk you have to take, your chest constricting with the knowledge that if she loses this alliance, she will have no one. You slam down on the button.
On the screen, Jadam turns to Bee, an apologetic look painting his features. Mags only eyes the forest floor behind him, arms crossed and clearly set in her decision. In the distance, there is a noise.
All three heads dart up in seeming unison as a drone comes into view just above the canopy of leaves before beginning to lower itself slowly to the ground. There is a tin attached at the bottom, but the trio of tributes remain frozen with fear. It is Mags who eventually moves, after several moments of silence, to inspect the device. Slowly, she pulls the tin from the drone, before opening the small container. A note tumbles out from inside, and she dips to collect it, but her eyes do not leave the contents of the metal box. She is hungry; this much you know from having watched her closely the past two days. She has yet to eat.
“It’s for you,” she says, her jaw growing tight as her eyes travel up to meet Bee’s gaze. The smaller girl moves forward with caution and, after noting the bread, pulls it from the container and begins to tear it into separate parts, handing one to Mags and tossing a second to Jadam before squaring her shoulders and making towards the large expanse of woods ahead, her section of the loaf clutched tightly in her hand. Come on. Don’t let her leave.
She is almost out of sight when Mags calls out after her.
“Wait.”
Bee whips around, features unreadable as she pauses, allowing Mags to continue. The older girl only sighs, the sound dripping with defeat.
“You can stay.”
The sentiment has barely left her lips when your shoulders sag in relief, and you are off, headed for the doors.
“Bathroom,” you hiss at the Peacekeeper who moves to block your path, and he shifts to let you pass.
It is all you can do to halt the muffled sob that threatens to escape your lips the minute you set foot in the hallway. The heels of your boots make a distinct echoing sound as they come in contact with the cold marble floor, and succession of clicks is so loud you almost miss the second pair of footsteps ringing out behind you.
You whip around, prepared to warn whichever victor has just followed you out to stop tailing you. To plaster a blank look across your features and tell them you are fine. It is not a victor. You recognize Dr. Gaul from the beginning of the Games, clearly on her way in as you make your way out. She has made several appearances over the last two days, though none too prolonged, mostly spent at the back of the large room, whispering to the man with the white hair. To Snow, you correct again subconsciously.
“Ms. L/N,” she says, nodding in acknowledgment. “I saw what happened to that boy of yours. Pity, really.”
“I’m not really sure why you’re concerned. What’s one more kid when you’ve already killed so many?” You grit out, unsure where the courage to do so has emerged from, but holding firm. Refusing to look away.
“Oh, I’m sorry, you must be confused. I was talking about the boy from 7. That’s too bad about his tribute. Although I must admit, it was disappointing to see the other one go. He truly would have made a strong contender. Much better, I’m afraid, than the little girl.” Fear, cold and sharp, travels down your spine at her words, and you fight the urge to flinch away from the woman, instead fumbling to defend yourself.
“Treech is not–” The doors to the lecture hall bang open, and the very man on your lips appears in the doorway.
“Interesting,” she notes with a dangerous grin before turning on her heel to enter the room. Treech eyes you with concern, one brow raised in confusion.
“What was–”
“Fuck off. You have to fuck off,” you cry out, and it almost sounds as though you are pleading with him as you swerve, avoiding his touch and making for the bathroom once more. All you wanted was a minute to cry in peace.
“What the hell? What is your problem?” He demands, anger creeping into his tone, but don’t respond, reaching the bathroom door and giving it a harsh tug. He slams it shut, planting a firm hand over your head.
“You. You are my problem!” You are inches apart, and your chest is heaving. Treech only looks lost, features plainly read for once. His lips are parted, body warm. The smell of cedar invades your personal space once more. You give him a shove, hard and meaningful, before darting inside the bathroom. He follows.
You want to scream in frustration, and the tears you have been fighting begin to wet your cheeks as he turns to lock the door, his eyes doing a quick scan of the walls. No cameras. At least as far as you’re aware.
“What is going on with you?” He hisses, and a wretched sob wracks your body. Treech takes a step forward, and you inch back.
“Don’t act so concerned now. You’re the one who said this had to be nothing,” you spit, knowing it is undeserved, but you are angry, and with rage wrapping its thick hands around your throat, it is difficult to see straight. To see who should truly bear the burden of your wrath.
“You said it first!” Treech looks exasperated at best, but he does not approach again, treating you like a wild animal of some sort as though afraid you might spook and disappear.
“You didn’t answer my letter!” Unfair. You are being unfair. But you will do anything to get him out of here. To make him leave you alone. Because at least alone, you are not a threat to his life.
“Don’t do that. Don’t put this on me.” He shakes his head, frustration lighting his features once more.
“So it’s my fault?” And by your third attempt to corral him out the door, you can feel your resolve weakening. Can see it in the mirror too.
“No! So it’s no one’s fault! You think I don’t– Every day I spend with you, I think about this. Us. And every day, I have to remind myself that it would get us both killed. But fuck, I–” His words feel heavy where they should fill you with excitement. With joy. And suddenly, awareness of your situation burdens you again. And he looks so earnest, the words tumbling from his lips in a regrettable stream. So vulnerable.
“Gaul knows.”
“Knows what?” He is taken aback, and you know it is not the response he wanted.
“She was calling you my boy from 7. She knows about whatever this is.” And once you have begun the words come pouring out in quick succession.
“She knows, and Teff and Trawl know. And at this point, I’d be surprised if Lucky fucking Flickerman hasn’t been made aware. And I am exhausted. And scared. And Colt is–” But you don’t finish, as all the emotions from earlier make their way back in, and the weight is unbearable, forcing you to your knees. Treech rushes forward, and this time, you do not stop him as he catches you halfway to the ground, pulling you close as he had two nights ago. And really, today’s frustration all comes back to that. Colt is dead, and no amount of screaming and crying will make it not so. Maybe that’s why you let it happen. Allow Treech to gently rock you on that bathroom floor and whisper soft words in your ear. Maybe that is why you turn to curl into his chest. To pretend, in spite of the lurking anxiety just beneath your skin, that this is alright. That there will be no consequences. No one to answer to. Just for a moment.
Treech reenters first, and by the time you step through the archaic double doors, it has been thirty minutes, and the girl from 6 is dead. You make for the back table, eyes fixed straight ahead, and pour yourself another coffee. Eight kids left. Something has to happen, and soon.
The walk back to your chair feels eternal, and you slump in your seat upon arrival, fixing the screen with your gaze. The sun has set, and Bee sits crosslegged beside Mags, who watches over the sleeping form of Jadam, his head in her lap.
“There’s no food out here. No water except for that fucking hellscape of a river. We can hide all we want, but we’re never gonna survive if we keep going down this route,” Mags sighs, her shoulders slumping.
“At this rate, we’ll all just starve to death,” she laments, eyes softening on their path over Jadam’s features.
“They can send us bread from the outside. Like today–” Bee supplies, a hint of desperation creeping into her tone. Your own gaze flits down to her sponsorships, measly and non-existent after your splurge on her peace offering.
“They need money for sponsorships. Money that no one is gonna send if we’re just sitting around doing nothing,” Mags reasons, and a sick feeling in your stomach tells you she is right.
“There’s food in the cornucopia,” Jadam mumbles, and you realize with a start he was only feigning sleep.
“What?” Bee asks, head turning to consider him and his words more carefully.
“There’s a whole box of it in there. I saw it on the first day, during the countdown. There’s apples, bread probably–” Mags cuts him off.
“Yeah, there’s also the boy from 1. The girl from 2. Or are you forgetting that?”
“I’m just saying–” Jadam tries once more, but the older girl will not let him finish.
“Well, don’t. It’s not safe. We’d be walking into an ambush. Completely weaponless. It’s not happening.”
Bee stands from her place beside the pair, brushing the dirt from her clothes before turning to make her way out into the woods.
“Where are you going?” And it is more of a demand than a true question, sharp and cold though tinged with worry as Mags asks it.
“Bathroom,” Bee explains easily, though her eyes do not meet the older girl’s before she spins on her heel and disappears. Your shoulders tense, gaze fixed on her departing form. Jadam rolls onto his back, eyes trained upwards on the twisted expression of concern on Mags’s face.
“She’ll be alright,” Jadam whispers, and Mags almost appears to flinch at the words of comfort.
“We’ll have to split from her soon,” she states, clearing her throat, and your own heart sinks deeper into your chest. It is true. They cannot stay together forever without eventually needing to kill one another. Still, Jadam asks the question you have already found the answer to.
“Why?”
“There can’t be many of us left, and I don’t want to have to kill her when it comes down to it.”
“What about me?” His words echo out across the room, quiet now from the lack of academy students, and you feel your gaze being tugged toward Teff, his brow creased into an unreadable emotion as he watches the screen.
“What about you?”
“Won’t you have to kill me? If we stay together?” There is a look that passes over Mags’s face, one you recognize from Colt. From the way he looked at Bee. From the way you look at Fawn. She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to. The truth hangs in the air with a heavy silence, broken only when Bee reappears. She thrusts something onto the ground. An object, heavy in weight. A trident. Not just any trident, the one that killed Colt.
“Where did you get that?” Mags demands, shock evident in her voice.
“Found it.” You know she is lying. And you thank God they have no fire lit because you are sure her face would appear blotchy and swollen.
“What–” Mags begins.
“You said we were weaponless. Now we aren’t.” And a wave of pride passes through your system, at little underestimated Bee and her bravery. It is quickly smothered, though, by disgust with yourself, thick and rampant at the realization that she should not have to make this stand in the first place.
“Bee–”
“Look, there’s two of them and three of us, and now we can fight. We need food. So let’s go get food.”
Something big is coming; you can feel it in the way your hands shake, gripping the fine china of your mug. Only it feels sinister, and with each second that creeps by it settles into certainty. The 11th Games is coming to an end. All there is to do is sit and wait.
The girl from 3 dies in the night, along with the boy from 6, which brings the number of remaining tributes to six. Neither gone of natural causes though, you note, with a worrisome lurch of your stomach. The fierce duo from 1 and 2 is on the hunt, and they show no signs of stopping.
You feel uneasy as you fix the screen with a watchful eye, camera trained on three small backs, lying in wait. It is Bee who speaks first, turning to Mags with a hushed whisper.
“I’m telling you, they’re not there. They must be out looking for other tributes. This is our chance.” Mags appears hesitant but eventually gives a nod, and the three creep out from their place in the tree line.
They make the jump across the river separately, and though Jadam nearly slips, both girls lunge forward, pulling him to safety. A soft yelp passes his lips, but Mags is quick to shush him, jutting her head in the direction of the cornucopia. Her implication is clear: they could still be inside.
As they get closer, the three take care to press themselves against the wall, with the District 4 girl in the lead, taking a shaky breath before readjusting her grip on the trident in her possession and peeking her head around the corner. Her shoulders drop in relief, and she delivers a curt nod in the direction of the others. They are safe to move forward.
The trio creeps inside, splitting up to peel the lids off of several boxes and fish around their contents. There are several long beats of shuffling and silence before Jadam clears his throat, lifting his head with a sly grin on his face and producing from the confines of the plastic container, a bag of apples.
And you can’t help it, really, your own slow smile at the small victory, especially as glee and relief plaster themselves across Bee and Mags’s faces. Finally. A win.
And then there is screaming. Distant at first, but quickly approaching. And the camera view changes and the girl from 7, Treech’s girl. Hazel is making a mad dash from the woods towards the center of the arena, the pair from 1 and 2 hot on her tail.
“Fuck.”
The trio has barely made it to the mouth of the cornucopia when she makes it over the river, hurtling herself with a violent force, the remains of the pack just behind her.
“We’ve gotta go,” Mags begins to rush, ushering the pair of younger tributes ahead of her and making toward the bank. It’s then the ground seems to begin shaking, all six remaining tributes hitting the ground, and suddenly, the center of the arena begins to shrink, pieces breaking off into the river as the water continues to engulf the chunks of land indiscriminatley.
The girl from 2 is up again, a twisted growl darkening her features as she lunges Hazel, still splayed out from the fall. It is quick and merciful, the sword passing through her chest, and before you can truly process it, she has gone limp, and the buzzer signals her death. Beside you, Treech flinches.
On the screen, Mags’s head whips around in several wild motions, trying to calculate an escape route. The trio edges closer to the river, and the pair from 1 and 2 notes their presence for the first time, the girl turning her mean scowl on Bee, the mark of Colt’s attack stretched across her face in a jagged scar. She starts to run, and the ground begins to shake once more.
A piece breaks off, this time not unpopulated. Jadam hits the water with a splash. Mags lets out a cry of concern, lunging forward to pull him from the river. Her free hand connects with his, but there is a clear tug at his figure, and he screams in pain, accidentally pulling her in with him. The girl from 2 is nearly on Bee when both of them disappear beneath the surface.
One half of the pack takes Bee to the ground, and you resist the urge to reach for her. Beneath the water, there is movement. Both heads resurface, but Jadam’s lulls awkwardly to the side, and his eyes are unblinking. You feel like throwing up as the buzzer sounds again.
Mags seems to notice as well, her eyes welling up and a strangled sob escaping her lips. And then she is lifting the trident, stabbing down and something seems to give as she moves through the water towards the shore, gripping at the dirt and pulling herself up. Her eyes are cold, and she barely seems to notice as she turns, as though on instinct and impales the oncoming boy from 1 with her weapon before discarding him into the river.
The girl is next and, from behind, poses less of a threat. Beneath her, Bee has stopped struggling so much. Something is wrong. The trident pierces the girl from 2’s throat, and with several wretched choking sounds, she falls to the side, revealing Bee, drained of color beneath her. She is still breathing, though barely, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths and a large gash painting her stomach. She looks up at Mags with eyes filled with tears, and you wonder if the older girl will deliver the final blow just to get it over with. She seems to consider it for a moment, and Bee’s eyes squeeze shut, awaiting the impact.
The trident hits the ground, cast aside in one harsh movement, and Mags sinks slowly to her knees, pulling the younger girl into her lap. Her features grow tired, though admittedly warmer, and she begins to stroke Bee’s hair. You choke back a sob.
The careful braid you had pleated into her chestnut locks is almost completely undone, and Mags runs her fingers through the strands, undoing your work and then beginning to work at the knots that had formed in the Games. There is no need for the braid anymore. There will be no more fighting, no more days spent working in the slaughterhouse. Instead, her hair falls loose around her shoulders in the way a little girl’s hair should, wild and free. Uncontained.
“I’m so sorry,” Mags whispers, the words croaked and wet.
“Don’t be. I was never gonna win.” The response comes, weak and small.
“Could you do me a favor?” Mags only manages a nod, and Bee flashes her with a half-smile.
“If you ever make it over to 10, tell my mom not to worry about me. And that I love her.”
“I will. Of course, I will,” Mags promises, tears falling atop Bee’s fragile form. She is quiet for a time before speaking again, moving her hand to lay over Mags’s.
“Do you think there’s another world where we could have been friends?” The older girl’s lip shakes as she takes a minute before responding.
“I’d like to think we don’t need another world. That I can tell people we were friends in this one.” Bee smiles, real and bright, though fading by the second.
“That’s nice. Friends. I’m sorry it wasn’t for longer. I think I really would’ve liked getting to know you.” When she finally stills, Mags lets out a final shuddering sob before loosing a scream, angry like no other you’ve heard before. She does not hear as they announce her the victor, barely seeming to notice the Peacekeepers entering the arena through some passage in the cornucopia. Instead, she leans forward to press a kiss to Bee’s head and clings, shuddering to her form until they pry her from it, pulling her towards the exit.
The first thing you do upon arrival at the victor’s suite is take a shower. It has been days, and you scrub at your skin with a ferocity previously unknown to you, but the ghost of the Games does not wash away.
Trawl has been called elsewhere, likely to meet with Mags, but the rest of you have been told you will remain in the hotel until called upon for further ceremonies, and so you do. Wait, that is, as the hours tick by in a vile silence. Several of the other victors depart towards their rooms to rest or perhaps escape the group and the constant reminder they provide of the events that have just occurred. And really, you should sleep. In the last five days, you’ve probably only managed to crash for a grand total of two hours, and even that time had been dispersed in fifteen-minute chunks. But closing your eyes means seeing them. Colt sprawled out, his eyes still open and the ghost of a smile on his face in spite of his leaking chest, and Bee, whispering her final words to the girl from 4, her hair a messy halo in the grass. You wonder what will become of what is left of them.
It is a thought that has plagued you since your own Games, what the Capitol does with the remains of the District children. The first few years, they had shipped them home in boxes, though little had been done in the way of embalming, and often, the children arrived in a condition so bad that parents were denied the privilege of even seeing them. One year, the Capitol sent patches torn from the clothing of the deceased as a means of commemoration. But eventually, they ceased pretending to care about the families of fallen tributes, and in the last few years, when your child died, you were left with nothing but the memory of them and an empty grave.
Your hands shake as you enter the kitchen, barely noting the other mentors in the room. You haven’t eaten much in the last few days; the Games made you feel sick, and keeping anything down felt difficult. Still, the lack of care seems to be catching up with your body, so you force down some toast from the plater on the counter as well as a piece of bacon before turning to observe the suite.
You note Treech’s absence almost immediately, and though a good part of you longs for his presence, you know that after the events of yesterday, you should keep your distance. Teff is seated alone at the dining room table, hunched over and scribbling something. Probably a letter you note. Probably to Jadam’s parents or Olive’s. You shake the thought as it brings in a torrent of others. Should you be writing letters? What do you even say to the mothers of two children who will never see their homes again? Nothing. At least nothing they haven’t heard before, and certainly nothing that makes the absence feel any less cruel.
On the couch, Octavian sits, stiff as a board, his eyes glued straight ahead. The television plays something you don’t recognize and, therefore, must not be the news, but it doesn’t seem to matter to him. He stares blankly past the screen, gaze fixed on something you’re certain isn’t there.
Beside him, Antonia has begun to nod off, though she jerks awake every few seconds, eyes doing a desperate search of the room before landing on Octavian and, noting that he is safe, closing once more. Further down, several feet away from the pair, Lux sits, feet tucked primly beneath her and a magazine in her hands. You note that the pages turn too quickly for her to possibly be reading the text, but the movement seems to calm her, apart from the occasional fidget. You make your way over, taking the seat beside hers.
“What are you doing?” She asks without so much as looking up from the task before her.
“Sitting down?” You snark in return, sinking further into your seat.
“You can’t sit somewhere else? Further away?” She turns to face you now, nose crinkling in mock disgust, but you ignore the twisting of her features, hoping mostly for a moment of normalcy.
“Lux–”
“We aren’t friends,” she says plainly. And bickering with Lux feels normal, but her statement still strikes at an odd place between your ribs.
“Jesus, I know–” You begin once more.
“I’m not gonna sit here and play patty-cake and braid your hair.” This has you rolling your eyes, a soft snort escaping you.
“Would you calm down? I’m sitting next to you, not asking you to marry me.”
“Well, I would hope not; I’ve seen the wedding customs you have in 10; frankly, they’re a bit barbaric,” she taunts, flipping a long strand of hair over her shoulder and just barely missing your face. Still, there is something about the conversation that feels better than sitting catatonic like Octavian and staring at the wall.
“I’m sorry we can’t afford to be quite as gaudy with our ceremonies as–”
“Gaudy? We are very tasteful– I suppose you’d just have us walking down the aisle in work boots?” She sputters at the notion, and you know you are under her skin. Still, you do not stop, pushing forward with the jest.
“You know honey, maybe it would be better if we just eloped. I never really got the whole fuss around weddings anyways.” And suddenly, Lux breaks off in a laugh, though her brow remains raised in surprise as though she hadn’t been expecting to enjoy your company.
“I wanted a big wedding,” she admits after a long beat, turning to face you as though telling some sort of secret.
“When I was a girl, I would dream about falling in love and getting married. Perfect dress. Perfect venue. But nobody wants to lie in bed next to a killer. At least not back home. Not now. And by the time this Capitol plan kicks in and changes their minds, I won’t be me anymore, and that little girl will be long gone.” Her face has gone sour by the end of her confession, and you feel your own heart sinking in your chest at the turn in conversation. You want to say sorry. To reach out and comfort her. But she is Lux, and to do so would only encourage scorn, so you nod, trading a secret of your own.
“I always thought I would never marry. I wanted to work on the ranch like my dad; I thought that was what freedom looked like. And then it turned out all the ranchers ever really talk about is home. Their wives and husbands and how much they missed them. And I realized freedom doesn’t have to mean being alone. We don’t wear boots to our weddings. At least, not all of us do. It’s a ranching tradition. The whole bunkhouse saves up for a pair, and then the night before the wedding, you gift them to the person marrying into the ranch life. Like the things that are important to you become more important because they’re sharing them with you. And even though I didn’t believe in weddings or marriage, I started dreaming up those boots, what they would look like, and who would be wearing them. And then it didn’t seem so bad, falling in love.” Lux snorts at the notion, but when she dips her head to take in her magazine once more, there is a soft smile spread across her lips.
“You’re not so bad,” you say, quiet so only she can hear.
“I guess I’ve had worse company,” she replies, and you feel a piece of the weight chip away, just for a second.
For two days, the Capitol seems to forget entirely that you exist. Mags makes several television appearances accompanied by Trawl, but neither so much as enters the hotel. As for the rest of you, the space feels suffocating. At night, you escape to the lobby, seeking a change of environment and anything strong enough to drown out the Games that haunt you from every screen in the Capitol. The day proves to be more difficult, and you pass the hours making strained conversation with the other victors.
Several times, you consider writing Bee and Colt’s families, but the thought continues to bring bile to your throat, and you decide you will visit with them instead upon your return.
On the third day, there is a knock at the door. Several people enter all at once, including a pair of Peacekeepers led by a man you’ve never seen before. He has a sharp nose and eyes that remain guarded, almost appearing glassed over as he speaks. In addition, they bring Trawl and Mags, the former drawing you into an embrace upon arrival.
His companion shows signs of obvious discomfort, keeping close to her mentor as he makes his way to the couch. The man takes his place before the television, and you note he is likely here to pass on information regarding the next steps in this process, though you feel surprise creep into your system, wondering what has happened to Coriolanus Snow. Probably basking in the glory of his successful undertaking. It is a sour thought, but you have no doubt it is mostly true.
“Hello there, we haven’t met before. My name is Hilarius Heavensbee, and going forward, I’ll be working with Coriolanus Snow to oversee the mentorship program.” He is met with silence, but you all file in, aware there is likely a speech in store. He squares his shoulders before continuing.
“I’m here to let you know we’ll be keeping you here a little longer, mostly to get you prepped on what the first-ever Victory Tour will look like. Additionally, as part of our campaign to endear you to the public, each of you must pick a talent to cultivate and integrate into your personality.”
“Talent?” Antonia asks, a sneer decorating her features.
“Some sort of interesting skill. Drawing, poetry, dance, frankly, I don’t really care what you pick, as long as it’s something,” he says dismissively, though his posture conveys that there is a layer of deception to the aloof nature he presents.
“I’m good at chopping down trees. Can that be my talent?” Treech speaks up from beside you. Lux snorts, and he shoots her a glare.
“No. No, your talent needs to be something that distinguishes you from your district. Remember, on your new victor’s earnings, you will no longer be a part of the working class. This should be something you do for fun. A hobby,” Heavensbee prompts.
There is a wave of muttering that passes through the room, and you hear as several times the words fun and hobby are tossed around in a tone that indicates little more than confusion.
“Right, well, you’ll have until the end of the day to decide on something. And try not to pick the same talents; we don’t need nine victors who can knit,” he says, clapping his hands together before moving to depart and leaving the suite buzzing with confusion.
“What are you doing for this stupid talent thing?” Treech does not knock before entering your room; only thrusts himself down across the end of your bed and waits expectantly for your answer after closing the door behind him.
“Well, I already know how to draw, so probably just sketching,” you shrug, though it isn’t really a question; you’ve already decided.
“Urgh, this is so dumb,” he groans, burying his face in the duvet.
“C’mon, there has to be something you’re good at besides using an axe,” you tease, your lips twisting into a smile when he lifts his head to send you an indignant expression before the emotion on his face melts into something more contemplative.
“Sometimes I make little… things out of wood. For my sisters,” he says, slow as though weighing the option.
“There you go,” you encourage, pleased to have solved the predicament so quickly.
“No.” He shakes his head, setting it back down with another sigh.
“What do you mean, no? It’s right there. And you already know how to do it.”
“I don’t want them to have that. It’s– I want that to be for me.” And you cannot blame him for that, though the thought had not occurred to you before, and you think of your own talent. Of how the sole surviving symbol of your teenage dreams to become a veterinarian was the skill you would now hand on a silver platter to the Capitol.
“Okay,” you nod, thinking for a moment before speaking again. “Do you know how to play any instruments?”
“Do I look like I know how to play any instruments?” He quips, voice muffled by the bed.
“Maybe you could try the guitar,” you say, and it is mostly a joke.
“As if. Do you know how ridiculous I would look trying to play the guitar?” You resist a laugh at the thought.
“Please, the women of the Capitol are already practically falling at your feet; just imagine if you could serenade them.”
“Shut up,” he says, looking up at you with a pout plastered across his face. Still, you don’t stop.
“Play me your guitar, oh Capitol loverboy. Is it true? Are you really a tortured dark soul, like they say?”
“Shut up,” Treech exclaims, louder this time, and as the words leave his mouth, he lunges forward to muffle your remarks with his hand. You struggle to break free, laughter slipping from your lips as he pulls you closer in his attempts to silence you, but it is of little use as you continue to pester him with your remarks until you gain enough traction to whip around and face him.
You are inches apart when your eyes meet his, and the words seem to die on your tongue as you note the distance, or lack thereof, between you. And for a moment, the world seems to stop. And his lips are so close, his eyes so soft. You recall the feeling of his curls between your fingers. You think you will never forget that feeling. His nose brushes yours, and your eyes flutter closed, cheek leaning into the open palm inches from your face. But you cannot. You know you cannot. So you pull away.
“Treech–”
“I know,” he cuts you off, allowing his hand to remain outstretched for a moment before dropping it to his side. His eyes linger though, tracing each crevice of your face with a look you cannot quite dissect.
“I should–”
“I’ll go,” he interrupts you once more and stands to depart. And your heart feels as though it is heavy enough to crash through all your vital organs, sinking into the bottom of your stomach. “I think maybe it’s better if I stop staying in your room.” He doesn’t turn around, his words projecting out towards the door, and you feel the biting sting of tears forming in your eyes. You want to speak, but you’re afraid your voice will break and betray you. He is gone before you can even manage a shaky breath.
You do not speak with Treech the next day, silence providing a strain between you, though you spare him a glance upon Hilarius’s return when he announces he will, in fact, be learning to play the guitar.
Before his departure, the new hire announces that you are all set to return tomorrow, but not prior to engaging in one final festivity, a celebration set to be held at the President’s mansion. Lux nearly squeals with excitement, though the decision seems to breed more questions than answers among others.
“They won’t even let you come in here without a security detail, and now we’re invited to a ball?” Teff demands, brow furrowed in concern. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
“This is all part of the larger plan in reconstructing your image as victors. We want the people of the Capitol to regard you as favorites. That starts with getting you in the same rooms with them.”
“This is gonna be fucking miserable,” mutters Treech, and you cannot help but agree. You can hardly imagine a world where, upon being faced with you, the Capitol citizens can manage anything other than sheer horror. Still, if some party is all that’s standing between you and returning home, you’ll find a way to get through it, even if you have to grit your teeth and bite your tongue until it bleeds.
Your stylists arrive hot on the tail of Hilarius’s departure, and by 9:00 pm, you are all ready to depart. You find yourself standing by Mags in the center of the suite’s common space as you wait for the cars meant to transport the lot of you to arrive, and upon noting a fallen eyelash on her cheek, you reach out on instinct before stopping yourself and clearing your throat.
“Sorry, it’s just you have an eyelash,” you start, indicating its location with an outstretched finger. Her eyebrows lift and she quickly moves to dust off her cheek, but to no avail.
“Here, let me.” You reach out once more, this time making contact with her skin and brushing it from her face.
“It’s good luck, you know. They say you’re supposed to put it on your knuckle and then blow it off and make a wish,” you smile, offering it back.
“Thanks, but I don’t think any of my wishes have a chance of coming true.” You nod, quiet understanding passing over your face before moving the piece of her to your own knuckle.
“Well then, I’ll wish for both of us that tonight goes decently well.” You shut your eyes tight and huff the eyelash out into the room.
“You’re not supposed to say it out loud.” And there is the ghost of a smile on her face at your mistake.
“What are the chances it comes true anyway?”
That was two hours ago, and as it turns out, the answer is zero to none. In fact, so far, the night had proved to be a disaster. No self-respecting Capitol citizen wanted to be seen talking to someone from the Districts, and so, as expected, no one spoke with you at all. Picking at the abundance of food lining the tables that fill the garden had only earned you several hard stares, and there came a point where even talking to Teff felt frustrating under the weight of so many watchful eyes, and so, about thirty minutes ago, you had pressed yourself into a corner, brimming with the hope that you might get lucky and simply disappear.
At present, your gaze is fixed on Treech, locked in conversation with a woman you recognize as his mentor from the 10th Hunger Games. She is a pretty girl; hair twisted back and away from her face and a visage like a cherub’s. Not that you really take notice. Not that you’re jealous or anything.
“May I have this dance?” Your thoughts are interrupted by the sudden presence at your side, and with a jolt, you turn to meet Hilarius Heavensbee, looking slightly more preened than he had several hours ago in your hotel room. You cast another glance in Treech’s direction, though it reveals nothing new. He is still wrapt in his conversation with Vispania and you are still standing in the corner, only not quite so alone.
“Shouldn’t you be sneering at me with disgust from thirty feet away?” And really, he’s done nothing to deserve it, but you are not exactly in the mood to be extending courtesies, and his offer seems to you more like an attempt to get under your skin than anything else.
“Well, I would, but then you’d be stuck standing in this corner, and I cannot think of a worse way to waste a perfectly beautiful dress.” You only snort in response, but the words seem genuine enough, and he extends you a careful hand, which, after several moments of consideration, you take. He leads you with ease, you note, as you settle into the pattern of his practiced steps, and you begin to relax in spite of your newfound position thrusting you into the limelight. Your eyes flit back to Treech, who, having noted your presence on the dance floor, appears distracted from his conversation with his former mentor, expression unreadable.
“How’s your night been so far?” Hilarius asks low and quiet in your ear. This conversation is just for you, meaning your biting tone from before feels at liberty to return.
“Is that a joke?” You scoff, meeting his gaze with a single eyebrow arched in question.
“They’re warming up to you,” he reassures, gathering the implication of your words, and you mull over his comment.
“Yeah, to Lux and Beau. And Octavian, I guess.” This much is true. The three had been the most successful in engaging with the other partygoers, with Lux in particular managing to charm a group of Capitol citizens who have yet to depart from her side. Hilarius only sighs before seeming to make a quick shift in conversation.
“Do you know the real reason I’m dancing with you?”
“Well, given that I saw the ring on your finger the minute you walked up, I’m assuming it's not an attempt to get in my pants,” you chuckle, eyes traveling to the golden band on his left hand. He grants you a smile, though his head shakes in tandem with the action.
“Look around. Look at the way they’re looking at you.” And you do. And he’s right, you note, not even having heard his reason, because the people of the Capitol have stopped glaring, fixing you instead with looks of curiosity and interest. It’s working.
As the music comes to a stop, he steps back, taking your hand in his and pressing a soft kiss to the skin. You nearly jerk back in surprise.
“Was that really necessary?”
“No. But you should see the look on your face.” You roll your eyes, casting your head around to gauge the reaction of your audience. The place beside Vispania is empty, and all that’s left of Treech is a retreating form headed for the house.
“I have to go, sorry,” you whisper, barely looking back as you set off after him.
It is not for lack of trying that you come up empty in your search for Treech, doing the rounds of both the gardens and the house for the remainder of the party to no avail. By the time you return to the hotel, it is nearly 3:00 am, and Treech is nowhere to be found. You crash into the soft padding of your duvet, not even bothering to wipe the makeup from your face, and the hem of your dress spills over the side of the bed, brushing against your ankles.
You think of Hilarius, of the dance you’d shared and the seeming sympathy he had lent you in his attempt to garner you even a modicum of support and respect. Your brain picks at his possible motivations: advancement within Snow’s ranks, better support for their sadistic project, a false sense of trust instilled in you as a mentor. Genuine kindness. You keep coming back to that answer, but it feels ignorant to let yourself believe, so you move on to other musings. To Treech.
It is incredible, you think, the amount of time he spends occupying your thoughts. You run your hands down your face, resisting the urge to curl in on yourself as you picture once more his retreating form. Was it something Vispania said? Or maybe, just maybe, was it you? Your dance with Hilarius? The thought feels indulgent, and your mind travels to earlier today. To your almost kiss. To the awkward battle, the two of you seem locked in, both wanting to give in but refusing for the other. Your mind begins to drift over the what-ifs.
There is a knock at the door. You are on your feet in an instant, though upon reaching it, your hand hovers over the handle. What if it’s not Treech? Or worse, what if it is? What do you even say? That this is doomed. That the two of you are doomed. You twist it open, and he doesn’t even look up as the light of your room floods the hallway, soft curls hanging down in his face and his frame draped against the entrance.
“I–” You begin.
“I can’t do this anymore.” He does not look up as he speaks, and his voice is strained as it travels in your direction.
“What?”
“When I’m with you, I can’t have you. When I’m ignoring you, you’re all I can think about. This is driving me insane. I feel like I’m insane and like no matter what I do, I’m losing. And I can’t just push it down anymore– Trust me, I tried. And I just knew I had to tell you. Well, technically, I’ve already told you, but this is the last time I’ll say it and–” And he is looking at you now, eyes wild.
“Treech–”
“When I saw you with him tonight, it felt like I was– Like I couldn’t– I’m not good at–” His struggle is palpable, but even as you move to interrupt him, you sense he has more to say.
“Treech,” you begin again.
“Like I was drowning.”
“Treech.” And this time, he doesn’t interrupt you as you move forward, placing a hand on his chest to still his breathing, which has become a bit erratic. He freezes, and for once, every emotion on his face is clear. Fear. Frustration. Adoration. It pools at the corners of his eyes as he looks at you. You are inches apart. Your mind flits to several days ago in the bathroom. To yesterday in your room. To all the nights you’d shared your bed. To that very first trip out to the Capitol, his pinky twisting around yours moments before you stepped out on stage. You take a shaky breath, and he leans in closer. Your noses are brushing. Now is the time to pull back. You can stop this here. But you can’t, not really. You don’t think an oncoming train could pull you away. Your lips brush over his, and his eyes begin to flutter close before opening once more, fixing you with a questioning regard.
You only need to nod once, and it is as though time, which had stopped, has started again. And the kiss, which is soft at first, becomes frenzied, his hands pulling desperately at your waist, your own traveling up into his hair. And you pull each other closer, impossibly closer, appearing for a moment to devour one another. Completely undivided. Completely unaware.
It is early the next morning when the call comes; it sets the phone beside your bed ringing, and in your haze, you reach towards the sound only to discover Treech, who is closer, has released his hold on you to answer it. His voice is heavy with sleep, and you decide later that it was sleep that rendered you too dumb to perceive the danger of allowing him to pick up the phone. The phone in your room. Your room in which he was not meant to reside. But he continues speaking, in short, snippy phrases, before hanging up and turning to press a chaste kiss against your cheek.
“I’ll be right back.” And again, it should have scared you, his getting up so suddenly to depart, but all you can manage is a nod before you curl back into the warmth of the bed, unplagued by concern.
Snow’s office is much smaller than Treech expected, though that does not prevent the cold from seeping in. He had been quick to dress himself after receiving the call to your room, a mistake he had only recognized after speaking. Not that it would have saved him the grief. It was him Snow was asking for, not you. That thought alone is enough to send a shiver down his spine. How had Snow known to reach him there? He pushes the thought away, toying with his hands nervously while the other man finishes shuffling through a stack of papers before turning to him with a nonchalance that should have almost lowered his guard. It does not. Treech only clenches his hands into two tight fists while waiting for the man in the pressed suit to begin.
“No need to look so nervous. As long as this conversation goes well, you have nothing to worry about.” Snow smiles, face contorting into the expression as though unsure how to proceed.
“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called you here, though at this point, given your numerous indiscretions, I feel it should be a bit obvious.” Treech does not share the expressed sentiment and sets about wracking his brain for anything he might have done.
“Oh, come on, don’t look so confused. Your relationship? With the girl from 10? You didn’t seriously think I was that stupid, did you? And I mean, it was fine, all those sad puppy dog looks and missed glances, but then you had to go and do something about it, didn’t you?” Anything he might have done that didn’t involve you, his single gross oversight. And suddenly, it all falls into place. The call placed to your room, the teasing glint in Snow’s eye.
“How–” He begins.
“You’re in the Capitol, Mr. Elmore, my domain. There isn’t a single place in this city I don’t have eyes on.” And he’s not sure Snow even has to say it. But he does. And the words sink like a stone within his gut.
“Anyways, you’re in luck. It’s a simple fix, really. You cut ties with the girl, and I overlook this mistake.” Cut ties? He has only just gotten you within his grasp, and now he is supposed to, what? Throw you away?
“I can’t–”
“Oh, you can. And you will. I understand you have a family, several sisters? A mother? Not to worry, though. I wouldn’t start with them. You see, Miss. L/N happens to have a family as well. One that is very dear to her, as I’m sure you know. And wouldn’t it be a shame if that little sister of hers was reaped for next year's Games? A tragedy, I assure you, though it would make good press.” There it is. A threat strong enough to stop him in his tracks. A promise that his actions would result before all else in consequences for you and you alone.
“So what? I just stop talking to her? What if she won’t leave me alone?” It occurs to him that try as he might, it isn’t exactly in your nature to just let things go.
“Well, then you make her. Frankly, that’s not my concern. Just make it happen.” And just like that, you are gone. No longer within reach. No longer within reason.
“You can go now.” And Treech is nearly at the door before he speaks again.
“But Mr. Elmore? We’ll be in contact. See, there are a few other things I’d like to run by you at some point, and now that we’ve gotten to know one another on this personal level, I feel I can trust you to make the right decisions.” Treech’s gut twists at the dismissal, but he says nothing, thinking only of you. Of what he is going to say. Do. How he is going to push you away with all his unspoken confessions pressing at the backs of his teeth. He makes it to the end of the hall before throwing up.
#treech fanfiction#treech thg#treech x reader#treech tbosas#treech#tbosas fanfiction#tbosas x reader#tbosas#thg#the hunger games#hunger games#district 7#x reader#no evil angel but love#neabl
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BTAS Dork Squad and also Penguin (all separately, no poly this time) have an s/o who falls incredibly ill and is bedridden for weeks. One particularly bad night, they're sitting at the bedside while their s/o is unconscious. Suddenly, an appropriately unsettling (or completely normal looking) apparition of your choice appears in the room with them. There's no question what's happening: The Reaper is here to stake their claim on the sickly s/o. But Death can be swayed. Or beaten. How do the boys react to the situation, and how would they save the reader?
BTAS Dork Squad (plus Penguin) x Reader
How ominous! They'll really have to figure out how to save their beloved! First time writing for BTAS Penguin, very exciting <3
TW: Discussions of death, religion mention
BTAS Mad Hatter
Death appears as a gentleman in fine attire and top hat. Like something out of a storybook. The only indication that he is Wrong is when he takes off his glove and reveals the skeletal bones of his hands.
Oh, no no, this simply won't do! Jervis covers your body with his, covering his face and his eyes to wash the vision of death away! Despite living within his fantasy, he's still somewhat rational. This is because of stress. Chemicals and wiring misfiring within his brain-
Yet he feels his lovers body grow cold and he whips up, looking at the Reaper, begging him to stop. The flush goes back to your feverish cheeks and he realizes this is all too real.
"What could you want? I have nothing to give of consequence!" Jervis doesn't exactly think he wants money or jewelry. Or mind control devices...
"I want them." The Reaper states, "That is what I came here for. Nothing more." Jervis wraps himself tighter around you, refusing to sit idly by- and he notices something about the gentleman. His hat is beaten. And worn.
Jervis waves his hand, "Perhaps! Perhaps I could interest you in a bit of haberdashery! Some fine fixing, as it were!"
His skill in the smallest of mechanics has given his hyperfixation for Alice in Wonderland themed clothing a definitive boost over the years. The finest threading.
A deal is made. Jervis fixes the Reapers hat and you would not be taken at this time. Through the night as you slept through fever and rattling cough, Jervis moved nimble fingers tight and steamed and molded...
In the morning dawn, you woke up. Jervis told you he was exhausted, crawling into bed with you. His fingers had several bandages and when you asked, he merely says "We had a guest in need of a hat fixing."
BTAS Scarecrow
While at first he's incredibly doubtful of the existence of this foul creature, the skeletal shadow it reaches over you makes Jon a believer. Is this some... punishment from God? Some reckoning for his past sins of wreaking fear into the hearts of man?
Is he meant to suffer his very worst fear as recompense? Is this Hell?
It is not. It is merely a trial of some sort. Death sees a chessboard and expresses interest. He'd been teaching you and playing you in the moments you were awake. Perhaps Death would like a game? A wager?
Jon is not a gambling man. What this figure might not know is that Jon has played two of the most brilliant minds in all of Gotham during their stints in Arkham- a former neuroscientist and a certified genius.
Even Death has their psychological tells. They're difficult to read, but Jonathan has had practice. Little twitches, both of them analyzing the board.
The shambling ghoul that sits across from him has no facial features. Yet, Jonathan can sense they want to win desperately. Not from wanting you, though that is a bonus. No, rather, it's a nagging fear of losing.
And that is what he needs. Faking the Reaper out, allowing them to think they've gained an upper hand for Jon to yank it out from underneath at just the right moment. Risky, but feeds into the fear and makes Death sloppy.
"Set. Match." It takes almost an hour, but Jonathan manages to beat the Reaper. His hands are trembling. His brow sweating.
Death shakes with rage and points to you in bed, "I will have them... But... not today. And one day... I will have you, too. I will not forget this." Then he disappears.
Jonathan falls asleep at your bedside, waiting for you to wake up. Your gentle hand in his hair makes his eyes flutter and you look... better. Sweet, sweet relief.
BTAS Riddler
"Oh Jonathan, if this is your idea of some tasteless joke-" it's three a.m., how did you even get in here? Edward has so much security installed, this is ridiculous- it's when the figure passes his hand over you and your skin turns a hypoxic blue that Edward panics.
You see, Death heard of a genius who made games. Self-proclaimed smartest man alive. Death has always wanted a challenge... and what better wager than the soul of one you love? Cruel, perhaps, but he's been called that many a time before.
Edward immediately takes him up on it. He'll beat you at your game, ghoul. Or, crudely stated, Game ON, bitch. With his grandiose intelligence and stratagem... Unless this spectre is somehow Batman in disguise, Edward knows he's going to win. He has to.
It's an ancient game, one Edward hasn't even heard of. Lost to the ages, Death says. It's rules and playing pieces mere ash except for what Death himself has kept. And it's rules are numerous and complex.
The playing board represents a sort of river styx. Appropriately, perhaps, the goal of the game is to wade your way out of the river before death and the other souls can take you. So it's timed as well. One player is Death. The other is the poor soul trying to escape.
"And I never lose." Death says. Edward merely responds, "Well, you've never played me."
The game lasts five hours in length. Death has an hour glass set that Edward watches in horror as each grain reminds him how close you are to dying. What he truly has to lose. But he can't let his emotions run wild.
The idea of never seeing you smile or laugh at his witticisms again- to croon and tell him you love him and that he's your genius. It spurs each moment on as he falls to what feels like constantly shifting rules.
The Reaper asks Edward as only minutes remain, "You are a man of riddles. Here's one for you: I have a beginning, but no end and I end all things that begin. What am I?"
They both know the mocking answer.
With moments to spare, The Riddler beats the game. He practically flips over the board, cheering and being generally smug. He waits to see Death's reaction.
He laughs. Waves Riddler away before shaking his hand, "Good game."
He'd heard right. And so you live through this sickness. Edward looks forward to making you laugh for years to come.
BTAS Penguin
The figure who approaches your bedside is no private doctor or nurse. Penguin questions her, his eyelids swollen from worry and stress. Her smile, at first serene, moves to a grin too wide for her face. Penguin aims his umbrella at her and finds the bullet does nothing.
She is Death and she has come for your soul. Merely step aside, little man, for it is not your time yet. She talks to him as one would a child, adding insult to injury.
If he cannot wound her, he instead begs, "This isn't right! They have done nothing! Commited no crime other than gracing me with their affections!"
"The good never last for long. We both know that." Death responds.
Penguin offers everything- gold, jewelry, the finest cloth and diamonds one could ever want! Is it money? He can give you money, he has it! Everything in his account!
"I will not be satisfied with paltry mortal things." She says, "You need to accept these things. They'll happen to you, too. The rot. The cold-"
Oswald panics. The one person who ever truly accepted him. Someone he's told everything to, even his darkest secrets. The person he wants to grow old with...!
He stands in front of you, tears in his eyes. She tells him to move. He refuses. She looks annoyed.
With his last shot, he tells her, "Then take mine if you won't be satisfied, you corrupt banshee!"
That... makes her pause, "You would give your soul? For theirs?"
He nods. Of course. Take the damn thing! What would be the point of it if you died like this? He has no need!
And so she takes his face in her hands... and begins to pull his soul out from his body. Its agonizing like this, when he's so alive. It's painful, but he accepts it-
Until she stops. And sighs. Rolls her eyes. She frowns, "You've taken all the fun from this."
And suddenly she's gone. And you're coughing awake, telling Oswald that you just had the strangest dream. He cries as he holds you.
#btas riddler#btas scarecrow#btas mad hatter#dork squad#btas penguin#riddler x reader#scarecrow x reader#penguin x reader#mad hatter x reader#foxwriting
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WE NEED A PART 2 AMD 3 OF WHAT HAPPENS IN MEXICO
Kyle and Soap fight it out ft the gang
Soap actually shows up to thanksgiving and the Garrick's love him and ask him to stay for the night the whole hospitality thing (she and soap fuck in her childhood bedroom)
AHHHHHHH so cute
Happy Family ‧₊˚.
Johnny ‘Soap’ McTavish x Garrick!blkfem!reader
Summary: After the events in Mexico, Johnny finds himself going against is friends wishes to talk to his little sister and finds himself attending thanksgiving with the Garrick’s..
Warnings: cursing, smut, little age gap 6ish years apart, chaotic family stuff, Kyle hating on Johnny and his sister(sibling love!!)
A/n: So I figured out Thanksgiving is not celebrated in the UK makes sense, so I'm making the Garrick family British American(Kyle and the reader's dad is American) the accent just lingers. Didn’t really think about it but reader also studies abroad. 
“Are you fucking kidding me!” Kyle yelled pushing Johnny back him hitting the wall.
“What are you on? I didn’t know she was your sister yeah?” Johnny scoffed.
Kyle had been at Johnny’s throat since he had gotten back from dropping his sister off at the hotel she was staying at, price had made an attempt to pull Kyle off of him but he was only pushed away.
“You're a piece of Shit John don't fucking touch my sister, alright. She's not just of of your hookups don't even think about going near her.” Kyle spoke his finger pressed on Johnny’s chest.
“Watch yer fuckin’ mouth,” Johnny warned glaring at Gaz.
“What because I'm saying the truth? You're a bastard that ruins things he touches, you are a piece of shit, John. Stay the fuck away-”
Before Kyle could finish Johnny had punched Kyle falling back, instead of sitting there Kyle came right back at him. Ghost went to step in but Price held his hand up.
“Wait. Let them get at it for a minute.” price said.
They let them beat on each other then blood started to spill ghost grabbed Johnny and Price pulling Kyle off of him.
“Listen ya son of a bitch,” Kyle started.
“Alright Kyle keep it down.” price said pulling him away from Johnny.
That was the last time Kyle and Johnny had an actual conversation.
Johnny even talked to her out of spite at first but eventually actually started to like her, started to love her. Maybe too soon to tell but he was head over heels for her. Now for the past months, Johnny had been spending his time with her.
God, he felt as if he knew everything about her, how to touch her those soft sweet gasps that escaped from her lips as he touched her. This didn't make him a good friend that's for sure dating Kyles's little sister and he knew it.
Now he sat on the couch of his apartment watching as she was talking on the phone he didn't know who but he listened to her chat. Her back faced him, and not having any pants on the shirt she wore was his ‘Mctavish’ in dark lettering, he tilted his head to get a look at her ass that hung out at the bottom of the shirt. Green looked good on her dark complexion, but she would look even better bent over that countertop.
Soap pushed himself of the couch just as she was hanging up the phone. Johnny let his arms wrap around her waist his face pushing her curls aside his check touching hers. He felt her back in to him a bit “who was that bonnie?” he asked.
“My mum..” she hummed her hands coming up grabbing his biceps he nails lightly digging into them.
“Yeah, what she callin’ fo’..”
“School, checking on me.. She wants me to bring you to thanksgiving..” she spoke.
“American Holiday?” Johnny questioned.
“My dad’s American though me and Kyle grew up here my parents moved back to America after we both graduated being closer with family ya know.” She answered turning her body leaning back on the counter.
Johnny nodded “That means I have to meet your family and see.”
“Kyle, yeah he’ll just have to deal with it.” She smiled her hands coming ups to Johnny’s face her fingers running across his stubble.
“I reckon he will..” Johnny chuckled his lips meeting her two tones ones the taste of her Shea butter chapstick lingered on his lips.
Yeah needless to say when Kyle watched you and Johnny walk through the door his smile faded being replaced with a glare. The silence between her and her brother went unnoticed by their family. For a short while anyway.
Johnny got to meet everyone mostly everyone, pretty much all of her fathers side and few of her mother's. Kyle practically ignored Johnny’s existence, until asked about him.
“He was alright before he got in my sisters pants.” The comment earning a smack from your mother.
He got along well with her father as they talked to her dad he for sure scared the hell out of him. He was a big guy reminded him of Simon a bit taller, tattoos covered his dark-toned arms. He was scary that’s for sure but all around a sweet guy once you got to know him, her father made sure to let Johnny know if her broke his daughter’s heart he’d be dealt with. And her mother was a sweetheart tall herself maybe 5’8 her curls pulled back in a claw clip grays could be seen from her roots. They continued the conversation her uncles and mother joining in only to be interrupted by Kyle bickering with his sister.
“I will beat the shit out of you Kyle- leave him alone,” she spoke glaring at your brother.
“Please he needed to be beat in yeah?” Kyle spoke.
“You bullying my boyfriend is not breaking him in to the family.” She scoffed.
Johnny looked over his eyes coming back to her mothers only for her to shake her head saying let them at it for a second it gets interesting. And it did the two siblings going at it, her comments destroying each other until he went silent and started to walk away.
“Yeah walk away, nothin to say huh- bitch.” She scoffed Kyle turning around flipping her off before going down the hall.
“Gagged” Her aunt said moving her Bob behind her ear laughing.
She groaned “someone had to—he need to get laid so he can HOP OF MY BOYFRIEND.” She yelled the last part down the hall making sure her brother heard.
The Garricks were something else but it was enjoyable similar to Johnny’s family but a bit more chaotic. They love Johnny your aunties making his plate befor you could making sure he was fed and fed well. Table conversation went around school and other drama, your family had a colorful use of language that’s for sure.
“Ya know, Johnny baby. Have you seen her room yet?” Her mother asked.
She shook her head “no he has not. And he won’t.”
“Aren’t you staying with us?” Her father asked.
“Didn’t plan on it we have a hotel we can check into after we leave.” She spoke.
“Yeah no, I’ll show you where to take bags Johnny.” Her father spoke smiling at Johnny his melanin cheeks puffing up as he smiled.
He nodded looking over at her, his hand gripping her thigh teasingly. “What Bonnie? What’s yer room look like lass?” He asked his tone cheeky.
“It’s embarrassing because I went in it earlier I know my mother went in it and pulled some things out.”
“Yeah all of her stuff animals.” Kyle laughed.
She let out a groan, “How many we talkin?”
“To many it’s a problem.” She admitted.
Johnny only laughed light-heartedly patting his girlfriend's thigh before letting it come back up to the table to eat.
As conversation went on Johnny felt her hand go down to his thigh, her nails dragging on the inside of his thigh. He gave he a grin displayed on her glossy lips as he felt her hand go up higher her finger gliding against his clothed cock.
He shutters lightly his left hand grabbing her wrist. “What's wrong?” She asked innocently her brows frowned.
“Nothing…” he spoke his tone warning her.
She tilted her head her tight curls moving down to the side. Her long lashes batting at him as her dark eyes met his light ones. She leaned in her breath hitting his ear as she whispered “Let’s take it to the bathroom yeah?”
He moved away from her glaring at her but a smile on his lips. She was filthy.
“Are you planning on staying with her I would expect so.” Her mom spoke catching Johnny's attention.
“Yeah-”
“No.”
Kyle spoke over Johnny.
Their mother shot a glare at Kyle, him saying sorry quietly but his gaze stabbed Johnny in the side of the head.
Soon dinner ended everyone starting to pick up, Johnny helping his girlfriend with the dishes the two talking. Kyle watched and he hated it, he didn’t hate that his sister was dating someone it was the fact to who she was dating. He hated that fact the he took such good care of her too, “you keep staring at them your sister will give ya shit love.” His mother said her head resting on the arm as she watched them as well.
Johnny flicked water into her face earning a heartfelt laugh as well as a smack to his arm. “You realized he's 26 right mum?” Kyle said.
“Could be worse,” she laughed lightly squeezing his arm. Kyle only shook his head groaning.
It had finally gotten late everyone leaving leaving the five of them, Johnny hand brought their bags in.
“Okay you can't judge me alright,” she spoke standing in front of her door not letting johnny in yet.
“ ‘mon lass ain't gonna judge you.” he chuckled lightly at the girl.
She pressed her dark lips together nodding before opening the door. The room was dimly lit with Christmas lights, her walls covered in posters big and small, and her bed covered with stuffed animals. One thing he could tell it was very pink. His lips curved into a smile seeing the childish room, his head turned to hers, her hands covered the bottom half of her face.
“When did ya move out?” he spoke putting the bags down.
“A year ago..” she muttered.
Johnny moved to stand in front of her his calloused hand touching her face and lifting her chin up “What's wrong Lassie? It's very you n I love it.” he smiled his lips meeting hers.
“But I do have to say, that stunt you pulled at dinner,” he spoke his one hand grabbing her face.
Her lips pulled up into a grin “I don't know whatcha mean Johnny.” she hummed her hands trailing up his chest.
He pushed the door closed as he pushed her against it her hand moving to lock it. “You know exactly what I mean..”
She shook her head “You might have to remind me, baby..”
He hummed his hand reaching to the back of her head and grabbing a hand of hair pulling her head back a soft moan escaping her lips. His hand grazed over his belt before letting her fingers slide down his clothed cock.
He bent down kissing her neck right in the area that made her squirm, his free hand sliding up the bottom of her shirt pulling her tit out of her bra. Johnny let his thumb run over her hard nip meeting the warm metal of her piercing. Something about him playing with her nubs got her worked up so quickly, his knee lifting up and pressing against her core the dress she wore bunching up. Coming up to kiss her lips it became messy quickly her pawing at his shirt and pulling him closer as she ground herself on his thigh.
“Please Johnny..” she whimpered.
“Yeah bonnie? How bad ya want me eh?” he spoke hitting her bottom lip.
So she did, the begging leaving her pretty lips as he kissed her pressing his thigh harder to her core as she rubbed herself against him. Her whiney tone made him harder as he held himself back just wanting to know how desperate she was.
“Fuck- please Johnny, stuff me. Stuff me full,” she pleaded.
That was his tipping point grabbing her and lifting her up the feeling of her legs wrapping around him as they both fell onto the bed. Johnny lifted himself up unbuttoning his dress shirt, throwing it to the side the pulling of his undershirt quickly. He went back to her his hands grabbed the hem of her dress sliding it up and pulling it off her in one motion. Her bra was discarded earlier the both were topless.
Johnny leaned down his skin touching hers, the skin-to-skin practically making him moan. Her hands placed on his shoulders her nails digging into them as the made out his groin grinding against her.
“Yer so fouking wet f’er me love.” he groaned his fingers touching the outside of her soaked panties.
“It's all for you,” she whispered the feeling of him pushing her panties to the side feeling her wet folds.
He discarded his boxers, soon letting his finger lop around the sides of her panties pulling them of and watching her stick arousal make a string.
He laughed loudly “Yeah~ love ya want me that bad.” he spoke looking down at her seeing her nod.
“Open up f’er me.” he said tapping her thighs soon placing himself in between her.
He slid his cock against her folds his meaty tip soon sinking into her, he hand quickly slapping over her mouth keeping her quiet.
She pulsed around him as he sat there slowly working himself into her. “F’ckin made for me.” he whimper.
Sitting up he picked her hips up putting her in an arch his thrust becoming faster. She looked good like this his cock going in and out of her needy cunt, it drooling all over him. “Yes— oh fuck..” she cried out johnnys harsh thrust not changing pace.
Changing position his arms cuffed under hers cradling her head her legs thrown over his broad shoulders. “Common— atta girl fockin’ take it.” he groaned his head falling into her shoulder as he pumped in and out of her at a brutal pace.
“Johnny—” she cried out her nails dragging down his back as if she's trying to hold on.
She could feel every inch of him his balls slapping against her. Continuing to keep herself quiet as he fucked her relentlessly, she began to babble to Johnny telling him how good he made her feel. Soon Her walls squeeze around him “Ya good cum f’me, lass, common baby cum for me.” he encourage, feeling his balls get tight.
“I want you to cum in me..” she begged her words slurred.
Leaning up a bit enough to see her face he saw tears in the corner of her dark eyes, “want me to fill your cunt up, Lassie? You want my thick nut huh?” his words filthy his hand grabbing her throat applying pressure.
“Yes- God yes please fill me up with your nun!” she cried.
She was asking so nicely and with that pretty face how could he say no?
With a few more thrusts his balls drained into her, her body becoming slightly stiff as a shaky moan escaped her mouth as she came on his cock him pushing on her stomach as she did. Johnny lifted himself now slowly pumping in her his cum spilling out he watched with a pleased grin.
Pulling out he watched the cum leak out of her puffy cunt. “Steemin’ Jesus Bonnie, you look so good with my cum dripping out that beautiful cunt.” he spoke leaning down kissing her his hand slaponv her cunt.
“Hey!-”
He let out a cheeky laugh. “Johnny that hurt” she whined.
After cleaning himself up and making sure she peed he came back into the room with a warm wet rag letting in drag down her cunt cleaning it up, them her legs his lips leaving soft kisses on her back as he took care of her fragile body.
“You take such good care of me baby,” she mumbled.
“Oh love this is my job, especially after making a mess of you,” he spoke gently his hands needing at her thighs and kissing them as he did so.
He loved this part maybe not as much as bullying the shot out of her pussy. But he loved taking care of her after whipping her down and massaging her sore body.
“Tierd lass?” he asked.
“Mmhm..”
He hummed going over to her bag and grabbing a pair of panties and one of his shirts “sit of f’r me.” he whispered.
He sat behind her moving her legs up and putting her underwear on then pulling the t-shirt over her head. “Wanna wrap your hair?” he spoke lifting up her bonnet.
She nodded handing him a scrunchie, he gathered her hair up looping the scrunchie around her hair once then placed the bonnet on her head “There we go love..” he kissed the side of her face.
“Thank you, baby,” she said moving the side so she could lay next to him her head falling onto his chest once he did lay down.
The two soon one fell asleep maybe not as aware of how loud the were Kyle who was across the hall heard more than he would have liked his headphones saving him.
Heres this! As promised! I hope you like it and happy almost Thanksgiving!!
#x black reader#black fem reader#johnny mctavish x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#johnny mactavish#john mctavish#johnny soap mctavish x black reader#soap x black reader#soap x reader#soap call of duty#soap cod#soap mw2#john soap mactavish#soap mctavish
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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 ao3
Eddie finds Wayne outside, round the back of the hotel. He’s sat on a little bench next to a trellis doing another damn crossword, the newspaper folded across his knees; and it’s almost funny, how he so easily seems to find peace and solitude during the impossible. But then Eddie remembers unplanned nights at the trailer from years ago, seeking refuge from raised voices and smashed bottles—and figures that Wayne’s always been good at carving out quiet moments amongst chaos.
Wayne looks up when Eddie sits down on the bench, too, appraises him thoughtfully.
“You’re looking better.”
“Well, damn, Wayne,” Eddie says, “was I ugly before or something?”
Wayne raises his eyes to the heavens, but he can’t hide the tiny smile tugging at his lips—and, God, Eddie thinks, he’s never taking this for granted again. Lately they’d gotten too used to passing like ships in the night—they had a vague plan to order takeout, watch T.V on one of Wayne’s rare days off, but then Chrissy…
“Steve doing good?” Wayne asks shrewdly, and Eddie nods, says that he’s heading to his house to pick up some of his stuff.
Wayne reaches into his back pocket, brings out his car keys and tosses them to Eddie. He jerks his thumb to the hotel parking lot.
“I’m parked near the front, just bring it back whenever you’re done.” He eyes Eddie, a little grave. “You just take care, all right? Don’t stop for no-one.”
Eddie nods again. Pushes back a tight knot of anxiety. “I won’t. Hey, uh… how long do we, you know,” he glances at the hotel building, “have here?”
Wayne follows his gaze. “Well, they’ve not asked me for my credit card yet,” he says, entirely straight-faced, and when Eddie just huffs a small laugh, he adds, “Government’s stepping in to re-house folks. Heard some of the trailers aren’t too damaged, so…”
Eddie puts two and two together. “People are moving back?”
“Some of ‘em,” Wayne confirms mildly. “The park still needs more work, reckon it’ll be months, at least, before it starts looking like—”
“I don’t think I can do it,” Eddie blurts out. “Go—go back, I mean.”
It’s painful to admit, that he wants to run from the one place that used to make him feel safe. But he can’t hide from it, how the horror is pervasive: how he thinks of Chrissy in the living room, and Steve’s missing tape in his bedroom, and him sinking to the ground in the trailer park, despairing, a lifeless Steve in his arms.
“All right,” Wayne says, like it’s simple.
Eddie bites his lip. “But. Wayne. It’s… it’s your home, too.”
Wayne sighs but not unkindly. He ruffles Eddie’s hair. “We’ll figure it out, Eddie,” and it sounds like he’s saying, You know full well that’s not really where ‘home’ is.
Eddie smiles. Blinks and looks away to wipe his nose with the back of his hand. When he stands up, he takes a peek at the crossword, tuts and says, “Come on, old man, you’re getting slow.”
“You’re a damn menace, that’s what you are.”
“Six across, four letters,” Eddie continues, sing-song, “All you need, to the Beatles.”
“I hadn’t got round to—”
Eddie twirls the car keys round his finger, does a stupid little spin as he leaves, just because he can. “Love!” he exclaims, hand on his heart, and Wayne chuckles.
-
He goes the extra mile in being cautious, takes backroads that he knows will be quiet, makes himself as small as possible in the driver’s seat. The town still feels ghostly, and the very occasional people he does drive by on the sidewalk don’t appear to really notice him, and he doesn’t quite know how to feel about it.
When he pulls up into Steve’s driveway, he glances in the rear-view mirror and sees another car crawling past—like it’s surveying rather than stopping. Then he realises that it’s Nancy who’s driving.
He sounds his horn as quietly as he can, and she starts, waves at him with a significant delay. She gets out, meets him at the front door.
“It’s empty, Jonathan took them all on a grocery store run,” Nancy says. Her voice is too level, like she’s putting all her effort into keeping it like that. “The spare key’s here.” She lifts up the door mat and bends down to pick up the key.
There’s mud all over her boots. Eddie only needs one look to know that it’s from the trailer park.
He kind of wants to hug her, honestly, but he doesn’t know yet what she really needs.
He lifts up the bag he’d brought. “Thought I’d do some laundry,” he says lightly, just to break the silence.
Nancy regards the bag with something like relief, and she takes it from him. “I can start a load,” she says, and then she opens the door and stops, right there in the hallway.
Eddie doesn’t blame her. With the house empty, their footsteps seem overly loud. There’s nothing to distract him from remembering the last time he was here, watching Steve’s forced normality. The clinking of bottles, back to the kids. His voice echoing eerily off the ceiling. You guys trust me, right?
Eddie gives himself a shake, heads for the stairs. “I’m just gonna—Steve wanted some clothes picked up, so…”
He trails off in invitation, looking over his shoulder.
But Nancy stays right where she is. She looks up to the top of the stairs then rapidly pales, a hand reaching out to steady herself against the wall. There’s a faint thump as she drops the bag onto the floor.
“Woah, woah.” Eddie hurries back, grabs her by the elbow. “You okay? You wanna sit down?”
Nancy shakes her head, screws her eyes shut for a moment. “No, I’m—I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Eddie says, uncertain.
She grips Eddie’s arm, breathes. Lets go and raises her head. “Yeah, I’m… I just need.” She picks up the bag again, straightens. “Just need to not—not think for a bit.”
Eddie releases his hold on her slowly, steps back when she doesn’t sway again.
“Yeah, I get that,” he says softly.
She reaches for a door to the left, before the kitchen. “Laundry room’s in here,” she says. Then, matter-of-fact, adds, “See you once you’ve got his things?”
Eddie nods but stays put. “Shout if you need me?”
Nancy softens. “Sure.”
-
In the end, Eddie’s almost glad that he heads to Steve’s bedroom alone, because he ends up freezing in the doorway for almost a full minute.
There’s more ghost-like memories in here. One of Steve’s drawers has been pulled fully out, left on the floor, and it’s like Eddie can hear Erica and Lucas scrabbling, throwing things out in their search for the tape.
Then he thinks of Dustin, his voice cracking; hearing him in the midst of asking, incredulous, “—not even going to look at me?”
Dustin’s furious, watery eyes flash through his mind, as does I hate you, and Steve turning his back, hiding as one tear falls down his cheek—
Enough.
Eddie takes a deep breath. Once he finally crosses the threshold, it’s easier—he does his best not to stop. He focuses on finding clothes that are loose and soft, easier for Steve to put on over a cast. It’s endearing, to see wrinkled t-shirts in the closet, placed close to hand, clearly worn and familiar and comforting.
He has to reach for the drawer on the floor anyway, picks a couple of sweaters in case Steve gets cold. And maybe it’s silly, but his hand lingers on the wooden surface as he does so, touching the impression of where Steve’s hand had been; as if he can somehow reach into the past and keep him safe.
He skims the bookshelf with interest, prompted by Steve’s suggestion. The majority of it is made up of old children’s books—twee collections of Winnie The Pooh and Beatrix Potter which make him smile. Then there’s a volume of poetry that catches his eye, simply because it’s been left crooked on the shelf, like Steve had recently been reading it, before distractedly putting it back.
Eddie picks it up, puts it on top of his little bundle of clothes and takes it with him.
-
Nancy’s sitting on a beanbag in the laundry room, watching the washing machine whir, eyes unfocused. The beanbag is a garish red, at odds with the rest of the furniture in the house, marking it as a ‘Steve purchase.’
The washing machine beeps when it’s done; Eddie puts his clothes in the dryer, remembering Steve’s words and slamming the door shut. Nancy jumps in her seat.
“Sorry,” Eddie says.
She exhales. “It’s fine.”
It’s then that Eddie notices she’s taken her boots off; there’s dried blood on her socks. He recalls Wayne saying she looked like she’d been at the trailer park for hours; and he wonders just how far she has walked.
But before he can even tentatively ask, Nancy speaks first.
“I’m—it wasn’t you, I just. I can’t go in his room.” Her voice is thick. “You know, Barb… Barb’s parents, they kept her room ex-exactly like it…” She laughs sadly. “I couldn’t stop thinking that she’d just walk through the door.”
Eddie got an inkling that the disappearance of Barbara Holland was Upside Down related when Nancy came out of her Vecna trance, trembling in Steve’s arms. Before they’d scaled the rope, he’d overheard her whisper, tearful, “He showed me Barb.” Caught when Steve made a soft noise like he’d been punched: “Oh, Nance.”
Now Eddie watches Nancy glance upwards, blinking rapidly, and knows that Barb can never come home.
“I just couldn’t…” Nancy sucks in a sharp breath. “Couldn’t go in there, not when—when he’s not here, this place feels like a fucking museum.”
“He’s coming home,” Eddie says. “He’s gonna be okay.”
Nancy nods slowly. She curls further into the beanbag, wincing as she moves her feet.
They don’t speak for a short while, the dryer churning in the background. Eddie finds a handheld brush in a cupboard, picks up Nancy’s boots.
“Scooch,” he says gently, and they share the beanbag.
Little by little, Eddie scrubs the mud off Nancy’s boots. It’s dried and caked on in places, obviously fresh in others.
His uncle’s voice in his head again: I think she was waiting for something to happen, too.
“Hey, Wheeler?” Eddie says, almost a whisper. “You don’t need to, uh… keep checking, you know?”
Nancy doesn’t look at him.
He thinks of her freezing at the trailer park, clutching a coffee Wayne brought her, stuck waiting, and it breaks his heart.
“Don’t go back there,” he says.
She sighs like she can’t promise that.
Eddie gathers himself. “Fine, here’s the deal.” He waits until she turns to him, expectant. “If—if you need to… don’t go back there alone, okay?”
She blinks those eyes that have seen far too much. “How?”
“I’ll go with you,” Eddie vows.
She doesn’t say anything. But she leans into him, their shoulders pressed together, and that’s all the answer he needs.
-
“Why’d you bring so much?” Steve says with amusement when Eddie shows him the bundle of clothes.
“So you’ve got options! I don’t know how you style yourself, Harrington.”
“Whatever brings out my eyes,” Steve says, deadpan.
“I thought you said your hair was your ‘best feature.’”
“Thanks for the air quotes, man, appreciate it.” Steve actually bats his eyelids. Idiot, Eddie thinks fondly. “Why’re you limiting me to only one best feature?”
“Wow. Think all that hair just hides your big head.”
Steve flips him off—correctly this time. “Pot, meet kettle,” he echoes, and laughs when Eddie throws a sweater in his face.
-
Steve catches him reading the poetry book over dinner. “You can, like, doodle in it or whatever, if you want.” He shrugs. “I’m not precious with it.”
Eddie reaches for a pen, but only to add a tongue-in-cheek note for Steve to find on the title page, signs and dates it: When it was discovered by Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington had hidden depths.
It’s an anthology, so Eddie flips through it out of order, settling on random pages on a whim. Then several markings in pencil catch his eye.
He pauses. He vaguely recognises this poem from English. Steve has underlined the very end.
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
Eddie stays on that page for a long time—thinks of Chrissy, how he’d only ever remembered her as smiling before she sat in front of him in the woods, picking the skin around her fingers.
Pictures Steve, his inexplicably tender smile in the RV. This bit really isn’t so bad, Eddie.
Steve clicks his fingers, burnt lasagne mid-way to his mouth. “Hey, where’d you go?”
Eddie starts, turns the page. “Oh, nowhere.”
He shuts the book.
#steddie fic#steddie#the self sacrificial steve agenda#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#nancy wheeler#eddie and nancy#wayne munson#eddie and wayne munson
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