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bg-brainrot · 2 months

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The Thousandth Time (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Summary: Astarion and Rogue!Tav make love for the thousandth time. In a bathtub.

Tags: Smut, Slice of life, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, bathtub sex, sloppy sex, seriously just sickeningly sweet smut, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Domesticity is romantic, Hand Jobs, Blood Drinking

A/N: Some context-- I wanted to write soft, gender neutral smut. And by the gods is this soft. I tried to look at what it's like to love someone for so long. In my experience, when you've been with someone for so many years, you still find a lot of love in the little things. which I hope I hit? Anyway, enjoy!!

Word count: ~5.3k

The thousandth time you make love to Astarion, you don't know it's the thousandth time.

It's a day like any other, really.

After a long day at the guild, you've arrived home, a sigh on your lips, a furrow to your brow.

"Whatever is the matter, my dear?"

You compose your expression and turn toward your lover. "Astarion," you start, a reflexive wistfulness to your tone. Gods are you glad to see him after a day like today. "Nothing is the matter. Nothing important anyway. Simply glad to be home."

Astarion gives you a look that says he doesn't quite believe you, but knows better than to pry too deeply into issues you'd rather not bring home. "Very well, darling. But you know I'm all pointy ears. Especially if Nine-Fingers has been difficult again."

"Ugh," you say, wincing in annoyance. "Do not say her name right now."

The vampire gives you a bright, toothy laugh. "That bad, eh?" You nod. He walks toward you, arms outstretched. "Mmm in that case, shall we call it an early night tonight?"

You dive into the comfort of his arms, holding him to you, inhaling his fresh, familiar scent. It feels like the day's troubles melt in his cold embrace, and the tension in your body finally relaxes. "That might be nice."

"Dinner first?" he asks, pulling away from you slightly.

You look into his warm crimson eyes, feel that same warmth reflected in your face. Of course, he’d check to see if your mortal needs have been met. "No need, I've eaten. How about you?"

Astarion brings a hand up to inspect your face, this way, then that. It’s as if he’s examining you for injury, not assessing if he can partake in a bit of your blood. "Mmm, you seem a tad tired, love."

"You know I'll manage. Besides, get my blood while it's still boiling with rage," you say, craning your neck for him in response.

"As delectable as that sounds,” he begins, letting go of your face, tracing his fingers along your neck. “I think a bath and bed ought to come first."

You want to argue the point, make sure he's fed to the best of your ability, but the yawn that escapes you is irrefutable. With nary another word, his hand is on the small of your back, guiding you toward the bath.

"Would you like to join me?" you ask him as you open the door. Your expression is calm, the question harboring no hidden intentions. Any other day, you may have raised an eyebrow at him suggestively, begun taking off your armor in a tease– but you're tired, simply not wanting to relinquish the feel of his arms around you.

"Certainly, if it keeps you from falling asleep in the tub…" he trails off, looking at you warily. He appears torn, somewhere between keeping you from drowning and keeping you from resting.

You give him a wry smile. “Imagine that. After felling all manner of beasts and men, finally succumbing to the tub.”

Astarion offers you a reluctant smile in return. “My love, I swear to every god above and below, if you die in any manner even remotely that ludicrous, I shall have to pretend not to know you at your funeral.”

“That’s fair,” you say, holding a hand out to him. “Best to make sure that doesn’t happen then, don’t you think?”

The man can’t argue with that, nor does he seem to want to. After an entire day away from each other, this closeness is exactly what the two of you crave. So he takes your offered hand, and follows you into the bathroom.

It has been years since you had added a tub big enough for the two of you in your house. While the two of you had accrued wealth enough for an entire bathhouse, you’d settled for a more modest setup. At least, modest in Astarion’s eyes.

The floor is made of the finest marble tiles, the walls of intricately laid and patterned brick. And in the center of the room, is the room’s main attraction: the enormous, magical tub. It’s long enough that you could comfortably lay down across the entire bottom, wide enough that you have to extend your arms to reach both sides. The outer edges are infused with enchantments to improve your bathing experience, and the tub itself is made of the highest quality crystal that gold can buy.

Once you enter the room, you activate the heat and water sigils along the basin’s edges and turn back to Astarion. “Would you mind grabbing some soaps from the shelf?”

He gives you a lopsided grin, eyes crinkling with amusement, but still moves to do as you ask. “Would you also like me to bathe you while I’m at it?”

“Oh, would you?” you ask half-joking. You begin to strip your armor off, piece by piece.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, picking out a few of his preferred scents from a shelf on the wall. He’s accumulated quite the collection now, enjoying mixing and matching as his nose guides him. “That could be arranged.”

You’re almost halfway through your armor when he returns, bottles of lemon, bergamot, and sage soaps in hand. “Ah, you know how much I love bergamot,” you say, smiling at it fondly, pausing halfway through undoing your leather straps.

“I know,” he says, placing them next to the tub before turning his attention fully to you. “I also know that you need help with that armor or we may be here all night.”

Holding your arms out wordlessly, Astarion starts to unbuckle each and every strap from the front of your padded armor. As he releases you from its confines, you take a deep, relieved breath and say, “Thank you, love.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he murmurs, leaving a long lingering touch along your now exposed collarbone. “While you strike quite the image in your armor, I think I much prefer you without.”

You laugh, feeling quite light in the now steaming room. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your mind is straying quite far from rest, Astarion.”

The vampire shrugs, beginning to tug at your undershirt and small clothes with each of his hands. “Merely stating fact, my darling.”

With a few smooth movements, he’s taken off the last of your clothing, exposing every inch of you to the warmth of the room and the heat of his gaze. He seems just about ready to bury his head in your neck, begin covering every piece of you in kisses, when you speak, “Excuse me, are you planning to enter the bath in your house clothes?”

Astarion looks down at his own garb, the comfortable satins and silks of a man who spent the day lounging at home. When faced with your words and, ugh, logic, he says with a sigh, “Would you do the honors?”

You need no more invitation before your hands are on his soft, flowing shirt, running along it appreciatively. “Is this new?”

“It is,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “Do you like it?”

“It feels magnificent,” you respond, beginning to undo its buttons. “I may just have to steal it for myself one of these days.”

His lips purse at you. “You know, you could simply ask, darling.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you taunt, pulling up on the shirt's edges, tugging it up and off of him. Now, faced with the plane of his ivory chest, your fingers act on instinct. They trail down his shoulders, trace the line of his pectorals, drop down the center of his stomach to the waist of his pants.

Astarion gives you a low, approving noise before asking you wryly, “Now whose mind is straying?”

“Not mine,” you respond, pulling his pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. “My hands are just so tired, I’m sure you understand.”

“Surely,” he responds, as he pulls each foot out of his pant legs. “How is the water?”

The bath is steaming by now, visibly fogging up the room, but still, you bend down to skim your hands along its surface. “Ah, it’s warm,” you say, gripping the edge with one hand. “Maybe too warm?”

“No such thing,” he responds, and one of his hands lands next to yours as he bends down to feel the water for himself. The man gives a happy hum before asking, “Shall we then?” Then his now-wet hand is smacking your butt, his head gesturing toward the waiting water.

“Excuse you,” you say, indignantly, as you turn toward him. “I'm tired.” But you don't feel tired. Not after running your hands over his cold skin. Not after feeling the quick contact of his hand on your backside.

“Not to worry, darling. I’ll take care of you.”

As in, bathing or–? Luckily you don't have much more time to think about it before he’s lowering himself into the tub. Even with his quick movement, even with the water’s slight obscurity, you easily note that Astarion’s cock has stirred in interest.

Ah. While you hadn’t meant to illicit anything by inviting him… it’s certainly not unwelcome. It’s a good thing that your exhaustion is all but melting away under his loving touches.

Acutely aware of his sharp gaze on the length of your back, you turn to face away from him, grab the edge of the tub, and slowly enter its warmth. As was customary in your baths, he would start with your back, so you take a spot in front of him, leaving just enough room for him to settle behind you as he pleases.

Too much room clearly, as Astarion immediately scoots forward, extending his legs to each side of you. You feel his hardening length graze your backside as he does so and can’t help the smile that curves your lips.

"Astarion, dear,” you start, placing your hands on each of his knees under the water. “Are you certain you want to bathe me?"

“And why wouldn't I be?” He leans closer, planting a soft kiss along your spine.

You debate backing up into his groin to prove a point but instead shake your head. "No reason, I suppose."

He begins by lathering his hands in a mixture of soaps, carefully measured out by eye and feel. All the while, you sit before him, hands on each of his calves, thumbs repeatedly rubbing the ridge of his muscles. While he’d had a nice, calm day today, his calves are always so tight from sneaking about– and it’s the least you can do for the man that’s bathing you.

Then his hands get to work.

At first he drags both hands along your back, once, twice. Once he’s made sure that soap covers every inch of you, he starts massaging you, working the soap into your skin, kneading into your sore muscles.

Astarion knows your body so intimately and, after so many years of tending to each other, he rubs all of your tightest spots. His knuckles press deep into your neck. His fingers work around your upper back. His thumbs dig underneath the edges of your shoulder blades, working out the knots he knows lay beneath. And, by the gods, if you thought you’d been melting under his caresses before, now you’re practically a puddle.

You can’t help the noises that come out at the sensation of his nimble fingers at work. Your shoulders ache from a long day of sneaking, stabbing, and general tension of dealing with people– the relief is palpable in the way you relax into his touch, grip his legs, and release several breathy moans.

And with each moan, you can feel his cock growing firmer against you. After the first few, you can feel him shift closer with every noise he draws from you. Knowing your affect on him has always done something to stir the fire in you, and this time it has you shifting uncomfortably as heat blooms between your legs. The both of you spur the other’s building lust, all the while the fresh scent that Astarion’s concocted permeates the air.

Then, when it’s clear he’s done with your back, thoroughly satisfied with each gasping breath of pleasure, his hands drop from your shoulders. They tail down your back, playing along your spine. And, in an almost leisurely motion, they wrap around your torso, where they finally settle on your chest.

I don’t think this is a relaxing bath anymore, you think distantly. Yet you’re unable to resist leaning into his palms, arching into his touch.

Sensing your shuffles, Astarion curls further into your back, almost entirely flush to you now. His fingers feel their way to each of your nipples, first gently brushing against them, then thumbing over them each in turn. They respond eagerly, perking up under his delicate sweep.

“Astarion,” you begin, turning your head back to him slightly and raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” Your tone isn’t exactly admonishing– your voice comes out too quiet, desire muffling all other emotions.

His hands trail down your chest, past the surface of the bath water, settling on each of your thighs before he responds, voice low, lips inches away from your ear. “Making sure that every single centimeter of my beautiful darling is clean, of course.”

“Astarion, I thought you would be, ahh… taking care of me," you say, barely holding on to your trail of thought as his hands dip between your legs, brushing your sensitive core.

“I am taking care of you,” he whispers, finally closing the remaining distance between your back, his front. At the feel of his stiff cock pressing against your back, you give an involuntary gasp. He seems to enjoy your reaction, taking a moment to slowly grind the entire length of his hardened arousal along your backside once, before he settles between your cheeks. “Unless you’d rather leave all of this stress pent up, my dear?”

You’d been tired– been ready to bathe and head off to bed. But something about this man never fails to ignite the fire in your heart– or your loins. “I suppose not,” you murmur, releasing Astarion’s calf, running up his leg with your fingers, landing on his arm, gripping it closer to you.

“I knew you would see reason,” he says, taking your grip as guidance. His hand moves down to begin stroking your heat, building up steadily to the fast-paced rhythm he knows you like. In the water’s buoyant embrace, his actions feel a touch more fluid, his fingers more silken.

It has taken time experimenting together to reach this place– one of utmost security and intimate knowledge of each others’ bodies. But now that you’re here, you’ve found that Astarion’s agile fingers are obscenely precise in their movements. Like he knows exactly which pins to tumble to unlock your utmost excitement.

So you can't help the way you buck into his touch, nor the way the water sloshes around you both in response.

"Careful, love," he says, hand stilling. "We don't want to make a mess this time, do we?"

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember the last time this had happened, how the floor had been practically flooded. You should agree with him, make sure that such an incident doesn't occur again. But the front of your mind is wholly occupied, thinking only of how he's stopped moving his hand, how being careful may mean that he takes it too gently. "Mmm, we managed to clean it up well enough," you respond, jerking your hips back, pressing against him with need.

Astarion's laughter rings upon the bathroom's stone walls, before it turns into a groan as you roll your hips once more. His voice is a bit huskier when he responds, "You know we’re going to regret it later.”

You smile back at him, satisfied with the noise you’ve elicited. “Sounds like a problem for later, doesn’t it?” Then your hand squeezes his arm, motioning it back down to your now throbbing arousal. “For now, what was that about releasing my stress?”

“Oh very well… in that case, let’s find where you ache most, shall we?” Astarion murmurs, dipping his head, placing a kiss on the base of your neck. “Here?” Your shoulder. “Or perhaps here?” Then his hand settles back between your legs, fingers touching you in a rather delicate caress. “Or maybe here?”

You hum a noise of approval as his . “Oh, there.”

His fingers close on your swollen sex, rubbing languidly as he whispers in your ear, “Mmm, darling. So much tension…” A bit more pressure. “I must simply…” A bit faster pace. “Massage it all away…”

If anything, his touches cause you to grasp at his legs harder, all of the muscles in your body responding in kind to his ministrations. Your back arches instinctively, earning an exquisite groan from Astarion. So when his next stroke causes you to clench, you lean into it, grinding your ass back into the full length of his erection, sliding easily in the water’s low friction.

His other hand finds its way to your hip, helping you match his pace as you continue to rock into him.

The two of you fall into a beautiful, raucous rhythm, each open and generous with your vocal pleasure, the water’s regular splashes punctuating each movement.

“Yes, yes, gods, Astarion.”

“My sweet, you’re the only divine thing here.”

Then your words begin to lose sense, your rhythm begins to falter, and it’s clear that you won’t last much longer under his caring fingers.

You also know that Astarion hasn’t been tended to nearly as well as you have.

So you move to turn toward him. With how his full length twitches against you in urgency, your own nimble fingers ought to return the favor.

Astarion stops you, placing his unoccupied hand back on your chest to hold you in place. "Ah ah ah. Love, I'm here to help you."

"You are helping,” you start, pushing back against his hand. “But I don’t want to leave you like this.” ‘This’ is obvious as the man clearly exercises every ounce of self control he has judging from the visible veins on his arm, the way his legs squeeze reflexively around you each time he strokes you.

He gives you a reluctant groan, one that does nothing to hide his desire. “Must you always be so selfless?” His hand doesn’t release your chest though, and he begins tracing delicate, wet circles around one of your nipples, as he murmurs, “Fine, just let me continue.”

Staying in place for him, you reach back with one hand to feel for his cock. It’s almost unreal how naturally you slot around him, the way your fingers circle around its girth. The entire length, inch-by-inch, the pattern of his veins, the sensitive lip of his head– they’re all intimately familiar to you now. As is finding just the right grip, the right pace.

When you start to pump him in earnest, Astarion can't help but shudder, his movements losing their steady, pulsing beat. In losing his pace, he takes on a new one– erratic, a bit fumbling, but utterly intoxicating.

You're both stoking each other’s fires in tandem, wildly offset in your desperation to touch each other more and more and more.

The water feels almost cool compared to your heated core, to the sweet friction you're building together.

Astarion's face tilts into your back, grunting as he strains to right his tempo– his forehead presses against you, his cool exhale grazes your searing skin. His chilled touch is a reprieve in the sweltering fog of steam and heady lust. Hearing your sigh of relief, he seems all too willing to make more contact.

His lips crash onto your back roughly, and his fangs nick your skin. An involuntary shiver runs through your body as you imagine the pleasure his drinking evokes from you. As you imagine the man behind you lapping at your neck, moaning in satisfaction, flushed pink with your very blood–

"Take some blood,” you offer, breathless. Imagining would never be enough, you find yourself craving the real deal. So when you say your next word, it comes out more pleading than you intend, “Please."

“Whatever my dearest desires,” Astarion replies, voice low and rumbling. He removes the hand from your chest and places it on your shoulder, holding you in place as he places his lips at the crook of your neck. His nose rubs gently against your fleshly washed skin. “Mmm, you smell so good.”

Then his fangs pierce you.

When you first began your relationship, you hadn’t intended to enjoy his bites as much as you do, but after years and years of them, the pain hardly registers now. All you feel is close– So very close to the man you would gladly give your lifeblood to.

He draws a gulp, and you feel the blood course through you, into him.

Another drink, and heat builds in you as you feel his cock grow harder in your hand, his veins more prominent.

A third long pull of your blood, and you feel his fingers quicken at your aching arousal.

You jerk into his hand in reaction, trying to seek an outlet for your pleasure. Your mouth emits a whimper– you hadn’t been comfortable whimpering with Astarion at first, but after he drew one out of you, he couldn’t get enough.

He still can’t, and you feel his lips curl into a smile at your neck, his fingers move with more urgency.

All the while you continue stroking his length, fingers sloppy in your own hazy state. It doesn’t seem like you need your usual dexterity though, because Astarion is practically writhing with newfound reactivity. Drinking blood always leaves him especially sensitive.

One last shaky swallow and he removes his fangs from your neck. But not his mouth. His tongue begins lavishing your puncture wound furiously as he struggles to hold back his approaching peak.

With the way he haphazardly tilts his hips into you, it’s all too evident to you that he’s reaching his limit. He’s not afraid to tell you so either.

"My sweet," he all but moans into your ear. "I–I can't last much longer. May I?"

You know what he means, and you honestly can’t last much longer either– you’re positively light-headed from a mixture of bliss and blood loss. So you stop your movements, nod your addled head at him.

He removes his hands from your core and neck, reaching out to your legs. Pulling them out and apart, he shuffles behind you, moving impatiently.

Realizing he can’t do this alone, he gestures, motioning for you to put your legs up.

Still a bit dizzy, you carefully place each leg on either side of the tub’s edges, hooking yourself in place by the ankles. It feels a precarious balance, but you can hardly care when you’re this eager to have Astarion inside you.

Astarion seems just as eager, rubbing his length against your ass hungrily as you get into position.

Perched and ready for him, the man is quick to help once more– his hands grip your asscheeks and lift in a swift movement. You’re particularly buoyant in the water, and you rise higher than either of you had expected. Your hand instinctively reaches out, gripping the edge of the tub to brace yourself, and you hear Astarion give a deep chuckle from behind you.

Holding back your own almost giddy excitement, you try to compose yourself for him. Angling your hips up, you’re almost floating on the water for a moment as Astarion lines the tip of his cock with your entrance.

However, you’re instinctively clenching a second later when a pair of your lover’s fingers tease at your opening. You barely avoid clamping your legs back together at the sensation.

Recovering from the tickling probe, you look back to see a lust-drunk fanged smile, lips smeared with red. "Astarion, please,” you mutter. “I can't balance like this all day."

"Come darling, I know you’re quite talented," he taunts, easily gliding his fingers back in, curling until you truly do begin to lose balance.

"Astarion," you breathe out, clutching the side of the tub even harder to stay afloat.

Then his fingers slip back out, replaced a moment later by the head of his cock. “No need to worry, I have a seat for you right here.”

His palms cup your backside, his fingers squeeze, as you lower your hips back down, taking in his entire, slick length effortlessly in the water.

“Now isn’t that better?” he asks, grabbing your hips with one hand, the other finding yours on the side of the tub for support.

“Mmm,” is all that you manage, as you adjust to the sudden fullness. You haven’t lain with anyone else in so long, it’s hard to remember a cock other than his. Still, you can’t help but feel like he settles in you just right. Especially when you both slot together neatly, you taking him to the hilt.

Astarion drops another kiss on your back. “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you mumble. Now that you’re securely held in place by Astarion’s hips flush to yours, your legs hanging off the tub’s edges, you place your second hand back at your aching arousal. You begin to stroke yourself back into the same fervor Astarion had you in moments ago.

After a small, deliberate thrust of his hips, testing how you rise and fall in the water, Astarion starts moving against you. It’s slow at first, the water rippling out from you both in small waves. Then his hips rock back, only to drive back into you with sloshing force.

“A–ahh!” Sweet hells, he knows exactly how to hit your most sensitive spot. You had already been so heated, but now, with your lover’s full, hardened length pressing into you? You feel dizzy with pleasure.

Years of lovemaking, and you’re still in awe of how well he knows your body. It’s more than his previous experiences culminating in some kind of skillful paramour. No, this was built through time, trial, error, effort.

So as this gorgeous man you call love bounces you up and down in his lap, you feel yourself coming undone. Your breaths come ragged as you ride his cock, water spilling out of the tub with each and every buck. Your fingers clench the tub, barely holding on as you feel your pleasure coil tighter and tighter.

Astarion places kiss after kiss down your back, and you hear him murmuring, "Gods you're perfect." A harder kiss. "You feel so good." Another thrust. "Each." A nip at your skin. "And every." A thrust. "Time." Another kiss. "I–I love you."

For your part, you’re finding entire sentences difficult. With the feel of him throbbing inside you, the way his lips feel along your back, each roll of his hips, you're truly only capable of a few phrases. "Astarion." A splashing bounce. "I love you–" A loll back of your head. "Oh hells–" A dip of your hips. "I love you too."

When your peak finally runs through you like a shockwave, when you clench around him in ecstasy, those very same words are still on your lips. "I l–love you."

He moans at the sudden tightness, the muscles that now hold him deep within you. "Darling," he breathes. "Oh love. I can't–"

Astarion means to say that he can't hold on much longer. He'd already been so close, holding back only to keep your pleasure going. So you reach down to his fingers on your hip, as best as you can while still hanging on for dear life, and squeeze his hand. A wordless affirmation, a plea to join you, as he always has.

And it’s that silent communication that has his fingers lacing through yours, his neck craning back, his hips stuttering.

When he comes, there's no pretense or performance. There hasn't been for many years. So when you look back at his face in a hazy fuzz of emotion, the expression you see is utterly unbridled.

It's a look of sheer pleasure– his perfectly pale skin flushed a light rosy color, his usually impeccable hair stuck to his face in a mixture of sweat and water. His eyes are shut, his mouth agape as he spills into you.

So enraptured are you by the mundane beauty of his climax, that you’ve strained too far from your precariously balanced position. Your foot unhooks from the tub’s slippery edge and you fall onto Astarion’s lap with a large splash as he finishes. You’re both left panting and wet in the wake of both your and the tub’s peaks.

Water drips down your face, all of the soap bottles have been knocked from the edge of the tub. The high you’d felt just moments ago feels doused in the stark reality of making love in a bathtub.

However, when you feel Astarion’s breathy laughter on your back, feel his softening cock twitch with his last few thrusts, you know he’s still in fine spirits.

You stay together for a few moments as you both collect yourselves. Water is wiped from eyes, your second leg comes back into the tub, and several deep breaths are had. Once you’re relatively sorted, Astarion pulls himself out of you with a long, happy sigh.

The man falls back from you, sitting against the end of the tub in a tired flop. Then he’s patting the water in front of him, motioning you to join him in some post-coital cuddles.

You don’t need much more of an invitation.

Floating through the now much lower water, you stop just in front of him. Movements relaxed, you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and scoot into his waiting embrace.

"So," you start, looking at the wasteland of water and strewn soap bottles around the tub. "Looks like we made a mess."

"I told you we would," he says, closing his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

"I know," you say, leaning into him comfortably. Your body is truly exhausted now, but your mind is a buzz of joy. "It was worth it though."

He laughs into your shoulder, squeezes you tighter. "Feeling better, I take it?"

"Gods yes," you say, tilting your head into his silver hair. "Thank you."

"Oh my sweet, it was my utmost pleasure," he replies, and you can feel his smile on your skin.

You both lean back, grinning at each other like fools. The smiles stay, even when your lips meet in a soft, wet kiss.

You will need to clean the room, the tub, likely your bodies once again– but all you can truly feel right now is content. Enjoying Astarion’s gentle fingers as they trace a pattern onto your skin, the warm water all around you, you very nearly forget that today was merely a day like any other.

The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, it was messy and wet and silly– somehow, it was sweet, caring, and loving all the same.

The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, you didn't know it was the thousandth time.

Just as you hadn't known your tenth thousand kiss, nor your hundred thousandth 'I love you.' Were anyone to ask you about them, you might not even remember the days or events surrounding any of them.

What you do know is that each individual moment holds no less importance, that the affection shared between you doesn’t diminish with each recurrence.

You’re unable to quantify your love, nor would you want to. All you really want is Astarion– his soft lips, tender hands, and whispered words of love– until your dying breath.

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brbsoulnomming · 6 months

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Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 27 (final part)

rating: explicit

-----

In the morning, Jonathan and Steve and Argyle make breakfast together, and Eddie watches them move around each other kind of bemusedly. He's not sure how, but somehow, it works, and the end result is a spread enough to feed even this hoard.

They trickle out sometime after that, most of them checking on Eddie and Steve one last time. Robin hurries some of them - Dustin and Mike - along, saying Steve has to help Eddie with his physical therapy.

"Wayne's dropping me off at home," she tells them, when it's just her and his uncle waiting in the truck left. "That's my gift to you - you get the weekend to enjoy your physical therapy."

She waggles her eyebrows meaningfully, cackling at them as she leaves.

When it's just them, and the house is utterly silent, they look at each other.

"I'll lock up downstairs," Eddie offers.

"I'll take upstairs," Steve agrees, already running towards it.

Eddie checks the doors and windows, just to be safe, then books it upstairs.

Steve's already sitting on the bed, eyes scanning what looks like Eddie's discharge paperwork.

He looks up when Eddie walks into the room, his expression lighting up in a way that makes Eddie's heart beat a little quicker.

"We need to talk," he blurts out, before he can let himself get distracted by the urge to kiss Steve senseless.

Steve's face falls. "Oh," he says. "Um. Yeah, okay, sure."

"About Jason," Eddie adds hurriedly. "And everything that happened."

"Oh! Right, you're right. Of course." Steve sets the papers aside, scooting up on the bed so Eddie can come sit across from him.

Steve immediately gets his hands on Eddie's knees when he does, leaning into his space. "How are you doing?"

That's not what Eddie meant, but he lets himself think about the question anyway.

"I don't know," he admits. "Can we come back to that?"

Steve makes a face at him. "That won't work forever," he warns him.

"I know," Eddie says. "Does it help if I say this time, at least I knew I wasn't alone?"

Steve considers that. "Does it help you?"

"Yeah," Eddie says slowly. "Before - when I was in the boathouse, or on the lake, or in the woods alone, or even in the Upside Down, there was a lot of times that I thought for sure I was going to die. But last night? I believed I'd be okay. I knew you were there, I knew you all had my back."

"We always will," Steve promises, tipping his head to kiss him.

"That's the other thing we need to talk about," Eddie says. "You always being so ready to be the one to take the hits."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Why does everyone keep bringing that up? I'm not trying to get hurt."

"You still do, though," Eddie points out. "Every time. You think we don't worry about you? Look, if you can look me in the eye and tell me it's a hundred percent not because you think you're worth less than the rest of the party, or that you're only as good as what you can do for them, then I'll drop it."

Steve's jaw tightens, throat working as he swallows.

"Thought so," Eddie says when Steve's been silent for a while.

"I don't exactly think I'm worth less," Steve says.

Eddie waits, but there's no lie, so he relaxes a little.

"But I guess I do think this is what I'm good for," Steve continues. "This is how I can help them."

"Stevie," Eddie whispers, his heart breaking a little. "There's so much more to you than just that, okay? You're more than that to them. To us."

He knows that Joyce said it last night, and he's pretty sure that Robin must have told him it at least a dozen times, but he's also pretty sure that Steve needs to hear it as much as possible.

Steve gives him a bittersweet little smile. "What else am I supposed to do, Eds, sit on the sidelines? Let one of the kids get hurt instead?"

"That's not - okay, look, I'm not going to ask you to stop. No when it's for the kids, and not when we all make plans for Vecna. I get it, I do," Eddie says. "But I don't want you to do it for me."

"Like you weren't going to do the same thing when Jason had the gun pointed at you," Steve says.

Which -

"Okay, fair," Eddie concedes. "But if I don't like it when you do it for me, and you don't like it when I do it for you, where does that leave us?"

Steve frowns. "I don't know. I guess - I guess we work as a team?"

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face. "We did okay once we actually got on the same page?"

Steve drums his fingers on his knee. "I think this is a conversation we need to have with Robin here," he admits.

"Good call," Eddie agrees.

Steve's quiet for a moment. "But I hear you, okay? I do. I know you and Robin don't like it. Like I told her, I - I'll think about both of you before I do anything."

And that -

Yeah, actually, he thinks that's all he needs right now.

"But you have to do the same," Steve adds. "No more like what you did with the demobats."

Unlike when he promised Dustin he wouldn't do that again, he actually thinks it through this time.

"If it's Dustin or me," he says slowly. "It's going to have to be me."

Steve looks at him pointedly, and Eddie winces.

"Right, I know, it's the same for you. But I-" Eddie cuts off, trying to figure out how to say this and be honest without being too vulnerable.

"Eds," Steve murmurs, thumbs rubbing over the inside of his knees.

Right. It's Steve, his soulmate. He can be vulnerable. More than that - he thinks he needs to be vulnerable.

"I wanted to be brave," he admits. "I didn't want to run anymore. I know you don't think I had anything to prove, but I thought I did."

"What about now?" Steve asks.

"I don't know," Eddie says. "I don't think I'm an NPC anymore. But this is - I'm not like you guys, I don't know what I'll do next time. If I'll run again."

Steve frowns. "What's an NPC?"

Eddie huffs out a hollow little laugh. "Non-player character. It's the side characters in a D&D campaign, the ones that no one actually plays, they're just there to facilitate the story and then disappear."

Steve's face smooths out into understanding, and he leans in to kiss him, just the softest brush of their lips together. "Yeah," he says when he pulls back. "I figured you felt like you weren't really one of us, and that you weren't going to make it. But you don't anymore?"

"No," Eddie says. "I don't really know what to do with it, but I know this is it. This is where I want to be. You, uh. You're it for me, too, Stevie."

He'd already accidently fessed up to overhearing Steve and Robin's conversation, after all, so he might as well go all in.

Steve huffs out a little laugh, kissing him again. "I love you."

"Love you, too," Eddie whispers. Then he pulls back, arching one eyebrow. "So how about that physical therapy?"

Steve pulls Eddie's discharge paperwork back out.

"Wait, you - you actually wanted to do the stupid stretches? I thought that was a euphemism!" Eddie says, disappointed.

Steve bumps their knees together. "If you don't stretch out that leg first, you're going to cramp up in the middle of something you really don't want to be cramping up in."

"Oh. Oh! Okay, I'll take it." Eddie flops onto his back on the bed, legs sprawled out. "Okay, Stevie, you're the jock here. Get me stretched out."

Steve laughs, scooting over to get his hands on Eddie's leg. He spreads the paperwork out next to him, looking at it for a moment before he dives right into it.

Eddie lets out a surprised grunt as Steve maneuvers his leg, one hand cupping his knee and the other on his thigh. He can feel it deep in his hip as it rotates nice and slow, can feel the stretch of his thigh, but no there's no sharp pains like he might have expected.

"Tell me if it hurts," Steve says, glancing back at the paper and then moving him again.

The diagrams hadn't been all that helpful when Eddie'd looked, and he'd figured he'd have to actually read through the written instructions a few more times to make any kind of sense of them. But Steve moves his leg around easy as anything, his guiding hands gentle and firm and every movement nice and fluid.

Eddie props himself up on his elbow so he can get a better look at Steve. "You're pretty good at this. Hey, I bet you'd make a good physical therapist."

Steve hums noncommittally.

"No?" Eddie asks.

"I mean, sure, maybe, one day. For now? I might get the Family Video job back, or somewhere else around town that's still open, but until Vecna's down for good, my full time job's gonna be - what'd you call it? Being a paladin."

Eddie can't exactly refute that, but shit, everything about that statement sucks.

Well, almost everything.

"You know, I can see the barbarian side of you, too," Eddie teases.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Fine, full time paladin, part time barbarian."

Eddie snickers. "You're already multiclassing."

Steve scoffs, but his expression is unbelievably fond. "I can't believe how into it I am when you're being a giant nerd, it's pretty embarrassing."

It makes Eddie's insides go all warm and gooey, Steve looking at him like that, and yet -

"You are, though, right? Into it?" he finds himself asking.

"Eds," Steve murmurs, leaning in closer. "I'm into everything about you. It's you."

Eddie tries to just accept it. It's clearly not a lie, but something about the way Steve says it like it should be obvious makes him hunch in on himself a little.

"Right, who wouldn't be into a nerdy, virgin, drug dealing super super senior?"

Steve frowns, pulling back to look at him. There's a scrunch between his brows that says he's thinking hard about something, and Eddie wants so bad to reach out to smooth it out.

Wait.

Now he can.

Eddie presses his thumb to the little spot, rubbing it like he's rubbing away whatever Steve's thinking about that's making him make that face.

Steve huffs out a laugh, batting his hand away. "All right, let's look at this," he says, rocking back on his heels and holding up one finger.

"First - in case you haven't noticed, all of my friends are huge nerds, man. I'm kind of a nerd, I just look like much less of one compared to all of you. Second -" Steve puts up another finger. "All right, I'm not super thrilled about the drug dealing when it comes to the harder stuff, but you did what you had to, and I'd be a huge hypocrite if I complained about the weed. Third - it's high school. Weren't you the one who said it feels like it's a lot less important now in the face of everything else?"

"That's different," Eddie mutters, feeling a little bit overwhelmed. He's not used to having someone systematically refute almost all of his points about himself like that, and he doesn't know what to do with it other than focus on the one it feels like Steve doesn't understand. "That was social conformity, this is - this is fucking graduating, man."

He's not sure what he'd do if Steve brushed it off again. Fortunately, Steve just shifts a little, laying down on his side next to him.

"Will you tell me?" Steve asks.

Eddie turns to face him more, hand coming up to fiddle with the hem of Steve's shirt. "My dad never graduated," he says finally. "Dropped out after junior year when they told him that it wasn't looking good for him to be able to graduate, said there were bigger and better things out there than high school, anyway. I don't want to be like him, I don't want to give up."

Steve brushes his hair back, tucking it behind his ear. "You fought Vecna with us. You stuck with us, even now. You decided to work with me on making our bond romantic even when you thought Robin and I were together. You aren't the give up type, Eddie, and if graduating is important to you, then it's important to me, too. I know you can do it."

Eddie slips his hand under Steve's shirt, thumb rubbing over his waist. "Yeah? You gonna cheer for me at graduation?"

Steve quirks a little grin. "I'll yell for you and Robs so loud you'll hear me over everyone else."

Eddie kisses him.

"Noticed you didn't say anything about the virgin thing," he jokes when they break for air.

Eddie doesn't actually think that's an issue for Steve, not after how he'd reacted when Eddie first told him, but when Steve doesn't say anything, it makes him frown a little.

"Steve?" he asks, pulling back to look at him.

"It's not like that's going to be true much longer," Steve points out, but there's something about the way he says it that makes Eddie narrow his eyes at him.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie drawls, delighted. "Is that a thing for you? Do you have a virgin thing?"

"I don't have a-" Steve starts to protest, then amends it to, "I don't exactly have a virgin thing."

"Oh, but you have a sort of virgin thing?" Eddie teases. "You're into it, aren't you, popping cherries?"

Steve shoves him as Eddie cackles, and before long Steve's giving a little snort of laughter too.

"Shut up," Steve says. "I just - I like being able to make someone's first experience a good one, okay? I like that someone's trusted me enough to be their first time. And - maybe I really like the idea of being that for you."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, his voice softening a little. "You gonna make it good for me, Stevie?"

Steve props himself up so he can lean over Eddie, dropping a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You gonna let me?" he asks, just as soft.

Eddie swallows. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll let you."

Steve hums in response, kissing along the line of his jaw.

Eddie grunts when Steve bites him just under the edge of his jaw, his hips bucking up involuntarily at the sensation of Steve's tongue soothing over the sting from his teeth.

His hands push under Steve's shirt, fingertips scratching through the hair over his stomach as he pushes the fabric up.

"Off," he mutters, tugging insistently, until Steve finally pulls away from his neck to strip off his shirt.

Eddie groans, finally getting to openly stare at him the way he couldn't do the last time Steve was shirtless. He reaches out eagerly, palms sweeping up Steve's ribs before he pushes his fingers through the fucking lush mat of hair on his chest.

Steve grunts as Eddie skims over some of his soulmate words, eyes going wide. "Fuck."

"Right?" Eddie agrees, sliding one hand back down to do it again.

Steve shoves his own hands under Eddie's shirt, manhandling him a little to get him sitting up enough that he can pull it off.

Eddie's dick twitches, practically straining against his jeans - yup, Jesus Christ, confirmed that is definitely a thing for him.

When it's Steve, at least.

He expects Steve to get his hands on him, the way Eddie's still stroking possessively over Steve's chest, but instead Steve dips down and gets his mouth on his collarbone, sucking a mark into his skin.

Eddie makes a choked off sound, something between a moan and a curse.

"That okay?" Steve asks quietly.

One of Eddie's hands abandons Steve's chest so he can push it into his hair instead, tangling in the soft strands so he can hold him right where he is.

"So fucking okay," Eddie says.

Steve huffs out a little laugh, the puff of warm air against his collarbone sending a little shiver down Eddie's spine.

He doesn't dive back in immediately, though, leaving Eddie squirming and arching his hips up.

"What're you waiting for?" he demands.

"Looking for something," Steve replies.

Before Eddie can ask what, Steve dives back in, tongue dragging a line over his sternum.

Right where Eddie knows it says I don't think you're brave.

If Eddie thought it was overwhelming before, having Steve's hands on his words, it's got nothing on his tongue. The wet heat against his chest seems to have a direct line to his dick, and when Steve's lips brush over another line of words on his stomach, he feels it fucking everywhere.

Eddie's not entirely sure how, but somehow, they manage to get both of their jeans and underwear shoved down and tossed aside.

There's so much fucking bare skin, and Eddie's greedy for it, reaching out and touching anything he can reach as Steve practically makes out with every bit of soulmate ink he can find.

Eddie throws his head back as Steve sinks lower, tongue carefully tracing one of raised red lines of his mostly healed bite marks without quite touching it, teeth grazing along one of the bisected words instead.

His hands tangle in Steve's hair again, grip a little harder than he means to - but Steve gives this punched out moan, and fuck, okay, Eddie's going to assume a little hair tugging is on the table.

Steve finds the words on the inside of Eddie's thigh, the ones that say I don't care about my soulmate, too, and I won't do anything to keep them safe, and if Steve's hands weren't on his hips, Eddie's pretty sure he would have hit Steve in the face with how hard he bucks up when Steve bites him there.

"Steve," he manages to get out. "Steve, I'm gonna-"

"Yeah," Steve says, getting one hand around his cock and stroking over him. "Come on, Eds."

His grip on Steve's hair tightens so much it has to hurt when he comes, spilling all over Steve's hand and his own stomach with a strangled shout. Steve strokes him through it, like he's trying to get every last bit of sensation out of him that he can.

Eddie's panting harshly when Steve finally lets go, and his hands slip out of Steve's hair as Steve pulls back to sit up.

His brain is practically mush, and he's not sure he can even feel all of his limbs, let alone move them, but he still makes a greedy little noise when Steve rocks back on his heels and Eddie gets his first good look at his cock.

"Gimme," Eddie mutters, hands twitching as he tries to reach for it.

Steve laughs softly. "Next time," he says.

Instead, he takes one of Eddie's hands in his, lacing their fingers together. With his other hand, Steve jerks himself off, stroking quick and rough, and Eddie's fucking mesmerized by the sight.

It doesn't take long for Steve to come, too, and Eddie's feeling pretty fantastic about that. Steve is so fucking beautiful when he comes that Eddie's spent dick gives a little jolt, and he wonders how quick Steve could be ready for that next time.

Steve drops down next to him when he's finished, and they press together as close as possible, trading kisses that are more like panting into each other's mouths than anything else.

"I love you," he murmurs in Steve's ear, when he's finally got enough breath left to speak.

Steve holds him closer, burying his face in Eddie's neck. "Love you," he returns.

They lay like that for a long time, as Eddie slowly feels his heart start to calm down - as it sinks in that this is fucking real.

"You okay?" Steve asks after a while, voice soft.

"I'm fucking fantastic," Eddie replies.

Steve hums happily, finally tipping his head up so he can kiss him. "That was a first for me, too, you know," he admits quietly.

Eddie smiles. "First boy Steve Harrington ever slept with, that's a pretty good achievement."

Steve rolls his eyes. "First and last," he points out, which -

Hmm.

Okay, apparently that might be kind of a thing for Eddie, too.

"Ruined you for all other men, didn't I?" Eddie asks smugly.

Steve snorts, pinching his side.

Eddie just grins at him, wide and gleeful, until Steve huffs out a little laugh and kisses him again.

"You're lucky I really like seeing you like this," Steve retorts.

"What, all fucked out?" Eddie asks.

"Nah. Like seeing you happy."

Oh.

"Stevie," he murmurs, gently pushing his fingers through Steve's hair.

Steve tilts his head into his hand for a moment. Then he smirks. "Besides, that wasn't anywhere close to what I plan to do to get you all fucked out."

Eddie's dick twitches again.

"So, uh. How soon can we have that next time?" he asks.

Steve grins at him. "Lunch first, then round two?"

"Hell yes," Eddie agrees.

It's going to be a fucking fantastic weekend.

—

Robin Buckley and Nancy Wheeler graduate with the rest of their class that year.

And this time, finally, so does Eddie Munson.

Graduation doesn't happen until July, with all the delays, but Eddie is right there among the class of '86, wearing Steve's jeans and one of his uncle's button ups and all of his rings and chains under his cap and gown.

Robin's name gets called first, and Eddie joins the near deafening roar that comes from all of the people cheering her in the bleachers. He can faintly hear Steve shouting "That's my girl!" over everyone else, but Eddie's not sure if that's because Steve's actually louder than all of them or because he's listening out for Steve more.

When it's Eddie's turn - he honestly doesn't know what to expect. It might be dramatic of him, but he wouldn't be all that surprised if he got tomatoes thrown at him.

What he gets, though, is a roar just as deafening and a fucking standing ovation from two rows of the bleachers. He can hear his uncle shouting "That's my son!", a whoop that sounds like a battle cry coming from the party, and Steve damn near screaming, "That's my boy!"

Eddie can't resist throwing out a pair of devil horns after he takes his diploma.

Vecna is still out there, and Hawkins is still a shithole, and Eddie still doesn't have any more of an idea of what his future holds than he did when he was still in high school.

But he's got two soulmates, and a boyfriend, and a family big enough to fill two rows of the bleachers, and as long as he's got them by his side?

They can handle anything that comes for them.

-----

And we have officially reached the end! I do have a little bit more planned in this verse eventually - a couple of B side things and some prequels from Steve's POV, and a one shot of the campaign they all agreed to play, but for now, this is completed.

I wanted to give a huge thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and commented! The response to this honestly astounded me a little, and I wouldn't have been so motivated to finish this without reading everyone's comments and tags in their reblogs. Thank you all so, so much, and a massive thank you to the Steddie fandom in general!! I'm definitely not done with this pairing, and I hope to have more done for them soon.

Tag list: @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fic #steddie soulmate au

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fushiglow · 7 days

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satosugu mailman au 💌

a very special delivery for @kymsys's birthday! how many days will it take for satoru to fall in love with his new mailman? let's find out!!

here's part one for my tumblr pals to enjoy! however, i'll be posting this work over quite a few days over on twitter/x, so please head over there if you want to follow along! if you don't have an account, i'll be uploading the entire thing to my ao3 when it's done — so don't fret ♥️ enjoy the fic!!

There were three things Gojō Satoru loved above all else: sweets, scale model kits, and sleep. He was a simple man in that sense — really, he asked for very little except a healthy supply of sugary treats, the occasional plastic mech, and an undisturbed lie-in seven days a week. So, when the shrill ring of his doorbell wrenched Satoru from a beautiful dream at exactly 8am on a Monday morning? Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased. Now, Satoru wasn’t an unreasonable person. He understood that the rest of the world started moving a little earlier than him — which is why Satoru had taken special measures to protect his precious rest without hindering anyone else. He’d chosen a job that allowed him to work from home, forgone the company of a housemate in favour of living alone, and — most importantly for a hobbyist like Satoru who ordered more kits, paints, and crafting tools than any one person needed — installed a secure parcel drop box outside his front door, preventing the need for anyone to pester him. That’s why Satoru didn’t bother getting out of bed after the first ring, assuming that the person who’d decided to disturb him would eventually figure it out for themselves. Perhaps they were a bit slow though — because less than thirty seconds later, the doorbell came screaming through the house again. Swearing into his pillow, Satoru pulled the duvet up to his ears. All he could do was hope they’d leave quickly so he could snatch at least some sleep in the 45 minutes left until his alarm went off. No such luck. Right when Satoru thought it was safe to relax, the doorbell started up again — and this time, it didn’t stop. With a stream of profanities falling from his lips, Satoru hauled himself out of bed, seeing red as he stomped down the stairs and marched across the hallway to the front door. He flung it open with a frustrated snarl, preparing to share some choice words with the impatient piece of shit on the other side — only for his insults to die on his tongue at the sight of the man standing before him. The broadest shoulders he’d ever laid eyes on; thick arms, tanned and toned; a muscular torso tapering down to a tiny waist — and all packaged in a uniform, for god’s sake. When Satoru finally managed to lift his jaw off the floor, he looked up at the man’s face and the damn thing unhinged from his skull all over again. He was all sharp cheekbones and sunkissed skin and the sweetest smile Satoru had ever seen. Perhaps a little too sweet now that he really looked at it. ‘I think your doorbell is broken.’

Sure, the guy was hot — easily the prettiest person Satoru had ever seen — but that didn’t stop his eye from twitching at the blatant passive aggression masked behind that sickly sweet smile. Satoru matched it with one of his own. ‘I assure you, it’s not.’ ‘Oh, I’m so sorry!’ Satoru didn't think he seemed sorry in the slightest — even if his voice did sound like melted chocolate. ‘I’ve got a parcel for Gojō Satoru?’ When hot mailman tilted his head to the right, a lock of glossy black hair fell into his face. Too short to secure in his bun and too short to tuck behind his ear, he simply brushed it away from warm eyes the colour of honey. Satoru wondered if every part of him was as gorgeous. ‘It needs a signature.’ Shocked out of his stupor, Satoru's gaze travelled to the box at the right of the door. ’The regular guy always puts them in there.’ Hot mailman simply beamed at him. ‘Do I look like the regular guy to you?’ No, Satoru thought. There’s nothing regular about you. As though he could read minds, hot mailman winked at him. ‘Then I’ll need a signature, please.’ And god — he was so effortlessly charming that, for the first time in his life, Satoru found himself speechless. For a long moment, he simply stood there, gawping like an idiot. When hot mailman eventually quirked an amused eyebrow in his direction, Satoru had no choice but to take the signature pad being waved at him, managing to make a hash of his name before wordlessly handing it back. Having completely and utterly embarrassed himself, Satoru had started to retreat into the safety of his home when a strong hand closed around the edge of the door. Hot mailman popped his head around the side. ‘You forgot your parcel.’ Satoru watched those amber eyes as they slid down the length of his body — and hot mailman's sickly sweet smile morphed into a devilish grin. ‘Your clothes, too.’ Glancing down at himself, Satoru’s heart stopped in his chest when he realised he’d answered the door in nothing but his boxers — and not fitted Calvin Kleins that emphasised what he was working with either. No, the ratty, stretched out Digimon boxers he’d owned since he was 17. With a mortified squeak, Satoru snatched the parcel from hot mailman’s hands and slammed the door in his face, uncaring of whether his stupid bangs got caught in the doorframe. Tossing the package onto the floor, Satoru brought his palms to his rapidly heating cheeks, taking a moment to stare into the silence of his hallway. Then, he summoned all the air in his lungs and let out the single loudest ‘fuck!’ he’d ever produced. Hot mailman’s beautiful laughter travelled down the entire length of the driveway.

#hbd my love!! 🫰#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satosugu #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fic #gojo satoru #geto suguru #sugusato #stsg #sgst #五夏 #夏五 #goge #gego #呪術廻戦 #my writing #fushiglow

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redfurrycat · 3 months

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🤠🛖🛏️🐓And They Were Roommates & Only One Bed Fic Recs🐓🛏️🛖🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: Barnes_Brain, Billpaxton, Coconutcordiale, Crueltether, Davidbyrne, Dracculaura, Fuddlewuddle, Honestlydarkprincess, Imafriendlydalek, Indybob, Lesbiseresin, Nickies_Nonsense, ReformedTsundere, ReiverReturns, RosannaDrinksToForget, Sceld, Sreshaw, Teacupivy, Vannral, Violation_of_faith_and_devotion, WaffleToaster, Writerofthelorde, Yourstrulytay.

I'll ride in this life with you by Fuddlewuddle {E}

Rooster is called back to Top Gun along with 11 other pilots for an important mission. Not only does he have to deal with the unresolved issues with Maverick now the Captain is going to be the one training them, but he's also been assigned to live with the one person who seemingly lives to infuriate him; Hangman. He'll be lucky if he even makes it to fly in the mission in the first place.

Squadron Scorpion by RosannaDrinksToForget {E}

Maverick, Rooster, Hangman, Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy and Payback make up the Deadly Seven more widely known as Squadron Scorpion. Maverick isn't done teaching and the young pilots aren't done learning. Things can't get any worse when Rooster and Hangman of all people are forced to room together. They waited in silence. Each catching a breath. "Rooster, still with me?" "Still alive, but barely." "I... I think I need this." "I don't think I can live without it." "Glad we agree on something." Or maybe for the better.

Don’t You (Forget About Me) by Barnes_Brain {M}

When Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw was 14 his mother passed away, leaving him an orphan in an ever changing world. With no other family, and Maverick halfway across the world, Tom “Iceman” Kazansky took over as primary guardian. Through hard work and extreme perseverance Bradley reached Top Gun at age 27, even with Maverick pulling his papers. Take that asshole. But now that he’s at Top Gun he’s going to find if he has what it takes to be one of the best pilots in the world. That includes learning how to work with a team he doesn’t know, and doesn’t know if he can trust. Especially his obnoxious roommate who he can’t help but stare at. If only he could shut up.

show me again by dracculaura {E}

He hasn’t had a roommate on land-based assignments in years, not since flight school, so it takes him by surprise. He just isn’t used to it, not anymore. And he’s especially not used to sharing a room with fucking Bradley Bradshaw. (jake and bradley are roommates during their time at topgun)

T-shirt by violation_of_faith_and_devotion {E}

He inadvertently takes a breath and before he realizes what’s happened, Jake is already away, making his way towards the bar. He’d like to blame it on the alcohol, but he’d need to lie to himself. * Or, three times when Rooster smelled Hangman. And kinda liked it.

You Are My Deepest Lonely by Writerofthelorde {T}

Post mission. Neither Rooster nor Hangman can sleep. Both have nightmares and they get grumpy and rude. When it finally comes out that neither of them has slept in ages, Phoenix jokes that they should sleep in the same room or something, and they look at each other. A silent agreement. The thing is… Jake refused to let anyone in. Every nightmare just left him in a panic alone. Bradley sound asleep next to him. Because it worked, of course it worked. But now, Jake was just alone with someone next to him, and that was worse. So much worse. Aka Bradley and Jake share a room, but there's only one bed... They pine, they long, they ache and flirt. Jake has nightmares and panic attacks but refuses to share that with Bradley, who grows increasingly worried. When will they break?

coming up for air by vannral {T}

"The horizon blurs into blue and bone white. It’s so light it burns Jake’s eyes. The entire cockpit is eerily silent, except for the thundering in his ears. ’fly, fucking fly like your life depends on it – fly FASTER, THEY’RE GONNA DIE – !’" In which Jake shares a room with Rooster on the carrier, he has a nightmare about not reaching Mav and Rooster in time, and Rooster comforts him. And ends up sharing the bed.

I Won't Stop Running by ReformedTsundere {M}

"What? You said you were heading somewhere, didn't wanna give me the exact location, so sure, I've got a shotgun with no passenger and snacks that'll get us from here to Texas." When Bradley continues to stand there, with no response other than a widening of his eyes and slackening of his jaw, Jake takes two steps forward, close but not crowding into Bradley's space. "So, what'da say Bradshaw? Wanna come see the lone star state with me?" It strikes Bradley like he's been doused with a bucket of water, that Jake is serious.

Whiskey and Rye by sreshaw {E}

a.k.a. The Fic Where There's Only One Bed Because the Navy Fucked Up Hotel Reservations The Dagger Crew got turned into a real-deal instructor squadron after the mission. They get sent on missions and demos to teach new pilots how to do what they do. On this trip to Florida, the WSOs are staying with their pilots, but Jake and Bradley, since they are WSO-less, have to room together. And the hotel fucked up.

nothing safe is worth the drive by davidbyrne {E}

this slope is treacherous (and I like it)

It begins, like most things in Jake’s life, with a questionable decision. Or they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

I will follow you, follow you home

missing scenes from the first year of jake and bradley's cohabitation

You Love Him, and No One Else by Sceld {T}

“I’ve got it,” Jake offers, holding his hand out, but Rooster only tuts disappointedly. “What kind of host would I be if I made you carry your own bag?” Jake blanks on a response, his mouth twisting into a smile without his permission. Rooster turns to where Jake can now see the Bronco. Its engine is still running, and it’s warm inside when Jake closes the door behind him, clicking on his seatbelt by feeling along while he stares intently at the glove compartment in front of him, waiting while Rooster puts his bag in the boot. He doesn’t feel as weird as he thought he would, as he probably should. Every conflicting feeling from the F-14 is returning in waves. He’s helpless to resist the pull of the tide. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once. or; Jake's apartment floods and his only other option is to stay with the last person in the world he wants to spend time with. Shenanigans ensue.

I should be scared, honey, maybe so by yourstrulytay {T}

It’s several nights into their new sleeping arrangements that Bradley jolts out of sleep, heart pounding, and for a second, he can’t figure out what’s woken him. The room is filled with silence as he looks around, trying to spot something that may be out of place. He’s confused until a sound emanates from the bunk next to his. It’s a soft keening sound and Bradley’s heart twists to hear the pain laced through the drawn-out noise. It’s the next sound that has Bradley stopping cold, head whipping around to look at the man inhabiting the other bed. It’s mumbled, but undeniable. “Rooster- Bradley, no-!”

will the teasing of the fire be followed by the thud? by davidbyrne {T}

as he can to understand. “Because…you always are first,” Jake offers, shrugging. It’s the truth, as lame as it may be. “I think I have the right to be a dick to the person who broke my heart,” is Bradley’s abrupt response.

Hey Hey Hey Lover by Nickies_Nonsense {G}

After the mission Bradley and Jake are both granted a month of leave. Mav offers up his house but it feels too soon so Bradley does the only reasonable thing and rents an apartment with Jake for a month. Terrible cooking, stomach bugs, beach days, nightmares, and first kisses follow.

Some Unspoken Thing by indybob {M}

With paths that have crossed for the better part of a decade, Jake and Bradley have a history unlike any other. A history that sees their relationship develop from best friends, to bitter rivals, to eventual lovers. The five times that Jake felt there was some unspoken thing between himself and Bradley, and the one time he decided to do something about it.

waking up to you by honestlydarkprincess {T}

Jake drinks too much at a party he and Bradley throw for Bob's birthday. He wanders off, settles into Bradley's bed and they fall asleep. That's it, that's the fic. Based on the prompt "we’re roommates and you drunkenly passed out in my bed; move over I’m coming in"

Calefaction by ReiverReturns {M}

It's 2am, and Bradley isn't used to sharing the hour.

tell the truth, I look better under you by lesbiseresin {G}

Before Bradley knows it, there’s a hand landing on his shoulder and squeezing as Hangman slips past him towards the door. “Hope you don’t snore. Otherwise I might have to shove your face into a pillow,” he tells him, completely cheerful. It makes Bradley want to reach for his collar again, face no longer numb but burning hot in a way he hopes doesn’t show through in color. Instead, he tightens his jaw and does what he’s been doing for the past few days every time Hangman tries to push one of his buttons. He ignores him. (alternatively: and they were bunkmates…)

Storm's Coming by imafriendlydalek {M}

There's a hurricane headed toward San Diego and Rooster gets sent to a nearby aircraft carrier to help move planes back on land before it sails out to sea. Too bad the storm has other plans.

you next to me by coconutcordiale {T}

“We can play for it,” Bradley offers, twisting to reach across Jake and pull a deck of cards he’s tucked into the rack supporting Jake’s mattress. “Loser has to trek across the ship and sleep with Zing.” “He’s not my type,” Jake says, mischief glinting in his eyes when he peers up at Bradley. “Too skinny.” + aka three times there was only one bed and one time there were too many

waiting for a star to fall by billpaxton {E}

Bradley's been struggling to adjust after the uranium mission so Maverick generously gifts him with a weekend pass to a mediation retreat in the Californian woods. He should be grateful - really it's an awfully nice gesture and a getaway Bradley's been desparate for. But it's hard to be appreciative when Maverick forgot to mention anything about having a roommate.

Being your something (for Christmas) by WaffleToaster {E}

It all started because of a damn Christmas sweater. Bradley's pretty sure there's some underlying motive behind all this, all he wants to do is to survive the party, but Jake ends up making everything ten times worse than it actually is. So what can he do other than defend his pride? Throw in some alcohol, some stupid questions and some shameless behaviour and just maybe.. maybe, he'll admit that he's actually having fun. And maybe he'll also admit that he's kind of hoping for something more..

I’ll save you a seat by teacupivy {M}

“What if…” Seresin starts, but then he shakes his head. He’s about to walk away when Bradley grabs for his wrist, nodding at him to go on. “It’s stupid,” he says, rolling his eyes, “but what if we go together?”

feel it all by crueltether {E}

The battery percentage on Jake's phone is nearing the red zone and the last thing he wants is to be completely removed from society (being stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere is bad enough). He leans down to find the charger in his bag when – “Seresin?” Jake goes still, grin on his lips before he even looks up. “Bradshaw,” he replies, grin twisting into a fond smirk. “As I live and breathe. The hell are you doin’ here?”

#And They Were Roommates & Only One Bed Recs List #hangster #sereshaw #hangaroo #bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈

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dreamofbecoming · 9 months

Text

yeah alright this got away from me. posting in pieces, part one is just stobin, no shippy stuff. steddie and rockie to follow. i'll drop it on ao3 once all 3 parts are done

now on ao3!

platonic stobin

rating: t

wc: 3.5k

---

Robin stopped being surprised by Steve Harrington showing up at her bedroom window months ago. Jesus, there's a sentence her 16 year old self wouldn't fucking believe for a second. The Hair, climbing up the trellis her dad built for the roses her mom planted and then forgot about three months later? Yeah right, as if. But it turns out alternate dimensions and sci-fi movie monsters and Russian conspiracies in Bumfuck, Nowhere, USA are all real, so how surprising really is The King himself, collapsing through her window with all the grace of a baby giraffe, out of breath like he- holy shit, did he fucking run here?

"Dingus, did you run here? What the hell?"

"Had to- hang on, Jesus. Holy shit." He bends over, hands on his knees, panting like he just ran a marathon. Which, she guesses, he almost did.

"You have a car, you lunatic, what could possibly be so important?"

"Didn't think about it. Had to get here."

"Is someone dead?!" Oh fuck, Is the Upside Down back? Oh shit, oh no, it can't be back, right? Superhero girl closed the gates! Right?! Oh god, oh no, oh fuck, it's back, the Russians are back, they realized they couldn't let her live after what she's seen, her parents will never even know what happened to her, and they'll kill Dingus too, and dorky little Henderson, and that menace Erica, oh god, they're gonna die, and Hopper's gone and superhero girl is far away and she doesn't have superpowers anymore anyway, which is frankly bogus because what the hell, Robin never even got to hang out with a real live magic person before, which, ok, that's a selfish thought, but that's ok, we can think selfish thoughts and then set them aside and not act on them, thoughts are not actions, thoughts happen all the time without our consent, they don't determine our character-

"Bobs, you're spiraling. Nothing bad happened, I just realized something and I freaked out and I had to talk to you right away. Forgot to call. Sorry, I should have called. Ran straight out of the house. I don't even think my shoes match, what the fuck?"

She's gonna kill him, she really is.

She loves him so much.

"Jesus, you're insane. Sit, you absolute dweeb. I'm getting you some water, when I get back you can tell me what the hell is going on."

He's sitting on her bed when she gets back upstairs, staring at something in his hands. Christ, his hands are shaking. What the fuck, Dingus?

He takes the water and downs it in one go- ugh, sports guys- then flops onto his back and covers his eyes with a miserable groan.

"I know we've got the whole twin telepathy thing going on, bubba, but I'm gonna need at least a little bit to work with here. Give me something. Is it your parents? The kids? Uh, what was her name? From Thursday? Janice?"

"Janine, and no. Ugh. Here." The arm not covering his eyes flops out towards her, holding- ah. A zine. He had promised to drive up to Indy last weekend to the secret bookshop she told him about and get her some new ones, even though she couldn't go with him because her cousin Randy got caught cheating on his fiancée and her parents made her come with the rest of the family to help him move. Fucking Randy. Maybe he should make better choices, so the rest of them wouldn't have to clean up his messes. Jerk.

Anyway.

"Marked the page." Which, yep, there's a purple paper clip stuck to a page near the middle, because Steve knows how much she hates people who dogear books, even books that aren't really books at all, so he's been training himself out of it, because he's sort of the best. Again, 16 year old Robin would have her committed for thinking that, but here we are.

The pamphlet isn't one of the periodicals she sent him for, so he must have picked it up on his own. It looks handmade, just some folded sheets that look like they came out of a typewriter, bound with the kind of twine you can buy at the hardware store. It's called Awakenings. The page he's marked looks like a personal essay, no title, no real signature, just a pair of initials at the end of the page and a half of writing. She starts reading, trying to figure out what the hell spooked Steve so bad.

"I've always been normal. I've always had crushes on men, just like the other girls. There was never a feeling of "I'm different," or "Oh, this is wrong." There was never anything to think very hard about. I'd giggle and blush when the boys looked over at us on the playground, same as everyone else. Later on when I was older I looked at my poster of Harrison Ford, shirtless and hairy and sweating, and I touched myself, and it felt good, just like it was supposed to. I didn't mind thinking of my future husband, and our future kids, and the pretty house with the pretty garden we'd have, just like my parents have, just like they wanted for me. I was normal. Everything was fine.

I thought everything about me was normal. So I didn't understand why the other girls at sleepover parties would giggle and stop and say "Ew, gross!" when we practiced kissing. It felt nice! I wanted to keep going! But it seemed like no one else did. I didn't understand why none of them talked about getting butterflies in their stomach when Laura, who was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, transferred in our senior year, why they seemed so angry at her. Those butterflies were what jealousy felt like, right? So why did the other girls seem to feel so different?

I made my first lesbian friend in college, on the very first day, right across the hall in my dorm. We sat next to each other at Orientation and I thought I'd never have another best friend that wonderful in my whole life, so I'd hold on to her with everything I had. She came out to me the night before Christmas break, hiding under the blankets in my dorm room with the twinkling lights glowing. She was so scared. I held her and told her I loved her no matter what, and she seemed so glad, to have someone to talk to.

When she talked about falling in love with girls, I was so confused. The way she described it sounded like what it felt like to have girlfriends, I was sure. I felt that all the time. I asked her if she was sure she was gay, and she looked so shocked and angry and hurt, and I didn't know how to fix it, so I tried to explain. That what she felt couldn't be liking girls, because I felt that too, and I was normal. I liked boys, so I couldn't be gay. I couldn't be.

I'm glad it was her I said all that to. If someone else had told me about being bisexual, I think I would have hated them. I would have cried, and screamed, and said horrible things. Because I wasn't gay, I was normal, and it was so scary to think that might be a lie. Thank God it was her, my best friend in the world, who I never want to lose. Thank God I listened.

Because I'm not normal. I'm queer. I like men, and I like women. I can love them both the same, but it doesn't matter anymore, because I love her. I love her, and she loves me, and I don't need to be normal anymore."

Robin's face feels wet, which probably means she's crying. She cries a lot, reading these sorts of stories, in the zines she has to keep hidden under her bed, or, these days, at Steve's house. It's never going to be her, she knows. Not here in Hawkins, but it still makes something ache deep inside her, like pressing on a bruise, but in a good way, seeing love happen to other people. People like her. Seeing that it can.

"So?"

Oh shit. Right, Dingus. They're about him right now. Something about this essay in particular freaked him out.

"Uh. It's. A nice essay? I'm glad things worked out for them?"

Stevie lets out a pathetic whine, sort of like back at Scoops when he earned a particularly bad tally on the You Suck board. "Robbiiiiiiieeeee!"

"I'm sorry! I think I'm missing something, what's wrong with this essay? I don't get it, bubba, I'm sorry. I need some context." She does feel bad. Usually she can pluck whatever's bothering him right out of his brain and into the light, where it almost never looks as bad, but she's at a loss right now.

He's got both hands over his face again, and his response is so muffled she can't make out a word.

"Try again in human sounds, please."

"Ugh! I thought everyone felt like that!"

Huh? "Felt like...what, exactly?"

"Like that!" He flails wildly at the pamphlet in her hands. He's sitting up now, hair all askew from tugging at it, and there's a vaguely worrying crazed look in his eye, like right before he tackled that guard. "Like kissing boys and girls both feel nice, and like seeing a handsome guy and feeling jealous of him makes my stomach flutter, and like having friends feels the same as having crushes! I thought that was just how everyone felt all the time!"

Oh.

Oh no.

Poor Dingus! No wonder he panicked and ran here like a crazy person!

"Stevie, can I hug you? Please?" She's not much for physical touch most of the time, but Steve is, and also she's found in the last few months that she doesn't mind so much when it's him. She sort of understands why other people like hugs so much, if they always feel like hugging Steve feels for her. And she really thinks he needs to be hugged, right now.

He nods miserably. She drapes her arms around his shoulders and holds on as tight as she can, hauling him sideways until he's practically laying down on her. He clutches her back and buries his face in her shoulder. She can feel her neck getting wet with tears, a sensation that would normally make her want to claw off her own skin, but this isn't about her. Dingus needs her.

"It's ok, bubba. I'm so sorry. I know how scary this is. When I first figured out I had a crush on Linda Sanderson I cried so hard I threw up, you know? I get it. It's gonna be ok, I promise. We'll make it ok. We faced down evil Russians and giant meat monsters, what's a little sexuality crisis, huh? We got this! We're the goddamn Wonder Twins!"

He snorts at that, which she's pretty sure leaves snot on her neck, which. Ew. Still. Problems for Later Robin.

"We are not, Will and El are the Wonder Twins."

"Uh, nope, no chance, I barely even met them so therefore I am vetoing their application. Sorry kiddos, better luck next time! Find your own nickname, losers!"

Steve sits back, laughing, and she preens a little at being able to bring him back from the brink so easily. She loves him so much she feels like she's glowing with it, sometimes. It almost makes her wish she was straight, because what girl is she ever going to find who loves her this much? But only almost, because. Well. Girls, amiright? Phew.

"So what now, Stevie? You wanna say it out loud? That helps, sometimes. You wanna not say it out loud? You wanna go to a gay bar and find you a boy? You wanna never think about it again? It's totally your call."

"Say it out loud, huh?"

"Hm. It took me like a month, and then the first time I could only say it sitting in the back of my closet with the bedroom door locked and the closet door closed, and I could only whisper it. Just "I'm a lesbian," to myself, like the world's most ironic little goblin. And I had to throw up again after. But it did feel good, once I rinsed my mouth out, anyway. Cleansing, you know? And it gets easier every time." Steve's eyebrows are raised and he's chuckling again, so that's a win. She's not lying, but it is sort of funny, she supposes. In hindsight, anyway.

"Ok. Ok, I can do that. I think. Yeah, I can do that."

She's so proud of him. He's the bravest person she's ever met, she thinks. "You wanna get in the closet?"

"Isn't the whole point to come out of the closet, Robs?" He's smirking at her. Bastard. She whacks him in the shoulder on principle. He may be having a crisis, but he's still a jackass. Her favorite jackass in the whole world, but still.

"Har har, you're a regular Bob Hope. Alright then, bigshot, let's hear it."

A little of that fear creeps back onto his face, and she wishes she could wipe it off, but that's not how this works. They can't make the scary things less scary. He couldn't make the Russians less terrifying, but he could hold her hand and make her laugh and carry some of that fear with her. She can do that for him now, too.

She grabs his hand, and he clutches back tightly. He takes a deep breath.

"I'm...fuck. Ok. Ok, I can do this. I'm...bisexual." The air leaves him in a big whoosh, and he laughs a little. "Yeah, ok, fuck. I'm bisexual. Holy shit, Robbie, I'm bisexual!"

"Hell yeah you are!" She's grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. She's so fucking proud of him.

He's laughing again, a little hysterically, and he hugs her tight again, and she holds him back just as close and thinks oh, he's like me. I'm not alone. I have Steve, and he's like me, and he's mine forever and ever.

When they separate, she looks at him seriously.

"So do you, like, want this to be a thing? Because we can totally make it a thing, and like, get me a fake ID and go to a gay bar and do all kinds of wild shit if you want, but we don't have to, you know? If you need to just, like. Digest this, for a while. It's totally up to you, I just know it took me a while to feel ok with it, and I have no idea if it's different for you but I just want to be what you need, you know? You've been so good with me, and I've never had a queer friend before, so I don't know how, but I want to be just as good to you. You're my Dingus and I love you and I don't know how much of a gay guru I can be on account of, you know, I've never met any gay people besides me and the pretty lady at the bookstore but I couldn't even get real human words to come out of my mouth when I tried to talk to her so I don't think that counts, you know? But I still wanna help! Let me help!"

"Bobbie! Bobbie breathe, you're gonna pass out. I don't think I need a gay guru, I just need a gay best friend, and I have that, so I promise I'm good, ok? Promise. Also I love you too.”

She takes a deep breath, following his lead the way they worked out in the horrible days after Starcourt, when she couldn't sleep without him next to her, warm and alive and breathing, and even then she would wake up in the night with her breath coming short and her vision tunneling and Steve would hold her hand against his chest and breathe slowly, in and out, until she could follow him, and the world wasn't so terrible and scary and loud anymore.

She still thinks about that awful hour underground, thinking she was strapped to the corpse of a boy she never let become her friend, but Steve is always there now when she needs him, and he never complains when she grabs his wrist or puts her head on his chest to make absolutely sure that big, stupid heart is still beating.

When she's breathing normally again, he drops their joined hands down between them, toying idly with the chain linking her ring to her bracelet. "I think...I think I'm glad I said it, and I'm glad we talked about it, but can we maybe just...put it away, for a while? Like it's not...ugh. I guess this is kind of shitty to say, so like, hit me if you want, I guess, but I kind of don't think it matters right now?"

"No no, that makes perfect sense! Like, you still like girls, right?" He nods. "And you don't like. Have a crush on any boys right now. Or do you? Oh man if you do you have to tell me though, it's platonic soulmate law. It's in the bylaws, Steve, don't make me soulmate fine you!"

He laughs and shoves her face away. "Jesus, Rob, no! I don't have a crush on any guys, who would I even crush on in this town? We're not exactly swimming in eligible bachelors. I don't have a crush on anybody at all, I'd tell you, I swear. I know the rules!"

"Oh phew, good. You have to tell me when you do, though, I'm way excited to get you back for making fun of Tammy."

"It was the God's honest truth, Bobbie! She sings like a muppet!"

"Oh my god, shut up, Dingus! Ugh! As I was saying, you super duper have to tell me when you do, but for now, I think maybe you don't have to think about it really at all if you don't want. I mean, practically speaking, it's not really relevant to your everyday life, so we can totally revisit when that changes, but you don't have to like. Join a pride parade tomorrow, you know? You are you who are no matter what. You don't have to prove anything to anyone, especially not to me, not ever."

He leans his head on her shoulder, and she scritches her nails through his hair. It really has no right being as soft as it is, with the amount of hairspray he uses. It's frankly rude, is what it is.

"Thanks, Bobs. I think I'm just gonna put it away for now. It just...another thing to know about me, you know? Like, I'm bad at fighting people but good at fighting monsters, all my best friends are kids except you, I'm bi but it doesn't matter because there aren't any boys to date in Hawkins anyway. Plus my dad would kill me if he found out. Like actually kill me, not "oh geez I missed curfew, my dad's gonna kill me" type kill me, like I think he'd actually try and beat me to death. So there's really no reason to talk about it right now, you know?"

There's a pit of ice in her stomach, and she tightens her arm around him like she can keep him safe just by holding on tight enough. She hates how casually he said that, just like she hates how casually he always talks about how his parents treat him, like he honestly believes it's normal. "Jesus, Dingus. You know you can come here if you need, right? My parents love you, they already think we're getting married. They'd make you sleep in the guest room, but I could sneak you in here easy."

He snorts again. "We're totally gonna end up married for tax reasons anyway, we're never beating the rumors." That makes her snort, too. He's not wrong, though. She isn't going to be allowed to have a wife anytime soon, and if she has to choose someone to be her next of kin, it's always gonna be him. They're planning to move in together when she goes to school next year anyway. No one is ever gonna believe them that they aren't dating, but that's...fine. Honestly, there are worse things. Better to have Steve by her side than not, and if no one else understands them, well, they understand each other, don't they? That's more than enough.

"Yeah, I know I can come here if I need, Robs. It's fine mostly, I swear. They're not home until Christmas anyway."

He takes another deep breath, like he's settling himself. "I'm just glad we talked about it. I feel better now."

She cards her fingers through his hair again, basking in the feeling of her favorite person so close, and so content. "I'm glad, Dingus."

They're alive, and they're together, and they're queer, and neither of them is ever going to have to be alone again.

"Hang on, did you say you've kissed girls and boys?!"

part 2 part 3

#stranger things #platonic stobin #steve harrington & robin buckley #steve harrington #robin buckley #bisexual steve harrington #steve's bi awakening #my writing #robin calls steve bubba and steve calls her bobbie and i will die on both those hills #you can pry their weird nicknames from my cold dead hands #autistic robin buckley #it’s subtle but it’s there and it’s important to me #also her parents are therapists i’m sure of it

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forusomimiya · 9 months

Note

24,25,26 with omi HEHJSNNS

Are you OK? I think you're convulsing a bit hahahaha. First of all I have to say that after reading the prompts, my head automatically went to a bdsm scenario, with a Dom!Omi (I have to admit that it's fault of a SakuAtsu fanfic, it's called terminal curiosity. It's in ao3, if you want to read it ('｡- ◡ -｡`) ♡) I'm not going to gabble any more, I hope you like it ✦ʚ💜ɞ✦

"Open" he ordered. "Open more" he grabbed you by the hair, pulling your head back, watching you open your mouth, tongue out waiting for the shot. "Hah, look how messy you are. Waiting for my cum, huh?" his grip loosened.

Blind, you heard his footsteps in the distance, and a drawer opening. When he closed it, he came back to you. The messy kiss on your lips caught you off guard. He devoured you in his own way, softly, slowly, tenderly, but intensely. You gasped in need of more as soon as he left. "Now I want you to be good, yes?" he whispered in your ear, tickling. You nodded and let yourself fall into the stillness.

"I will”

"Good girl" That was the hard tone you needed to hear from him to get excited.

You were afraid of what might happen next. Sakusa had never given you reason to distrust him, but everything was new in your relationship, and your nerves were getting the better of you every time he blindfolded you and left you to your own devices. Then he was always there, alert in case he heard the word that would make it all end, to go from humiliating you to giving you all the treatment and affection you needed, cleaning you up and feeding you. That was what made you accept this, and well, also because of how rough he was in bed.

You recognized the toy when you heard the vibration, and unconsciously, you licked your lips and smiled, playfully.

"Oh, so, you wanna play?" you stated, trying to spread your legs, which remained a failed attempt, but caused Sakusa's erection to become more noticeable, releasing it as soon as the pressure in his pants irritated him. Too bad you couldn't witness his cock bounce as it was exposed.

"You know I don't like it when you don't take me seriously" he knelt on the bed, and managed with one hand, to get you on your side to spank your ass and listen to your moan. "I'll make you cum as many times as I want. So much, you won't stop shaking, I assure you" he positioned you back up and made his way between your legs.

Little time passed between your first orgasm and his promise. Even without the vibrator in your pussy, the vibrations from the proximity already made you cum without being touched. Tears running down your cheeks from overstimulation, your legs jerking, your mouth begging him to please fuck you and leave that stupid toy. All while Sakusa was amused watching you suffer for him, for that cock that turned red with every pump. You would literally die knowing that Sakusa's intention was to jerking off listening to you cry.

"Kiyoo-mi, please fuck me, need yar cock heeere…"

"Huh huh, not yet. I need more of you, so keep drooling some more for me, Kitty"

"But I-"

"No buts honey. You´re doing great… keep going…" Little by little his panting was getting deeper. You cursed you couldn't see it what you heard. His fucking cock covered in cum, creating slimy sounds from the pumping, and his grunts. "Fuck... more, please. I want more. Touch yourself for me” Now that you understood his game, you wouldn't let him play without you.

"Only if you let me see you, please..." Sakusa doubted. "I've been good, I've done what you've asked. Please, I want to see you cum... please" he fell surrendered to your plea. The tape covering your eyes slid down your face. You couldn't have been more grateful to regain your sight, when a disheveled Sakusa, even with that now wrinkled white shirt, his jeans unbuttoned and those said black gloves that were your downfall, looked at you, mouth slightly open, without a hint of seriousness on his face. "Mhmm, look at me and please cum on me, pretty boy. Cum on me!"

“Hah… you little shit! Oh my g- fuck!”

And without a second thought, he cummed on your belly, splashing your tits, weakening and failing in his attempt to take control over you.

And that was what Sakusa meant when he said he didn't like it when you didn't take him seriously. Because he also melts under orders, inducing him into a submissive role that he didn't want you to ever discover.

Now you had a unique power in your hand and you would know how to use it with Sakusa.

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mayajadewrites · 2 months

Text

I Wish I Hated You

story summary: You don't do second chances. Especially after you gave your heart to Levi Ackerman, and he decided to throw it away so the next person has to repair the damage. Will Levi put his ego aside and finally admit his feelings for you are far deeper than you imagined? Or is a second chance out of the question?

ao3

C H A P T E R S E V E N : S P I L L

Your eyes flutter open as the sun peers through your white curtains. You feel noticeably... alone. You look to your left to where Levi was when you fell asleep, now it's empty.

You let out a sigh. It was all too good to be true.

You grabbed your phone to check your texts. Nothing.

He didn't even bother to leave a fucking note.

"I'm so stupid." You say to yourself, pressing your palm to your forehead. "I really thought for just a moment that he changed."

Last night you and Levi communicated better than you have before and it was mostly in silence. Your heartbeat slowed when you fell asleep next to Levi, it was like you were back with him. You were able to be comfortable. To be yourself.

You guess he didn't feel the same.

You pad to your kitchen, grabbing a cup and ice. You make your iced coffee, hoping it will help mend the wounds that were reopened in your heart.

As you sit on your couch mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you promise yourself that you are going to tell Levi how you truly feel. No bullshit, no attitude. Either he's in this relationship, or not. He can't make you feel so safe, so seen, and then just... leave.

You decide to text Hange so you can stop thinking to yourself.

You: Come over?

Hange: Woah, you never ask me to come over. What happened?

You: I'll tell you when you get here.

When Hange arrives, she brings bagels and more coffee.

"Okay, spill." She sits on the couch.

"Levi came over last night after he had those last shots," You lean back on the couch. "I didn't invite him. He asked if he could stay and sleep in the same bed as him. But he promised he wouldn't touch me."

"And was that promise kept?"

"It wasn't because of me. We only cuddled. We barely spoke though, he seemed so... sad."

"I've known Levi for a long time." Hange clears her throat. "He's the worst at communicating, and he likes to run."

"But I've never given him a reason to run. I've always been about him." You look down at the floor. "I try to make him better. I tried to make us better."

"Has Levi told you about his mom?"

"...Not really. He always shot me down when I asked about her."

"I'll let him tell you about her. But I will tell you, the man has mommy issues. She died when he was a kid and he had to watch."

You brought your hand to your mouth. "What?"

"Yeah. Like I said, I'll let him tell you. I only know about it because Erwin told me. Actually, maybe you should talk to him too. He's like the 'Levi whisperer'."

"So he watched his mom die..." You start connecting the dots. "That doesn't excuse what he does."

"He needs patience." Hange put her hand on your shoulder. "I know it's hard to have with him. But I see the way he looks at you. The way he watches your every move."

"I gave him 2 years of my patience. Of my love. He didn't tell me any of this."

"I'm not saying he deserves forgiveness." She put her hands up. "I'm saying you need to know the whole story before cutting him off completely."

You let Hange's words sink in. Levi has been through something, obviously, and you need to know the entire story.

You decide to take a shower and get yourself ready. You were going to go to Levi's house.

Unannounced.

You glance at yourself in the mirror at the outfit you pulled together - a white tshirt with 'mom' jeans and your favorite pair of white platform converse. Your hair was in messy waves complimented by small gold hoops.

You pulled up Levi's driveway for the first time in awhile. You spot his black Range Rover so he's home.

You start to think about the memories of you and Levi stumbling into his house - drunk on nothing but your love. Levi couldn't keep his hands off you and he almost took you right on his front steps.

Knock, Knock, Knock.

Moments later, Levi is in front of you. He looks surprised to see you, but almost relieved at the same time.

"I-"

"Save it, Levi." You put your hand up. "I don't want to hear your apologies."

"So... why are you here?"

"Tell me about your mother."

Levi's eyes widened and you knew that this was the path to Levi's true emotions.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi x reader #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman fanfic #attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi x you #levi ackerman x you

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lapis-lights · 1 year

Text

04 | I Love You For Infinity

'Falling From Grace' Series Finale

[Vendetta!Leon Kennedy x Reader]

Song Title: Infinity by Jaymes Young

Content Warnings: Near death, Lots of gun violence, Experimental Stuff, They finally get to be happy :D

Word Count: 13.9k

Author's Notes: Here we are at the finale :') I really really hoped you guys liked this series as I spent such a long time on it. I know some things were out of character but hey! We live and we learn, yeah?

I'm working on drafting up potential ideas and blurbs for the next big story project so I hope you guys will stick around for that :D

Posts are scheduled for 8 a.m. EST every day until the series is complete!

Series Masterlist

Ao3

Summary: You and Leon have finally found common ground as you take your final stand against the J.I.E., but not everything comes up roses. Though, no matter what, Leon's hand is in yours and it was something you would face...together.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

'Cause you're the reason I believe in fate, you're my paradise. And I'll do anything to be your love or be your sacrifice. 'Cause I love you for infinity....

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

The next days are spent meticulously losing yourselves in the files you’d recovered from the J.I.E lab but also losing yourselves in each other.

A switch had flipped in the atmosphere between you two and the abrupt shift from avoiding Leon to not being able to stand being away from him for more than a few minutes was enough to give you emotional whiplash.

There are nights where he takes it nice and slow, worshiping your body and rolling his hips deeply into you just to watch your face contorted in pleasure. There are times he fucks you so desperately that all you can do is hold on for dear life and let him do all the work. There are days where you tug each other away from papers and reports and bioweapons to relax, offering up the suggestion of stress release that usually ends with one of you blissed out while the other takes gentle care of them.

Sometimes Leon will go on errand runs that leave you regrettably on your lonesome, until he returns and catches you by surprise. You don't even get a chance to greet him at the door before his head is between your thighs, licking hotly into your core eagerly while you mewl helplessly above him. You're sure housekeeping is frustrated with your constant requests to change the sheets daily.

It's not just sex, though. There are times you doubt that this is as permanent as he promises. There are moments where you stare listlessly and wonder when Leon will realize that you're not what he wants before leaving you in a cold bed one morning. While it never happens, he's always quick to soothe those fears with a gentle kiss and an offer to make cups of coffee for the both of you. Never does he berate you for thinking so sillily as your past partners had done, but rather he listens and quiets those thoughts with a tender press of his lips to the back of your hand.

You're hopelessly in love with him, it's not even funny. You try and give back tenfold of everything he does for you, holding him during restless nights and staying up as late as you can when he can't find the strength to go to sleep.

One night, you had read to him, voice laced with sleepiness but persisting nonetheless because you wanted to help him. Leon's head rested against your chest, reading along with you but not really doing but more than staring at patterned ink on the page. In reality, he would later tell you he was simply listening to your voice.

"Death is of happenstance, when we ebb and fade from the minds of others long after our indestructible destruction. We live and die in memories," you read sleepily, having selected a random book from off one of the shelves in the room. "The bittersweet taste of your absence on my tongue is nothing compared to the confectionary hope that you will be in my arms upon reunion."

Leon makes a noise of recognition, moving to look up at you. "I like that."

"Yeah? Do you read much?"

“Nope,” he says candidly and rolls so that his nose is buried in the slope of where your neck connects to your shoulders. One of your hands keeps a hold on the book as the other starts running mindlessly through his hair. “Love it when you do, though, sweet thing.”

That’s the other thing: his nicknames. Leon’s oddly obsessed with calling you anything sweet–sweet girl, sweet thing, sweetheart…While he does use others, those types happen to be the most common occurrence. They never make you fail to feel giddy, something like a schoolgirl finally getting the popular boy to look her way. Only for you, he seems to be just as obsessed as you are.

Admittedly, Leon's said he prefers you saying his name just because he likes the way it sounds alone, but you don’t pass up the chance to give him nicknames of your own.

Things don't always go smoothly, though.

There are times you shy away from him, unfamiliar with his efforts. Times you question if what he promises is really true and try to not flinch away every time he reaches for you. Leon never hurts a hair on your head and while you know this, old habits do tend to die hard.

It's one night when it's raining lightly that Leon pulls you away from your analysis on one of the J.I.E.'s version of regenerators that the Los Illuminados cult created. You go whiningly, complaining that he was being too needy but secretly exhausted in a way that was probably all too easy for him to spot.

Leon holds you in place on the bed next to him like he's afraid you'll try and run away back to the desk if he doesn't, but you don't necessarily complain since he's warm and the proximity is enough to make your heart do backflips in your ribcage.

"You work too hard," he mumbles as the weight of the world settles into your bones. "Try and get some rest."

"Yes, dear," you mock, but kiss him all the same to let him know that you weren't truly mad.

He makes a nice satisfactory noise, pulling you closer and kissing wherever he can reach, hands rubbing along your skin gently and leaving sparks of electricity in its wake. Just from his touch and warmth, you already feel yourself anchored down and sleep touching your eyes.

Leon lulls you, hands starting to mess and play with your hair as you allow yourself to be anchored down and down until the images fly behind your eyelids and sift through your unconscious memories.

You roll over and your face hits the sand.

You stumble to your feet, the familiar weight and feel of a gun in your hands as the sound of helicopters roar in your ears as they fly overhead, shooting down the infected natives of the island you'd been sent to investigate. Nearly all members of the team assigned to you lie dead at your feet, crimson blood flowing in rivers from explosions, gashes, and bullet wounds. There's no time to worry about them, though.

There's mixed screaming all around you, and aiming is second nature. A clean headshot and a well-charged kick is all it takes to take down the guy in front of you, and you swap out your handgun for a shotgun as multiple people form into a small crowd.

You pull a grenade from your pocket, pulling the pin and throwing it into the sea of people. Stepping some paces back, you wait for the explosion before picking off the rest of those who survived the blast. It's then that your earpiece clicks and a voice comes through from your field managers back at headquarters.

"Come in, Python," they say, "according to our data, the source of the virus is right through the jungle. You need to gather whoever else is alive and head that way."

You grit your teeth, chest pricking with annoyance as you press on the earpiece and snap, "That's practically a suicide wish. We will not be doing that."

"May I remind you that you're not the director of this mission," the person on the other side snaps but their voice sounds fuzzy–muffled. "You follow whatever orders you're given and right now, you need to get to that virus."

You reload your submachine gun, and open fire. "Are you crazy?! There's only ten of us, maybe less. Who fucking knows how many are protecting the virus?"

"You signed up for this. We're expecting results."

They really were trying to work you to death.

The line cuts and you mumble a curse under your breath. A back hits yours and you glance to see one of the other team members has covered you from behind–a talented sniper who has played a role in more than a few of your successes in the past. It's a relief that she's been assigned here too and together, you mow down the bodies that are continuously shuffling and moving towards you.

There's too many coming close to her and enough that were far away from your side. You duck, twisting around her to shoot at the oncoming attacks at point blank while she props the muzzle of her rifle across your back to stabilize her aim. She takes out the ones that were a good distance away. You motion to her and together, you take off towards the heart of the island.

"F.O.S. is insane," you grumble to her, swapping the magazines in your gun. "Sending two people for the virus."

"Better get a hell of a paycheck out of this one," she agrees. "When we get back, drinks are on me."

The two of you trek for what seems hours and time bends and warps in on itself. The next thing you know, she's not next to you anymore and nothing but the sound of nature and the wind blows through your ears. Confused, you whirl around and call out her name in hopes of a cheery response. You're met with silence and the creeping sense that something is watching.

Your stomach drops as you aim your gun, anticipating an attack from any direction.

Instead, a rumble is heard from far away and a flock of birds flies from the top of the canopy, squawking in distress.

A force knocks you off your feet as the island begins to undergo an earthquake. The ground sinks beneath your body as you fight to get back up, panic settling deep in your bones as your arms refuse to cooperate. You scream out for help, to see if anybody was alive left from the bloodbath on the beach, but you know the irrevocable horrible truth.

Everybody but you died that day on the island. The sniper had jumped in front of you to take a hit and sacrificed her life to give you a chance to get the virus. You had shown up at the J.I.E. with a small vial that contained a strain along with the blood of your innocence staining your hands.

The earth seems to try to swallow you whole, opening up as if to send you straight to hell. The heat is enough to burn the flesh off your bones and it feels like you're melting from the inside out. Another scream claws its way from your throat as the tears cascade down your cheeks in wet rivulets. You know you're going to die the way you should have with everybody else on that damn day. It was unfair, leaving you to be the lone survivor and the target of the trainers who worked their agents to death.

You wait for the burn, for the fire to sear you alive when you feel that familiar touch. It's the same one that causes that controlled blaze inside of you–that melted the ice and saved you.

It pulls you from that earthquake and right into reality, a sob escaping your lips as you scramble to upright yourself. You're sweating, eyes still leaking and your throat on fire as if you'd been shouting. Your whole body is numb and cranked to a hundred all at once, shaking like a withering leaf on an autumn day.

Then, "Sweetheart? Are you with me?"

You flinch away, curling up before you realize who it was and what was happening.

The bedside lamp turns on and bathes the room in a gentle yellow glow and you see Leon worriedly glancing over you, hands twitching like he didn't know if he should touch you or not. You've only had one episode before in front of him. When the night terrors bled into real life and he had woken you up then too. Back in the motel, it was nothing but awkwardness and the assumption that he didn't care whether you were suffering subconsciously or not.

Now, things are different. They had to be.

You sniff, trying not to look more puffy and bloated than you already do before reaching out, fingers searching for his own in a way they never have before. Leon sighs in relief, threads his hand around yours, and urges you closer. You fall against his chest and he tucks you into his body as if he could shield you from the outside world and hide away from all the distresses of your life. He doesn’t say anything–doesn’t ask for an explanation–just holds you and stays throughout the whole thing.

Once the adrenaline faded and you’re left with the exhaustion that comes after crying, Leon finally pulls away to get a good look at you. The care is more than enough to make you burst into tears, but you hold them back in favor of not sullying his shirt more than you already had.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice hoarse from sleep and screaming.

“Don’t be,” he affirms, cupping your face and checking you as if making sure you weren’t hurt. “Bad dreams?”

“They usually are,” you admit and lean into his touch. Leon laughs gently when your eyes flutter shut, the warmth emission from him more comforting and grounding than anything else.

He brushes strands of hair away from your forehead before twisting to grab the water bottle from the nightstand on his side. Leon doesn't pry into what happened–just stays with you as you drink to soothe your throat and settle down. You look at the digital numbers glowing on the clock.

3:45.

"We should go back to sleep," you wince and fidget with the sheets beneath you but the reluctance is evident just by your body language and tone alone. "We should."

"We don't have to, baby," Leon soothes. "We can just stay up and do whatever until the sun comes up."

You don't want to return to that bloody beach–the start of many missions that would leave you in shambles and with less humanity than you started out with. It's almost laughable that once upon a time, you'd been a bright starry-eyed girl dreaming of changing the world. If you could rewind time, go back to when you were thinking of what you wanted to be when you grew up, you'd tell yourself to be an engineer or a veterinarian.

Anything but this.

Has Leon suffered through the same thing? How many people under him has he lost due to stupid mistakes and things that could have been prevented? You two really had to be so similar yet so different, but somehow, you'd found solace in each other.

"I got your shirt dirty," you frown, eying the dark patch that was no doubt a gross mix of your tears and maybe even snot.

He shrugs, pulling it by the hem and over his head. "Don't sweat it. I got a million more like it."

You can't help but stare at his perfectly sculpted chest that your hands have run over so many times. You can almost feel the heat of his skin beneath your palms. However, Leon's breathy chuckle pulls you out of your light fantasy. He flicks your forehead lightly, and you squeak as he rolls off the mattress.

"Quit staring, perv," he snorts, rummaging through his bag for another shirt. "My eyes are up here."

"We've literally fucked," you grumble, earning a surprised laugh from him.

Upon getting another shirt, he disappears into the bathroom before returning with some tissues and picking up another water bottle along the way. You graciously blow your nose and clear all that gross mucus from your system. He allows you to finish off the rest of his old water bottle before tempting you back into his arms to lay back down.

You don't hesitate to get comfortable, breathing out serenely once you finally settle down. Reluctancy lies in your mind just thinking about going back to sleep and having to carry another gun or watch another person die, and Leon seems to catch on just as quickly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks gently, open to a yes or no.

Gosh, you never would have expected the grumpy guy that used to insult you freely would be this caring. If you'd known that this is how he really was, you would have cut yourself off early, though it's a miracle something like this hadn’t happened sooner.

You take a deep breath in and blow it out. "It was years ago," you begin, picking up Leon's hand and starting to trace his palm lines in an act of distracting yourself. "I was sent to an unnamed island just off of Cuba where Umbrella had set loose a virus as an experimental field run. It was my first time giving commands."

Leon hums, shifting your position so that he can rest his head on your chest, listening to your heart and your voice while you continue brushing your fingers along his skin.

"I was sent with a fairly large team but they overestimated us. There were infected natives that we were instructed to take out, but there were so many." You close your eyes and frown. "I remember the bloodshed–the screams of anguish of all the people I couldn't save in that first fight on the beach"

"Oh, (Y/n)."

You open your eyes and smile, albeit a little watery. "I was the only one to get on the chopper that left the island that day. Stealth became the foundation of our training from then on and I was the one who bore the brunt of it all since I was able to make it out."

Leon scowls, all dark and lips curling back into a near snarl. "So they worked you into being their perfect little soldier."

"Like a dog." You cup his jaw and run a soothing thumb across his cheekbone. "But, I'm here now with you. That's what matters, right?"

He breathes out, regaining his sense of control and nods. "Yeah. That's what matters."

You sit there throughout the night, holding and soothing each other through touches and the occasional kiss that borders on something more if the two of you weren't tired from being woken in the early hours of the morning. Instead, you relish in the presence of him. There's many things that go unsaid, including what your relationship is labeled now, but that's a worry for another day.

The next time your face hits the sand, your eyes fly open as you find yourself in an unmarked place that you can't identify.

No longer is the feeling of silky sheets and Leon underneath your hands, but rather the rocky grains of sand that have already begun to stick everywhere. The sky stretches with the Milky Way, white stardust streaking across a navy canvas that seems to shudder the longer you look at it. Behind you is an island, the silhouette of trees rising up like a daunting wall and tittering with the sound of nocturnal animals. Somewhere, a bird squawks.

Water rushes up the shoreline with puffy white seafoam before receding gently and restarting the cycle all over again, but its efforts never even come close to where you were sitting. You imagine it would be cold. The sound of waves crashing calms you and on this beach, things are peaceful. It's quiet, and soft.

There's no blood, no voices, no guilt.

You lay back down, let the sand pillow around your head, and smile.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

“Babe, come look at this.”

Leon perks up at your call, immediately getting up to join your side on the bed where multiple files scatter across the sheets. You’ve been drawing links between experiments for a few hours now while Leon makes sure you take a break every once in a while to clear your thoughts and make sure you aren't working yourself into a hole.

“They’ve been tampering with copying DNA strands,” you point out, reading a paragraph on the top of a page titled ‘Somatic Cell Nuclear Transfer’. “‘Multiple test subjects have been shown falling apart or melting into a pile of unidentifiable yet useless substances. Dr. Walker theorizes that this may be a result of unstable skeletons and has proposed we build the structure akin to that of a machine. However, development would take too long so for now, we must continue perfecting the process’.”

Leon’s eyebrows furrow as he takes the paper from your hands and scans over the rest of the report briefly. “They’re trying to clone something.”

Your blood turns cold. “But what? They’ve been bulk creating bioweapons so surely that would be pointless.”

“Unless it’s not a bioweapon they’re trying to replicate,” he points out. “They could be trying to create a replica of a political figure or something.”

“But how would they have the sources to pull that off? They can’t get close enough to someone with power for a DNA strand or something of the likes.”

“I don’t know anymore about that than you do, sweetheart,” Leon mumbles, focusing on the report as his chin hooks on your shoulder and rests there. “Can you think of anybody that they’d get an advantage from?”

“Nobody else that you can’t think of,” you parrot, going through every person that they’ve targeted in the past. “Mostly I’ve been sent out to intercept the progress of rivaling companies and shadowing after you for information so your guess is just as good as mine.”

“We have to go back to the lab,” he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face and tucking it into your neck. His breaths tickle your skin. “Can’t catch a fucking break.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Kennedy,” you shrug your shoulders a little so that it jostles him enough to emit a mock aggravated groan. “I think you’ve had plenty of breaks since our last breach into the lab.”

He glances up at you, a red tint glowing on his face and you would have made fun of him for it if you weren’t going through the exact same emotions as he was.

There’s a tense moment as your thoughts align on the same page for a minute.

“Wanna make it one more?” he prods suggestively and you have to laugh now, reaching up and patting his cheek affectionately.

“As much as I’d love to, I’d rather be able to walk when we head out. You really seem to enjoy folding me like a damn pretzel.” you tease.

“Start stretching more.”

“Give me time beforehand then.”

He falls dramatically onto his back, making a pitiful little noise as if you’ve wounded him. You snort, pick up the map, and begin marking down the route the two of you had agreed on but not yet finalized. The safe rooms are already circled in blue, and the major areas to avoid are in red. The best course of action was to pull an alarm and cut through the offices to the labs that connected to the computer room, and there, you could find the information you needed.

It was risky, and there were a lot of factors to be considered before the two of you immediately dove in.

“That’s another cause for concern on the list,” you note, “along with the other ones we’ve listed down.”

“Perfect,” Leon retorts. “As if the all-seeing heat detecting monsters and the eyeball motherfuckers weren’t bad enough.”

Throughout your view over of the list of bioweapons they’ve created, you managed to narrow down the ones they’ve deployed as a means of defense. One attracts to that of thermal senses and another that purely uses sight as it’s only dominant means of living, which means they’re going to be your biggest problems alongside the potential undead waiting to pop out.

It’s also possible each one of them was injected with a variant of Las Plagas to make things even more fun. Total obedience was needed for them to function as a reliable defense system, and if they went rogue, it would cause too many heavy casualties.

“This sucks.”

Leon huffs. “You can say that again.”

“We need to settle on a date,” you tuck everything back into the binder neatly before snapping it shut. With no grace, you fall onto Leon’s chest and he grunts as his arms circle around your waist instinctively. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Sure. We could go to the movies or take a walk in the park–”

“I will sleep in the other bed tonight.”

“I’d say a week’s time.”

You laugh gently, resting your chin on his sternum. He sighs, exasperated but lovingly all the same, and in this tender moment, it’s easy for the daunting mission to fade away. The outside world doesn’t exist when you’re with him and some part of him mourns that you’ll never be able to return to this suite when everything’s said and done.

The future is terrifying since there’s no telling what’ll happen when he has to report back to the government.

Leon had explained to you that he was able to prod his bosses for an extended vacation after his former one was rudely interrupted by their request for his aid in dealing with the situation with Arias. You have no doubts that they wouldn’t hesitate to call him back though, so it’s a miracle he’s lasted this long. He assures you there’s nothing to worry about so you try not to be too bothered by the unnatural radio silence.

“What are you thinking of, sweet girl?” Leon asks, running a hand through your hair and beginning to gently work out the tangles that bind together some strands.

“You.” The answer is simple yet honest. He’s always on your mind nowadays, isn’t he?

“Yeah? What about me?” He tests and you know exactly what he’s trying to instigate.

“I’m gonna have to teach you some self-control, mister,” you chide, closing your eyes and reveling in the soothing motions through your hair. “You’re worse than I am.”

"Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"Whatever you decide," you say while stretching, yawning in the midst of the afternoon glow through the suite windows. "I wanted to ask you something, though."

Leon tilts his head and begins weaving a section of your hair into a braid. "I'm listening."

"Where do you see yourself in the future?"

He pauses, his motions stuttering before resuming almost cautiously this time. "What brought this on?"

"I was wondering what your plans are when we finally can rest," you close your eyes and make a noise between contentment and hesitancy. "We can't be worked forever and that pension's gonna be fan-fucking-tastic."

"Well," Leon breathes in like he's confessing a secret–like the two of you are children whispering things into each other's ears and pinkie promising not to tell, "I'd like to move into a suburban house–maybe one with a picket fence–that's in a small no-name city. The community would be nice but know how to keep to themselves. Maybe I'll have a couple kids running around. Work never really allowed me to think about having a family."

"That sounds really nice," you say wistfully, imagining it behind your eyelids.

"I'd like to be able to paint and alter the walls however I'd like since I can easily afford something like that," he keeps on going. "A kitchen space just big enough to cook with someone and maybe even a window where I can watch the sun. I'd like a nice, cozy bedroom that's not neat or messy so I can bury myself in bed no matter what time I come home."

He wants such an idyllic life–one that you see in movies that everyone lives vicariously through because in this society, it was practically unachievable. Would you be so willing to have such a peaceful way of living as well? You can't fight forever, but all you've known for years is blood and gunpowder and pain. Could that world be something you deserve after everything you've done?

Leon stops, rests his hand on the back of your skull thoughtfully, and says, "...And I want you to be in it."

You open your eyes and look at him, caught off guard. "Me?"

"Who else, sweet thing?" He laughs. "I hate to break it to you, but I'm not letting you go after this."

“Stockholm Syndrome,” you hum. “Are you really sure you want me there for all that, though?”

“There’s nobody else,” Leon says seriously. “Only you.”

You breathe in, then out and focus on the heat of his touch and the weight of his words on your heart. “Okay, Leon.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. We’ll have a house together away from this all and you won’t have to worry about the monsters anymore.”

His eyes crinkle with joy when he smiles and you’ve learned what it’s like when he expresses any genuine happiness. It’s a sight to behold but surely, it’s one you would never ever forget.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Your heart beats in your ears harshly, finger twitching to pull the trigger on your handgun as you watch carefully for any signs of movement around the corner.

The world around you sucks a breath in, watching and waiting for any possible movement that would trigger an event.

Nothing but the hum of electricity can be heard, a constant drone in the background as sweat accumulates on the back of your neck and your stomach rolls nervously. Your arms shake and you're already aching for the welcoming feeling of the hotel suite. Unfortunately, things aren't that simple.

You and Leon had left early in the morning, once again, focused solely on making it out alive by the end of the day. Following the route and plan the two of you had finished up and agreed on, it wasn't hard to find and trip the fire alarm to the offices. People came rushing out–as predicted–but what you didn't expect was for the monsters to be roaming freely among the workers.

You and Leon had done the best you could, using the walls of the cubicles to hide away from the eyes of the monsters who could only see, with ugly pink bat wings and the body of a fleshy larva. It was only when the thermal searching bioweapons came in that you were positively fucked. Computers came crashing down, wires fizzing electricity and the lights overhead spark angrily as bullets were shot with desperation.

There were so many of them–so much that the rubble and the amount of monsters combined separated you and Leon.

You panic when you can't see him anymore but hope that you'll regroup soon enough, running through a doorway and barricading it with a quick glance at the room and seeing that he's nowhere you can find.

Hence your position now. You have to be careful since you're in an uncharted section of the laboratory that you didn't study in depth like you had for the rooms that you planned for. Carefully, you get up from your position and walk. The atmosphere is not helpful, and it feels like the walls have eyes. You shoot down any security cameras you see and somewhere along the way, there's a safe room.

There's nothing but a few boxes of ammo, a dusty old typewriter, and a plant that smells suspiciously like the vials of herbs that Leon had made you take all those weeks back. The thought makes your frown as you root out the plant from its pot.

Your time in that snowy motel seems like such a lifetime ago. It's hard to believe that just last month, you were ready to kill him on sight. Between everything that's happened and all the emotions that have purged, this story of yours seems like just the beginning. Catharsis–or something like it. Now, you're ready to have a life with your sworn enemy just because you were stupid and fell in love.

Who knows if Leon really was playing the long game or not?

Once you've checked and reloaded all of your guns, you step out of the safe room and back into the long hallway. The door at the end leads to some kind of boiler room and the heat only makes you more inclined to collapse. However, you push forward and take in the environment.

There's a large pod-shaped machine in the middle exhausting steam and monitoring its pressure on the side, which would be the heater. All around is a metal platform that winds up upwards with stairs at every level, and there's no telling where the top door might lead to. Instead of dwelling too hard on it, you begin climbing.

The lack of any enemies or things to shoot lets you know that any destruction to the boiler would probably be too large of a causality so they didn't want to risk the chance of the thing exploding. You're about halfway there when the hairs on your neck stand up and your gut pangs.

You grab your knife and parry the incoming attack.

The woman backs away, clearly surprised that you managed to sense her despite the silent stealth she employed. It takes about two seconds to recognize who it is and your blood runs cold. Ada blinks innocently, sheathing her knife and jutting out a hip. Expertly applied make-up refuses to run even under the heat and humid steam of the boiler room and infuriatingly, you understand why Leon might've been attracted to her in the past.

"Ada," you say, hesitantly putting away your own weapon. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I see he's told you about me," she tuts, moving to walk past you. "All these years and he still can't let go of me."

You think she's just trying to get under your skin, and you follow her just to see what she might say. "How long have you known Leon?"

"Mm...We have a history. One I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand."

You clench your jaw, reminding yourself that if it's a fight she wants, she'll have to work harder for it. What was the point in taunting you like this? Was it because of personal feelings that she had tried to get the jump on you earlier or was it part of a mission that she was on as well?

"You know," Ada begins, climbing another flight of stairs. "He's gotten good at acting–lying. He's not as predictable as he was before."

"So?" You reply irritably, ready to get away from her.

"So you never know," she looks up wistfully, "he might be using you for information. When this is all said and done, Leon will get his hands on the data he needs and you'll be free from your contract. The business deal will be done and you can go your separate ways."

"Is that what you really think?"

She looks back at you, something like pity or sadness in her eyes. "Maybe. I'm just trying to warn you before you do something you might regret."

You can't say anything about that.

The two of you continue up the stairs until you finally reach the final door at the top. Upon opening it, you sigh in relief at the cold air and turn to find Ada isn't following. She only shakes her head slightly, backing away like she's disappointed or something.

Ada takes a deep breath in like she's trying to steel herself. "You're good for him. Better than I would've ever been. Don't fuck it up."

You open your mouth to retaliate, question what she means, promise you won't–maybe say something. You don't get the chance when she swivels around and vaults over the railing of the platform falling down and disappearing. You gasp, rushing forward to see call out for her, but the words die in your throat when you realize she's nowhere to be found.

Left confused by the brief interaction, you glance back at the open door that leads into a narrow corridor. A lone door lies on the other side of it, and you try to remember if there was anywhere that it would lead to. However, you fail to, and decide that there’s really nowhere to go but ahead. You press forward, and the door to the boiler room slams shut behind you.

You whip around, hearing the harsh click of a lock echoing through the small space.

You yank on the handle but to no avail. The thing’s bolted tightly.

An intercom crackles overhead and that voice that had spoken to you before when you and Leon had faced off the spider audibly clears the static.

“What do we have here?” they muse. “You two had better get to the main lab with all our fun little experiments. I’ve got a surprise–and perhaps you’ll find your way back to each other eventually. Don’t keep me waiting. Oh! Try not to die on the way, will you? It’s been a while since our animals have had a good hunt so I do hope you’ll be good sports and provide some much-needed entertainment.”

The static cuts off and rapid banging erupts from above. The sounds of the ventilation stagger and a shriek emits from the ceiling. You swap out your handgun for your reliable shotgun, making a beeline for the exit at the end of the corridor just as the door to the vent crashes down and you hit the floor to dodge the tentacle that comes flying at your head.

You get a good look at what you’re up against–a pile of wet flesh that has eyes embedded into it like gems encrusted on a globe. Multiple limbs stretch outward from the main hub, wriggling hair-like tendrils spreading across the floor towards you rapidly. You get to your feet, breath coming out in ragged gasps. Your hands pump your shotgun and aim. When the hit lands, the thing screeches and puss explodes outward from its body.

Being in such a confined space barely provides any advantages for you, and coupled with the fact that the mass of the bioweapon nearly takes up the entire corridor along with the lack of any environmental resources, it’s up to your combative prowess to get out of this one.

You grab an incendiary grenade and pull the pin. The fire is quick to make work of the thin tendrils on the floor and you sever the tentacle inching towards you from the side. You’re not quick enough to pivot around. A limb bashes into your torso and sends you flying, your ribs pulsating in pain as you slam on the ground. The concrete scratches your knees as you get up shakily, and you see your shotgun has landed a few feet away.

Upon not seeing you dead, the monster screams and focuses all of its efforts into trying to kill you.

“Goddamnit,” you curse. “This isn’t good.”

You evade an oncoming attack, crying out when one tentacle wraps around your ankle and yanks. You fall on your back with a harsh thud and it begins dragging you towards the center where the monster opens up to reveal a mouth full of lines of rotating teeth. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you pull your knife and hack away at the restraint on your leg. The grip tightens enough so that you can feel the monster trying to crush your tibia and fibula together.

You have enough of it, dangerously close to the heated saliva of the bioweapon’s mouth. You stab your knife into the tentacle, and it splits apart with a gush of hot blood. The shriek that emits from the mouth is enough to make your ears ring, but there’s no time to think about that now.

Swapping out your submachine gun, you roll to your feet and begin targeting the spots where the tentacles source from. When they explode, the smell is so horrendous that you have to take the time to gag before reloading and letting the bullets do all the work.

“You need a bath, buddy,” you mumble under your breath, wrinkling your nose in disgust. “Fuckin–this is what being an irresponsible pet owner does to a bitch.”

You sidestep another swipe and work on getting rid of the last few joints. Blood pours down the main body of the bioweapon and stains the floor beneath it, and as the last tentacle has been disarmed and popped, all that’s left is the main hub.

It’s really unfortunate that you assumed it would be easy, but as the mouth closes suddenly, gurgles, then hurls a ball of acidic saliva at you, it proves that it won’t be as simple as you had hoped.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

The saliva leaves a burn bark in the ground and you know that it would be hot enough to melt the flesh right off your bones. You duck and roll, barely managing to avoid another shot for your head.

“I thought I wouldn’t have to play dodgeball after PE in highschool,” you groan, trading out your submachine gun for your hard hitting reliable magnum. “Alright, I’ve had enough of your bullshit.”

The next time the mouth opens up, you can see the glowing heart of the monster beating behind a thin wall of translucent flesh just at the back of its throat. You only get a few sections to work out a plan before it spits at you again, you use the time to jump out of the way before firing a couple of shots right into the heart.

It shrieks but persists and you take the period after the next attack to reload your magnum as fast as you can. Fingers dance quickly as you push every bullet into a designated hole in the round, aiming, and emptying all of it into the heart as quickly as you can. Just to be safe, you take a hand grenade and launch it into the still-open mouth,

The monster seems to swallow it, trying to prepare another acid attack, but it doesn’t get the chance. You duck, shielding your head as the grenade detonates and erupts. Guts and eyeballs go flying everywhere, and blood spatters across your clothes and skin. The monster finally rolls over limply and stays down this time as you finally stand to breathe in gulps of air.

It feels like you’ve just run a marathon, and your ribs ache from when you had been thrown across the corridor, but at the best, it might have been bruised. It doesn’t feel like they’ve been broken at least, which really was the only positive side to this whole thing. The bad part is the fact that this gives you a taste of just what the J.I.E. had been working on this entire time, and that didn’t bode well if they managed to get farther along than what you just encountered.

You pick up your discarded shotgun and find you’d only been two bullets away from being empty. You’ll have to manage your inventory better the next time. Taking the time to reload everything and check through your belongings, you observe the cuts and scratches you obtained during the fight. It doesn’t seem too bad, all things considered, and you decide to wait on trying to eat the mysterious herb you had picked up before.

The lock clicks again and you try the door again to find that this time, it unlocks easily.

On the other side, you find a more open space. The room holds large test tubes that line along the far left wall with bodies of people floating inside of them, and tubes connect to various points on their limbs. On the right are monitors that track the progression of every corresponding subject and you go to the nearest one.

You walk slowly, realizing that every one of them were incredibly similar in terms of appearance. They hold the same face shape, the same nose, the same skin color. There’s only minor differences between each of them like the curve of the upper lip not matching or the varying heights by a couple of inches, but in general, they remain fairly similar.

You travel to the other side of the room and work one of the monitors that list it’s for test subject number six. There were a few tabs you were able to access, including the general review of the experiment as a whole. The computer screen casts blue light as the report loads and your stomach drops upon seeing the title.

"The (L/n) Project - Molecular Cloning Process

Two weeks since Agent (L/n) escaped the facility. She has left behind all devices and managed to disarm the tracking chips installed within her weapons. We suspect that the tracker we injected into her has been damaged as well–Mr. Williams theorizes it must have occurred during her fight with T-X108 and therefore, had rendered us unable to pin down her exact location. The search parties sent out have not managed to find her.

However, she has allowed us to go forth with the cloning process. Her rebellion had greenlighted the project, appropriately named The (L/n) Project as we try to replicate her favorable traits and create a bioweapon capable of her abilities and more.

This project utilizes a mix of the T-Virus as well as the Las Plagas parasite to ensure total and absolute control over the subject. Many defects have been formed due to the incompatibility between the mix of the virus and plagas, however, Dr. Stills remains optimistic and claims that we need only to find the right combination. Our last resort only banks on the chance that (L/n) will return and will ensure her capture and re-initiation.

Should we apprehend her within the lab, she will immediately be injected with a plagas egg. From then on, she will be kept in confinement until the parasite reaches full maturity.

Until that time comes, we will continue the cloning process in hopes of favorable outcomes. We have already gotten this far. All it needs is time."

The files about the J.I.E. dabbling in cloning flash through your head, and your stomach jumps into your throat. You return back to the test tubes and swallow harshly, now seeing that those are your features being reflected back at you through the glass. Those things are supposed to be replicas of you–formations that they took of your DNA strands and molded into your image in hopes of replicating your performance on the battlefield but better.

They've had plenty of chances at getting your DNA through blood work and any hairs you might have misplaced or left behind. Think about it, you had willingly provided them all the resources to your genetic code on a silver platter simply because you believed you were working for the greater good.

You back away, shaking nervously as terror fills your system. You need to find Leon and you need to do it now.

You start running, stumbling out of the room into one much larger. It's like a factory, walls whitewashed and outlined in varying glass containers that hold a multitude of different bioweapon shrieking and clawing to get out. In the center is a control board that seems to operate a giant claw. Whatever this shit is, it meant no good.

A door flies open ahead and you gasp, looking up to see none other than Leon stumble through. You're about to call out to him until you see him hold the door just in time for somebody else to follow after. A woman, it looks like, and your chest boils with something sharp. She's not wearing the same red get up Ada had been in, so she must be somebody new. At least, you hope that's the case.

You back away, watching as they head down the stairs together and go straight for the control panel. Before one of them can touch anything, you come out, gun securely held as you nervously shout out to him.

"Leon?"

He whirls around immediately, but instead of his expression twisting into relief like you thought it would, it morphs into one of confusion. His features set into harsh stone as he loads his gun and aims it at you.

You stop in your steps toward him, slowly putting your own weapon back into its holster and putting your hands up in a surrendering position. Wondering why he would turn the gun on you now if all times, you think with a pang that this is where he might betray you and has alerted an accomplice to aid him in this final stretch of the mission.

This is soon cleared when the person walks out from behind him and you find you staring at yourself.

"Leon," the fake you says, all nervous and matching your pitch perfectly. "This must be what they were talking about–with the cloning."

A bitter taste fills your mouth, insulted that this copycat would even have the audacity. "You would know since you're one of them," you snap, turning your attention to him. "Please, you've got to believe me–you've been traveling with a clone."

"Stop trying to manipulate him!" The clone's eyes shine with fake tears and you scowl.

Leon hesitates, strung between two identical people and you can't believe they somehow created the perfect replica. How they even managed it is beyond you, but what matters is that there was a chance Leon could accidentally kill you without knowing it until it was too late. How could he handle it if his intuition is the very thing that had kept you alive and killed you all at once?

“Don’t fall for it,” the clone frowns, forehead wrinkling just in the same way yours did when you were determined about something. "She's just trying to trick you so we'll get separated again."

"You're one to talk," you seethe, knowing that losing your temper right now was akin to fighting a losing battle.

"Leon," she croons, circling around to look him in the eyes earnestly, "don't you remember all those nights we spent together? How free it felt to finally love me openly after all this time?"

He softens but only slightly, the grip on his gun loosens as he hears her recount the events of something so recent.

"I've loved you for so long and didn't even know it," she says, so open and vulnerable like a mirror to your own emotions. It was eerie and creepy in a way you loathed, unsettling just how it was to see a reflection of yourself sweet talking the man you love. "Shall I tell you when I first admitted that I love you so that I can prove it really is me?"

She doesn't even wait for an answer before she's leaning in and whispering in his ear. Whatever she says, it must be something wild judging by the way his face flushes so violently crimson. Usually, it's you doing all that work, knowing what subjects will make his face burn in such a way that it's nearly impossible not to cradle it just to feel the heat beneath your palms. However, it's not you this time, and the fact makes you want to throw up and gag at the sight of it.

When the clone leans away, she scrutinizes his face before letting her expression fall. "You still don't believe me fully."

"I can't make a mistake."

"Then ask us a question," the clone suggests suddenly, matching your tone and body language down to a T as if you really just had a bright idea. "One only the real (Y/n) would know."

Leon's eyes turn focused, looking between the two of you trapped in front of him in similar stances. Really, what could he ask that the clone wouldn't know? She had apparently inherited all of your memories–all of the time you spent in the motel leading up to this second had been meticulously recorded.

"When did we first meet?" He finally asks. "When did we really first meet?"

"Operation Counterpoint," the clone says immediately as if this were some twisted game show. "You caught me on an espionage mission gaining intel on Umbrella through your own mission. You almost killed me that day."

Leon looks at you and the raw emotion in his eyes as he waits for your answer makes you falter. You always knew him better than anybody–knew the things that made him tick and do the things he did better than you know your own quirks. You hope that intuition doesn't fail you now, needing it more than ever in this bizarre situation. Leon asked a simple question, but something underlined it. He was looking for something else–something more.

You understand what he's asking and you duck your head.

"When you saw my scars," you say quietly and nothing but the hum of electricity could be heard like the atmosphere had sucked in a breath and was holding it. "When you found out what the J.I.E. had been doing to me–how they were hurting me, that's…that's when we met. When we really first met."

Leon pivots and shoots the clone in the head, the throat, then the heart and as she falls to the floor, he reaches for you.

You sag in relief as you let yourself fall into his arms. The tension drains from your body as you find yourself in the clear once again. Leon–your rival, mortal enemy, and savior–pulls you to his chest in a real hug that you melt into. You haven't felt the warmth of an embrace from anyone but yourself in years before him–didn't allow yourself to. You suspect that he's just the same, or perhaps even more, starved of the touch than you were

His arms wrap across your back, pulling you right into the space that has become reserved for you against his body. His hold on you is so firm that it would take an army just to get him to release you from his sweet embrace. To be fair, you're not keen on leaving it anytime soon.

"Oh, sweet girl," he mumbles against your hair, grip tightening as if he'd rather die than let you go. "Angel, is it you? Tell me, please–please."

"It's me," you reassure as genuinely as you can. "Leon, you did good–you did so good. Thank you, oh my god."

The tension from the situation dissipates as you relish in the feeling of being alive and well. You can feel him shaking and you pull away only slightly just to get a good look at his face. Leon never cries even though he's seen a fair share of your tears and you've seen the nightmares that plague him every time his insomnia lets up and allows him to sleep. Now, you see that familiar well of hot saltwater welling beneath his eyelids and your heart hurts for what confliction he must have gone through while making his choice.

You wipe them away before they even have the chance to make a track down your cheeks and his forehead presses onto yours desperately.

“Leon, we have to keep going,” you prod, however just as reluctant to let him go. “We have to make it out of here together, okay?”

He lingers stubbornly and you think you might have to walk with him wrapped around you but he manages to pull away all the same and nods. You know he’s back with you now on a level head and that things were very possibly going to be okay again. You’ll live to see the day, and that was a true promise that passed wordlessly between the two of you.

Together, you approach the control panel and begin operating the system to tell you what has been happening.

Every single creature on the wall is registered to a number and every one contains at least one or more virus or parasite. Some of them mix together the T-virus and Las Plagas, even going as far to see if the plagas and Uroboros could be compatible somehow. The creatures maintain some sort of semblance of what they once were, ranging from rats to dogs to humans.

This is more fucked up than you could ever have imagined. While the binder you had gotten had prepared you somewhat, even then, they only had one page of review and. This was the whole report, elaborately written for each of the bioweapons they had been creating.

“What the fuck could they be doing this for?” Leon mumbles angrily under his breath as he sifts through file after file.

“They wanted to take the bioweapon war to Umbrella,” you reply, nudging aside his hands so you can pull up the command prompt for the system. “With enough power, they could take down the pharmaceutical company and be revered as heroes for the anti-terrorism.”

“But the government would’ve shut them down the same way they did Umbrella.”

“Not quite.”

You enter in the string that brings up an overview of the J.I.E.’s plans, letting Leon read through it as you pull out an external hard drive to plug into the USB port hidden discreetly away from the open. Beginning to copy the information that was showing on screen, Leon sighs and catches your attention.

“They’re gearing towards the favor of the public,” he realizes and you nod. “And this whole plan is why…”

“Why I left, yes.” You select all of the creature reports and start uploading them on the drive while talking. “They think that bringing a whole entire war to the companies is the only way to deal with them–they don’t think about civilians or people or the moral justice of those who do wrong. They want the advantage, which makes them no fucking better than Umbrella or Tricell or anybody else.”

“Who’s behind all of this? Do you know?”

You take a deep breath, trying not to think about what names or relations meant to you–especially higher ups who didn’t know how to keep their nose out of other people’s business. “Mr. Williams is the head of the J.I.E.–the one who made the company and announced its making under the false pretenses of making the world a better place. He built it on the trust of those who witnessed him jailing a couple criminals until he successfully apprehended an Umbrella team member. He was revered, and the J.I.E. received a lot of funds for his deed.”

“But?”

“But he’s been disillusioned ever since.” You look up at him seriously, taking his hand and clasping it between your palms. “Leon, promise me that if he manages to make an appearance, we run. He’s charismatic and knows how to get underneath your skin–you won’t get anything out of talking to him.”

“You’re sure about this?” he asks, squeezing your hand back gently.

“One hundred percent.”

Leon nods, trusting you. “Then we’ll run.”

The next moments are spent analyzing the creatures in the glass cases. You can see the wriggling parasites beneath the bronze flesh of some of the animals, stretching from Las Plagas to Uroboros to other possible variations. The animals with viruses don't have any wriggling tendrils but they do still snarl and rot from the inside out. It's disturbing, knowing that this was all right under your nose while you'd been willingly working for the J.I.E.

When the hard drive is finished uploading the reports, you navigate away from the experiments and instead turn your focus onto the U.S. government. Leon makes a noise of confusion upon seeing you type in the buzzwords, but is effectively silenced when you open a file that introduces the world of hacking. There were so many files about getting through firewalls and securities that it's almost impossible to believe that they kept track of all of it.

"This is how they're bypassing the protections the government has been putting up," you tell him, cutting and pasting all of the files. "With this, you can fortify it."

Leon doesn't say anything, just simply pulls you closer by the wait and kisses the crown of your head. You can't tell what he's thinking right now, but if anything, you're glad you can help him. He looks like he has something on his mind and you almost ask what he's thinking about, but instead resign to let him have his moment instead.

When you have all the information you need and have stopped needing to upload things to the hard drive, you unplug it and tug it into your bag. Together, the two of you start making your way to one of the exits you theorized. Sure, you might not be able to find the entrance you came through by means of the dressing room but at the very least, you could find a way out.

There's a dizzying amount of doors to get through and everything seems to be going fine. Nobody's come for your head yet and there's no monsters that have fallen from the ceiling looking for blood just yet.

It's only when you make your way to one of the first floors that a strange clicking sound is heard and you and Leon halt to pull out your guns. It's reflectively dark so you have to click on a flashlight just to be able to see a small portion around you. The mysterious noise seems to be coming from ahead behind a crate of boxes and since there's no telling what it might be, the two of you proceed with caution.

Your footsteps are light, breaths even lighter. You monitor yourself in the way a doctor might, and the adrenaline already begins building. You approach the crate, lift your leg, and kick it in.

When the boards crumble, a shriek is heard, and you barely manage to dodge and roll out of the way of the humanoid that lunges for you. The figure screams, dressed in rags and streaked with dirt. One good look at it makes your heart twist harshly upon recognizing it: it's one of the failed clones, evident by the way her cheek is rotted away to show the inner workings of her mouth and her eyes are a stained color that vaguely reflects yours. Larvae wriggle within her gums and she stumbles to her feet, groaning incoherently as she sets her sights on you.

"The fuck?" Leon hisses. "What is that thing?"

"It's one of the failed clones," you provide, aiming your gun again. "C'mon, let's get this over with."

You shoot the clone in the eye, blood spattering outward from the socket. She feels back with a mangled noise, clutching the wound as Leon takes his chance. He approaches rapidly, plants his foot, and roundhouse kicks the clone into the wall hard enough that her neck completely snaps from the impact.

You whistle lowly. Showoff.

"Overkill," you tut, shining the flashlight over the dismembered body that refuses to move even when you prod it with the toe of your boot. "It's probably safe to assume they've got a million more of these just lying around so let's proceed with caution, shall we?"

"Roger that."

The two of you press forward, coming across more defects that are bursting through the seams with incompatible parasites. Some explode outward with grotesque flesh and wriggling limbs that you have to shoot down while others seek to take a bite from your neck. Leon covers your back and you watch out for his, and together, you fight your way through the failed mirrors of yourself.

You come upon a main lab that's circular in shape, guns held defensively and on high alert. It's strangely silent considering you'd just come from a room full of monsters and shrieking clones with skin melting off their bodies.

You walk forward, finding a circular platform in the middle set up like a stage and metal stairs line around the whole thing. You're about to turn around to ask Leon what he thinks this room could be used for but you're suddenly grabbed from behind. A scream leaves your throat as you thrash, and Leon shouts your name. The cold barrel on a gun presses to your temple and an arm clasps around your neck as a sleazy yet familiar voice spits in your ear.

"I suggest you stop struggling or I'll kill you right fucking now."

You stop, but choke upon seeing Leon being apprehended by a bunch of soldiers dressed in gear marked with the J.I.E. logo. He's strong, but certainly not enough to break from them as they pull and hold his hands behind his back.

"Please," you whisper, barely able to breathe from the grip that's across your throat. "Don't hurt him."

"You know I don't run things like that," Williams snears. "Especially from dogs like you. You just couldn't sit still and be obedient, could you (L/n)?"

You scowl, fighting against him to breathe in before he shuts off your airways again. "You know I'd rather die than lick the boots of some greaseball who thinks he's some big head honcho hotshot."

"You never know when to fucking shut up, do you?!" The gun presses harsher to your temple and you squeeze your eyes shut. "Drop your weapons and this will all go a lot smoother."

This situation seems too against you, too harsh. Maybe you should comply for now, give them the ultimatum of taking you and sparing his life. You'd do it without question, but who's to say they won't kill you before he can make it back to you? You drop everything from your bag to your guns to your knife, and completely give up. Upon feeling you give up and going slack in his arms, Williams lets you stand, slowly letting go as to make sure you won't run. After all, he's got six soldiers pointing automatics trained at your body to make sure you don't try to do anything. He scoffs, laughing at your pathetic state before turning his attention to Leon who's refusing to remain still or quiet.

“Stay away from her!” Leon screams, pushing against the arms that hold him back, barely able to restrain his lean muscular body. Your chest tugs as if magnetizing you to him and your eyes sting with hot tears. “You put one fucking finger on her, I’ll kill you!”

“Oh?” Williams taunts and he raises a quizzical eyebrow. “Leon Kennedy defending (Y/n) (L/n)? My ears must be deceiving me.”

If looks could kill, everybody in the room would be dead with the way Leon’s eyes darkened. A hand touches back and you instinctively jerk away before roughly being tugged closer. Somewhere, chains clink and your whole posture goes rigid.

“The perfect soldier we could never replicate,” Williams muses, pressing a firm hand to the scars that shape your backside. “Not without discipline, of course.”

The room falls silent as Leon processes his words.

"You're dead," he spits venom, dripping with promise. "I'm going to kill you and I'll make it fucking hurt, motherfucker."

"Don't listen to him," Williams waves Leon off as if he were just some bothersome fly before focusing his attention on you. "Haven't we taught you anything, Agent (L/n)? This fool doesn't love you. At the very best, you're just some lively entertainment for him before leaving you in a cold bed in the morning."

Leon thrashes even more violently than before. You keep your eyes on the concrete beneath your feet.

"You can't save him the same way you couldn't even save yourself."

"Shut up!" Leon's desperation leaks so candidly though his voice. "(Y/n)! Don't listen to him!"

"Oh, she'll listen to me," Williams circles around, forcing your head up with an iron clasp around your jaw as his face comes into view. "Dogs don't like to be chained up and beat, after all, don't you know?"

You curl in disgust when he lets go, and he continues up the steps to look down on the spectacle beneath him. Just as you told Leon, it's always power he wants, and now is more apparent than ever.

"Mr. Kennedy, listen to me." You know he doesn't want to hear another word from the man's mouth. "I don't like to do things like this, you know. But, the girl you act like you love so much is more than just the foolhardy agent you've met on the battlefield."

Leon knows you better than that. He knows the way you cry and laugh and love. He knows how willing you'd be to take a bullet to the heart for him in the same way he'd put his head in a guillotine for you. Williams doesn't know the extent of your love, doesn't understand it. He might still believe you hate each other given your past passive aggressive reports on him–but it's clear as day that those feelings have changed since you attempted to cut ties with the J.I.E.

"She's special, isn't she?" Williams croons as if he thinks praise will have you sitting at his feet like a loyal little lapdog. "However, she still has killed so many of your allies–even almost you. Is that something you'll let go of so easily? She could be a traitor trying to get under your skin. She could be our specially engineered clone and you had killed the very real one. How do you know that she's loyal? Certainly, if she wasn't loyal to the very company she agreed to contract to, she'll never be loyal to you."

"You're insane," Leon spits. "Of course she wouldn't want to stick with the guy who's ordered her to be fucking abused into submission. Do you treat all your agents like this or just her?"

"(L/n) is special, like I said. Every special agent deserves special treatment, don't you think?"

Leon glowers. "You'll regret saying that."

Williams just his chin out. "And what makes you think that?"

The lights power down with a groan. The insistent humming drone of electricity stalls and goes silent. The emergency lights fail to come on. The darkness is black enough that you can't even see your hand in front of your face.

A gun cocks and your heart drops.

"Get down!"

You hit the floor as bullets start ringing through the air. It's wild, confusing, and you don't know what's happening or why. Your breaths start coming out in panicked puffs as you cover your head, and stay on the ground. Somewhere, someone screams and the blast of a shotgun is heard. The soldiers are commandeering orders and radio static voices are heard all over the place.

Somebody touches your shoulder and you gasp, scrambling away from them, feet kicking blindly until they're held down. You almost scream before a comforting voice talks to you in a low tone and cuts all those defenses short.

"Sweetheart–baby–it's just me, don't worry,” Leon's thoughts run a million miles a second and they translate easily to his tongue and out his mouth, “C'mon, get up, we have to go. I can carry you if you can't walk on your own. Shit, he didn't hurt you too bad, did he?"

You can't form a coherent thought but merely wrap your arms around him with a sob, too keyed up and overwhelmed with everything that's happening around you. Why did the power go out? Did Williams escape in the mess? Who was behind everything that was happening?

"It's okay," Leon soothes, gathering you up in your arms and you feel the floor leave from beneath you, "C'mon, we're getting out of here."

"What…"

"You can ask later. For now, we're leaving."

You bury your head into his chest and let him take you away to wherever he chose fit. The world seems like a blur as more men start shouting over the blasts of gunshots and Leon does his best to get the two of you out. You hear a hum running as lights dance behind your eyelids. Time seems to drag on and flash by in a second as Leon's body jostles beneath yours until eventually, you feel him jump and the roar of an engine fills your ears.

You open your eyes as he sets you down on a stiff bench, vision blurry as you watch him leave. You don't know where he had taken you or if he'd ever be back, but weakly, you want to reach out for him. There's no energy in your body, exhausted from fighting for so long. People are still shouting and the smell of gunpowder invades your nose.

You fight to stay conscious, afraid that if you sleep, you might not be able to wake up. Before, you'd been vehemently unafraid of death, but now? Now you're terrified of it.

Leon comes back into your view, and he seems conflicted, but nonetheless is here. He gently moves your body so that you rest on his lap comfortably, your head nestled against his collarbone as he starts rubbing the palm of his hand across your head. You can still hear the screaming, the gunshots, the blood and pain.

It feels like you're staying between life and death, back on an island and being with Leon.

"Sweet girl," Leon says just loud enough for you to hear against your hair–the first nickname he ever seriously used with you. "You've been fighting all on your own for too long. Let me take care of you."

Unable to hold back, you allow the tears to spill over at the weight of the truth his proclamation holds. How long has it been since someone's held you like this? Has anybody ever held you like this?

"You can rest," he croons gently. "I've got you, baby. You can let yourself go."

A lifetime ago, it would have sounded like poisoned words from a wolf in sheep's clothing. But now?

Now it kind of sounds like he loves you.

And that's perfectly alright with you.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

During the entire time since you showed up at the motel, Leon had been in close contact with the president back at the white house. You feel like you should have known, would’ve thought it was obvious, but he was very good at distracting you at the best of times.

Leading up to your final stand against the J.I.E., he’d been arranging a squad to be ready on standby in case anything went wrong. When you’d been grabbed, he’d sent out the signal for them to be able to track him down just before he’d been apprehended. The B.S.A.A. was ready, and they successfully cut the power and utilized their nighttime equipment to navigate the sudden battlefield.

Williams had been captured and taken in for questioning. That much had put your heart to rest.

Leon had ordered an escape chopper, which is what he had carried you into in those final moments. Surely, things must have been more intense for him but you’d been so out of your element that you had completely shut down. A trauma response, maybe, from having to face the possibility that you would die that day.

You stand in the waiting room, wearing a nice little dress as you fiddle with the dark black hard drive in your hands. Your nerves won’t allow you to sit down or rest to any capacity and you anxiously blow out a breath. This moment would determine your future for the rest of your days. Maybe you’d be sent to jail for a lifetime to atone for your crimes against them, but you know Leon wouldn’t let that happen.

The door unlocks and a young man in a stiff suit waves you in. “Miss (L/n). They’re ready for you.”

You nod nervously, take one more deep breath, and enter the office.

The president is already there, hands folded stiffly on the desk as Leon stands to attention behind him. Right now, it was nothing but business, and you shakily nod your head. Reminding yourself that this is a lot more than the times you reported to Williams, you wipe your clammy hands on the back of your dress.

“Good morning, Mr. President,” you say, and thank the heavens when your voice doesn't crack.

The president only smiles non-threateningly, and motions to a chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat–and do loosen up, please. We’re just here to have a conversation, nothing life-changing.”

“Sorry, sir.”

He laughs not unkindly as you take your seat and clasp onto the hard drive in your lap for dear life.

“From what I understand, you’ve been working with Agent Kennedy for the past month or so, yes?”

“Correct,” you answer. “The Justice for Inhumane Experimentalists had been keeping me under a contract to pledge my mind, body, and soul to them and when I differed from their plans to begin a bioweapon war, they nearly killed me. I managed to escape and track the coordinates Mr. Kennedy was at."

"I see." The president nods to the hard drive in your hands. "May I?" You slide it over to him and he turns it over in his hands briefly before smiling. "You've done us a great service today, Miss (L/n). For that I would like to formally pardon you from any and all offenses."

A huge weight is lifted from your shoulders as you breathe out in relief. "Thank you."

"Although…" he interjects. "We would rather have you put under watch, which is why you'll be staying with Agent Kennedy for a couple of weeks. I'm sure there's no objections?"

"None at all, sir."

"Good," the president smiles. "There's one more matter I'd like to discuss before I let you go."

You steel yourself for the worst. "Yes?"

"I'd like to personally extend an invitation to you to join the D.S.O. as Agent Kennedy can show you the ropes and you'd fit right in." Your mouth drops open. "Of course, you don't have to accept, but it would be the best option for you right now and we'd hate to lose such a capable soldier who's survived enough things that would kill the average person."

"I…" You look at Leon who only looks back at you with a blank expression, but you can practically hear him begging in your head.

"You'd be helping people–for real." The president looks at you earnestly. "And surely, you'll get many more benefits than the J.I.E. had granted you. From what I hear, you didn't even have time off."

You think about it, about how the trajectory of your life is changing now. What would happen if you said yes? If you said no? Surely there was no life for you outside these four walls, but could you really afford keeping on going with agent work? You look at Leon again, biting your tongue. You're a ruinous person–scum of the earth. But…if he thinks you can be redeemed then…

"It would be an honor to join, sir," you answer.

The president smiles. "Then you're dismissed. Do be sure to rest up, will you?"

You get up as Leon walks forward and motions you to follow. Dutifully, you trail behind him as the president waves a little goodbye on your way out. The weight of the world lifts from your shoulders as you breathe out in relief when the door closes behind you and Leon immediately slips his hand into yours.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" He chides.

"Actually, it was horrible," you correct. "I don't think I've ever been scared shitless in my entire life."

Leon laughs, pulling you along to where his little sedan is waiting in the parking lot. You’re sure that if you hadn’t been driving, he would've crashed it upside down in a ditch somewhere while he walked out fine. It seemed like something Leon would do.

He takes you to his home, an expensive apartment overlooking the District of Columbia that he claims he only had because it’s near the office and that meant less driving for him. You call him a dork and roll your eyes but feel that adoration for him simmer just under your heartbeat.

While you shower, he orders food and claims he’ll help you settle in after you’ve had something to eat.

When he finds you staring listlessly out the window to his balcony, he comes up from behind and rests his head on your shoulder, arms winding mindlessly around your waist and sighing peacefully when you lean back into him. It’s oddly domestic and comfortable, and it’s something you don’t want to let go of.

"This is temporary, isn't it?" You mumble brokenly, thinking about what Ada had said back at the lab. "You don't really…you don't."

Leon's eyebrows knit together in confusion as he cups your face and turns your head so that you're forced to meet his eyes. "What gave you that idea?"

"If you just want me for the pleasure, you can say it," heart twisting painfully as tears well hotly in your eyes. "You can tell me. I can let go."

"No, no," he chastises, holding you close like the nonexistent distance between your bodies was enough to kill him. "When our job is done, we'll go wherever you want. No matter what."

"You don’t get it, Leon," you sigh, pulling away from his grasp. It feels like you're tearing your soul apart. "I've always been unlovable. No matter what I said or what I did, I always ended up alone–and I can't bear to get attached to someone who doesn't reciprocate the way I want them to. I can't do that to you."

He doesn't talk for a moment, frowning upon seeing your hands massaging into your upper arms. Self-soothing, and the feeling of your own touch makes a sad sort of feeling gather in your chest like dew collecting on leaves on crisp early mornings.

"(Y/n)," Leon murmurs your name with so much emotion behind it that you almost start crying all over again. "You know I love you, right?"

The whole world seems to stop.

"For infinity. Forever," he turns you around from your position and reaches out, hand waiting for your own. When you hesitantly rest your palm in his, warmth radiates from his body into yours. "You're not unlovable. Never in a million years. Not if I have anything to say about it."

You really can't hold back the tears now and his other hand comes up, thumbing them away as they cascade.

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him close enough to kiss him properly, unable to vocalize just how much his affirmation meant to you.

Leon kisses you like he needs you to exist. His hands rake across your body and your skin tingles with anticipation. When had you gotten to the point where the line between hatred and need blurred so intensely? When did you start needing his touch to be able to function properly? When did you start craving Leon in the ways that you would have loathed just a few months prior?

You love him, infinitely and eternally. Who knows what the road ahead holds for you both? But, as he carries you to his bedroom and closes the door tightly, you find you’re not as afraid of the future as you had already been.

An angel, fallen from grace.

But, if this is the consequence, then hey.

You’re not one to complain.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil leon #resident evil fic #resident evil x you #leon kennedy fanfic

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reds-skull · 5 months

Text

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

Sometimes I worry I make the action too short. I guess I just don't know how to add too much to it yet.

Honestly, it's weird thinking about how I already finished 11 chapters in like... 10 days? I keep this up for a month, and I'll end up with 100k words lmao (doubt that will happen tho...)

Right before he’s about to retire to his room for the night, Rudy catches up to him, eyes distraught. Ghost doesn’t like what it forebodes for his conversation with his Reaper.

“Fantasma.” Rudy shifts restlessly, “I don’t have much to give you.”

Would be a miracle if he did, Ghost imagines.

“I asked it about you, it said I should stay away from ‘the revenant of the Void’, that you’re powerful on a level we can’t comprehend.”, Rudy air quotes.

“Limbo seems easy enough to understand to me.” Ghost rolls his eyes. The day he finds a non-dramatic Reaper is the day he’ll die for good.

“It said Limbo works similarly to Reaper realms, that it has… strange effects on humans.” Rudy trails off, but Ghost perks up.

The Vaquero notices that, “you didn’t know?”

“Wasn’t in the bloody field manual” Ghost rumbles.

The man laughs, but he quickly returns to his solemn mood, “I asked him about Soap and it just… left.”

Ever Reapers don’t wanna give him any fucking information about Johnny.

Ghost sighs, “bloody gits, always run off before you can get anything useful.”

“Mine doesn’t usually do that… I think it was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Soap, his Reaper. Heavens know.”

Ghost nods, “appreciate the gesture, Rudy. Cheers.” He walks off to his bed, expecting another night of theorizing and over analyzing ahead of him.

They spend days collecting information, Shadow Company’s helo circling the party venue at night, and Vaqueros on constant watch for movement.

They’ve decided on Bravo to include Soap, Rudy and Gaz, while Romeo with consist of Price, Alejandro and himself. Graves will keep an eye on El Sin Nombre from the sky, making sure he doesn’t slip away.

Price calls them for a private meeting of just the 141 members, going over engagement rules and power authorization.

Ghost isn’t fond of the idea of Soap and Gaz being away from him, but after the favor Rudy did him he trusts the man. He also thinks morbidly that perhaps it’s for the best Johnny will be far from him, considering how Limbo is out to get him.

Shepherd joins the meeting for a short while, and Price fills him in on everything he missed. Everything, besides Soap’s little visit to Limbo, and the fact his Sergeant is now able to see things he couldn’t before.

They conclude the debrief, but the Captain orders them to stay. He looks at Ghost and informs him in his thoughts, “it’s time we discuss everything we know about Limbo with the others.”

He glances over to Johnny, who’s giving him a confused smile. He doubts it will stay after everything is said.

“I met with my Reaper on the plane to Las Almas.” Ghost starts with the beginning. “Warned me to stay away from ‘the revenant of destruction’ if I want to live”.

Soap flinches next to him.

“What?!” the Scot spouts at him, “you went on a mission with me knowing that?!”

“I’m not letting the damn Reaper decide who I trust with my six, Sergeant.” ghost drawls, “and you know yourself Reapers often don’t say exactly what they mean.”

Soap inhales to retort, but the Captain cuts him off, “it’s possible the Reaper means decades from now, or that your death will also kill Ghost. Not necessarily your actions.”

Johnny and Price enter a short staring match, probably shouting in each other’s brain, and Soap huffs and crosses his arms, “yes sir.”

His flaming fingers tap incessantly on his biceps, Ghost notes. He remembers why Soap originally didn’t use his explosion creation powers, how he was trying to repent for the innocent deaths it caused.

Ghost won’t let Soap impede his own progress because of a theoretical, possible future tragedy.

He moves onto his other findings, “after I brought Johnny to Limbo, he started seeing its residents outside of it, when they try to drag me down from the ground.” he feels a sneaky git make a pass at his leg, and Soap stomps it for him, giving him a stern look.

Garrick, whose been silent up until now (probably processing the honestly heavy amount of information) chimes up, “think that’s why they went at Soap on the training grounds? Maybe they could see him too.”

Ghost blinks in awe, how hasn’t he thought of it himself? “Would make sense.” he considers the theory, “that means…”

“No matter where I am, it’s like I’m always inside Limbo when you activate it.” Soap realizes.

Price nods thoughtfully, “only way to protect Soap now would be to have him right next to you.”

“No.”, Ghost hurriedly interjects, “Parra talked with his Reaper about the situation-”

“-just how much did you lot hide from me?!” Gaz interrupts.

“We didn’t hear about this either, Kyle, ease up” Price exhales.

Ghost hears Garrick scoff before resuming, “it said Limbo works similarly to Reaper realms, meaning it changes humans who enter it.” He stares at Johnny, “I won’t risk altering you any further.”

Soap squints, “yer worrying about me a whole lot for someone I will supposedly kill.”

“We’re all worried about you, mate.” Gaz calms the tense atmosphere around the two of them, “you’re more dangerous to yourself than the damn hostiles.”

“Real comforting Gaz.” Soap dead-pans. Garrick shrugs.

Price looks at the three of them, as if he’s been waiting for them to stop bickering like old hags, and focuses on Ghost, “from now on, you either don’t use Limbo, or do it far from Sergeant MacTavish, that clear?”

“Yes sir.” wasn’t planning on having it any other way.

“What if there’s an emergency?” johnny challenges. Ghost has to surpass an urge to shake the man by his shoulders. It’s like he was built to worry him.

“We’ll have to risk you changing a little more”, Price sighs.

Gaz fists Soap’s shoulder, “maybe next time you’ll get a skull mask of your own.”

“Aye, we’ll be matching, LT.” Johnny laughs a little.

After the entire day was spent in meetings and debriefs, Ghost and Soap returned to their room to sleep. In a few hours, they will take watch at a hill overlooking the birthday party, and wait for El Sin Nombre to make his move.

Ghost barely started drifting off when the bunk bed shook and Soap underneath him gasped, muttering a long list of curses he wasn’t sure were entirely in English.

“Johnny?”

The Sergeant stands up and backs away from the bed, Ghost now leaning on his elbows to see what got him so jumpy.

“Your bloody ‘friends’ keep feelin’ me up again.” Soap eventually lets out. “I see why you sleep up there.”

Ghost exhales, “they’re trying to get to me…” he makes a move to get up, “take my bed, I’ll take yours.”

“I’m not taking your fuckin’ bed! They’re just gonna grab ye instead!” his Sergeant walks over and shoves Ghost back on the thin mattress. Or at least he tries to, as Ghost instantly reverses the grip and pushes him off.

He tsks, “we should work on your hand-to-hand combat, Sergeant.” he smiles smugly behind the mask.

Soap frowns, “not my feckin’ fault yer built like a tank, sir.”

His Sergeant hops up and takes a sit next to him on the top bunk, leaning back with a sigh. The bed was small enough that Ghost could feel the heat coming off Soap in gentle waves.

“You’re going to sleep like this?” Ghost ribbed him gently.

Soap just wiggled around, crossed his arms and closed his eyes, “aye, slept in worse places.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow, and feels his mouth twitch to a smile, “you better not complain about your back tomorrow.”

Johnny grins and cracks one eye open, “not an old man like ye. Besides, wouldn’t be a problem if we just cuddled, sir.” he gives him that cheeky look that tells Ghost he’s joking.

“In your dreams, Sergeant.” he murmurs.

Soap closes his eyes again, “oh, it certainly will be.”

The party started at sunset, Price, Alejandro and Ghost staying on the hill, watching as Bravo makes their way down.

Gaz will take out the guards situated outside the party, and Soap will explode the cars of the guests, parked on the south-east of the mansion the party takes place in. Rudy will freeze shut the doors exiting that side, funneling anyone to the north-west, where team Romeo is waiting.

Graves is monitoring the guests, trying to spot any suspicious activity. Ghost reckons he won’t find much, considering the Vaqueros have been trying to find out El Sin Nombre’s real identity for years now. He puts more trust in the Mexicans than Shadow Company.

They watch Garrick’s sniper shoot the guards, small flashes of light high in the night sky the only hint something’s amiss. “Exterior clear, Captain.” he informs them.

“Bravo” Price radios in next to Ghost, “permission to commence diversion.”

“With pleasure”, Johnny whispers into his mic, and Ghost feels an excitement bubble within him. He can’t wait to see what his Sergeant will do.

Not a moment later a fireball rises from the parking lot, a loud sound following a second later. The music from the party cuts off, and it devolves into a chaos of frightened guests running away. Guards attempt to reach the destroyed cars, no doubt after the perpetrator, but are stopped by the frozen doors Rudy is keeping sealed shut.

“Dead ahead north, 5 bodyguards and the Lugarteniente running off, one of them must be Sin Nombre.” Graves’ grating voice drawls through comms. The three of them rise from their hidden spot and start running, Gaz taking out anyone aiming at them.

Ghost watches Price’s eyes move rapidly, scanning the minds of their potential targets. “That one! El Sin Nombre is a female sicaria!”

Alejandro whips his head around, shouting, “are you sure, hermano?!”

“Positive-!” a force field shoves them back, one of the bodyguards raising their arms as if they're physically pushing it.

Ghost and Price get knocked back, but Alejandro runs ahead, the force field passing through him harmlessly. He phases back into the material world to shoot the man down.

Ghost kills another aiming at the Vaquero commander, Price taking the last two.

The Lugarteniente stares intently at Alejandro, and he abruptly drops like a doll and groans in pain. Ghost takes out a throwing knife and buries it in the man’s eye socket, making him release Alejandro from his influence.

El Sin Nombre frantically looks around, pistol swinging between each soldier. Graves’ helo lowers, shining spotlights at the woman, “drop your weapon! Down on the ground!”

Sin Nombre zeros in on Alejandro, giving him an arrogant smile, “Los Vaqueros working with Shadow Company? You’ve truly fallen from grace, Vargas.” She laughs.

Alejandro doesn’t respond, opting to grind his teeth. Price steps forward to bind her wrists while the helo lands, Graves stepping out with a winning face. Ghost rolls his eyes, the American looks like he did anything of importance on this mission.

“El Sin Nombre, in the flesh. I’m sure we’ll have a lot of fun.” Graves smiles down coldly at her.

She looks him up and down, “who brought this pendejo gringo here?”.

“None of your business, Valeria”, Alejandro growls. Valeria? He knows her?

Price cuts the little chat by taking hold of her, dragging her to the helo. Ghost watches Alejandro stare at her, eyes frowned with contempt, before sighing and climbing aboard.

Ghost grabs hold of his radio, “HIV is captured, we’re RTB.”

“Something on my face, Sergeant?”

Sin Nombre is escorted off to a shipment container for interrogation, and the group slowly trickles inside, when Ghost notices Soap’s stare on him.

The Scot startles and averts his eyes. When he looks back, his eyes are full of mirth. He leans forward, and Ghost’s instincts tell him to lean back. He stays put.

“Aye, you got a smidgen of dirt right…” Johnny brushes a finger on the side of his mask, the mellow flame tingling his cheeks, his chest filling with warmth, “...here.”

His Sergeant shows him the finger, permanently blackened by fire, and a playful grin.

“What would I do without you, Johnny.” Ghost sarcastically grumbles, the feeling of Johnny’s flame seared into his face.

The Sergeant chuckles before entering the container. Garrick’s eyes look at Ghost, a smirk growing on his face. He doesn’t say a word as he trails behind Soap.

Valeria joins the Graves hate club! Also Gaz is literally like 👀

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fandomsnstuff · 6 months

Text

@taznovembercelebration

Day 4: forget/sweet

Can a dream be recurring if it's different every time?

Read it on AO3

Taako's laying on a grassy hill, watching stark white clouds drift through the perfect blue sky above him. It's transitioning from summer into fall, so it's not too hot, nor too cold, and the leaves in the tree above him are just starting to yellow. He knows if he sits up, he'll see a small town far below him, and his aunt's cottage behind him. He spent a lot of good afternoons on this hill in that one blissful year he lived here. He's been here in his dreams a lot in the last few months.

"You still sleeping down there, Koko?" It's not his aunt's voice, he knows that much, but it does funny things to his heart when he hears it. He's taken to calling his companion The Dream Voice. He thinks she's the one who's been bringing him into these dreams, but he doesn't know why.

"I don't think you can sleep in a dream."

"Sure you can," a foot knocks against his. "There was one time I kept waking up, like at least five times, and then I woke up for real and realised it was a dream in a dream in a dream."

Her voice always sounds like it's right next to him, and he can feel her presence there, but he's long since learned not to look. The first few times he had this dream, it was a lot of confusion and static that made him wake up with a migraine. They've gotten a lot more peaceful since.

"That's fucked," he says.

"Yeah, well," he hears the shuffle of clothing and grass as she adjusts her position, "I've been through worse."

"Bummer."

She huffs a breath of laughter. "Thanks."

They sit in silence for a while. A gentle breeze blows through, knocking a few leaves out of the tree. They float gently to the ground and land between him and The Dream Voice.

"I think Lucretia's sending you on a mission soon." He hears tearing as she fidgets with one of the leaves. "Last one."

His brow furrows. "Really?"

"Mmhm. Just one more relic."

Taako whistles. "Damn. Could've sworn there was one more after."

"Nope." She mumbles, "she took care of her own."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

They're silent again. He can hear her tearing the leaves to little pieces.

"No, idiot," she flicks his temple, "after all of this, when you're done at the Bureau, when… when you- when everything is safe."

"What are you going to do after this, Taako?"

"When I wake up?"

Taako blinks up at the sky. "I don't know. I guess I hadn't thought that far ahead."

"Maybe you could start up your show again."

"I'll have to prove my innocence first."

"You could also find a better boyfriend."

Taako scoffs and sits up, "my boyfriend is perfectly fine, thank you."

"He's the grim reaper!"

"So what? You don't know him!"

"Of all the people and beings that you could possibly date, you just had to get all goo-goo eyed for the grim reaper when-" her voice dissolves into static on the last part.

"I don't even know what you just said, but I know it's bullshit. I have a comeback on the tip of my tongue and I don't know what it is, but it's fucking good! So keep that in mind!"

The Dream Voice sighs, then laughs. "Stupid," she mutters to herself, a smile audible in her voice. "I knew the second I saw that motherfucker with his face on, he'd be a thorn in my side."

"More like a thorn in my backside."

"Eugh!" Taako laughs loudly as she shoves him. "Gross! Don't say that shit to me!"

He wakes up in his bed, still smiling. He gets up and pulls himself through getting ready. He makes breakfast, toast for himself, oatmeal with berries for Merle, and an ungodly amount of eggs, scrambled, for Magnus.

"I had a dream last night," Magnus says, "that I was in a world of all dogs."

"Were you also a dog?" Merle asks.

"No! So I was the only one who could provide all the pets, and I got suffocated under all the dogs. It was great. That's how I want to die."

"I had a dream," Merle says, "that I was in a massive greenhouse with a big, beautiful sunflower down the other end. But to get to it, I had to walk past all these other plants that were just reaching-"

"Okay, that's enough!" Taako says, standing up and picking up dishes, "time to go!"

"What about you, Taako?" Magnus asks. "Any interesting dreams?"

He drops the dishes into the sink unceremoniously. "I don't remember my dreams. Let's get out of here before the Director sends someone down here to get us."

The next night, after games and sacrifices and liches and red robes, they're camping in the woods. Usually he'd struggle a bit to sleep in the wilderness, especially with their supposed red robe enemy with them, but Taako's had a long day. He's out like a light.

He has the dream again.

"Sooo," she says, "how'd it go?" She sounds a little smug, but he's too drained to think about why.

"No one died."

"Well-"

"Okay, Magnus kinda died, but it was only a little. We'll un-mannequin him when we get a chance."

She laughs, and rests her head on his shoulder. It's a comfortable weight. "I'm glad you're okay."

"That's one way to put it."

"Taako?"

"Hm?"

"I'm pretty sure a lot of crazy shit's gonna happen tomorrow, so I just… I want you to follow your instincts."

He snorts. "Yeah alright. Sure."

"And trust Ba- the red robe. He's trying to help."

"I barely remember half the stuff you say on a good day, but I'll keep it in mind."

"I'll find a way to remind you."

They sit together for what feels like forever. As always, the clouds drift by, the leaves in the tree rustle, and a gentle breeze keeps them cool. When the world around them starts to waver and fade away, his companion squeezes his hand. "Good luck, Taako," her voice distorts and fades as he wakes, "I'll see you soon."

He wakes up to mannequin Magnus leaning over him. "The red robe says we gotta go."

"We have less time than I thought," the lich says, looking up at the overcast sky, "and we need to make a stop before we go up to the Bureau."

"Alright," Taako stands and stretches as Magnus shoves his stuff into a bag for him, "let's get this shit over with."

As they walk through the woods, he tries, as always, to remember what The Dream Voice said. But it was gone before they even set out. He knows she said something about the red robe, but he can't remember for the life of him what it was. All he can remember is her arm linked with his, her head on his shoulder, and "I'll see you soon."

He wishes he knew who she was.

#taz #taz fic #taako #lup #taakitz

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not7wu · 5 months

Text

Title: Tonight (Our Fingers Touch the Sky)

Status: Ongoing

Total Word Count: 57.3k in progress

Pairing: SeokjinxReader, Friends to Lovers, The Gang is Here (Platonic)

Rating/Genre: Mature; Idol AU, Canon Divergence, Thriller, Amnesia

Summary: You find yourself in Seoul, Korea with no memory of how you got there. All you know is that you woke up naked–in Jin’s bed! And you’re friends with BTS. You’re told the life you knew is a dream, but you can’t shake the feeling that BTS are hiding something from you. Whatever it is, you’re determined to get to the bottom of it.

Preview: He knows your name? Kim motherfucking Seokjin knows your name. “And you’re Kim Seokjin, Worldwide Handsome, also known as Jin of BTS.”

Your word vomit has you wanting to die on the spot. Jin huffs a laugh. “Are you gonna start reciting my birthday, astrological sign, and MBTI results next?”

December 4, 1992. Sagittarius. INTP. You think it, but self preservation has you blessedly silent. His eyes twinkle like he knows what you’re thinking anyway.

Chapter List:

Ch. 1 - Where are you? - f/a/c; 6k

Ch. 2 - The Rules - f/a/c; 5.2k

Ch. 3 - Best Friends - f/a/c; 4.7k

Ch. 4 - A Crappy Day - f/a/c; 5.8k

Ch. 5 - Family - f/a/c/s; 6.5k

Ch. 6 - A Symbiotic Relationship - f/a/c; 6.5k

Ch. 7 - House of Cards - f/a; 6.8k

Ch. 8 - A Trusted Friend - f/a; 5.7k

Ch. 9 - Building Bridges - f/a/c; 4.7k

Ch. 10 - Branded - f/a/c; 5.4k

Ch. 11 -

Add/Remove yourself to the taglist here!

Back to the Multiverse Masterlist!

Warnings: Amnesia, Anxiety, Swearing, Depictions of and Implied Violence, Abandonment Issues, Stalking, Gun Violence, Coma, PTSD, Trauma, Set in 2020 during the Pandemic

A/N: Yallz have no idea how excited I am to finally be sharing the fruits of my labor. This fic is something I wrote during the pandemic in my Baby Army days when the few fanfics I read didn't satisfy me. It took me a while to learn how to navigate to find the good stuff. The ones I stumbled upon were too insta-love/smutty with NO plot; of course this was back when my love for BTS was at the stage of innocent adoration in contrast to where I am now in my delulu derangement. :D

Holed up with my roommate/cousin, "S", and our friends Garrett and Marlena in 2020, I wrote this to pass the time and to entertain them. S is a Jin-bias, so some of the scenes are catered to her.

This is a completed fic that I am rewriting, so don't worry that I'll fall off the face of the earth. The end will come and I hope it will satisfy your Jin loving, plot driven heart! A new chapter will be posted every Monday. I hope you enjoy the fic!

Here's the Youtube / Spotify playlist I listen to on shuffle as I write this.

Also, last but not least, thank you to my betas, @justamomnamedamie and @miksancheese ! I seriously could not do this without you!

Click here if you prefer to read on AO3!

Back to the Multiverse Masterlist!

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #not7wu #not7wu masterlist #not7wu fanfic #not7wu fanfiction #tonight #tonight by Jin #tonight by not7wu #jin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #seokjin x y/n #tonight by nOT7wu #tonight by nOT7wu masterlist #tonight by nOT7wu series masterlist #our fingers touch the sky #tonight our fingers touch the sky

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cardinal-copia-popia · 8 months

Text

We Will Go Softly Into the Night

(Papa IV x Female Reader)

After getting super emotional during Respite On The Spitalfields at the ritual I attended over the weekend, I NEEDED to write this. For my own sanity's sake, I needed to do this. It was cathartic, even though I'll probably never be able to listen to Respite ever again without crying.

Also here on AO3

(Under the cut for length)

Sister Imperator had just left Copia's room not five minutes ago when he suddenly heard a commotion outside. Could he not just play his video games in peace for once?

"I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it!"

"Like hell, he didn't!"

Copia frowned, pausing the game. He was not expecting to hear your voice, especially not so agitated. He was about to stand to see what was going on when you flew into the room, tears standing in your eyes, Aether hot on your heels.

"Amore?" Copia questioned, now very concerned.

"Why is Saltarian pushing an empty glass coffin through the hallways?!" you demanded.

Copia looked down. "Ah. You saw that."

"Everyone is seeing it. He's making a point to parade it around! I know what this means, Copia! How long were you going to hide it?!"

He stood and stepped up to you, sending a look at Aether, who made a hasty retreat.

"I was not hiding anything, tesoro mio," Copia said gently, his hands on your upper arms. "Saltarian is posturing, nothing more."

You did not look convinced and all but glared up at him through your tears. "The coffin was empty. And they only use the glass ones for Papas. I'm not stupid, Copia."

"I am not going anywhere. I promise."

You shook your head. "I know how this goes. You're going to end up just like Primo and Secondo and Terzo… Someday, I'm going to be looking at you in one of those awful boxes, and I—" You broke off, your voice catching with emotion as your tears finally fell.

Copia pulled you into his arms and gently shushed you. "I promise you, cara mia. Nothing is going to happen to me."

"I don't believe you."

He closed his eyes and nuzzled into your hair. You were right; something was going to happen, but how could he tell you that? He knew his time was up. It was not a matter of if anymore, but rather when. He had a good idea, knowing The Clergy would want to make a show out of it, a spectacle. The bastard Papa who usurped the papacy meets his untimely demise in front of thousands. But how was he supposed to tell you, the love of his life, this?

"If anything happened to you…" you began in a small, broken voice that gripped his heart. "I don't think I could stand it."

"What must I do to convince you?" he murmured, his hand touching your cheek to tilt your face toward his.

You gazed up at him, cheeks stained with tears, eyes red, and he could not help but think you were still so beautiful.

"Don't die."

Copia sighed, but before he could respond, you went on.

"Whatever they do to you, they're going to have to do to me, too."

"Amore—"

"I mean it!" you sobbed. "I can't do this without you! I won't let them take you from me!"

Copia pulled you back onto his bed and into his lap, cuddling you close. You curled around him, pressing your face to his neck, breathing him in.

"You haven't lost me yet," he whispered. "And I promise you, amore mio, that if they do try something, I will fight tooth and nail against it. I swear to you, you will not lose me. You have me forever."

You sniffed. "What about nothing ever lasts forever?"

"My time as Papa will not last forever, but my love for you will. And because of that love, I will always be with you."

"Copia," you cried, clutching to him tighter.

"You have given me so many reasons to live. I will not let them take me away from you so easily."

You lifted your head and touched his cheek. "Promise me again."

He caught your hand and kissed your palm. "I promise. Whatever happens, you will not lose me. Not entirely."

That was not quite what you wanted to hear, he knew, but before you could respond, he kissed you. He kissed you so thoroughly and passionately, hoping to make you forget about this for a while.

And later, when you both lay naked under his covers, spent and panting, clinging to each other for dear life, Copia would promise you again. He would not stop until you believed him.

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

Copia swiftly made his way through the maze of hallways backstage, hurrying to get to where you were waiting for him. He had to do this quickly. If there was anything to be done now, it was this.

He found you in the wings where you were waiting for the ritual to begin. He grabbed your hand, startling you, and pulled you into a more secluded area, away from any prying eyes and listening ears.

"Copia?"

He swept you up into a kiss, pouring his love into it as best he could, knowing he was about to irreparably hurt you and break his promise. When he broke the kiss, there were tears in your eyes. You knew. You knew what was coming.

"No matter what happens," he began, his tone serious, "no matter what you see tonight, promise me something, amore mio."

"What? What do you mean? What's going to happen? You're scaring me, Copia!"

"Promise me!" he demanded, perhaps a bit too forcefully.

"I-I promise."

Copia nodded and pressed a note into your hands. "Promise me that no matter what occurs tonight, you will do exactly as this note says." You began to open it, but Copia quickly stopped you. "No, not now. Wait until you are alone."

"Copia, please, don't—"

He gently shushed you, taking your face in his hands and kissing you sweetly, his thumbs catching the tears that fell. "Now, now… None of that, amore. You'll be strong for me, sì?" You blinked, more tears falling, but you nodded. Copia smiled warmly at you, though it was tinged with sadness. "Bene. Now, I must go. And remember the note! Please, cara mia, it is important you do not forget."

"I won't."

He hesitated for a moment longer, gazing at you, memorizing your face. "I love you."

Your bottom lip trembled. "I love you, too, Copia."

He felt tears sting his eyes, absolutely hating to do this to you. He pulled you in for another kiss, trying not to think about how final it felt. The last time before it's over….

With great effort, Copia pulled away and walked backward away from you, keeping you in his sight for as long as he could before he finally had to turn and hurry away, carefully brushing his tears away lest he ruin his paint.

"Did you say goodbye?"

Copia stopped, not looking at her, his shoulders tense and his eyes downcast. Sister Imperator being here only confirmed everything. She had to make sure everything went according to plan.

"Sì."

"How did she take it?"

He shot a glare at his mother. "How do you think? If your intent is to devastate her, this will do it. And do not be surprised if she—" His voice caught as the reality of what he was about to say hit him like a ton of bricks. "Do not be surprised if she wants to follow me."

"Oh, I'll be keeping an eye on her, don't you worry, C. From now on, she'll hardly be leaving my sight."

Copia frowned. Did she know? How could she? Unless… He looked up and saw his ghouls gathered ahead of him, waiting and watching. Surely not.

"The masses are waiting for you, C," the Sister continued. "Don't keep them waiting too long. After all, the show must go on."

Copia refused to look at her and stalked toward the ghouls. They said nothing, only stared at him, waiting for their cue to head out on stage.

"Let us get this over with," he growled to them, determined to give the masses the best damned show ever.

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

You waited a few moments after Copia left to collect yourself as best you could. But no matter how many deep breaths you took, you still felt like you were on the verge of a breakdown. No matter what he said, you knew this was it. He would not be able to stop it. Copia was only one man against The Clergy. And no one went against The Clergy and won.

With shaky hands, you unfolded the note, already feeling your heart seize upon seeing Copia’s all too familiar handwriting.

Amore mio,

Whatever you see tonight, for your safety and the safety of the little life growing inside you, you must not ask any questions. There is nothing else to be done. What happens must happen. It is the order of things. But there is one other thing I beg of you to do, cara mia. At the end of the ritual, go to the exit on the farthest side of the venue and make sure you are not followed. Perhaps it is a selfish request, but you will understand when the time comes. For me, amore mio. Do this one last thing for me because where I am going, you cannot follow. And please know that everything I am doing is to keep you safe.

I love you. Never forget that.

Eternally yours,

Copia

That only confirmed everything. This was well and truly the end. Tonight, you would witness your love’s death, and you could do nothing about it.

You watched the man you loved pour his heart and soul into his performance as only he could, the crowd going absolutely wild with each song played. You had been to every one of Copia’s rituals, but this was hands down the best one ever. He and the ghouls were so in sync. It was glorious to see, and it nearly made you forget about what was about to happen. Nearly, but not completely.

You had no idea how it would happen, so after his speech about not mourning something you will lose, enjoy it while it’s here, and launching into Respite On The Spitalfields, the dread set in full force. You were tense, hardly even paying attention to Copia, looking around to try to figure out how it was going to be done.

It all ended up happening so fast that you barely comprehended it. Between the ghouls suddenly moving, cutting the song short, and the screams of the audience, all you could see beyond the fog machines was a blur of movement. Panic gripped you, and your instinct was to run out to help Copia, but fear kept your feet firmly in place. Because you were so close to the stage, you could hear the vicious snarling from the ghouls but never a sound out of Copia. Dewdrop emerged first, stumbling back to reveal his blood-covered hands. That was when the screaming turned into actual terrified ones.

The stage crew rushed out, trying to stop the ghouls, but it was too late. The fog cleared away, and there laid Copia’s body, his clothes shredded and stained with blood. Perhaps mercifully, you could not see his face from your vantage point, but it did not matter. Hot tears streaked down your face as you took in the sight before you. It felt like your heart was being ripped from your chest.

You began to collapse, a heartbroken wail tearing past your lips as you felt your world crumble, but two strong hands caught you before you could hit the ground. You began to be moved, pulled, and you fought against it with everything you had in you, desperate to get to Copia, begging them not to take you away from him.

“Can’t do that, Mama. Besides, Papa told you to leave.”

Aether.

Aether was the one pulling you along, taking you away from the macabre scene. Part of you cursed him. If Aether had been there, none of this would have happened. He would not have let it. He could have stopped them. Is that why Sister Imperator had him replaced?

Aether led you around the perimeter of the venue, taking his time to make sure no one saw you, and out to a secluded driveway. A black car was parked a little ways away, and a man stood nearby, his back to you. He was speaking to a ghoul who had a hood over his head, shrouding his face in shadow, so you had no idea who he was. The ghoul seemed to take notice of you and alerted the man.

As soon as he turned, you felt your knees start to give out, and a body-wracking sob left you. Aether grabbed you so you did not fall.

There before you stood Copia, his face completely free of paint and dressed casually in jeans and a black button-up, making him totally inconspicuous, like just another ritual attendee. And he was totally fine. There was no blood anywhere, no signs of anything that had occurred on stage. He was alive and well before you and hurrying to your side as fast as he could.

"Oh, amore," he breathed, pulling you into his arms.

You could not control your sobs, torn between disbelief and relief. He held fast to you with one arm around your waist while his other hand cradled the back of your head. You clung to him so tightly that you were likely leaving bruises.

"I-I don't understand," you cried. "I saw you! I-I saw—"

Copia shook his head and leaned back enough to pepper your face with kisses. "You saw what needed to be seen. What Sister Imperator expected. My death. My mother had her plans, but I had mine as well." You still did not understand. Copia took your face in his hands. "She wanted me dead, and so I am dead. As far as anyone within the ministry is concerned, I was murdered on stage. She tasked my ghouls with this, but what she does not know is that they are entirely loyal to me."

"So it was all fake?" you asked, your brain struggling to keep up.

"Sì. I am so sorry, amore mio. Everyone had to believe I was dead —even you. But I am selfish. I needed to see you one last time before I left." He caressed your cheek, and you turned into the warmth of his hand, basking in it. "I could not hurt you that way, thinking you had watched me die. But now, I must leave. I must go far away from here."

"Take me with you!" you cried. "Don't leave me— us here alone!"

Copia dropped a hand to your abdomen. “You will be much safer at the Abbey, I assure you. If anyone finds out I am still alive, they will come after me to make sure the job is properly done. You being with me will only put you in danger.”

“I don’t care! I want to go with you! You promised.”

He hung his head, his expression greatly troubled. "I suppose I did. Amore, I cannot stomach the thought of putting you in danger."

"I'm making this decision, Copia," you said firmly, though your voice shook, and clutched the front of his shirt. "I'm going with you."

"You'd better let her come with us, Papa," Aether said.

You glanced at him. "Both of you?"

Copia nodded. "With his involvement in helping me escape, Aether is not safe either. Therefore, he must leave, too." He then sighed. "And so are you, cara mia."

You stared up at him. "You mean it?"

He wrapped his arms around you securely, a look of determination crossing his face. "I do. Absolutely. I want you forever at my side."

More tears filled your eyes. "That's the only place I've ever wanted to be. But where will we go?”

“There is a little place in Italy. I have… friends there.”

You were dubious. “You trust these friends?”

Copia smirked a bit. "With my life."

"Then let's go! Together. The way it should be."

"Sì, amore, the way it should be."

He led her to the car and got in the back with her while Aether got in the front with the other ghoul. You still had no idea who they were, but it did not matter. The only thing that did was the man beside you that let you cuddle up to his side so he could hold you close. Copia repeatedly pressed tender kisses to your face, catching the occasional tear with his lips. When your hand was not resting over his heart to feel its steady beat, your fingers traced over his face, memorizing each line and curve, basking in how alive he was.

“What will they think happened to me?” you asked quietly after a long while.

Copia shrugged. “The truth. You followed me.”

You swallowed hard. “You mean… they’ll all think I’m dead, too.”

Copia obviously did not like this, but he nodded. “Sì. It must be this way. So long as I am alive, I am a threat to them. You carry my heir, cara mia. The Clergy would not let you go so easily if they knew. You would be protected, sì, if you stayed, but if you leave… I worry what they might try to do. A child with claims to the papacy they had no hand in raising…”

You sat up suddenly, your hand pressed to his chest. "I have to go back to the Abbey. Just to grab some things."

"What? No, cara, it is too dangerous!" Copia exclaimed.

"Please, Cope!"

"I can get her in and out without being seen," Aether said from the passenger seat.

Copia looked between him and you, debating. "Fine. If we go now, perhaps we will beat everyone back. But please, amore, do not dally there. If you are caught, you must stay, and I must go on."

You nodded and kissed him briefly. "I understand. Thank you."

He kissed your forehead as you settled against him again. "Do not thank me yet."

"I was more so thanking you for letting me go with you." You pressed closer to him. "I would have followed had I known you were alive. I wouldn't have stopped until I found you."

Copia sighed. “I know. As you say, we will go together, amore mio, softly into the night.”

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

It was evening the next day when you pulled up to a secluded entrance to the Abbey you did not even know existed. But, perhaps that was by design. Either way, Aether led you through the Abbey, taking paths to avoid anyone and doubling back if he heard anything suspicious ahead.

You were just about to head up the stairs to the papal suites when Aether stopped short and threw an arm out to stop you.

There on the steps stood Dew.

Aether stepped in front of you, blocking you just in case the fire ghoul tried anything. But all Dew did was stare back for a long moment.

“You’re lucky I saw you,” he finally said. “This way, before Sister Imperator comes back.”

Aether glanced back at you, giving you a warning look. Stay behind me. You were not going to go anywhere else, anyway.

Dew led you the rest of the way to the suite and let you inside. There were only a few things you needed to grab. Perhaps it was stupid and selfish to come back for these, but these were mementos from your past, both from your family and from your time with Copia. You hated the thought of losing them forever.

As you grabbed a suitcase to put them in, you looked back toward the door just in time to see Aether grab the front of Dew’s shirt and slam him up against the wall. You continued gathering your things as you listened to them.

“You better not be setting us up,” Aether growled.

“Do you really think I’d hurt her?” Dew asked, nodding toward you. “Or you? Or Papa? None of us would! The plan went perfectly!”

"You sure seemed to relish what you did on stage."

"It had to be believable! Everyone had to believe we killed Papa."

"What did they threaten you with?" Aether asked in a low voice, letting Dew go. "The Clergy knows how loyal ghouls are to their Papas. What were they going to do with you if you refused?"

"Banish us back to Hell, what else?" Dew shook his head. "And not back to our respective realms."

Aether shook his head. "I wish I understood why they were doing this. Why they wanted to get rid of Papa in the first place.”

"He was becoming too well-liked, loved. With the masses behind him, they worried they were losing their power over him. Out of any of the Papas so far, Copia had the greatest advantage to end them."

"And he still does! If Copia ever decides to come back…"

Dew nodded. "That will be the end of The Clergy."

Aether was about to respond but quickly turned toward the door. Before either ghoul could react, the door slammed open.

Sister Imperator stood there, looking at both ghouls before cutting her eyes over toward you. "Going somewhere?" she asked calmly.

"I, um…" you began.

She walked up to you, her eyes never leaving you. You stared back, refusing to waver no matter how much she intimidated you. The pair of you simply stared at each other for a long while before she finally spoke.

"Take care of him."

You blinked. She knew? Your confusion must have been extremely obvious.

"He's my son. Do you really think I wanted him dead?" she asked. "But no one crosses The Clergy. Not even me." She looked back at the ghouls and then nodded to your suitcase. "Come. We'll need to hurry. I assume you came in the back way?"

"Yes," Aether replied.

The Sister nodded and led them out. Aether grabbed your bag, and you numbly followed them out. Could you really trust Sister Imperator? If she knew Copia was not dead, what if she happened to let it slip?

As you passed by a frosted window, you heard a squeak. There sat Rigatoni on the windowsill. As you walked by, you held out your hand, letting the rat climb up your arm to settle on your shoulder. Copia would be happy to see him again and to be able to take him along, too.

As you stepped out into the moonlight, the Sister stopped short, staring at the car parked there.

Copia stared out of the car's open window at his mother. She nodded at him, a look of understanding passing between the two. Copia nodded back and rolled up the window.

"Take care of him," she said again to you, her voice trembling ever so slightly, her eyes never leaving the car. "And take care of my grandchild."

"I will, Sister. I promise."

She looked at you, and you could see tears shining in her eyes. "If there's ever a chance, ever a way…" She sighed. "Some day, I hope to see you again."

You nodded. "Some day."

She swallowed hard and took a step back. "Go. Start your new life. We’ll manage here."

"Goodbye, Sister."

She did not say anymore but stood and watched as you drove off, disappearing into the night.

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

Copia held your hand the entire car ride to the airport, the entire flight, and the whole car ride out to the Italian countryside. You watched out the windows in awe, having never been to Italy before. Copia had always wanted to take you someday; he just wished now that the circumstances were different.

Your mood improved greatly over the course of the trip, and when you reached the house, Copia watched you with a smitten smile as you 'oohed' and 'ahhed' over your new home. Just wait until you see the inside, amore.

With your hand still clasped firmly in his, he led you through the house and out to the back, where his friends were waiting.

You stopped dead in your tracks, pulling back on Copia's hand. He looked at you, unable to stop the small smile from tugging at his lips as you took in the sight before you.

"Fratellino! Good to see you."

Copia turned to face his raven-haired brother and hugged him. "And you, Terzo."

Terzo grinned and looked past Copia at you. "Something wrong, cara mia? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

You swallowed hard. "Make that three."

Primo and Secondo stood and stepped up to stand behind Terzo.

"We did not realize you were coming along," Primo said, reaching out to take your hand and kiss the back of it. "I am glad to see you again, Sorella."

"Are you sure that was wise?" Secondo asked Copia.

"I didn't give him a choice," you responded before Copia could. You then shook your head. "I don't understand. You're all here. Alive. But… Your bodies are on display at every ritual!"

"That is all they are," Secondo answered. "Bodies. Perfect copies of us. No one would dare desecrate the body of a Papa to find out if those in the coffins are really ours, not even Sister Imperator. Why would she double-check when she was assured that their bodies were perfectly preserved to be put on display?"

"The only thing they needed was the confirmation of no pulse," Terzo added.

Primo nodded. "And thanks to a few home remedies, I was able to simulate that in all of us, long enough for us to get away while our ghouls replaced us with those perfect copies."

“They were exactly as you saw. A body, but only a copy. ”

You looked at Copia. "And you? There's a body back there that looks just like you?"

He nodded. "Sì. And it, too, will be displayed at every ritual."

You shook your head again. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Not at the moment," Copia said. "Let us let you get used to this right now."

"If I ever will!"

The brothers exchanged smiles. Primo stepped up to your side and placed your hand in the crook of his arm. "Come, Sorella. I will show you to your room, let you freshen up before lunch, sì?"

Copia could tell from your expression that you were overwhelmed but happy. He knew this was the last thing you expected to find here. He watched you until you were out of sight.

"It was dangerous bringing her here,” Secondo said, turning to Copia. “If anyone were to find out—”

“No one will find out. I will make sure of that,” Copia vowed.

Secondo shook his head. “I sure hope you know what you are doing, Copia.”

“So do I…”

An hour later, Copia went up to your room, finding you staring out the window. He stepped up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“This is really going to be our life, huh?”

His heart sank. “Regret it already?”

You turned sharply and looked up at him. “Of course not! Never! But it will take some getting used to.”

"I know… And I am sorry it must be this way."

You hugged him tightly. "So long as you're here, alive, I don't care where we are. I just can't stand the thought of losing you."

"Now, you won't have to, amore. I am not going anywhere."

He moved you just enough to kiss you, both of you bathed in the noontime sunlight. For the first time in months, Copia felt content. Perfectly and wholly content with you in his arms, safe, with the prospect of your child arriving just a few months away.

If this is what came from his perceived death, then all of it was worth it.

The two of you, together, eternally bound by your love.

#my writing #papa iv #copia #ghost band #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #reader #ghost fanfic #ghost band fanfic

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unseededtoast · 16 days

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Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Twelve

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

"Don't take another step."

Someone nudging my shoulder wakes me from my sleep. I lazily blink my eyes open and see Joel staring down at me with his chocolate brown eyes. He probably either found something, or it's time to keep walking. Either way, my time on this mattress is coming to a sad close, and I wish I could stay here forever. My limbs stretch out before I get up, soaking in one last moment on the soft bed.

Joel moves out of my way as I get up and put my bag on my back. He picks his up as well and opens the camper door for me. The day is hot, the air is sticky with humidity.

"Follow me." He says and walks ahead of me, leading me further into the campground. Joel has some unusual pep in his step, and it's getting my hopes up that he found something good.

The rest of the campground is desolate, it's probably been abandoned for a decade now. It's almost like a time capsule, everything is exactly where it was left ten years ago. There are children's bicycles left, tents that have been blown over, and remnants of happy memories everywhere I look. Once upon a time, this place would have been a lovely destination for a weekend getaway.

The campers become less densely packed as he keeps walking deeper into the woods.

"I thought you said you weren't going far." I call him on his lie. His shoulders shrug in front of me.

"I guess it's all a matter of perspective." He refutes and I let out a short laugh.

"I'll have to keep that in mind." I say as we pass a rusted out truck.

We walk a few more paces until I see a blue pickup truck sitting out by itself. It looks a little out of place, like it should be back towards the front where most of the campers are. Joel comes to a stop in front of it and lightly smacks his hand on the hood. I'll admit, it's one of the nicest looking cars I've seen in a while. The rust is at a minimum, it still has all the doors and windows. In my eyes, this truck is on par with a Rolls Royce.

"Does it work?" I ask before my hopes get too high. This truck could need parts before it runs. And if that's the case, who knows how long we'll be here searching for them.

"It runs, we just need some gas." He says and I nod. I knew we couldn't get lucky enough to find a car without any sort of issue to deal with.

"Okay, then let's find some gas." I say, hopeful that in this campground there's fuel stored somewhere. Sure, it's frustrating that our trip is being delayed, but the thought of finally having a car offsets any negativity about searching for gas.

The two of us split up, each taking one side of the campground to make the most of our time. I start at the front and decide to make my way back towards the truck. I search through the unlocked campers and cars left to rot, finding nothing of real use in the front. In the back half of the campground I find a gas container with a quarter tank, it's better than nothing. Other than that, I don't find anything.

Joel and I reconvene at the truck after thoroughly searching. It seems his search was more fruitful, he's got two full containers in his hands.

"Where'd you find all that?" I'm not sure how he got so lucky. He just shrugs,

"Was just layin' around." He opens the gas cap of the truck and pours the gas into it. Hopefully this gets us a few hundred miles at least.

I watch as he tosses the empty gas can aside and climbs into the driver's seat. He rubs his hands together excitedly before turning the key in the ignition. The truck makes a few clicking sounds before it finally roars to life with a deep growl. It's music to my ears and I can't keep the wide smile off my face.

"I can't believe it." My voice is awestruck as I climb into the passenger side. The seats are faux leather and the air in here is quite stale and stuffy. Joel begins navigating back to the road as I roll the windows down and let my arm hang out the window.

He drives us out of the campground and we're back en route. The wind whips my hair around in the truck and my eyes close as I take in the feeling. It's been so long since I can remember enjoying driving with the windows down. We drive for miles as I soak in the almost forgotten feeling.

Opening my eyes, I look over to Joel, who has a small smirk on his face. His eyes glance from the road over to me before flicking back to the road. I roll the window halfway up, the air becoming a little much.

"Thought you fell asleep over there." He says. I shake my head and try to tame my hair from the wind.

"No, I slept pretty well. I think we can count that as a five star hotel." I flip down the mirror attached to the visor on the ceiling and use it to part my hair the correct way before glancing over to Joel. He just shakes his head with the same smirk on his face, and then we fall back into our usual silence.

Deciding I can use this time for something other than looking out of the window, I grab my bag and unzip it, grabbing the map. It's torn around the edges from wear, but is still intact enough that it won't disintegrate if it gets folded the wrong way. My eyes find the spot where we just passed through, marked with the star. The stars must mean other groups, so we'll want to avoid those in the future.

I look ahead in our route to see what we'll be coming up on. The next group we should be crossing paths with are the Fireflies. It'll be interesting to see what happens when we get to that point. I know both Joel and I dislike them, but they're also involved in the slaughter of children in QZs. For that reason alone I want to seek them out, just to see if there's any information we can get from them.

But then again, if Joel was there when Marlene died, other people might know about that and it might complicate things. I heavily sigh as I weigh the pros and cons of finding them.

Then again, Joel doesn't have to go with me to seek them out. He's more than welcome to keep going and if he wants, we can meet back up after I'm done. One way or another I know I need to find them, and I need to see for myself the extent of their involvement with the T group. In my mind, there's more to lose from not finding them and not getting every ounce of information that I possibly can. From my estimate, if we keep driving for the rest of the day, we should reach them by tomorrow afternoon. That's assuming we don't run into any obstacles.

I fold the map back up and put it inside my bag and my fingers find the two scraps of paper I found in the fire back near Boston. The word "immune" strikes me, and my thumb runs over the ink. What could this mean? What context was it written in? Does it even have anything to do with this?

Surely it has to, it was among other vital pieces of information like the note and the map. But why would they burn this letter and not the rest?

Joel glances over to see what I'm holding and his eyebrows draw tightly together. He reads the word on the scorched paper and his eyes trail up to meet mine. His jaw sets and he swallows hard. It reminds me of the night we spent in the little suburban home, how he went over all the evidence.

"What is it?" My mouth blurts out before I can stop myself. I have to know why he's acting this way about the evidence. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hand grab the steering wheel more tightly and his knuckles turn white. But his face relaxes and he shakes his head,

"Nothin'." His subpar answer lingers in the air between us. I have a gut feeling he's not telling the entire truth, and it's really starting to get under my skin.

"It's not nothing. What do you know?" I ask him, my voice firm. My eyes scan over his face for any clues, but his demeanor is cool and collected, save for his death grip on the steering wheel.

"I don't know anything." His voice is deep and has a tone of finality, urging me not to continue on. I bite my tongue before I begin accusing him of things I'm not even sure of and look back out the window.

An anxious feeling creeps up my spine as I try to rationalize why he would want to keep information away from me. It's plain as day now that he definitely knows something, and it has to be centered around this one scribbled word. He reacted to it back in the suburbs, and he reacted to it again just now.

If he's willing to go out of his way to save me not once, but twice, and is sincere enough to keep his word about tagging along until Omaha, then what could possibly be so classified that he won't tell me? It just doesn't make sense. And in that moment, the man who once made me feel safe, makes me feel uneasy. Maybe I wrongfully placed my trust in him too soon.

Quietly, I place the scrap of paper back in my bag and zip it up. The bag now rests in my lap and I crane my neck even more so that I can't even see him out of my peripheral vision. My heart thumps in my chest and I try to calm myself. Wild thoughts run rampant in my mind with theories about what's going on, but not one theory is able to check every box of the situation.

As the day goes on, the trip continues to pass in silence. After hours of mulling over my theories, I still can't settle on anything that makes total sense. Everything about his behavior is paradoxical to me. Until I can figure it out, I think it's best if I keep my distance and and keep my mouth shut. He already knows a fair bit about me, but I know practically nothing about him. There's a power imbalance here and that adds to my uneasiness.

Our silence is now filled with tension once more, and my nervously tapping foot is the only thing that fills the quiet cab of the truck. The sun has set and the headlights of this truck are very dim. Truthfully, it's probably dangerous to be driving with such dim lights but I don't care. I just want this truck to get us as far as possible.

Unfortunately, he doesn't keep driving through the night. No, he finds a rest area off the highway and stops at it, pulling the truck over the curb and into the woods for cover. As soon as the truck is put into park I get out and sling my bag over one shoulder. My feet can't carry me fast enough as I make my way to one of the small buildings.

I duck behind one and revel in the feeling of being alone, being away from the suffocating silence and tension. My chest deflates with a sigh and I turn my attention towards the dark sky, dotted with bright stars. For a few moments my problems melt away, it's just me and the wide open sky. My fingers wrap around the gold chain around my neck as I gaze at the stars, hoping that somehow the right answer will come to me. Should I stay with Joel? Should I go on my own? I just don't know.

I don't have enough time to dwell on it as I hear Joel's footsteps crunching in the woods next to me. Fixing my posture, I bend over and make it look like I was tying the laces of my boot and not debating whether or not I should take off. As casually as I can, I look up through my eyelashes and see Joel coming out of the woods in front of me, logs tucked underneath one of his arms. He looks at me quizzically, and I think quick to excuse my hightailing.

"Sorry I um, I just had to go." I say, implying that I ran off for the bathroom. He nods his head once and then clears his throat.

"Was thinkin' we could build a fire out here." He gestures to the sidewalk that borders the woods. Like last night, there's a risk to it, but it's not a detrimental one, at least I don't think.

"Yeah, that's fine." I say and stand up from my kneeling position. He walks in front of me, his shoulders tight with tension and I'm not entirely sure it's from hauling firewood.

I stay a few feet back as Joel constructs the fire, much like he did last night. He does it with an expertise that shows how long he's been out here for. Leaning against a nearby tree I chew on my fingernails, my brain unable to let me be calm. Joel lights the fire and he takes a seat on the plush grass, stretching out.

"I can take watch tonight." He offers. While the offer is nice, I don't know if I'll be able to sleep. There are several reasons why I should trust him by now, but there's also one major reason why I can't. I shake my head, turning down his offer.

"That's okay, I'm not even really tired. Plus you drove all day." My lie comes quick and smooth. He looks up at me, and I worry he's going to see through my facade. He shrugs his shoulders,

"Doesn't bother me." His voice sounds sincere and I wish I could accept his offer as easily as I did last night.

"I might stay up and plan a little." This isn't the entire truth, but it's not a complete lie either.

"Plan for what?" His brown eyes are illuminated by the fire. Nervousness crawls over my skin.

"Um, just, just for our next stop." I say, deciding that this conversation has to happen eventually.

"What stop is that?" He readjusts his position on the ground so he can look at me easier.

"The Fireflies. We're going to run into them next." I flatly state, waiting for his reaction. Joel's eyebrows shoot up,

"Thought you hated the Fireflies?" His voice is gruff and he sounds irritated. My head nods, agreeing with him.

"I do. And as much as I hate to admit it, I have to talk to them. You saw, their emblem was on that letter. They're involved in this and I can't just pass it up." I feel slightly more confident. He huffs with annoyance and I try to keep my facial expression under control, he can't know how apprehensive I am right now.

"Damn Fireflies." Is all he says, and I think I was hoping for more insight. I decide to leave the conversation there, not wanting to tread on rough waters with him again.

Eventually I take a seat on the grass across the way from Joel. The fire's smoke burns my lungs each time I inhale, but I don't mind it. My thoughts are too occupied with my own internal conflict.

Am I overreacting about what happened earlier? After all, this is the same man who helped me over the barricade, saved me from the perverted men in the town, and insisted he stay with me until Omaha. If his intentions with me were foul, he's had plenty of time to act and he hasn't. But there's something about how defensive he got that's concerning.

My repeating thoughts are interrupted as I hear twigs breaking in the woods behind me. My hand reaches for the curved blade and I'm on my feet in the blink of an eye. There's a shadow moving in the trees, I see it coming closer. Joel stands by my side and pushes me behind him slightly, a knife in his hand as well.

"Don't take another step." Joel's voice threatens. The footsteps stop. It's not an infected. My head turns from side to side to watch for anyone else that may be tagging along with his person.

"I'm just passing through." A manly voice calls back and the footsteps resume. My grip on my knife gets tighter, ready to use it if things go sideways.

"Walk towards me with your hands up." Joel demands. Through the darkness I see the man's hands fly up in surrender and he takes slow steps towards us. I back up so that the man can come to the light, so we can see his face.

He's a young kid, maybe early twenties. His hair is all disheveled, clothes tattered and torn. There's a fear in his eyes as he steps out towards us, like he's never been in this situation before. Raised high above his head, his hands tremble.

"Sit on the ground and cross your ankles." Joel instructs, knife still at the ready. Quickly, the young man nods his head and follows Joel's instructions. I put my knife away, seeing as how Joel has this covered apparently.

"Who are you?" Is Joel's next demand. The kid's eyes raise to meet his.

"Name's Tate." His voice cracks as he talks. From his perspective, Joel has to be terrifying. He's a large man with a knife, of course he's going to be scary. And I'll admit deep down he scares me too.

"What're you doin' out here?" Joel's form is rigid and tense.

"Like I said I'm just passing through." The kid's wide eyes turn to me and Joel snaps his fingers.

"Don't look at her, eyes stay right here." Joel points to his face. The boy nods his head and tears his gaze off of me. The kid's nervousness causes him to keep blabbering.

"I swear man. I'm headed to Pittsburgh. I've got family out that way." Joel shifts his weight, refusing to lower his weapon.

"Pittsburgh is full of raiders and hunters." The kid swallows hard at Joel's words and a look of exasperation comes over him.

"What? No, no that can't be right. How do you know?" Joel sighs and adjusts his knife in his hand.

"Went through there a while ago. Checkpoint's been abandoned. I can almost guarantee that your people aren't there anymore for one reason or another." The kid looks down from Joel's face and I think he might get sick.

I look over what the young man has on him and see that he's travelling suspiciously light. In fact, I don't even see a bag anywhere. If he's travelling all the way to Pittsburgh with nothing but the clothes on his back, he has to be trying to evade something, or someone. Finding my voice, I speak up.

"Where's your stuff at?" Both Joel and Tate look over to me. Joel looks angry and Tate looks confused. Tate's mouth hangs open for a few seconds as he digests the question.

"This is all I have." He confirms my thoughts, which makes me even more curious about why he's out here.

"You're travelling to Pittsburgh with no supplies?" My voice is obviously skeptical. This could be some sort of trap for all we know. Tate's head nods.

"I didn't have a choice. The Fireflies are losing their damn minds, everyone's trying to take charge and it's a mess." His voice seems to calm down as he speaks to me.

"How many are left?" I ask, hoping that there's enough there that someone is bound to know something. Tate shrugs his shoulders.

"I don't know, maybe thirty, maybe less by now." His voice trails off at the end of his sentence and he glances back to Joel, who has not stopped staring him down.

If Tate is fleeing from the Fireflies, he might be more likely to spill what he knows. After all, if he has no loyalty he doesn't have to worry about covering for anyone. Within seconds I'm fishing out the pieces of paper from my bag and I bring them over to Tate. The documents are fanned out in my hands and I sit beside him, letting him look over the materials. His eyes scan over them, reading the instruction note twice.

"What do you know about this?" My voice is low and somber. Tate's eyes meet mine,

"I don't know. This looks like serious shit though. I wasn't high ranking enough to know about stuff like that. No, I was the one who they sent out to kill infected and to be people's bodyguards. But if you get to their base, I'm willing to bet Trevor knows something." His words seem genuine, and I pack all the documents back into my bag.

"Trevor." I confirm and he nods his head. It seems like he's being honest, lies usually aren't that thorough. Standing from my spot beside Tate, I walk to Joel and meet his hard gaze.

"I think we should let him go." I whisper so Tate can't hear. Something tells me that Joel doesn't want him making it out of here alive, but I don't think Tate is going to be any sort of threat to us. Joel's eyes bounce between me and Tate, looking uncertain.

"What if he's lyin'?" Joel asks and I sigh.

"I don't think he is. Look at him, he's scared. Doesn't seem the type to hurt others." I glance over my shoulder at the skinny kid sitting with his ankles still crossed.

"Fine. You can let him go, but you're taking watch if you do." Joel grumbles and brushes past me. I roll my eyes at him before I turn around to meet Tate once more.

"Get out of here." I say, kicking the side of his shoe.

"Really? You're going to let me go?" He sounds shocked, and I nod my head and gesture for him to get going. Tate scrambles to his feet and takes off through the woods again without another word. I hope he finds whoever it is he's searching for, poor kid.

I watch him until I can't see or hear him anymore, and then take a seat across from Joel at the fire once more. He's obviously angry, but I don't care that much. In a passive-aggressive protest, he's turned his back to me to sleep, and I try to make myself comfortable on the sidewalk for another long night of keeping watch.

#joel miller #joel miller hbo #joel miller tlou #tlou #the last of us #joel the last of us #joel tlou #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #pedro pascal

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