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shadowdaddies · 2 months

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Ready for another azriel request??? I’m rereading the series right now so I’m BEGGING for some azriel action😭 I was thinking something a little angsty maybe azriel and the reader (obviously mated) get into an argument or he snaps at her or something like that (you can decide) and so she starts to distance herself and one day she gets attacked or kidnapped or something (again you can decide) and azriel is panicking and stuff. I just really want some groveling or begging or something idk. Ending with fluff obviously. Sorry all of my requests are long and detailed😭 thank you thooo❤️

hey love! I planned this out awhile ago but I've been busy with visiting family; thank you for the request as always💜

There With You

Azriel x Reader

warnings: reader is captured but no explicit torture, miscommunication trope

The rustling of leaves sounded to your right, hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at your hip as you and Azriel looked to the source of the noise.

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding blew from your lips at the sight of the crow landing in the tree, dried Autumn leaves drifting to the ground beneath the creature.

Allowing your hand to drop from your weapon, you continued your walk through the wood, the distraction of the bird causing your misstep.

The branch underneath your boot cracked in an echo that seemed to silence the rest of the forest, the world growing eerily quiet around you for a moment. Azriel stood still as stone to your left, hazel eyes simmering with something akin to anger.

“You need to be more careful,” he murmured, voice as soft and cutting as the cool wind that whipped through the air. Holding back the sigh that aimed to leave your lips, you hissed through your teeth, gaze slicing to meet your mate’s.

“I stepped on a branch, Azriel,” you retorted, face growing heated at the awareness of how something as small as a snapping branch could blow your mission. Nonetheless, the condescension with which Az was speaking to you was enough to lead you to dig your heels in for this argument. “A cracked stick in the forest isn’t going to summon the entire Autumn Court,” you muttered bitterly.

A scarred hand took your arm in a gentle but firm grip. “You know well that we do not need to summon the High Court. A farmer looking to gain favor with Beron could see us. That is all it would take to destroy the mission...” he trailed off, removing his hand to drag it over his tired features.

“I told Rhys this was a bad strategy. He knows how much more difficult you make this,” your mate grumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you stopped abruptly.

Azriel’s eyes widened, jaw dropping slightly as his head turned to you. Before he could speak, you raised a stiff hand, pausing him in his own tracks. “I make this difficult? I didn’t realize what a burden I am, Azriel.” The words spewed from you in a fountain of anger, welling up inside, hands clenched at your sides.

“Let’s go in different directions. We’ll cover ground more quickly, and we can find the book and get out of here... without making this anymore difficult for you,” you shot over your shoulder, shaking off the shadow that tried to keep you from walking away.

A soft huff sounded from behind you, betraying the feelings of guilt you could feel through the bond before you shut it off. Drawing your dagger, you angrily whacked at any branches and leaves that dared cross your path, stomping through the wood in search of the book Eris had taken from his father’s study for you.

Blinded by your anger, you missed the sound of soldiers being winnowed in behind you until it was too late. The rush of leaves on the wind perked your ears, but by the time that you turned to see one of the Vanserra brothers behind you with his guard, a circle of fire had engulfed you.

Walls of flame surrounded you, a dome of heat drawing the oxygen from your lungs as black spotted your vision. Opening the bond with your little remaining strength, you felt Azriel’s panic before losing consciousness.

~~~

You awoke in a damp room, dark save for the flickering fae light in the center of the cell. Head pounding you force your eyes to take in the cold, wet stone, the wall to which you are chained.

Mouth dry with thirst, your head bobs towards the creaking door, a vaguely familiar figure stepping through it. “Keep this closed. We don’t need anyone above hearing what happens in here.” Dark laughter sounded from the guards as they dutifully closed the heavy door.

The moment the bar slid into the lock, amber eyes shot to you, Eris’s voice laced with concern as he spoke. “Where is Azriel?” he demanded, a soft hand cupping your jaw as he helped you focus on him.

Swallowing thickly, you gazed up at the flaming red hair, burning whiskey eyes that demanded an answer that you wouldn’t, couldn’t give. “We split to cover more ground quickly,” you muttered, a half-truth. “We were struggling to find the book you left for us.”

The last part came out as a hiss, Eris’s hand dropping from you as though burned by your words. Any sign of pity left his expression, the mask of Autumn Lord slipping on easily. “Of course he would struggle with such simple instructions,” he drawled, looking down at you, a cat toying with a mouse.

An exasperated huff of laughter escaped you at the male bravado. “If you could discard whatever issue exists between you two for one moment,” you shot back, “I would appreciate some assistance - perhaps some context - to our current situation.”

Yanking on the chains for emphasis, your expression turned from teasing to paled at Eris’s grim reaction. The Lord’s lips thinned as he blew out a quiet breath, golden eyes searching the thick walls of the room before he dared to speak.

“I cannot let you escape under my watch,” he muttered, a hand running through the deep red of his hair, gears turning in his head. “Azriel knows where you are. I have asked one of my more... inept brothers, to guard you while I arrange a meeting with my father.”

Flames danced in his eyes, searing intensity reminding you of Eris’s power when he turned to you. “If any harm comes to my younger brother, be assured that your mate will regret ever crossing the boundary into my Court.”

Something sparked inside of you at his words, the intensity with which Eris defended his family. Respect welled deep inside of you, breath short as you nodded. “I will keep your family safe, Eris,” you breathed, fighting the smile that tugged at your lips as his features softened under the comfort of your promise.

“Make sure your bond is open so that he can sense you,” Eris directed, turning on his heel to leave. You did as he said, opening your bond as you reached out in any direction for where Azriel might be. Eris’s steps halted for a moment, a sharp catch in his breath before he shook his head, hand lifting to knock on the cell door.

Eris didn’t bother to look back when he strode through the archway, graceful steps leading him from the depths of your enclosure. One guard flashed his yellow teeth in a grin that sent disgust through you, your middle finger struggling to angle in response before he slammed the door.

No sooner had the dust settled from the sliding entryway than shadows swirled in front of you, Azriel materializing in the darkness. Your mate collapsed to the ground in front of you, his knees hitting stone as wings sagged behind him.

“I am so sorry,” he choked out, hazel eyes glowing with unshed tears in the dim light, “I failed you.” Your heart cleaved in two at his statement, shaking your head vigorously as you fought to keep your own emotions in check.

“Azriel, you didn’t fail me. I am the one who left, who makes things difficult...” you swallowed at those words, shame overwhelming at the thought of holding back your mate, your Court.

Panic was etched across Azriel’s features as he reached for your chains, regret and love flowing through the bond. “No,” he ground out, “that is not what I meant.” His forehead rested against yours, slick with sweat as the shackles broke free.

A scarred hand found your cheek, the outside world ceasing to exist as Azriel’s gaze focused on you. “I am a fool,” he murmured. “I meant to say that missions with you are difficult because you are all that I can focus on, you are all that I care about. I am the burden, because I would throw away any mission, any Court, any world to keep you safe.”

His throat worked, voice thick as his lashes wetted with tears. “And yet I still failed you, still nearly lost you because of my own inability-“

Arms wrapping around him, you ignored your wrists, sore from the shackles, in favor of twining your hands at the nape of your mate’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Love and admiration flowed both ways through your connection, and despite everything, you couldn’t fight the smile you offered Azriel.

“You are not, and have never been a failure, Azriel. You are my love, my perfect mate, and I should have stayed to communicate instead of trying to prove myself to the one person who I know I don’t have anything to prove to.”

Azriel nodded, a beautiful smile stretching across his lips as he lifted you into his arms. “You are perfect. And I am sorry that I ever let you forget it,” he whispered, sweeping you into a pool of shadows as he transported you out of the dungeons.

Once more you were surrounded by the crisp air of the Autumn Forest, the moonlight shining down on the babbling brook as you walked hand-in-hand with your mate. “We still have to find the book,” you noted, bumping Azriel’s shoulder in playful reminder.

He laughed softly, hand reaching into the side pocket of his leathers to pull out a small leather-bound journal, waving it in the air. “Found it just as I heard the Autumn soldiers,” he grimaced, eyes shuttering at the memory.

Your hand found his arm, giving a reassuring squeeze as you leaned your head against him, quiet comfort settling over the two of you.

“Let’s head home, then,” you whispered. “I could use a warm bath.” You felt Azriel’s lips press against your hair, strong arms scooping you up effortlessly.

Azriel’s warm breath tickled your neck, shadows dancing as the Autumn Court began to fade around you, darkness swallowing the landscape. “As long as I get to be there with you.”

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lizardboiii · 2 months

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Breaking up ┃One Piece Pt. 1

Scenario: Having a huge fight with your bf which ultimately leads one of you to saying something you regret.

"I wish I never met you."

Characters: Monkey D. Luffy, Roronoa Zoro x Fem!reader

cw: 18+, SFW, Angst, Hurt/No comfort, vulgar language

☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *.

Monkey D. Luffy

“You never even treat me like we're together!”

You were at your breaking point, figuratively and literally. In the last three months that you and Luffy had been together, not once did he change the way he acted towards you. It felt as if you were still just Luffy’s nakama. Well today that was all going to change. You had a plan.

It took some convincing, but you finally managed to get Nami and Ussop to help you set up a romantic dinner in the Sunny’s crow’s nest. Two of Luffy’s favorite things, food and you. It was perfect.

With preparations taken care of, you waited patiently for Luffy to arrive. Your aforementioned captain was currently exploring the island you were stopped at. But with the sun starting to set, he'd be back for dinner any minute now.

So you waited.

And waited.

And waited….

You waited till the candles were near burnt out. Waited till the food went ice cold. Waited till your eyes stung from holding back tears.

Monkey D. Luffy had stood you up.

Your own boyfriend.

Slamming the napkin delicately placed across your lap onto the table, you pushed yourself to your feet. Humiliation creeped its way up your neck. Never in your life have you ever felt so worthless.

Holding back hiccups, you dragged yourself out of the crow’s nest and away from the undisturbed meal. What was Nami going to think? All that preparation for nothing. You clenched your hands into tight fists. The next time you see Luffy you swear you were going to-

“y/n!”

You spun on your heel to face the familiar voice. Luffy’s face smiled brightly at you, blinding you more than the moonlight. It was almost enough for you to forgive him. Almost.

“Wait up!”

Scoffing, you glared at his cheery form before turning away from him. All you wanted was a shower, not excuses.

Luffy caught up with your silently seething form with ease, spinning around you like top. He pranced around as if he were a crow and you his shiny treasure. Your name falling from his lips like a mantra.

Try as you might, eventually you gave into his pestering, voice sharp as nails, “What do you want, Luffy?”

Luffy’s grin widened despite your tone, “Sorry I couldn't make it, y/n. There was a festival in town, you should have come. There was an all you can eat buffet, Tra-guy and Jaggy were there too!” He scratched his chin, “Maybe next time you can invite everyone else so we can all eat together again!”

Your eye twitched, “Why would I invite the whole crew to our date?”

“Date?”

You stopped in your tracks, “Yes, date. You know the ones you're supposed to take your girlfriend out on? That kind?”

You could practically see the gears turning in his head at your reply.

“But I have multiple girlfriends?” “WHAT?”

“Ya! You, Robin, Nami,” Luffy used his fingers to count, “Oh, and Vivi!”

You face palmed, “Not “girl” friends, Luffy. A “girlfriend”. Someone who’s more,” You reached for Luffy’s hand, “Special.”

“But all my friends are special,” Luffy pouted, gingerly returning your touch.

Laughing, you shook your head, “I know. But…It's a different type of special. It's when you wanna hold their hand, and you wanna be near them no matter what,” You met his confused gaze, “It's someone you love.”

“Then why would I wanna do that with you?”

“Huh?”

It felt like your body hit a brick wall. Every word ripped from your throat. He was joking right? It was a sick joke but a joke no less.

“I don’t think I love you.”

You blinked in confusion before choking out a response, “T-Thats okay. Sometimes it takes a while to realize you love someone. It's not immediate.”

Luffy hummed, “I'm not sure I even want a “girlfriend”, y/n.”

A nervous laughter erupted from your throat, “Luffy, what are you talking about?” It felt like your heart might leap out of your chest.

“I like how my friends are now. I don't need a “girlfriend”. I have my Nakama. I have you.”

The world suddenly stopped spinning, and only for a moment the ocean quieted and the breeze hushed. Then, as if nothing happened, the world began to turn as normal, leaving behind your hollowed out body.

"...what?"

Cheeky smiled, Luffy repeated his words as if it was only the news, "I don't need a "girlfriend" I have a crew!"

The empty feeling in the pit of your stomach slowly filled with rage. First, he stood you up. Now? Now, he wants to pretend you guys aren't even dating!?

“Luffy, we're dating! What are you talking about? I asked you out almost three months ago!” You snapped, “Why did you even say yes to me if you didn't want a "girlfriend"?”

“I don't know,” He cocked his head to the side, “I just thought you wanted to be closer friends.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, “What?”

Luffy shifted in his sandals, clearly uncomfortable, “I thought you wanted to be my “girl” friend, not my “girlfriend”.”

“Are you joking?” Your skin felt red hot as if your whole being was ablaze, “You thought I wanted to be your “girl” friend!? Did it ever once occur to you that friends don't hold each other’s hands!?”

Luffy quickly retracted his hand from your grip, scratching his head in thought, “Not really.”

“Oh my god,” You couldn't tell if you were laughing or crying at this point, “This whole time you never thought we were together? Ever?!”

“I guess we are a bit closer than everyone else,” Luffy’s brows furrowed in thought.

“A bit?” You ran your fingers through your hair, “We spend every waking moment together! I've confided in you, you've confided with me. You know things about me no one else does!”

To his credit, Luffy looked ashamed, “I’m sorry, y/n. I guess…I just never noticed how you really felt.”

You rolled your tear filled eyes, “Obviously.”

“I can try if you want-”

“Forget it, Luffy,” You held your hands up in defeat, “Just forget it. Whatever you thought was going on here is over.”

Luffy grabbed your arm, “What! I don't want that!”

“You don't seem to want a lot of things,” You shrugged his grip off, “Including me.”

“y/n.”

You wiped your face clear of tears.

“We're done, Lu.”

☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *.

Roronoa Zoro

"Do I need to be a sword just to get a minute of your attention!?"

Three hundred seventy-six, three hundred seventy-seven, three hundred seventy-eight-

“Are you still counting?”

You rolled your eyes, “Yes, mom.”

Zoro ignored your annoyed response, preferring to continue his push ups below you. Huffing, you rested your chin on your hand. He had been going at this for hours now. You were starting to feel nauseous as your form jostled every time Zoro went up and down with you on his back.

“How much longer?”

Zoro grunted, “When I reach two thousand.”

“Two thousand!?”

Your sudden shout made Zoro shoot up quickly, knocking you off balance. Your criss-crossed form easily flew from Zoro’s back to the ground below. You fell hard, slamming your shoulder into the wood floor.

Hissing, you rubbed your now sore arm, “What the hell, Zoro!?”

“Shit.”

The moss head was quick to his feet, offering you a hand, “Dammit, you should've been more careful.”

You snatched his extended hand and scoffed, “I wasn't the one who moved so suddenly.”

Pulling you to your feet, Zoro continued to hold your hand, “I wasn't the one complaining so loudly.”

“I can’t help it. We’ve been here all day,” You played with his larger fingers, “Plus, you promised you'd explore the island with me today.”

You could hear Zoro grumble under his breath before sighing loudly, “Training is more important right now.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What, why?"

Your thoughts raced around in your head to find a reason for Zoro's sudden uptightness. You were quick to settle on striking golden eyes and a small dagger. Dracule Mihawk. He and Zoro had put on quite the show only weeks ago.

Rubbing Zoro's palm, you quirked a brow, "Are you still hung up about that Mihawk guy beating you?”

“I'm not hung up.”

You flinched at Zoro’s tone, “You clearly are.”

Quickly dropping your hand, Zoro turned away from you, “Listen it doesn't even matter what you think. You wouldn't understand. You're not a swordsman.”

“I'm not a swordsman but I'm definitely your girlfriend,” you snapped at his back.

“Just because you're my girlfriend doesn't mean you can control my training.”

“Just because you're a swordsman doesn't mean you can just dismiss me.”

The room filled with a silence thick enough to cut with a sword. You thought you might drown on land. Staring into Zoro's rigid back, you tried to manifest any form of response from him.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, Zoro rolled his shoulders and turned to face you. Your breath caught in your throat at his expression. It was dark, almost...menacing. It was a gaze he normally reserved scum marines and enemy pirates alike, but never for you.

“You're the one who's dismissing me!”

A forced laugh erupted from your mouth, “How am I dismissing you, moss head?” You crossed the space between the two of you, “By telling you to take one measly break?”

Zoro’s eyes bore into your own as if trying to find his next words. Grabbing your hand, he placed it on his bare chest, “Do you see this?”

You tensed at the feeling of the scar tissue, Mihawk.

“This...this scar is why I have to be stronger. For the crew. For Luffy,” Zoro squeezed your hand, “For you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, “Zoro, I didn't-”

“Maybe we should break up.”

You paused, mouth stuck open in shock, “...what?”

It felt like you had swallowed glass, pins and needles running down your esophagus into your stomach. But the glass still wasn't enough to fill the large pit beginning to form.

Gently, Zoro pushed your hand away from him, “This relationship,” he took a deep breath, “Might be too much of a distraction.”

You never really understood when people said it felt like their heart was being ripped out of their chest. But now? It felt like your whole chest cavity had been removed.

Slowly, hot tears began to cascad down your rosied cheeks, “You think I'm a distraction?”

Zoro paused, his internal conflicted evident on his face, “...yes.”

You clenched your teeth together tightly, “Screw you, Zoro! I can barely get you to pay attention to me when someone even mentions the word “sword” but I'm the distraction?!” You jammed a finger into his chest, avoiding his scar, “If you needed an excuse to break up with me so badly you could've at least chosen a good one!”

“I’m sorry, y/n,” Zoro favored staring at the ground, “But if I want to be the greatest swordsman I can't be with you.” His hand captured the one buried in his chest, "Not yet at least."

You ripped your hand away from him, "If not now, then never." Your eyes searched Zoro's, looking for any sign of regret, "Choose, Zoro."

"Its over, y/n," Massive arms pulled you into a warm hug, "I'm sorry."

Clutching onto him, you sobbed silently. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't he just have both?

"I love you."

“Fuck you.”

☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *.

Requests Open!

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lemonlinelights · 11 months

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Intervention

ao3

Summary: The turtles are worried about Casey Jr's recent behavior.

A short fic based off of somerandomdudelmao’s Cass Apocalyptic series

Casey Jr!” Mikey yelled. It was a type of shout heard on long car rides when a cow was spotted. Casey froze, his hand hovering over the door knob.

“Hi?” Casey asked. He turned around to face Mikey. Then he immediately regretted doing so. It wasn’t only Mikey that was there. Donnie and Leo had appeared quietly, flanking either side of Casey. It reminded him of that dinosaur movie they watched together to have him “better understand pop-culture”.

“Well um,” Casey turned around “I’ve gotta go-” he tried to make a break for it only to be met with the wall that is Raphael Hamato. Casey was surrounded.

“What, what is this, an intervention?” Casey joked. He was the only one who laughed.

“Precisely.” Donnie said. Casey’s eyes widened.

“We’re worried about you.” Raph said, hand on Casey’s shoulder. Reassuring, but also stopping Casey from bolting.

“Me?” Casey asked.

“Yes, you!” Leo exclaimed. “Who else would we be talking about?” He waved his arms around.

“…not me?” Raph’s brow furrowed.

“You haven’t been home at all.” Mikey said, officially opening the floodgates.

“We haven’t seen you eat.”

“You won’t talk to us.”

“Have you been sleeping at all?”

“You’re skittish.”

“And I know you’ve been stealing from my lab!” Donnie shouted.

“Also, you’ve been lying.” Leo finished. Casey rocked back and forth.

“Psh, me, lying?” Casey waved his hand as if to dismiss the idea.

“Does saying you have an uncle of all things ring any bells, Casey?” Leo asked, hands on his hips. Casey felt his heart sink.

“What Leo means to say is, we can help Casey, whatever it is that’s bothering you, us, April, Splinter, and…even Draxum.” Raphael explained, he squeezed Casey’s shoulder. Donnie rolled his eyes, but he didn’t scoff.

“Yeah!” Mikey exclaimed. “I can use my pizazz!” He said while finger gunning at Casey.

Casey couldn’t do this. What felt like an eternity to Casey looked like a blur to the others. He yanked himself out from under Raph’s hand, dodging Mikey trying to grab him.

“No!” Casey shouted. “No, you can’t help!”

“Yes we can!” Leo shouted back and God the way he tilted forward, arms opened wide, a determined look on his face. Casey choked back tears.

“You can’t bring them back!”

Everyone stilled.

“You look just like them.” Casey whispered. But that also wasn’t the full truth.

Sure Leo did what Uncle Tello called the mom stance but he didn’t do it with the same caring grin. Smile lines and crows’ feet missing from his face. Donnie rolled his eyes but it wasn’t the same playfulness. Mikey did finger guns but there wasn’t the same spark, literally and figuratively. And this Raph couldn’t hold him the same, they weren’t there yet. He wasn’t there yet with any of them, where an embracing hug was the default. They were so much alike but they were not the same turtles he knew. They were not his senseis.

All he wanted right now was a genuine Hamato hug. His Hamatos’ hugs. And Uncle Tello could do that. Uncle Tello was here. Uncle Tello was working towards a day where all of them could hug Casey again. Casey could do that. Casey could be here with them, his senseis.

“I can fix it.” Casey said. His hope poured out like a squashed oozesquito. Sad and beaten but still going.

“Huh?” Mikey said.

“Just you wait!” Casey exclaimed, running out of the lair, heels on fire.

“Casey, wait!” Leo started to go after him. One of Donnie’s mechanical limbs reached out and grabbed him.

“What would you even do?” Donnie asked. Leo didn’t know. He didn’t know. None of them know.

But Casey? Casey knew. Casey knew exactly what he was going to do. For once in his life he knew exactly what he wanted and he knew exactly how to get it.

Casey Hamato knows.

#the spacing on tumblr is so wacky #i try XD #cass apocalypse series #cass apocalyptic series #rottmnt casey junior #rottmnt fic #love cass' comic so much it is wonderful #the shoulder thing the turtles do in the comic #BUT PAINFUL >:D #heres hoping that the readmore works #drabble #my writing #angst

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mulberrimouse · 4 months

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This fic was supposed to be short and simple and stay like that but I got a little carried away...

Info and warnings!!: Friends to lovers, Andrew x Reader, no smut but HEAVY making out and teasing as well as cursing. Lots of praise and devotion, body worship. (Obviously. this is Andrew we're talking about), light degrading if you squint. Let me know if I missed anything!

Also, apologies for any spelling mistakes!

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

Oh, Halloween. Your favorite holiday. No obligation to get people gifts, scary movies, dressing up, so many different parties (only if you want), and candy. Tons of candy. You've always had a big sweet tooth so it surprises nobody when you go all out on buying bulk bags to keep around your house.

Speaking of bags of sweets, you were digging around in a bag you'd just gotten when your closest friend Andrew shot you a message.

"Hey, sweetie. When should I be over?"

As his name popped up on your screen, you tried not to let the term "friend" get to you. You've knon Andrew for quite some time now and have been head over fucking heels for him for most of it. He was always attractive but god help you. He was funny in a uniquely Andrew way, he was beyond kind and intelligent. He always tried his best to make time for you, even on tour. He was the sweetest man you'd ever met. And "sweetie". Lord the things that nickname did to you. He started calling you that after the 6th or 7th time he found a stash of candy in your cabinets.

"Around 7! I don't wanna stay up too late."

He liked the message and, you assumed, got ready for the party. It was a lowkey costume party with some drinks. You weren't a fan of huge parties but you enjoyed seeing your friends a lot. You spend around the kitchen, cleaning and setting out different liquor and alcohol, as well as some food and non-alcoholic drinks. Once it was all set up, you went upstairs to go put ok some makeup and the Freddy Cruger costume you picked out. You were elated when you found it. It was simple but cute.

Eventually, 7:30 rolls around and many of your close friends, as well as some of their own, are scattered around your house, talking and drinking. Someone took control of the speakers and put on some funky Halloween music that people started dancing to. There was still no sign of Andrew though. As you tried to stop yourself from anxiously checking your phone every 2 minutes, a vaguely familiar face popped up in front of you.

"Hey Y/N! It's David, from Clarissa's birthday. How have you been?"

"I've been okay!! I'm pretty busy with school and work. I'm happy that there's finally a break, though!"

"Yeah, yeah I can imagine. Anyway, who are you here with?"

"Nobody, actually!"

"Ohhhh... So no boyfriend or anything?"

You mentally roll your eyes but try to keep a polite smile. He's not Andrew, but he isn't too bad you suppose. It's just uncomfortable because you don't know him all that well. He's just a coworker of Clarissa's. However, it could he good. Maybe it'll help you move on. You can't just spend your time following Andrew like a lost puppy, right?

Right as you're about to tell him that you're single at the moment, someone else walks over.

"Hey, sweetheart! Sorry I'm late. The face paint took a while to dry."

You turned to see Andrew standing next to you. You didn't even respond before you leaned into him and gave him a big hug.

"Andy! I was worried about you." You looked up at the face paint he had done and nearly stopped breathing. White paint covered his face while black outlined and extended his lips, as well as surrounding his eyes with sharp, long points at the bottom. He was Eric Draven from The Crow. His hair was in a low messy bun of curls and he had a wide smile on his face. Seeing him pushed the idea of moving on out of your head entirely.

"You really are sweet, huh? There was no need to be worried."

You blush slightly and look down before turning back to David. Andrew looked at the table next to your scanning over the drink options as David began to talk.

"So, no boyfriend then?"

As soon as it left his mouth, Andrew coughed and glanced at him. You started to talk, wanting to explain that you weren't looking for anything but before you could say anything, one of David's friends called him over. He told you that he'd come find you later before he walked away.

For the next few hours, you and Andrew were practically attached to each other. He always had his hand in yours or around your waist. He also made sure to tell you not to drink too much because he knew how much you despised being hung over. Luckily, as the night passes, you managed to stay at a comfortable, tipsy point, not full on drunk.

Not so luckily, though, you found yourself having to make sure you weren't staring at Andrew for too long. Whether it be his hands holding his glass, or his eyes crinkling when he smiled. The worst was when he had his hand secure on your waist. You so badly wished it meant more than it did.

Unbeknownst to you, Andrew was feeling the exact same way. He kept glancing at you, his breath getting caught in his chest when you leaned into him or looked up to speak. He was hyper aware of the warmth of your body against him. Everything he wanted to do to you kept flashing through his mind and he quickly got more antsy. As he gave almost all his focus to not getting hard right behind you, you were blissfully unaware, just happy that he could be there. You were having a really good time until you felt him shift away from you.

You looked up at him, confused.

"Are you okay, Andy?"

He nodded and smiled down at you, so you turned around, unintentionally brushing your ass against him. You felt him through his pants and immediately, you felt yourself get hot. You definitely didn't want to assume that it was because of you, but just the idea make your legs weak. You decided to press yourself against him lightly and you felt his hand on your waist tighten and he pulled you closer, slightly aggressively. He leaned down and whispered in your ear.

"We're going to go upstairs."

He led you up the stairway and partially into the hall. His original plan was to go all the way to your room but he was too impatient. Before you even got close to your door, he yanked you to the side and pressed you up against the wall. He stared down at you, his breathing heavy and his eyes wild. He leaned down to be at eye level with you, his lips ghosting over yours. You felt his breath as he spoke.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, Andrew."

"Oh... Is that so?"

You giggled nervously and nodded with your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" He was making you a little light headed but you still understood the actual question. He wanted to make sure that you wanted this. You wanted him. You nodded again and gave him your best doe eyes when you wrapped your arms around his neck to try and pull him closer to you.

"No no darling. Use your words for me. I need to hear it."

"Please Andy... I want you."

He let out a low hum and his eyelids fluttered shut before he slammed his lips into yours. His left hand was gripping your hip and clawing at you, almost ferally, sure to leave marks while his other was cupping your face. Both your arms were wrapped around his neck but one snaked it's way up into his hair. You tugged at his roots and his hips bucked forward into you. Groans and whimpers were flowing steadily from the both of you. He slotted one of his legs between yours and you ground down.

You let out a moan, slightly muffled by his lips against yours. You pulled away to catch your breath. You kept moving your hips and a loud whine escaped you. He smiled down at you and used his left hand to push more pressure down.

"Good girl... Needy little thing. So pretty."

You whimpered and threw your head back against the wall.

"Fuck Andrew. Please- I need you..."

"Ohhh sweetie. Want me to fuck you with everyone down stairs?"

"Pleasepleasepleaseplease!"

"Shhhhhhh baby... Calm down."

He removed his leg and you nearly fell to the ground. He held you up and got down on his knees once he was sure you were steady. He lifted your sweater and started kissing across your stomach. Both of his hands now gripped your thighs and pulled you closed to him. He pushed your legs apart slightly and pressed his face into your clothed pussy.

"Fuck, need you so bad baby. So pretty. Just wanna fuck you and fuck you and fuck you. You want that? Hm?"

Your hands shot down and weaved through his hair so you could yank his hair back.

"Andrew. Please. Right now. I need you."

He grinned, his pupils dilated so much the color was nearly gone. After standing up, he kissed you again and grabbed your hand to lead you down the hallway...

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

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #smut #hozier smut #hozier x reader

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grandline-fics · 7 days

Text

Forget-Me-Not

DESCRIPTION: Sometimes things happen beyond our control. After an accident occurs your relationship with Zoro is turned on its head and changed forever.

WARNINGS: There'll be angst and fluff in this series but this part is mostly okay

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 1,526

A/N: This is the first chapter of a multi-part fic in honour of reaching 700 followers. I hope you all enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One(here) | Chapter Two | Chapter Three(coming soon)

———————

“Ugh how much further until we reach the new island?” Luffy pouted with his chin on the kitchen table. “We haven’t been anywhere in so long. I’m bored!” Abruptly he yelled out when Kanji’s heel connected sharply against his Captain’s skull, effectively righting the poor manners and making room to set the plates of food on the table for the evening’s meal.

“Shouldn’t be much longer.” Nami state, finally setting her charts aside to eagerly begin eating with everyone else. “Another couple days if the winds stick with us.”

“I wonder what kind of place it’ll be this time.” Usopp wondered idly. The last place you’d all stopped at had been so remote and small that it hadn’t amounted to much beyond restocking the ship. Hardly the stuff adventures were written about and certainly not enough to sate Luffy’s need for excitement which was the reason for his currently restless and dejected nature. You all hoped that he would be able to last another two days that Nami had predicted.

Personally you didn’t mind what kind of place you reached next, a calm relaxing trip would suit you just as well as an adrenaline pumping adventure. So long as you got to stretch your legs you were happy. As you slowly chewed you looked to the empty space beside you and a frown pulled at your lips. Zoro was late for dinner again and you didn’t need Chopper’s nose to know where he was.

With a quick ‘be right back’ to the others you rose from your place at the table and climbed to the crow’s nest, peeking your head through the hatch to stare at your partner as he worked out, so focussed that he hadn’t noticed the time. Sensing another presence appearing was enough to make him set his monstrous weights down and turned to look at you. “You still deciding if you were coming in or not?” He asked as he grabbed a towel to wipe away the sweat from his face.

“As much as I love the show, I’m too hungry to take you up on that offer.” You answered with a grin. “You coming to dinner or do you want something sent up? Just keep in mind the longer you take to decide the more time Luffy has to steal both our portions.”

“You go on and eat.” He told you with a small chuckle. “I’ll clean up here first and then come down.” With a smile you nodded and dropped the hatch, returning to the kitchen in time to salvage your meal before Luffy set his sights on it. The rest of the evening progressed as usual for you and the rest of the Sunny up until you wearily returned to you and Zoro’s shared quarters after your watch.

After you changed you smirked at your boyfriend who was relaxed and breathing deeply, anyone else would truly believe he was sleeping soundly. You however knew he was awake. It had taken a while for you to notice the subtle giveaways but now you were an expert at it. With a tired groan, you slipped into the bed and smirked when his arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you close. “There a reason you’re still awake?” You asked, laying your head against his shoulder while happily soaking up all the warmth he had.

“Was for a while but then I knew you’d be finishing your watch so I stayed up.” He explained lowly, watching as a sleepy smile pulled at your lips. “What’s that look for?”

“Just love how sweet you are for me.” You grinned, leaning up to press a soft kiss against his cheek. “Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone.”

“You better not, now get to sleep.” Zoro instructed with a smirk. In the silence he listened for the telltale signs you’d fallen asleep before allowing his own consciousness to slip away and claim the rest he needed.

————

As to be expected with Nami’s estimation, the Sunny docked at the island in two days and the entire crew all but let out a sigh of relief to see Luffy excitedly leap from the railing and onto the soft golden sand of the beach. As he whooped, bounced and sprinted along the shore you all looked at each other. Now came the decision on who would be the one to keep an eye on the endless ball of energy you’d all chosen to follow for the rest of your lives at sea. After quiet deliberation, Franky, Sanji and Zoro decided to go with Luffy. You went with Usopp and Chopper into the forest you could spot nearby in search of fresh plants and resources to stock up with medicinal and experimental ingredients. Robin and Nami decided to remain on the ship to relax and sunbathe with Brook staying behind with them. With the groups set you all parted ways. Lightly you squeezed Zoro’s hand in a tender but silent and subtle goodbye. As you watched him go you couldn’t help but laugh softly, glad that your trip into the forest with Usopp and Chopper would be easier handled compared to Luffy who had weeks of built up energy to get out of his system.

After a long competition on who could hunt the biggest beast to restock the ship’s meat preserves that resulted in a draw but lengthy argument, Luffy decided he wanted to eat now no longer caring about a winner.

“I’d say the others should be back at the ship and will be hungry too.” Sanji noted, looking at the sky to see the day had progressed a lot longer than they’d originally thought and the previous bright day had begun to darken with a growing blanket of cloud appearing. “Come on, with this we’ll have a feast. After we’ve eaten we can explore some more.”

However by the time they appeared on the beach, they were surprised to see the sky had darkened considerably and the calm summer-like breeze had picked up into a cold, strengthening gale. As the rain began to fall and thunder rumbled above them, Nami hurried towards the group.

“Did you see the others on your way?” she asked desperately, shielding her eyes from the falling rain to look towards the forest you, Usopp, and Chopper had headed towards that morning.

When the first lightning flash of lightning split through the sky Zoro felt panic set into his blood and immediately broke into a run, desperate to find you and his friends. Frantically he cut through the trees and knowing he was in the right area he began to call out for you, Usopp and Chopper, trying his best to yell louder than the storm that was raging. Another flash of lightning hit a tree near Zoro and he leapt out of the way in time to avoid the scorched and splintered trunk as it crashed to the ground. This was far too dangerous, Zoro thought as he continued to hurry through the terrain that would have been confusing to navigate without the storm. Filling his lungs he bellowed out your name, only to feel a brief sigh of relief build in his chest to hear a voice respond. But the relief turned to dread once more when he realised it was Usopp who screamed out again. “Zoro hurry!”

————

Your body flared painfully and your mind was hazy as you began to come to. A weak, strangled gasp broke through your lips as you forced your eyes open and flex your fingers, only to feel the pain spike through your limbs. Looking around you felt fear to see you didn’t recognise your surroundings and you flinched at the sound of the storm raging. Feeling only the instinct to be get somewhere safe and recognisable, you focused all the strength and stubbornness you had to get to your feet but after trying to run you only ended up hurtling to the ground again.

A yelp of pain and frustration broke through you and after berating yourself for literally running before you could walk you did all you could to rise once more. Already exhausted and in agony you limped as best you could, blindly feeling your way through the confusing maze of strange scenery. Shakily you continued to tell yourself to keep going in the hopes something familiar would show itself soon.

Cold rain pelted your skin and the wind whipped at your face as you looked around desperately. With widened eyes you found yourself as far as you could go, nails biting into the wood as you stared dark, swirling water. A hand fell on your shoulder and you spun with a scream.

“What are you doing out here?” He asked with brows furrowed in concern, his voice only just being able to be heard. “Come on, we need to get you dried off before you get sick on top of injured.” The stranger urged but you refused to move.

“Who are you?” You asked weakly. You were confused and scared and that only grew when your question made the man’s expression break into one of shock and worry. “Where am I?”

#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece fic #zoro x reader #zoro x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece scenario #one piece fanfiction #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro #ronoroa zoro

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bagsyy · 8 months

Text

ONLY FOOLS RUSH IN

warnings! 18+ mdni, fem!reader, oral (m receiving), slight throatfucking/overstim if you squint, cum swallowing, lovesick atsumu. 1.6k words not proofread at all because if i look at it again i’ll throw up. happy birthday atsumu<3

atsumu’s brain has felt hazy for a while now. he couldn’t exactly pinpoint when it had started though. he didn’t have the mental fortitude to. he’s not sure if it began when he saw a glimpse of you getting ready in the bathroom. you were sitting atop the counter wearing one of his shirts as you curled your eyelashes. you pretended to scold him for daring to look at you before the wedding.

“it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, dummy. if we ever get divorced it’s gonna be your fault” you say, hitting the tube of mascara against the heel of your palm.

“want me to piss with my eyes closed?” atsumu snaps his head at you. “i’m not that talented, baby.”

“you know what? i think i’m actually getting cold feet. maybe we shouldn’t get married.” atsumu is silent for a moment before he leans back and pokes his head through the crack in the door. “really? they seemed pretty warm to me when you were beggin me to book the next flight here. ‘i just wanna get married, tsumu! i don’t wanna wait! i’ll marry you right now.’” he mocks you in a high-pitched voice.

“that is not what i sound like! can you save the theatrics for when you’re not actively pissing?” you side eye him, unable to prevent yourself from letting out a soft laugh. “m’trying to get ready, atsumu. i don’t wanna look ugly when we get married in front of an elvis impersonator.”

“sweetheart, we both know that’s impossible” atsumu says as he walks to the sink next to where you’re sat atop the bathroom counter. “you tryin to look good for another man? you’re killin me” atsumu’s honey colored eyes lock with yours, and you swear he’s never looked more lovesick in his life.

it was only after that, he decided, that you were really killing him.

it was his idea to do a “first look” in the hotel room before the two of you left to get hitched. his argument was that a lot of people get married in las vegas, what if he loses you in the crowd and he accidentally marries the wrong person because he can’t remember the dress you were wearing?

your phone is propped up on the window, hidden from atsumu’s view but still in the perfect position to capture this moment. the two of you are standing back to back, and you can feel him getting antsy as he clenches and unclenches his hands, fiddling with the sleeves of his suit. it’s cute, really, how soft atsumu gets when he’s with you. his heart never ceases to pound every time you take his hand in yours and squeeze it three times. when you kiss the crease between his furrowed eyebrows when his stress is visibly consuming him. when it’s 3 in the morning and you can’t sleep, so you softly whisper atsumu’s name until he wakes up and you beg him to stay up with you so you have someone to talk to.

“okay. we turn around on three.” you reach behind you, searching for atsumu’s hand with your own. his fingers intertwine with yours as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, feeling the absolute rock on your left hand brush against his knuckles. “one, two, three” you turn around to face each other, and atsumu looks like he’s about to pass out. the two of you are completely unable to form any coherent thoughts, just softly laughing in shock as you take each other in.

atsumu looks handsome as ever, messy blonde hair styled into something more neat and presentable. he looks like a husband, you think to yourself. you imagine a day where the two of you are sat out on your front porch, watching the sun setting over the horizon as soft beams of light glimmer on the laugh lines and crows feet adorning atsumu’s face. and you swear you’ll love him then just as much as you do right now.

atsumu smoothes his hands over his suit jacket. “damn baby, i’m feelin a little underdressed next to you.” you don’t miss how his voice quivers ever so slightly. “you didn’t tell me you were gonna look this gorgeous.”

your hand is still in his, and he lifts your arm up to get a better look at you. your dress is simple, satin, knee length with a slight v-neckline. it’s not the most intricate dress, but it’s timeless. elegant. you’re wearing a simple gold necklace, one that atsumu gave you, that sits pretty on your collarbones. his favorite part about your entire getup is, by far, your veil. it’s secured to your hair with a pretty white bow and stops just a little bit past your shoulders. atsumu wipes the smallest tear from the corner of his eyes and sniffles a little bit before pulling you into him, wrapping his arms around you. in typical atsumu fashion, his hand slides down to grab a handful of your ass and you jump in surprise. “c’mon let’s make you a miya” atsumu grins.

the next two hours are a complete blur. you were all satin and soft skin, and atsumu felt like he was going to pass out at any given moment. he hardly remembers anything, really. he’s extremely grateful that you found a chapel that included a recording of the ceremony in the cost, because the only thing he can remember at this very moment is the man in the pink suit and aviator glasses telling him to kiss his bride. he’s been ready to marry you for nearly as long as he’s loved you, and there was nothing else going on inside his little brain besides making you his wife.

but now, here in this hotel room, he’s sure he’s been lobotomized.

“atsumu” you pout as you pull away from his cock, resting your head against his toned thigh. “you’re gonna rip my veil.” your hand squeezes his sensitive tip, demanding his attention.

“shit, shit baby m’sorry. just tryin to hold it for you” he throws his head back into the pillow, upset by the sudden loss of warmth from your mouth. “i’ll buy you another one just—please. please baby” he whines. “what kinda wife would leave me hangin like that?” he peers down at you, grinning ever so slightly. it’s amazing how he still manages to be cocky when you have him like this.

“what kind of husband-” you pause, softly nipping his inner thigh, placing a feather light kiss on it as an apology, “-rips his wife’s veil because he can’t keep still when his dick is in her mouth?”

“said m’sorry” he whines, throwing one of his arms over his eyes. you place more kisses along his inner thigh, slowly making your way back to his cock. you kiss the base of his shaft, trailing all the way up to his leaky tip. it jumps with every single kiss. “do something. please, angel.”

you give in, lightly licking the underside of his dick before taking him into your mouth. you hollow your cheeks around him and he bucks into you, fat tip hitting the back of your throat. atsumu groans as you swallow around him. you try your best not to gag, but atsumu is too fucking big. no matter how many times you’ve done this, it still takes you a second to become fully accustomed to him.

“god damn baby, shit” atsumu’s lower abdomen begins to twitch as you continue to bob your head. “so pretty. y’look so pretty with my cock in your mouth. so fuckin’ messy.” and he’s right. between the heated makeout session that led up to this and the sheer amount of spit that’s on atsumu’s dick, what’s left of your crimson red lipstick is smeared all over the both of your faces, on his thighs, near the base of his cock. and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

your hand left hand strokes what can’t fit in your mouth as you continue to swipe your tongue on the underside of his fat pink tip, and your right hand moves to cup his balls. he looks so fucking pretty like this. you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every pretty sound your husband makes. you moan around him, and his hand grips your hair (and veil) just a little bit tighter. atsumu is whimpering at this point, face beet red as he looks down at you.

“gonna make me cum. please make me cum. you gonna swallow, pretty girl?”

you let out a soft hum, giving him an unspoken “yes.” he doesn’t last much longer after that, spilling his seed into your mouth with a deep groan. he moans your name and babbles something about how much he loves his pretty wife, how you’re so perfect, so good for him. you swallow everything he gives you, and you kiss his tip as you take him out of your mouth. not being able to resist the urge, you start to jerk him off, and he lets out a choked sob.

“okay, okay. s’enough. it’s enough baby, fuck” he tugs on his blonde hair, back arching.

“oh? is it, though?” you coo at him, admiring the way he looks right now. he constantly does the same shit to you, eating you out until your legs lock and you can’t stop shaking. but when he’s the one on the receiving end, he’s far whinier.

atsumu grabs you by your wrist and pulls you on top of him before you can overstimulate him any further. you yelp as you fall onto his chest, placing your head on his shoulder. “wanna kiss my wife now” he pouts, tilting his head to kiss you. he can taste himself on your tongue and it makes him sigh into your mouth. he runs his fingers down your back, tracing the curvature of your spine. “that was some of your best work, mrs. miya.”

#remember when i said trashy vegas wedding w atsumu?#remember #this post is sponsored by orange celsius and za #sorry for making atsumu so pathetic it’s because he is pathetic #thank you to my baby leah for entertaining my atsumu brainrot for the past month #haikyuu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #atsumu miya smut #en ess eff double you

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bomber-grl · 3 months

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Leo Valdez x Child of Hecate ☾

Pairing(s): Leo Valdez x Gn!Reader

Leo was most definitely intimidated by you at first sight 😭

I mean all attractive people are, not to mention how mysterious and cool you seemed

Leo knows a baddie when he sees one

Well anyway, the only way the two of you could have possibly crossed paths was by someone else or you orchestrating the whole thing

Ofc again, it’s my girl Annabeth

She’s been at camp the longest and has a reputation so ofc she’s the one who always introduces reader and love interest

Well, it was only after annabeth needed help from the Hecate cabin and Leo was involved because he was the problem

An invention of his went rogue (luckily not because he built it wrong) but yk

Well once you do annabeth thanks you in her own way and when Leo has the chance to speak he just..can’t?!!

I mean not only do you seem cool but gah damn u look like a goth baddie

Home boy is stunned and can only manage a stupid as joke/ pick up line which even he asks himself, why???

Well while hes internally committing he heard the least expected thing

Which was you of all people laughing

You’re usually quiet and kept to yourself so seeing you like this was like when the clouds move and lets the sun shine in-

Cringe ahh mf , really this generations Shakespeare

Well he’s so shocked then the two of you just stand there like 🕴️🕴️

And if he manages to have his inventions go rogue every other day and needs your help specifically, well let’s just say it’s a coincidence

The two of you inevitably get close and the more he hangs out with you the more he falls in love

On surface level you’re dark, mysterious and most of all, intimidating

But now? You’re so easy going, it’s like the two of you have known each other since fetus days

Eventually you two get together because of an adventure that ended with you two getting closer and more open.

Once Leo is your boyfriend- he’s insufferable

I mean he’s his usual goofy, flirty(?) self and he’s so cringe but you love it all the same

Best believe Leo is head over heels for you and when it comes to your magic and stuff he’s particularly keen

especially when you randomly give him a crystal necklace for whatever reason and suddenly you hear Leo going around camp casually mentioning that his witchy s/o got him something

Which, yk endearing but still a lil embarrassing

Leo is always there to help you when you’re making potions, spells, it doesn’t matter

I mean at times he’s a bit spooked at what you can do but he’s still by your side regardless

Now, when it comes to your family on your Greek side- he’s scared

I’m mean, you’re probably scared too depending on if you’re a guy considering how basically every daughter/ female family of Hecate hates men

(You’re probs exempt cuz ur mom Hecate but still)

Bro is spooked, he does NOT want to be a guinea pig

And speaking of your mom, Leos timbers and shivered at the thought of meeting her and her not liking him

I mean it’s not all that important but depending if you’re especially fond of your mom then he’s shivering and timbering

Anyway, Leo is so lucky to have you by his side especially since sometimes he can forget how strong you are

(Also ik hecate is a minor goddess in the books and her children are shown to be weak but i refuse to acknowledge that as child of Hecate)

If you ever try and read his palm or do his birth chart he’ll probably just nod along and not know what you’re talking about 💀

Gotta love Leo

And if any animals that are sacred to Hecate approach you two he’s scared shitless (looking at you snakes)

Not to mention how crows can literally speak, no thank you

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writefightandflightclub · 2 months

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Seven (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list).

Author’s note: Phew! Well, the last couple of chapters were a lot, hey? I wonder what will happen next, tee hee! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. You give me life! ILY :-*

Word count: 8.6k for this part.

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

“Hey,” you croak, as Frankie cracks the door to your room, finding you laying in the glum light. You’re on top of the covers and hugging your pillow to your chest, body curled around the white mass like you’re trying to form a human s’more.

Of course, you can’t sleep. You’re just slumped there, despondent, blinking into the crow black dark. Your tears have subsided, at least. But you feel sapped. Like you barely have any energy to feel anything anymore.

“Hey,” Frankie returns, dipping the mattress as he comes to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Benny send you?” You had insisted Benny go and get some shut eye, after comforting you for the better part of half an hour. There were hugs and warm tea and threats to handle Pope if he’d done something to deserve it. He hadn’t, you’d explained. He hadn’t done a damn thing worse than you, at least.

“Negative.”

You hum neutrally and scooch your body up so that you’re sitting with your back to the headboard, knees drawn up around the pillow you still cling to like a security blanket.

“I’m gonna say something, okay?” Frankie says firmly, and you brace, fully expecting to receive some tough love. You note with relief, however, that as the man turns his head towards you, his eyes are nothing but soft. “You and me. We’re going back to your sister’s tomorrow. Get you some space.”

Space from him. That much is implied.

“No, Frankie.” Your throat tightens. All you’ve had is space. For months. The last thing you need is more.

He places a hand on your knee, his tone firm and almost paternal. He’s going to make a damn good father, you think, with a swell of pride. “That’s what we’ll do. It’s not going to be like this anymore. We’re gonna stop taking chunks out of each other.”

All you had wanted to do was to be close again. You’d never meant-

“-Frankie.”

“Just think about it.”

You nod, and Frankie pats your knee. Stifles a yawn. Presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. He looks wiped. With a gust of breath he stands, preparing to leave. “G’night, chiquita. Get some rest, alright?”

“Yeah. And Frankie?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m sorry, by the way.”

“What for?”

You sweep your hand through the air. “For the drama. Et cetera.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you know…” You cast a sidelong glance towards the black pane of the window. “Is… he coming back?”

The man drags his tongue along his lip. He does that when he’s uncertain. “He’ll be back.”

“How do you know?” You don’t remember the last time you felt or sounded so small.

“Because he’s a fucking glutton for punishment,” Frankie attempts a lopsided smile, his cheek tugging on the corner of his mouth; but it drops when he realises his joke hasn’t landed. “Just… try to get some rest. Okay?”

You nod, and you watch Frankie leave, his face murky but kind through the shadows as he gently tugs your door closed behind him.

When he’s gone, you wait a moment for his footsteps to retreat and then you cross to the window, cracking it open far enough that you can hear the gentle shush of the waves. Far enough that you could hear either the sound of a truck pulling away in the dead of night, or the front door clicking gently closed, perhaps.

You lie back on top of the bed covers, flat on your back, and your limbs stretched out like a starfish. You lie with your eyes open, staring at the ceiling - exhausted, but wide awake.

And, after who knows how long like this, you hear footsteps tramping on to the porch. You hear the front door gently being latched, and the soft pad of someone travelling up the stairs. You hear the footsteps pause outside of your door for a moment and you hold your breath. You imagine an outstretched fist, primed to knock, but you dismiss this as wishful thinking. You’ve done a lot of that lately. Too much.

Then, finally, you hear him shuffle into his room, clicking the door shut behind him.

Only then - when you know he’s back - can you sleep.

And, as you drift off, your thoughts of him merge with the soporific sounds of the waves.

You’d doubt, with how much you’ve ached for him already, that you could hurt anymore, but you know fine well that it’s possible. After all, the waves break over and over, don’t they?

They break, and they break, and they break.

***

The following morning is an awkward affair. Everyone is tetchy, and even after a very necessary lie-in, residual grumpiness abounds.

It figures. A shouting match and a rude awakening will do that.

Still, the day must go on. You get knocked down? You keep moving.

Will, ever an early riser and a true hero, brews up the first pot of coffee. Starts cooking up some breakfast, and, one by one, you and the boys filter downstairs, chasing the scent of sustenance.

“Don’t even,” you say to Tom the moment he opens his mouth, the room falling silent as you waddle sleepily downstairs, gravitating straight towards the caffeine and the relative safety of Will. Frankie, Benny, and Tom are sat around the dining table, and, you note -because of course you do- that Santiago is glaringly absent.

Maybe Frankie advised him not to come downstairs just yet. Perhaps he’s simply sulking. Or sleeping. Or avoiding you. Perhaps, maybe, possibly a million and one things, which you’ll never know the reasoning behind.

It doesn’t even matter now.

You’re done trying to figure him out. Since when did that ever get you anywhere useful?

Instead then, you attempt to refocus. To divert your attention away from your sun, and towards the wider constellation of stars you are proud to call your squad. And, of course, to your plate of breakfast - that deserves attention too.

The one thing you refuse to focus on, for the moment, is the elephant in the room.

Still, you glance -briefly- towards the mouth of the stairs.

“What else is new with you then, Benny boy? Seeing anyone?” You reach for just about the only topic you hadn’t covered with him yesterday evening - when you had been trying ever so valiantly to distract yourself from Santiago and all that he entails.

In response, his baby blues dance with mischief and he grins, raising one arm to pop a bicep in celebration even as he shovels forkfuls of scrambled eggs into his mouth with the other. “I had myself a date the other night.” He probably flexes in his sleep, this man.

“She stay for breakfast, Benjamin?” Frankie interjects, finally managing to be vocal again now that he’s been provided with the sweet hit of his second mug of caffeine.

“‘Catfish. She was breakfast.”

You hear Will groan from over at the stove. “Too much information, Ben.”

Ben, meanwhile, looks entirely unapologetic.

“Whatever happened to being a gentleman, huh? The way your Granny raised you?” Tom enquires with a thin smile. “Thought gentlemen didn’t kiss and tell.”

“Oh, but I was a gentleman, Redfly. Let her finish first ‘n’ everythin’.” Benny offers a shit-eating grin, and you are once again grateful for the distraction as the room descends into fond bickering, the back-and-forth culminating in Will whipping his sibling with a rolled tea towel for continuing to overshare, accidentally catching Tom in the crossfire.

“Those dirty-minded individuals asked the questions, man,” Benny defends, jabbing his finger around in a circle at the rest of you in accusation. “They always wanna know what action I’m getting. Hell, no-one ever asks me what I’m readin’.”

You snicker.

You glance -briefly- towards the mouth of the stairs.

“Of course not. We’re trying to live vicariously through you, man,” Tom interjects. “We don’t want to vicariously read things.”

“Especially not the pretentious shit you read, Benjamin,” Frankie digs, before collecting up the plates and conveying them over to the sink. And, given a natural lull in the conversation, Benny takes the opportunity to grab your attention.

“You still up for training later, hon? I’m tabled for a beastly session this afternoon.”

It briefly crosses your mind to wonder where Benny gets his abundance of energy. You, on the other hand, can’t even be bothered to trace that train of thought through to completion. “Yeah. Maybe, Ben. I, uh, need to drive into town this morning though.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, with a mouthful of streaky bacon, swivelling his cap to sit backwards on his head as though that will help him pay better attention to you.

You glance once more -only briefly, of course- towards the mouth of the stairs.

“Mmm-hmm. Need to grab something from the pharmacy.” You blink, attempting to look as innocent as possible, but your face burns with a flare of heat, and you can’t help but scratch your nose self-consciously.

You feel as though they all know the purpose of your trip - somehow - even though that’s impossible. And, you pray that even if they do, that they will at least have the courtesy to let it slide.

Unfortunately though, you suddenly remember that Tom exists, and that therefore, you’re likely not getting away with it that easy.

“You and Pope all out of condoms or something?” he guffaws around the lip of his coffee mug as he takes a deep swig.

“Tom,” Frankie warns, subtly shaking his head as he comes to retake his seat by you.

Oddly though, Tom’s comment barely even manages to irk you. You pat your defender on the arm. “Frankie. I’m fine.”

He surveys you regardless, to be sure, and you are grateful for it. Frankie knows fine well that Tom has a talent for rubbing you up the wrong way. The two of you have never quite seen eye to eye.

“See, she can handle herself just fine,” Tom reminds him pointedly. He never did like the way the rest of the boys fussed so damn hard over you. His tone has the veneer of light-heartedness. “You can take a joke, right?”

Your lips twitch around some halfway cruel retort, but, turns out, you truly have no ire left today. You’re all out - and besides, you’re not looking to burn any more bridges than you have already on this trip.

“Listen,” you begin sincerely, cradling your mug of coffee between your palms. Deciding to nip this in the bud before it spirals. “Are we good, Tom? I was a little bit hot-tempered yesterday. I’m sorry.”

Once again, you glance towards the mouth of the stairs. Your gaze lingers a fraction longer this time, until it ticks back to Tom.

He looks at you levelly for a moment over the rim of his mug, before his brown eyes begin to shine with a dull, metered-out warmth. Nothing like the warmth of your sun, of course, but shining on your more brightly than Tom had deigned to in a long while, at least. “Sure we are. So long as you don’t wake me up in the middle of the night again. I need my beauty sleep.”

You hold your palms up in rare surrender. “You got it.”

“What was all that about, anyway?” Tom needles, shuffling forward in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. Beside you, you can sense Frankie and Benny ready to knock him back should he dare to overstep. You wonder suddenly if you’re too harsh on the guy. If you need to loosen off, be a little kinder.

You wrap both hands more tightly around your coffee now, letting the warmth bleed through into your interlaced fingertips and the steam rise under your chin. “The usual,” you dismiss, not wanting to go into specifics. That would involve replaying it all. Would call for a digging out of the shrapnel lodged in your chest - an activity far too involved to undertake alongside a lazy breakfast. “Sometimes a storm is what it takes to clear the air, right?”

“And?” Tom cranes forwards a little more. You clock Frankie’s nostrils flaring subtly in annoyance. “Is the air clear now?”

You know what Tom’s asking. Was anything resolved? Are you two done?

Is all this over?

Apparently curious, all three of the men direct their gaze toward you, keenly awaiting your answer. You even reach for one -an answer- but you come up lacking, and your uncertainty carves a notch into your brow. Makes your mouth go dry. Your gaze flicks to the mouth of the stairs, and this time, you can’t look away from it. “I…”

Thankfully, unfortunately, you are saved and damned all at once as Santiago finally appears. Emerging from the spot you’ve been glancing intermittently at all through breakfast.

All the faces in the kitchen turn abruptly towards him as his careless footfalls sound out, and suddenly his eager skip down the stairs entirely loses steam. His pace slows, dragging to a dead halt by the time he has reached the base of the stairs.

Your eyes go as wide as they can, through no fault of your own, and despite being the focus of the whole group’s attention, Santiago stares straight ahead at you. Of course he does. Only you, as though there is no-one else in the room to acknowledge.

“Morning,” he addresses, solely to you, his expression impassive, yes - but certainly not harsh. Not angry.

“Morning,“ you respond, as brightly as possible, your eyes still wide and unblinking, and it is a little unnerving as every other head in the room swivels simultaneously around to face you. Oh good. Because you’d worried this might be awkward. You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “Will has bacon,” you offer stiffly, your whole body so full of tension it feels brittle; like it could snap.

As if the product of some hive mind, the heads swivel in unison back towards Santiago. He doesn’t drop his gaze from you, however. Doesn’t even blink - just looks between your left eye and right repeatedly. “Fabulous. Thanks.”

Sure. Okay. This is totally normal. Except… you don’t think you’ve ever heard Santiago describe something as “fabulous” in his life. But why not start now, hey? This is fine.

You watch him turn. Walk towards Will and the stove top, and when his gaze finally drops from yours it is like the taut line which was drawn across the room finally snaps, blissfully allowing some of the tension to sag with it.

“Good timing, Garcia. Here.” Will doesn’t miss a beat, transferring the spatula into Santiago’s hand and shuffling him seamlessly into his position before he can clock what’s happening. “I’m officially passing the torch of Breakfast Duty into your capable hands.“

“Uh. Sure,” Santiago obliges, obediently beginning to move the sizzling strips around the pan as Benny stands, already crowding him to jostle for seconds. Will slaps the waffled tea towel across Santiago’s shoulder for good measure too, and you die a little inside at how goddamn domestic he looks. Especially since he’s still wearing his fluffy sheepskin slippers. Rocking his bedhead of gently tousled, greying curls.

It makes you yearn.

“Want a ride into town, soldier?” Will calls to you across the space, jutting his chin up at you and snapping you from your stupor. Immediately, you scrape your chair back, the gentle throb of nerves making you eager to animate. Eager to jump on any excuse to get the hell out of there.

“Yes! Please!”

You scoop up your plate and cutlery, and you attempt to take Frankie’s to the sink too. That is, until he protectively winds his arm around it like a bear defending its cub and begins actively batting your hand away. You guess he wants second helpings too.

You sidle over to the stove then, where Santiago is dedicating himself to his latest occupation with vigour, Benny equally invested in hovering with his empty plate - and not above begging for scraps.

“Where to in town?” Santiago asks in a hushed voice, his thick eyebrow arcing. You dismiss your plate into the dish bowl to soak, and he pauses his spatula duties momentarily to await your response.

“Pharmacy.” You look at him pointedly.

His face crumples with something resembling apology. Or - perhaps more likely - regret. “Okay.”

Your eyes lock for a moment, and he looks so different to you this morning than he had in the dead of the night. It is more than the gentle morning sun giving a soft glow to his features, the dusting of late summer freckles on his nose popping in the light. It is more than the wholesome appearance of him cooking up breakfast. More than the hush in his tone, and the way his chin dips down, making his eyes look big and round and gentle as he looks at you from beneath his long sweep of lashes.

You suspect that he is purposefully making himself soft. Blunting his harsh edges so deliberately and so entirely that you fear he will sluice to the floor like the insides of a cracked egg. “You, uh… You need anything? Need me to…?”

Santiago. Honey. You’ve done quite enough already.

“No,” you say, but the word doesn’t audibly make it out the first time around. You clear your throat. “No. Thank you.”

“Okay.”

Your gaze dips to the dried, rogue fleck of toothpaste right on the corner of his mouth. You can’t explain why, but this tiny, human detail makes your chest ache. “Talk later?”

He forces his sober expression to twist into a halfway smile. His eyes grow big and earnest, that cup of coffee gaze gently warming you. “Okay.”

Don’t, you inwardly plead with him. Don’t give me hope. Don’t break me again, Santiago.

A niggle plays at your brow. It’s odd, really. You remember the words and venom spat from each of your mouths yesterday. Of course you do. But you can no longer feel the all-consuming ire that came along with them. That part -that feeling- is absent. Every scrap of anger consumed. It seems as alien to you as the raging storm must feel to the clear morning which follows.

And so, you can’t help it. Really can’t help it. You dip forwards to kiss Santiago, softly. Right on the point of his beautifully high cheekbone, giving his tea-towel adorned shoulder a light squeeze.

You leave, then, to the sight of that subtle crimson flush darkening his cheeks, your gesture evidently both confounding and flustering him.

You leave too, to the sound of Benny yelling “Look alive, Pope! Don’t burn my goddamn bacon!”. The spatula has gone limp in his hand as Santiago’s gaze trails after you, and the tension is once again pulled taut like a string across the room. You imagine a festival of blush red balloons tied all along it, rising and dancing like your hope.

You leave, with an answer to Tom’s question.

You and Santiago? Is it over?

No. It’s not done.

But you are done with being angry.

You’re done breaking, and no longer will you throw yourself against those rocks.

***

The time away from the house was useful, and the scenes of the open coast slipping by smoothed your roughened edges out like a tossed, worn pebble. The salt-saturated air humming through your wound-down window had you drinking in deep, energising lungfuls. Then, there was Will’s steady, reassuring drawl, and all the feelings of security that came along with it.

Steady, dependendable, straightforward Will. You always knew where you stood with him.

At least, that’s who he had always been to you. Not the volatile, ticking time bomb you’d heard he’d become since he’d gotten out. Since he’d almost choked a man out in the tinned produce aisle.

It was good to have time to talk with him. You were endlessly glad to hear the ways Will was moving forward. You were glad -first and foremost- for him, of course; but you couldn’t deny it bolstered your own hope too. To know that there was a route out? A path onward - even when some things attempted to drag you back? It felt good.

Speaking of things which dragged you to them, you were also grateful that Will didn’t press you (too much) on Santiago-shaped matters. In fairness, at this point the whole squad is probably sick to death of the topic. Regardless though, it was refreshing to talk about other things. About Will’s new life. His bizarro public speaking gig. His worry for Benny, as an unfailingly attentive and loyal big bro. His insistence that the “kid” is not living up to his full potential.

Benny’s doing fine, you had assured him. Benny’s… buoyant.

So, in sum, it was safe to say that despite everything, by the time you had arrived back to the house you’d felt decompressed. It made you wonder if - maybe - last night’s storm really had succeeded in clearing the air. Of course, that depended on Santiago too, and where he was at today. Whether he had any more drama brewing, up in that pretty head of his.

From his vibe this morning though? You had gotten the sense that he was oh so tired too.

It didn’t change anything of course. The fighting. The fucking. Not really. Not any of it. The anger, once given its release valve, had simply moved through you like weather. It had turned out, it was all mostly bluster. Ephemeral. Shifting. And it couldn’t touch the truth of things, could it? The permanence and depth of your love for him? Not really.

It did change something in you though, that unforgiving storm. If nothing else, it had made you acutely aware of how powerless you are. Your weather cannot move the mountains, and Santiago is as stubborn and immoveable as a wall of rock.

You’d believed, at one time, that perhaps you could succeed in shifting him. Encouraging him. Convincing him.

But now you know for sure.

The only way he’s running into your arms is of his own accord. In his own good time.

When he’s ready.

If he ever is, of course; ready. And on that topic, you’re less and less sure that he ever will be. That Santiago will ever be ready to be loved by you.

It’s sad in one way to realise that. But in another way, it’s freeing. To give up. To stop trying to shape things into what you’d hoped they could be, and to simply let things be whatever they are. To make peace with the truth of things. And peace? It may sound counterintuitive, but as a soldier, peace is all you’d ever really wanted.

Perhaps that’s why you feel calm as you pace down the track back to the house. Why there’s a spring in your step as you fix up a sandwich for yourself and Will, heading out across the dunes to where the boys laze by that frilled edge of ocean. Perhaps you feel calm because you really have exhausted all of your options.

Because there’s truly nothing else you can do.

Because it’s out of your control.

Because you cannot move mountains.

And so, when you join the group and Santiago flashes you a tentative and oh so pure smile? You return it easily this time.

You can’t change yourself and how you feel. You’ve tried that. You certainly can’t change him. You’ve tried that too.

And… why would you want to, anyway, huh? To change him? In so many ways, you think, as you watch his rich, scratchy laugh bob in his throat, and see those delicious crinkles radiate from around his eyes, he’s perfect exactly as he is.

After all, he’s your best friend.

And, for the remainder of the afternoon, you simply want to focus on that.

For today, you reckon you’ll simply have to try to see him in pieces. In fragments.

You don’t want to admit to yourself that’s the only way you can make it through, but when you do realise, it strikes you. If you too find it hard to reconcile who he’s always been to you with all that he could be, then maybe you and he never were so different after all.

He certainly could never grasp all of you at once, could he?

***

The rest of the day passes pleasantly - much to everyone’s relief, you suspect. After the card games wrap up, there is plenty more entertainment to be had. There is time whiled away goofing around with a football and a frisbee. There’s a grill session on the dunes and chilled beers and music. When the heat becomes too sticky, too intense, there are sea swims and splashing around in the waves and everyone trying to dunk Benny. There’s solitary time too. Time for sunbathing and reading and podcasting and naps; and, in between, there is the cyclical eruption and waning of amiable chatter - whenever someone sparks up with a talking point.

In sum, you all opt to just be with each other. No particular agenda in mind, and it feels good. Really good.

You’ve missed them all. Hell, even Tom, though you’d never tell him that to his face.

The stretch of beach you’ve claimed is stunning too. The sands are golden and fine-grained and the water is perfectly temperate; but, it’s a hidden gem, the patch not attracting a fraction of the stifling crowds you’d find along the main drag. Throughout the day, other people come and go, of course. There’s the family with the adorable little kids, for example. The little boy, in particular, who had seemed to take a real liking to Benny - and who’d even roped him into helping build sandcastles. You’d watched, fondly, as each of your squad’s faces had split with wholesome, eye-swallowing grins at the adorableness of it all. There was the lone woman who spent 45 minutes giving you evil eyes - apparently, you’d deducted, for daring to be surrounded by five attractive men. You’d even suspected she might march over and punch you at one point, judging from the hate seething in her eyes when Will had asked you to slather-up his milky-white back with his trusty factor 50.

Mostly though, it had stayed pretty quiet, and you and the boys had more or less had the beach all to yourselves.

Various members of the group would filter off every now and again, of course. To replenish supplies, grab a new book, or buy an ice cream from the truck which pulled up. But, there had always been a core contingent remaining, even as the intensity of the day’s heat had begun to burn off, replaced with a softer, gentler, and more oranged glow.

Perhaps that’s why you didn’t realise it, until it had already happened.

That by now, you and Santiago were alone.

You look up from your book and all of a sudden, you are the only one left lounging on the blankets. You look out to the water, and Santiago is the only figure to be found there too, currently floating on his back, bobbing over each gentle, orange-frilled wave which laps up to the shore.

Christ. When did it get so late?

Santiago must realise the predicament at a similar moment to you, you think, as by the time you have finished swivelling your head to scan the sands for signs of anyone else -finding no-one but a distant dog walker- he has already begun to wade out of the water.

It is something you have watched him do so many times today, but now that it is just the two of you, this time it hits just a little different. This time, you notice him. Really notice him. Can’t help it. You watch him rise out of the water in the golden glow of the descending sun, and shake the rivulets of water from his darkened, wetted curls. See his tan chest emerge first, the colour in his shoulders a deeper, richer brown already from a day soaking up the sun. That silver chain of his swinging and glinting in between his smooth, shapely pecs. And, you note the soft cushion of his tummy swelling over the waistband of his swim shorts, the garment sodden and clinging tightly to his ample hips and thighs. Even slipping down just a little as he wades from out of the water, revealing a hint of his happy trail as he beelines directly towards where you lay.

Your stomach twists with a deep, hot yearning, and you are grateful that you have at least a moment to compose yourself before he arrives, sea-shined and dripping, at your now deserted camp. You have the wherewithal, at least, to throw him a towel as he reaches you, trying not to stare (too much) as he begins to dry himself off.

“Thanks,” he offers, with a lazy flash of teeth, and you unconsciously rearrange yourself, very suddenly aware - now that you’re alone - that you are stripped right down to your flimsy bikini.

You see a swallow sink down Santi’s corded throat as his eyes skim down the length of you, but he is quick to obscure it. He’s still playing nice. Softening himself, you think.

With a laugh as roughly hewn as driftwood, he flicks some water at you after scrunching his hand through his sodden curls, spraying cold flecks across the bare expanse of your belly, causing you to tense and squeal. His shoulders shake with gentle mirth, and, once he’s towelled off and wrung out his shorts a little, he spreads his towel out next to you, parking his ample ass down.

“Didn’t feel like a swim? The water’s nice.”

“Nah.”

His head swivels about, eyes traversing the length of the beach. He scoops a hand around his stubble, and you hear it rasp like sand. “Where the shit did everybody go?”

You shrug with one shoulder. “Beats me. I was far too engrossed in my trashy novel to notice.” You dog-ear the page of said book and put it to one-side before leaning back, supporting your torso on bent elbows, legs still elongated before you and crossed neatly at the ankle. The position pushes your breasts out, and you swear Santiago tries valiantly to look just about anywhere else - more or less succeeding too.

“Then… I think we’re alone now.”

A mischievous smile catches the corners of your mouth. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.”

You turn your head towards him, to see if he’s picked up on your song-lyric-inspired choice of words, but the solemnity of his expression catches you off-guard. His brows are drawn down, the sockets of his eyes all shadowed despite the golden hour glow still pouring over the horizon, lighting the stark contours of him.

In unison, the two of you shift position, coming to sit cross-legged. Side-by-side, looking out over the ocean. It seems easier that way, you think. Not to face each other directly as you each say whatever it is you need to say.

You know that it’s come time to say it. That it’s overdue.

Besides, it’s undeniably beautiful, looking out across the view like this. Enjoying the lapping waves and the undulating, orange zest water stretched out below that burning sky. Now cooling, post-dip, Santiago reaches over for his trusty tartan blanket. Silently, he first tucks it around his shoulders, then he passes it around yours. It’s a stretch for the square of fabric, and so you huddle a little closer to one another, finding it is even more warming as your bodies press together. The wetness of his thigh, from those water-logged, sand-coated trunks contacts you too, but you make no effort to move away, instead resting your folded thigh just on top of his.

You can smell the ocean on him. Salt and sunshine and sunscreen. He smells like summer.

You look out across the landscape with renewed concentration as you wait for him to speak, not ready to face whatever expression his features may offer. You look outward with vigour while you wait for him to look inward, and you worry that his words - when they come - will surely be more ugly than the sight before you. Will be bitter and not sweet.

You even brace for it.

You’re so used to the storm.

Still, when he eventually speaks, you are surprised. Surprised that he is calm and steady. That his voice is like slow, warm sand pooling into your cupped hands. That his words are both bitter and sweet. “Hey. C’mere.” You link your arm into him. Lean your head onto his shoulder as his tone grows wistful. “Do you… Do you remember that night in Philadelphia?”

You smile immediately. There had been only one such night in Philadelphia.

It had been your birthday. You and Santiago had been catching a connecting flight, heading back from a deployment and en route to meet the boys off-base to celebrate. However, all the planes had been grounded due to some technical hitch with the tower. You’d been bummed that your plans had been ruined; but Santiago had come through. Had gifted you one of the best nights of your life. A very silly, drunken night, if you recall.

You cringe, hazy, smooth-edged memories flooding back. You clap a hand to your face with residual embarrassment. “Christ. The karaoke.”

Santiago chuckles warmly, and you feel his laugh reverberate through you. “It wasn’t karaoke! You hijacked the goddamn wedding band.”

Your hand clamps in dismay over your mouth now, and you lift your head from his shoulder to face him. “Oh my god. You’re right.”

Your laughs mingle together in the tight space between you, becoming indistinguishable, like the tide and the shore. “I still can’t believe you blagged our way into a wedding reception.”

“I can’t believe it took us so long to get rumbled,” his hand settles over yours, where your arm is still hooked into his.

You beam at him. “Thank God I’m stealthy.”

He pumps his eyebrows, entirely incredulous. “You? Yeah right.”

“I’m sure I must’ve helped, Pope.”

“No, cariño, no. You were not helping.” He scratches at his layer of scruff. “Shit. What was it… What did you tell the kid on the desk your name was, again?”

You try to recall, and when you remember you snort in a full-blown laugh. Your ensuing, chaotic giggle planes tears of joy out of the corners of your eyes. “Mariana Trench!”

“You’re fucking despicable. You know that?” Santiago laughs along with you, and God. It feels good. Really good. It feels effortless, your mirth sharing space like this instead of your anger. Your laughs mingle then dissipate, withdrawing gently like the retreat of a wave.

You lean your head back on to his shoulder, but your giggle fit is evidently not wholly through - not just yet. Your shoulders begin to shake up against him - gently at first, and then with a rising chuckle. “Whiskey in the jar-o,” you sing under your breath, wistfully recalling your drunken duet of choice. “Fuck, Santi. That was a good night.”

He rests his head on top of yours, the weight of it a comfort. “Yeah. Yeah it was,” he agrees. “Jesus, I’m telling you though. They were lucky we showed up. Before we livened things up? The dance floor was as dead as a battlefield after one of Redfly’s sweeps.”

You hum at the fond memory, a soft smile arcing over your face. He has you curious though. “What made you think of that night?” Why this memory, out of everything?

He stiffens noticeably up against you. Sits more upright. Presses his palms together. “That was, uh. That was the night that I-”

“-Vomited into a soup tureen?” You interject with a snort, as another random memory flashes back to you.

“No. Nope,” Santi counters decisively. “That was Cat’s Oma’s 80th.”

You giggle chaotically again. “Oh yeah. Shit.” You miss that lady. She was a sweetie.

“Hey. Listen,” Santiago begins with far more gravity. Enough gravity that you shift, turning your body as he draws your gaze to him. You had been waiting for this moment to arrive; but, now that it’s here, you wish you could cling on to the sweet things for a few moments longer. Still, you settle opposite him now, the two of you still cross-legged but positioned face to face. He adjusts the blanket around your shoulders, tugging on each corner. With a watery smile, you slide your palms on to his wrecked, perfect knees and give him a gentle squeeze there, seemingly pushing his croaked words out with the gesture too. “I want to say that I’m sorry.”

You have nothing for a moment. No words, at least. Nothing but the motion of your hands smoothing back and forth over his knees. Nothing but the pained expression as your eyes swim with an ocean of feeling, deep enough to rival the vast body of water before you.

You note that his eyes are wet too as he settles his own hands over yours, gathering them up into his grasp. He stares down intently at your hands, his brow notching with a deep frown. He drags in a slow breath and releases it. “This got so fucked up, and… that’s not it at all.” He looks back to you then, his umber eyes shining with remorse. Deep regret welling in his resonant tone. “That’s not how I want to show up for you.”

Your tongue, too, reaches for an apology as readily as your hands had reached out for him. “Fuck, Santiago. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry too.” You had never meant to hurt him. You had never wanted that.

He drops his gaze to your neat pairing of hands. Gingerly begins to smooth the rough, sea-pruned pads of his thumbs over your knuckles, your skin humming dully where he touches. “I mean it. I’m sorry for everything.” The tendons in his jaw clench, muscles slipping over bone. He drags your cupped hand into his lap, drawing an absent-minded spiral in your palm with the pad of his thumb. The sensation makes a pleasant tingle bed down beneath your skin. “I swear. I never meant for my bullshit to affect you. Christ - that was the whole fucking point. Thought the least I could do, after everything, was protect you from that.”

At his earnest words, your chest tightens, and you abruptly halt the dance of his fingers by clasping his hands, gathering them between your own palms like a prayer. Your voice cracks in half like a broken promise. “Santiago. For Christ’s sake. You think I need protecting?” The implication in his words cleaves your heart in two. “From you?”

He shrugs with one shoulder. Sniffs. The muscle in his cheek tugs up, and you feel his hands go clammy in your grasp.

He frees himself from your grip for a moment, before continuing to skim his fingers up and down your forearm arm in a gentle, tender dance. The lightness of his touch contrasts starkly with the heaviness settling into his brow, his wet, puppy dog eyes swimming beneath. “I dunno. I was always a better fucking soldier than I was a friend.” He swallows, his voice so soft you can barely hear him. “Than I was… anything else you might’ve needed me to be.”

“No. That’s not true,” you respond adamantly, your head shaking vigorously from side to side. “You’ve always been there for me.”

“Except when it counted.”

“No!” you emphasise, the thrust of your words carrying your whole body forward. You shift position, transferring on to folded knees, crouching before him in the sand. Reaching, to slip your palms up to each side of his face, and you hold him like a prayer now. “No, Santiago. Especially when it counted. Believe me.”

He tries to turn away from you - you see it. He tries to begin his retreat, like usual, but this time, you capture his roughened cheek with one palm and you hold his gaze with yours. You speak firmly, willing him to understand. “Santiago Garcia. Idiota. You’re my hero.”

He scoffs lightly. His face twitches with scepticism. With doubt. With this self-deprecation he always carries, usually so well concealed by his confidence and easy charm. And yet, as you caress his stubble-flecked cheek with your palm, he sinks gratefully into your touch. Leans against it, his eyes fanning closed and his long lashes splaying down towards his cheeks.

“God,” he breathes softly in Spanish, barely audible. “No-one has called me that in a long time." He lives in a world of aliases and nicknames, and you see the weight of his grief twist his face at hearing his name fall from your mouth.

“I mean it. Do you hear me?” you plead, snagging his eyes to yours as they drift open. “You have made my life more beautiful in a thousand ways. You’re not -and you never were- something I need protecting from.” You regard Santiago, and his pretty eyes glisten, wet with a well of scarcely contained emotion -starlight in his lashes. “I love you, Santiago. Whatever has happened. Whatever happens. I love you. Not when you’re this ‘perfect’ version of yourself you finally deem worthy of love.” You search his eyes “That’s bullshit. I love you. I love you now.”

Santiago slowly, gradually musters a nod, and you smooth your hands over him. Over his shoulders. the nape of his neck. His chest. Trying to plaster over the evident cracks as his emotion crashes like a wave against rocks. He scoops a hand around his stubble, his lower lip now downturned. Trembling with feeling. Fat, liquid tears shining in his eyes, threatening to overspill. “I love you too.”

What a terrible, sad thing, you think. That you love each other. That there’s such bounty and abundance, but that at the same time… it is never quite enough.

Maybe one day, it will be; enough.

For now though, it is still something which causes you pain. And, you can see -more clearly than ever now- that it hurts him too.

His eyes dance over everything but you. His face twists. Contorts and tightens as he wrestles with it, but he cannot hold back the tide a moment longer. Full, wet tears spill down Santiago’s cheeks, and he makes some attempt to fumble them away, until they grow too numerous. You reach for him instead, and for a moment he tries to gently bat your hand away. “Hey,” you scold, protest, smooth. “Santiago.” His eyes drop, and his gaze fixes intently on a spot in the sand as you gingerly scoop his tears away with your crooked forefinger. The finger you then trace lovingly along the length of his jaw. The finger you trace along his eyebrow. The point of his cheekbone. Every place the waning golden light paints him. Your eyes dance over him. Every contour. Every sharp angle and every hollow. Every soft, silver curl. And he stays perfectly still. Unmoving, as though he is afraid your touch will withdraw like a tide at any moment.

“I missed you,” you whisper, and it is at once bitter and sweet. “It hurts. It… hurts to be without you.”

For a stretched moment, you do not believe he will respond, the only sign of movement from him a lone tear sluicing down his sculpted cheek. But, eventually, his words come. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I just…”

“Just what?”

“I need to find a way it doesn’t hurt you to be with me.” You shake your head, a protest dying on your lips as Santiago drags your hands to him. “I know you won’t buy this. You don’t have to. But I do want out. I swear it’s just this one last job with Lorea. And then I can… Then maybe we can…”

He trails off, his words waning. Breaking on the rocks.

He never could articulate a future with you, could he? Never could seem to dream that up.

You could be angry about that, you suppose, but you truly have no more anger left to give. You could be sad instead but, turns out, you’re out of that feeling too. All you have left to offer in this moment, in fact, is a small, resigned smile.

“It’s okay,” you smooth, and what’s more, you mean it. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Your fingers play over the leather and beads of his bracelets. Over the tendons in his wrist. The light hairs on his forearms.

You’re done with all of that now. Done trying to push him towards a future you’re not even sure he wants with you. Not sure he ever wanted. It’s funny almost, as you sit here, letting the future go. You sit here with him, so much history humming between you it’s like standing amidst ruins. Like you are two statues, memories and stories carved into your bodies. Sometimes, it feels like the past is all you have. But, you are thankful when the sinking, orange segment of sun draws you to it, reminding you there is one more thing you have. Something between the past and future.

You have the here and now.

You reach for it.

It’s all you’ve got. Might be all you ever have with him.

You twist your body, turning outward again, away from him. You fold your knees up to your chin and you loop your arms around them, fixing your eyes straight ahead on the undulating ocean.

“That’s one thing I always loved about you, you know,” you push out. “How you always live smack bang in the moment. I’m constantly wishing it all the fuck away, aren’t I? Always thinking fifty steps ahead.”

Santiago follows your lead, swivelling to face the sunset too. His body becomes all right angles as he plants his elbows on the points of his spread knees, his butt and the soles of his feet flat to the floor, his hands loosely laced together in the space between his legs. “You should. You should think about that stuff. You deserve all that. Everything you talked about last night.”

His words cause a tight lump to rise in your throat.

Do you?

Does he really believe that?

Because, if so, then why in the hell don’t you deserve him? Why can’t he be the one to give it to you?

You offer a theory.

“Does it bore you, or something? The thought of a future like that?” The question emerges tattered, torn on hooks in your throat which try to hold it back; but it’s something you’ve wondered for too long to suppress it any longer. You’ve wondered without ever wanting to push that thought too far - too afraid of the answer.

“Yeah,” he says levelly, not a hint of doubt in his voice, and you hold your breath. “With anyone else, yeah. But not with you.” You are relieved but that fades ever so quickly, your face crumpling into something halfway petulant.

“Then… why?”

Why is he still running?

Why is he running from the life you could offer him if it’s something he wants too?

You hear Santiago tug in and release a deep sigh. Out of the corner of your eye you see him lace his fingers together, soothing his thumb over his own hand like he’s retracing your comfort. “Because… I’m not brave like you.” His voice tips up at the end. Like a question. He reserves all of his doubt for himself, then? It’s not you he refuses to believe in?

“You’re ridiculous. You’re the bravest man I know.”

“Heh. Yeah,” he lifts a hand to self-consciously scratch at the bristle of hairs at the nape of his neck. You hug your knees more tightly to your chest. “Running into bullets. Eliminating threats, sure. But… running into safe hands? I’m a fucking coward.”

You hum, a neutral, bland sound which expresses neither agreement nor disagreement. Which takes you nowhere.

There’s nowhere left to go.

Perhaps the road ends here.

Dead end after dead end.

Only resignation.

“Maybe we were on the same path, once upon a time, huh?” You throw the statement out with little conviction. You’re giving up on the idea that your words or your actions can make the slightest bit of difference to what could be. For now, you simply wish to make sense of what is. “Maybe - I dunno. Maybe I just ran too far ahead. Racing towards this dream of the future, before you were ready to go there. Maybe I just created too much distance.”

Santiago hums now too. A tight, pensive sound. “Huh. Is that what you think happened?”

You rub your palms over your own face. Dig the heels of your hands into your eye sockets. You have as much energy as a spent wave. “Uch. I don’t know.” Wordlessly, tentatively, Santiago reaches, retucking the soft tartan blanket around your shoulders. You manage to smile softly at him, surprised that it does not feel at all forced. “Maybe we just forget all that now. Maybe we just… I dunno. Live in the moment?”

Santiago’s palm draws slow circles on your upper back. You shuffle a little closer to him. “Okay. Then what do you want?” he enquires. “Right now? In this moment?”

His arm weighs over your shoulder, huddling you closer. “Oh. I don’t know. What does it even matter?”

“We leave here tomorrow. So tell me. What do you want right now?”

You could imagine that you are tired of wanting. That all you want is a moment free of wanting anything at all. But that’s not true, is it? You want the very same thing you’ve craved for so long. You want him. Finally though, something in you has shifted. You find yourself able to envisage a future which is far more immediate. Something you can grasp now instead of distantly yearning for.

The words feel hard and tight in your chest, but by the time they reach your lips, they feel so very soft and loose. Easy to sound out. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to hurt you. All this time I missed you so much.” Unconsciously, Santiago holds you just a little more tightly. “I just…”

“What?” he whispers.

“I want us to fall asleep together. I want to hold you. I just want us to have one moment like that, Santi. Peaceful, you know? After everything, don’t we at least deserve that?” You tug in a breath to launch your next words, your throat closing protectively around them. Making them sound small. “And… And maybe…”

“What? What else?”

“Can’t we just fuck and feel happy about it? Can’t we have just one fucking moment together that doesn’t feel like an ending?”

You wait, your raw-wound words laid out in a line on the sand. You brace. You brace for them to be washed away. To have the salt poured in.

“Okay.”

Your eyes snap to his in surprise, and you find his soft, ardent gaze dancing over your features. “Okay?”

Santiago’s fingers lace with yours, and he tugs you to standing. “Come with me. Come on.”

He gathers up the remaining supplies, slinging the filled beach bag over one shoulder. Then, he folds his other arm around your middle. Tucks you into him. You let him lead you to the house, and it’s nice. It’s nice that for once, you’re not begging him to follow.

You let him lead you up the dunes, back to the house, and up the stairs.

You leave the golden, sinking sun behind you, but with Santiago’s warm, molten gaze shining on you, you still feel the sun on your face.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac #santiago pope garcia #ride or die series

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luna-writes-stuff · 6 months

Text

Unforgiven II, Kaz Brekker

Song link

Fanfic, female! reader

Angst, but a with a tiny sprinkle of fluff

Word count:

Tw: typical soc stuff, explosions, blood/injuries, description of drowning/recovering from drowning., description of dizziness/losing consciousness, Kaz is fighting demons to save your life, Nina doing heartrender things, Kaz nearly crying, use of Y/N (I deserve hell)

Summary: You have been friends with Kaz for as long as either of you can remember. Even before all the “Ketterdam is my mother” talk and trauma. So when you get caught up in an explosion during a heist, Kaz loses his shit. He becomes an anxious wreck, doing his best to get you out of danger. And in order to do so, he has to make certain sacrifices for himself.

No - this is not a pt. 2 to anything. The song is called Unforgiven II. This fic is based off of a song.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Lay beside me and tell me what they've done.

And speak the words I wanna hear to make my demons run.”

“Kaz, come on!” You ushered, running towards docks, Kaz short on your heels, though his pace slowed with every step he took. You knew his leg was bothering him, but at the moment, you needed to get out of this place.

It had been your casual “let’s steal something and get money for it” heist. Everything had gone exactly according to plan. Wylan’s bomb went off at time, Inej got the necklace without being noticed, Jesper was a great distraction, Matthias had been on look-out as Nina had joined Jesper in being decoy. You and Kaz had been making sure the rendezvous point remained safe. You had been in Dime Lion territory, so the risk of being caught was great. Yet, there had been no issues. That was until Jesper, not so subtly, managed to sneak a look towards you and Kaz, alerting others of your location.

So now you and Kaz were on the run. Trying to get away without getting injured or being discovered of stealing things. It had been five minutes now and you knew Kaz’ leg would no longer hold up.

“The door is locked now but it's open if you're true.

If you can understand the me then I can understand the you.”

You spared another look behind you, noticing you were no longer being followed closely. You halted your steps, simultaneously causing Kaz to stop too.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, obviously supporting all his weight on his cane.

“Where did they go?” You wondered aloud, referring to the gang members that had been so set on catching you earlier.

Now Kaz looked behind him too, noticing the empty streets.

“Something isn’t right.” He noted, making you nod in agreement.

“Lay beside me, under wicked sky.

Through black of day, dark of night, we share this, paralyzed.”

“We should keep moving, just to be safe.” You decided, now setting a normal walking pace, trying to give Kaz the opportunity to recover. As you walked past the crates and empty ships, something weird suddenly occurred to you.

“You hear that?” You whispered, holding a hand out towards Kaz to stop him.

“Hear what?” He questioned, now keeping his ears open.

“Sizzling.” You observed. “Like firework being lit.”

At those words, Kaz’ eyes widened. He looked around to find the source of the sound, but he could not bring himself to locate it.

“The door cracks open but there's no sun shining through.

Black heart scarring darker still but there's no sun shining through.

No there's no sun shining through, no there's no sun shining.”

“Bomb.” He managed out, before grabbing the loose fabric of your sleeve, tugging you with him as he ran.

You followed suit quickly, the danger of not knowing where the bomb was, making your adrenaline race. You released your sleeve from Kaz’ hold, running behind him to make sure you could drag him with you in case he’d slow down again.

In the distance, you could see the rest of the crows waiting, but they had yet to notice you and Kaz. No Dime Lions were spotted near them yet, which had been a relative good sign.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Turn the pages, turn the stone.

Behind the door, should I open it for you?”

“Kaz, turn around!” You warned. The sound of the walking fire seemed nearer than before, alerting you of the fact you were running in the wrong direction.

“We’re only nearing it!” You explained without hesitation.

Kaz spared you a quick nod, before running along the coastline, no longer running away from the shores. You followed his every step. Your breath had started to appear colder than before, your shirt uncomfortably clinging to your back, but you knew you’d catch your breath later. Stopping now might only increase the chances of becoming injured.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Sick and tired I stand alone.

Could you be there?

'Cause I'm the one who waits for you.

Or are you unforgiven too?”

Your attempt for cover came too late; before either of you could properly process it, a big explosion ignited only a few feet from you. You could have counted yourself lucky for not being too close to it, not having received any burning flesh. The force of the explosion - however - was something you couldn’t escape.

Before you could even realise what was happening, you were flying through the air, rocketing towards the shore lines in an inhumane speed. You could only briefly register Kaz’ body on the floor before the ice cold temperature ran over you.

Your body impacted on top the water, the weight with the added speed rapidly pulling you under. You weren’t on time for any of it. When you had already fallen, it still felt like you were flying, and when you were flying, you hadn’t even properly heard the explosion. It all happened with the blink of an eye.

“Come lay beside me, this won't hurt I swear.

She loves me not, she loves me still, but she'll never love again.”

When you finally realised you had been submerged in the freezing canal waters, you had to force your body to work again. Your limbs felt heavy, whilst your head felt lighter than it even been. An unknown weight settled on your waist as you were pushed further down.

Looking down at it, you were faced with a huge piece of wood, tearing a hole in your coat as it forced you down. In blind panic, you reached down, trying to get the wood from the coat. But the longer you fought it, the deeper you sank, and the more pressure build in your ears.

You weren’t going to go down like this - sinking because of a heist gone wrong. No, you were meant to go out in a tub of money, rolling in the debts of your enemies.

The looming threat of imminent death and hopeless made your efforts worsen, your brain cloudy, unable to think straight as you kept tugging on the coat.

“She lay beside me but she'll be there when I'm gone.

Black hearts scarring darker still, yes, she'll be there when I'm gone.

Yes, she’ll be there when I'm gone. Dead sure she'll be there?”

On the coast line, Kaz had recovered from the blow, seemingly fine, save for a handful of bruises and a loud ringing in his ears. The crows had neared him, Jesper and Inej immediately working to keep the Dime Lions at a distance. Nina looked over the edge, still seeing the waves of where you had fallen earlier.

“Shit,” she cursed, before clumsily fumbling with the ends of her dress. Wylan and Matthias looked at her in a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. She didn’t seem to notice.

For Kaz, it felt like time had frozen. You had been with him ever since you were children. You’ve known him before Ketterdam - before Dirthands. And now you were sinking to the bottom of the canal, left to your fate in a lonesome embrace.

He had lost everything he had, and always associated it with the freezing temperatures of the lakes. He remember the chilling air, the cold water and the hard bodies of the people who had died due to illness. He remembered how he fought back until he had returned to Ketterdam. To look for you.

And now he’d lose you to those same damned waters.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Turn the pages, turn the stone.

Behind the door, should I open it for you?”

Nina took too long. Wylan and Matthias might not have noticed, but he did. A thousand thoughts and fears were swirling his mind, but there was one that stood out the most.

He was losing you.

The thought seemed so hopeless and bitter, but it was the truth. He could stand there and think about everything that had happened to him, or he could act on it. He could wait for Nina to finally get that cursed dress off, or he could jump in himself and hope his body wouldn’t fail him.

You still hadn’t resurfaced.

Swinging his coat from his shoulders quickly, he dropped the cane to the floor, before diving into the waters, not even giving him a second to think everything through.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Sick and tired, I stand alone.

Could you be there?

'Cause I'm the one who waits for you.

Or are you unforgiven too?”

The water was more horrible than he had remembered. The cold was gnawing at his skin, the familiarity of it cutting him where it hurt most.

This is where you lost him, Kaz. You lost yourself.

In front of him, a body passed him, the face almost an exact replica of his older brother, save for the swollen structures of his face. The sight frightened him. Almost automatically, he reached out, but the figure faded in front of him.

This wasn’t real. He wasn’t there.

He needed to get out. He couldn’t get any air to begin with, but the capacity his lungs had held had started to fail him. There were too many reminders of what went wrong. This was a terrible idea.

“Lay beside me, tell me what I've done.

The door is closed so are your eyes.

But now I see the sun, now I see the sun.

Yes, now I see it.”

He had to go back up. He wouldn’t make it if he didn’t. But then, as if fate had somehow still been smiling upon his that day, a hand came into his vision. He couldn’t see it really well - everything was blurry. But this hand wasn’t swollen. And it seemed real.

Spending his last few seconds, he tugged on the arm, surprised by the sudden weight of it. When he looked down, he found the culprit hanging from your coat, your other hand still entangled at the hole.

Without a second of hesitation, he shrugged the coat off of you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he swam back up.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Turn the pages, turn the stone.

Behind the door, should I open it for you?”

It was disgusting; the cold temperature, your limp body, the inability to breathe. It was too much. He couldn’t help but fight for his hold on you as he forced you up. His leg had been screaming at him to stop to begin with, but with your body in his arms, a whole new level of revolting coursed through him.

This was so wrong. He should never have had to hold anyone’s body to drag out of the sea again. This was cruel, even considering all that he had been through. There was some sick irony here that he hated. He knew Pekka would be laughing at it.

You didn’t make any effort to help him. He had no way of telling whether he had been dragging a dead body back up or not. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about anything. He just needed to get back up.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

So sick and tired, I stand alone.

Could you be there?

'Cause I'm the one who waits,

The one who waits for you.”

When he finally resurfaced, a huge gasp of air came from him, taking in all oxygen he could.

“Kaz!” Nina called, leaning over the docks with Matthias, reaching out for him and you. They could see the sheer panic and terror on his face. The boy swam towards the pair, handing you over to Matthias, who easily pulled you out. Nina immediately began to work on getting the water out of you, leaving her boyfriend to help Kaz get out, much to his reluctance.

He could still feel the cold touch, the unmistakable feeling of a hardened figure. He recognised it. And the second his feet met solid ground again, he fell down, breathing heavily, dragging his knees across the dock to reach you.

He could hear Nina mutter assuring words under her breath - both to you and to herself. The way you simply laid there, not noticing the mayhem happening because of you. Something about it made everything worse for him.

He was not going to lose you. Not like this.

“What I've felt, what I've known.

Turn the pages, turn the stone.

Behind the door, should I open it for you? (So I dub thee unforgiven)”

A loud cough cut through the tense air as your chest suddenly began to move. Nina was quick to place you on your side, leaving you to cough out the remainder of water, inhaling the air greedily, tears making their way over your face. An obnoxious sigh of relief came from the heartrender as Kaz quietly copied her move.

He stood up at the sight of you getting rid of all the water in your lungs, the sight amplifying everything he had just experienced. Shakily, he accepted the cane from Wylan, using it to support his weight as he watched Nina kneel over you, trying to calm you down.

He needed to be the one to do that, to make you comfortable, even if he wasn’t. But he couldn’t. He was having a hard time keeping everything together in the moment. If it hadn’t been for his cane, he would’ve fallen straight back to the floor.

“What I've felt.

What I've known.

I'll take this key and I'll bury it in you.

Because you're unforgiven too.”

You watched him from your seat as you regained your breath, no more water coming from your mouth. The feeling in your stomach was still heavy, but you had no more need to cough everything back up.

You knew who had dragged you from the canal. You blacked out a moment after that gloved hand touched yours, but you knew who it was. You saw the way he was staring back at you, furiously blinking back tears, hoping no one had noticed. You saw the way his hands were clutching that cane as if his life depended on it. He didn’t want to be there.

But he had jumped into the canal after you had fallen in. He had dragged you from the bottom back up. He had gotten you onto the dock whilst he had sworn he would never get into touch with water if he could help it. And he might not have been able to place a comforting hand on your shoulder as Nina did, but you knew what he had done.

You just nodded at him, still in shock. Of the fall, or due to the fact Kaz dived in after you - you couldn’t tell. But when the boy nodded back, you knew it was enough.

You knew he’d do it over again if he had to.

“Never free, never me.

'Cause you're unforgiven too.”

#November writings 2023 #grishaverse #Kaz Brekker #kaz brekker x reader #Soc #six of crows #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix

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visceravalentines · 2 months

Text

the driver

it turns out I am chewing on them every moment of every day. I'm sure this fic will permanently satisfy the hunger of course ✨🌷🙃

2.3k words. character study happy ending post-credits type beat where everyone lives and drives off into the sunset together. pre-slash but Randy is so down bad he doesn't know how to cope. nobody do the math on mileage or drive time I made it all up Minnesota isn't even real

They’re about 50 miles over the Missouri border when Benson asks him.

“You think you could drive, man?”

Randy looks at him sharply, not sure he heard him right. He must not have heard him right.

Benson glances over and his eyes are bloodshot beyond belief, the skin beneath them dark and hollow. His crow’s feet have multiplied. “I gotta sleep, Randy, or we’re gonna end up in a ditch.”

After a beat of careful consideration, Randy nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I could–I can drive.”

The car lurches to the right as Benson pulls over immediately, puts it in park and slumps in his seat. His head falls back against the headrest and he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck.”

Randy watches him with an intent he can feel but can’t parse, hasn’t been able to parse all day and the night before and the day before that. He stopped being scared, really scared, a while ago. Fear still gnaws at the edges of him, jittery and mean like rats in the walls, but it’s not the same.

He’s no longer afraid Benson might kill him. He’s afraid he might decide he doesn’t need him anymore. And those are different things.

Benson’s big hands drop into his lap. He stares blankly through the windshield at the half-set sun, exhausted.

Randy has the urge to touch him. To clap a hand on his shoulder, give it a little shake. He plays it out in his head. Yeah, man. I’ll drive for a while. Don’t worry about it. Get some rest.

His hands stay clasped between his thighs.

“Don’t really know where we’re goin’, so I guess you can just pick a direction,” Benson says. “Anywhere but back that way.” He shoots Randy a pointed look, but the point is dull and bleary.

Randy nods. “North. I got it.” You can trust me. I know that sounds like bullshit, but it’s not.

Benson pours out of the car like his bones are dissolving. He stretches mightily, arches his back and groans loudly, and Randy flinches and doesn’t know why.

He gets out and the breeze hits his face, smells a little like home and a little bit different. He gazes down the highway, tracks it all the way to where it disappears beyond a sun-washed hill. He’s never been this far north before, never been out of Louisiana except for a family reunion in Florida one time.

He wonders, for a second, if maybe they could see them all. All fifty states. Benson’s car might not make it that many miles. But it would be something. It would be cool.

“You sure you’re good?”

Randy turns, squints into the sun. Benson is lit from behind, face in shadow, but Randy can feel his eyes, the way they probe like fingers at his mouth, his neck.

“I’m good.”

Benson taps his fist against the roof of the car. “Super.”

They trade sides, cross paths in front of the bumper. Randy slides into the seat and it’s still warm from Benson’s body. He feels like he's sitting in his shadow. He's been wearing his shirt for two days now, the smell of stale cigarette smoke working itself into his skin. It's like he's being assimilated, wrapped in a cocoon of brash words and an army green jacket. He presses his spine against the backrest and folds his arms around himself without thinking about it.

Benson yanks open the door and snaps him out of it. He sits forward and feels under the seat for the lever to slide it up a few inches, touches something sticky, makes a face. Benson’s got longer legs than he does, even though they're about the same height. Benson is big in Randy's mind. Or maybe Randy is small. Does Benson think he's small?

Like he can read his mind, or thinks he can, Benson shoves his seat way back. “Jesus, Randy, you’re allowed to take up space,” he mutters as he pushes the backrest almost horizontal.

No one’s ever told him that before. Does Benson know no one’s told him that before?

“Don’t wreck my fucking car.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t get pulled over.”

“I won’t.”

Benson nods once like a punctuation mark. “Good boy.”

Randy exhales heavily.

He buckles up, hesitates as he sets his hands on the wheel. Ten and two. He slides them together to meet at twelve, where Benson always grips the wheel with half a hand, pointing at things, eyes anywhere but the road, talking with his whole body. Then he slides them back to ten and two, at least for now. One thing at a time.

He signals before he pulls back onto the road even though there’s not another car in sight. He presses the gas gently, like he’s wiping a smudge off someone’s cheek. And just like that, they're back on their way.

Benson’s car is old as shit and runs like it’s doing him a favor. It takes Randy a minute to get used to it, the resistance of the pedals and the way the wheel is about as sensitive as the bottom of a work boot. He’s careful with it, not because it’s old or unreliable, but because it’s his. Because he’s trusting him with it.

He’s the driver now.

Benson moves in his periphery, fast and sudden like he does, and without meaning to Randy jerks, jerks the wheel. Benson gives him a look, reaching around for something in the backseat. “Sorry,” Randy mumbles.

“Just be cool,” Benson says with his jacket in his hands. He balls it up to use as a pillow, shifts around, settles in and shuts his eyes.

Be cool, Randy repeats to himself. Be cool, be cool.

“Are you…going to buckle your seatbelt?” he asks. He’s been waiting to ask. Now seems like the last opportune moment.

Benson opens his eyes and looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “What are you, a fuckin’ cop?”

Randy feels his face flush. He looks away. “Sorry. Do whatever you want.”

“You know if you slam on the brakes and I’m layin’ down like this I’m goin’ through the windshield, seatbelt or no.”

“Do whatever you want,” Randy says again. “I’m just…trying to be safe.”

Benson grabs the seatbelt, yanks it across his chest, clicks it into place with attitude. “Happy?”

Randy glances at him and away, almost smiles in spite of himself. Yeah. “Yeah.” For once, he thinks he might really mean it.

Benson grumbles and closes his eyes. He fidgets for a while, bullies the jacket into a different shape, but soon he falls still and quiet. Randy figures he has nothing left in the tank after the events of the last thirty-six hours, nothing more to give to Randy or anybody else.

He drives like the backseat is full of fine china, nice and easy, until Benson starts to snore. It's a cute snore, kind of nasally and pitched higher than his voice. He slams the door on that thought the moment it arrives, shoos it away and casts a guilty look over at Benson.

He’s never seen him look so at peace. There's a tension missing from his face, a furrow between his brows that Randy only registers in its absence. He wonders if he has nightmares like Randy has nightmares. Probably. Probably worse. But there’s no sign of them now; he’s too wiped out.

Now that he’s not waving a gun around and yelling, he resembles the old Benson. The guy who greeted him at the start of each shift with a casual wave and nothing to say. The man who moved like he was in a dream, seemed checked out completely until you caught his eye and realized he hadn't missed a second of what was going on around him. Not even the little things. Not even Randy.

As the miles wear on, he wonders which Benson is more real, the quiet one or the loud one. Maybe they’re two sides of the same coin. Maybe everyone has someone else inside of them, raw and bright, harder to swallow. Randy always figured he was the only one slumming around with that particular burden–the monster of his guilt, his anger, feelings too big to unbottle lest they rip him in half–but maybe he was wrong. He's been wrong a lot the last couple days.

It doesn’t probably matter which is more real because he likes them both: the Benson who once followed him out the back door under the guise of a smoke break to make sure he was okay after a particularly egregious run-in with Chris, and the Benson who beat the shit out of his own personal boogeyman in the parking lot of an elementary school until his hands bled. Randy understands both of them. Feels a connection to both of them. Knows he can count on both of them when it matters.

Randy leans back and feels it then, feels it all, the world shrinking behind them, the past pinned to it like a poster on a corkboard, the dying sun to his left and the man on his right and Benson’s fingerprints worn into the leather of the steering wheel. And it's exhilarating, it's amazing. It's freedom and possibility. Hope, even.

And he desperately, deep in his bones, wants to be someone Benson can count on. When it matters or doesn't. He knows he isn’t a fighter or a talker, but he cares. He cares so fucking much sometimes he wants to bite through his own tongue. Maybe that could be worth something. For the first time, sitting in the driver's seat on the run from the law, he thinks maybe that might be enough. He might be enough.

He has Benson to thank for that, too.

He hasn't felt like this since he was a kid. Maybe ever. Light. Free. The way the highway unfolds in front of him forever makes him feel like maybe he could fly. He kind of wishes it would rain and he can't say why. Only that he wants the air to smell like wet asphalt, like dirt.

And he wants to thank Benson. He doesn’t think he can, like, he can’t just say it. Thanks for killing all those people. It really opened my eyes. Thanks for scaring me shitless, I needed that. No way. He’s gotta be cool. Find some other way.

He reads the names of towns he’s never heard of on the highway sign. They’ll have to stop somewhere eventually, right? Get a motel room or something. Benson deserves to sleep in a real bed. Randy would love to sleep in a real bed. Probably they’ve got to lay low a little while longer. Probably two states north isn’t far enough.

Benson drives like a grandma. Randy hasn’t said anything, but he figures they could be at least to the border of Iowa by now if Benson wasn’t so hung up on driving three miles under the speed limit and calling it “flying under the radar,” even as cars peeled by them on all sides.

But he’s the driver now.

He realizes this is something he can do. A way to repay him, just a little bit. Randy didn’t get them into this mess, not exactly, but he can get them far, far away from it. Safety, serenity. A place where no one knows their faces. He can find that for Benson. He can take him there. He can make sure he wakes up somewhere better than the shithole behind them.

He eases his foot down on the gas, coaxes the needle on the speedometer up and over 80. The car huffs a protest, but it obeys.

Good boy, he thinks, and he smiles.

Benson stirs just after they leave Iowa. It’s still dark out, but the horizon is starting to bleed pink. He sits up slowly, stretches, nearly elbows Randy in the face. “Fuck,” he groans, “what time is it?”

“Breakfast time, almost,” Randy says. “Just looking for somewhere to stop.”

Benson blinks around the sleep in his eyes, peers through the window into the dark rushing by. “Where are we?”

“Wisconsin. Or maybe Minnesota. I’m not…a hundred percent sure.”

Benson furrows his brow. “Jesus Christ, Randy. You break the fuckin' sound barrier?”

“No,” Randy says calmly. “Everyone speeds on the interstate. You just keep an eye on it, it's fine.”

Benson gives him a long look and for a second, Randy thinks he might be mad. But then he breaks into a grin, chuckles, shakes his head and stretches again. His shirt rides up and in the dark of the dawn Randy can just make out the triangle of hair on his stomach. He bites his cheek.

“Speed Demon Bradley. Who’d’ve thought.” Benson yanks the backrest up, sits back and looks out with fresh eyes on new scenery. “You got a destination in mind, captain?”

Randy does. Has for the last few hundred miles. “Yeah. I was thinking…maybe Lake Superior?”

“What's so superior about it?”

“I don't know, it's…really big. Like…huge. I just thought…it would probably be pretty. I’d–I’d like to see it.” With you. I'd like you to be there too.

He glances over and Benson is staring at him with an odd look on his face.

“...what?” Randy says.

Benson starts nodding, frowning thoughtfully, then reaches over and thumps Randy on the chest. “Then let's go see it.”

The impact echoes through his heart and lungs. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah. Randy makin’ decisions.” Benson claps his hands once, loud. “I like it. You wanna go see some big fuckin’ lake? I'm all for it.”

Randy fights a grin and doesn't know why, so he stops, lets it come, feels the stretch of it across his face. “Cool.”

Randy looks over and thinks he’s beautiful. Bloody knuckles, bad attitude, and all. He lets that thought linger for one, two, three seconds before it blows out the window like a wayward receipt.

“Cool.”

Benson rolls down the window and sticks his head out like a dog. The air whipping into the car smells nothing like home. His hair blows back and he squints into the wind, the early sun kissing his cheeks pink.

“I can take over,” Benson offers over his shoulder. “I’m guessin' you need a break.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Randy squeezes his hands on the wheel at ten and two. “I got it. I'm good.”

And he really means it.

#the passenger #the passenger 2023 #randy bradley #benson the passenger #the passenger 2023 fanfiction

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