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sparrowrye · 7 months ago

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Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A3 part 2

Synopsis: Alastor disappeared for 8 years, leaving you confused, crushed, and angry. You spent those years building up your new self and protecting the haven from dangers left and right. What will happen when he returns to the new changes? Will he return anytime soon? Could you even go back to the way things were?

Previous part

Part 2: constricting deals

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"Come on Mrs. Dragon Demon, you really think I don't have cameras everywhere?" Vox remarked from his chair. We were in his dressing room, where there were no visible cameras, and I sat on the other only comfortable chair in the room. We were both exhibiting relaxed, nonchalant behavior. Vox was leaning his screen on his hand while the other tapped or gestured every so often.

I was leaning back in the chair, legs crossed elegantly, and hands folded comfortably in my lap. "You haven't noticed anything strange about trucks going into certain towns or cities?"

I wore the same outfit I always wore when dealing with anything outside the haven. It was the same maroon shirt and gray dress pants I wore when interrogating the women from Blackwater's remaining clan. My Demon attributes were clearly visible, minus my wings, and my face was set in a hard stare.

"Hundreds of trucks go into cities. None of them have Blackwater's symbol on them."

"He--they--wouldn't be that obvious," I reminded.

"Then what do you want me to do?" He turned both palms to the sky in annoyance.

I let out a sigh, showing my own annoyance. "I want you to watch all the trucks that come into major cities and park in suspicious areas and alleys."

"You must have a lot of faith in my abilities." His annoyance turned to smugness, his sharp blue teeth making their appearance. "But I cannot focus my attention on over a hundred cities and towns."

"Just cities. The clan is small so they'll go to places with the most buyers. And you have plenty of souls to do that work for you."

"And why exactly would I do this?" he raised a single eyebrow in question, "This doesn't fall under the terms of our deal."

"Everyone wants to claim victory over Blackwater. You would share that victory with me."

"Now that you've told me how to do it, why would I need to share it with you?"

I abruptly stood up at that. "Need I remind you who actually killed him?" His smile fell. "I don't actually need your help. It would make things easier but I am in no need of your assistance. If you do not wish to be known as one of the Overlords who rid the surface of the last traces of Blackwater, then this conversation is over."

I turned, tail smoothly flicking behind me, and walked to the door. I had grabbed the door handle when he asked, "You consider yourself an Overlord, now?"

There was a pause. "I do. What of it?" I looked over my shoulder, not yet fully facing him.

"I figured you would keep the title open for Alastor's return." He paused. "He has returned, hasn't he? It's been seven years."

"It's been eight, actually." I finally faced him and slid my hands into my pockets. "And no, he hasn't. I will not stand by and wait for him to return. I have more important things to take care of in his absence."

Vox stood from his chair and crossed the room. He put his hands behind his back like Alastor, one of the many traits he purposefully picked up, and said with a smile, "He hasn't even left a note for you?"

"This conversation is about Blackwater, not Alastor," I hissed, baring my teeth, "Will you assist me or will you hide away in your station to let me do all the hard work?"

Again, his smile fell. "I'll let you know if I find anything suspicious." His sarcastic, bothered tone was bothering me.

I nodded and opened the door. Before disappearing down the hall I said, "Give Valentino my regards," and flipped him off.

****

I finished the cold glass of water and placed it quietly in the sink. A vision about Adam being in Nym and Thatcher's room had interrupted a dream. I had immediately checked their room but they were both sound asleep in their own beds. Adam was nowhere in sight.

I noticed my hand shaking as I put the cup in the sink. I gripped the edges of the counter and leaned over, forcefully taking deep breaths to calm myself. It had been awhile since I last shook like this, since I last felt such a strong sense of fear. One day he was going to intervene again and he was going to use Nym and Thatcher. Since I moved them into the house to join the family, I had been very careful to keep them separated from my life outside the haven.

The vision hadn't shown them dying, only him keeping them really close as a threat. That meant I still had the chance to keep them safe when he did come. Why was he going to intervene again? Was I on Heaven's radar now? Had I become as much of a problem as Alastor had? What exactly did they not like about my actions that warranted an intervention? Was it because I was half Angel? Was it because I was successful half Demon?

My questions would remain unanswered.

Finally composing myself, I left the kitchen and stretched out on the couch. Bad nightmares or visions always made it impossible to go back to sleep in my room. I spread out my magic as I drifted into a half sleep, my magic keeping vigil for any unwanted, divine visitors.

The familiar, warm presence of my family surrounded my mind. Their colorful souls lay still as they drifted in their dreams, as did the rest of the haven. The warmth of the sun touched my feet as it tried desperately to squeezed through the curtains. Soon the children would wake up and pull me from a restless sleep.

Yet it wasn't them who woke me up.

Alastor's hallucination came back. It was the fourth time this week he had appeared. I thought I had gotten over his disappearance but the anniversary of it two days ago seemed to send me back twelve steps. My emotions were all over the place and my irritation with Blackwater's legacy was ever growing.

I looked over my shoulder at the hallucination to acknowledge it, which was the first step in dealing with them, then turned back to press my face into the couch.

"I'm back, my love."

My ears pinned back against my head. It had been years since one of his hallucinations spoke. The first two years of it had been torturous for me, sending me up and down and back and forth. It took help from Lucifer to learn how to manage them. Eventually they turned into speechless hallucinations until they no longer plagued me.

But now they were returning. It was getting bad again.

"Go away," I said. It didn't answer me right away.

"Darling?"

"I said go away. I know you're not real." The second step to the speaking hallucination was to repeatedly remind myself it wasn't actually there. "I know you're not real."

"My love I am very real." Those were the exact words his previous ones had spoken, too.

"I just want to sleep. Go away. You're not real."

"My darling, I am real. I am back. I am home." I heard it shuffle and turned to see his hallucination kneeling beside the couch, hand grabbing my shoulder.

I freaked.

I slapped the hand off my shoulder and launched myself backwards off the couch. "No! This isn't happening again!" I scrambled back into the corner of the room and covered myself with my wings. My claws dug dangerously hard into my scalp as I squeezed my eyes shut.

The last time a hallucination had gotten physical, I nearly lost myself to my trapped souls. Had Charlie not come to meet with me about the haven, she wouldn't have gotten her father in time and my own magic and owned souls would have torn me apart.

"You're not real! You're not real! Go away! You can't take me again!" I repeatedly yelled, careful not to be too loud. I didn't want Nym and Thatcher to see me like this. Worst of all, I didn't want them to be unable to see my hallucination. It terrified me when people couldn't see what I could see. It made me feel alone in the struggle, fearful of something that no one could protect me against.

But Lucifer could help. He led me through it last time, he could do it again.

I reached for Reagan's soul and grabbed it. She jerked awake in time to hear my call. Her feet tapped loudly on the wood as she jumped every two stairs. The quick patter of her feet stopped at the entrance of the living room.

"You."

I lowered my wings just enough to see her standing in her night clothes, eyes fixated on Alastor's towering figure near the fireplace.

My wings disappeared as I slowly pushed myself to my knees. My mouth dropped open, my eyes jumped from him to her, and my heart drummed in my ears. She could see him. She could see him.

"You can see him?" I asked quietly. Reagan's eyes were sympathetic at my question.

"My dear, I am real. I am home. This isn't—"

"Get away from her!" Reagan snapped, jumping between me and him. His eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"How long has it been?" he asked carefully, voice restrained and full of radio static.

"Eight fucking years."

There was a pause. "Do not speak to me in such a way." He took a step forward but Reagan didn't move. Once upon a time, she was barely past his hip height and hardly spent five seconds in the same room as him. Now, she stood at his shoulder level going toe to toe with him.

"Then don't treat my mother in such a way," she shot back.

"Mother?" Alastor's eyes fell on my huddled form. He attempted to move past her again but she stepped in his way. He slammed his cane on the floor loudly. "This is a matter between the two of us. Kindly step aside."

"Your disappearance did so much damage that it's become a matter between all of us." She gestured widely, referring to everyone I knew.

As if on cue, Husker walked in the front door. His eyes instantly fell on his old master and his fur stood straight up. "You're back?" he hissed, "Where have you been?"

Alastor was visibly frustrated. "I wish to have a conversation with her alone."

Everyone turned their eyes on me. I had fallen back in the corner with my claws digging into my scalp, whispering to myself that it was just a dream. I would wake up soon. It was just a nightmare.

Time to wake up.

"Look what you've done to her!" Regan pointed a finger at my pathetic, huddled form. "This involves all of us, especially me and Husker, because we're the ones who had to deal with how it affected her."

Deal with?

I glanced at Husker but he wasn't looking at me. Had I been difficult to be around? Everyone kept telling me to rely on them, to talk to them, to not keep everything bottled up. It had become annoying to me that they kept asking so I eventually obliged. Had that been the wrong decision? Had they regretted telling me to open up?

I watched something in Alastor's eyes and demeanor change. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. He said, "This is the last time I ask. Step aside so I can speak with her alone."

Reagan touched her shoulder blades together and lifted her chin defiantly.

"No."

Alastor's shadow slipped from his feet to grab her legs. I launched from the corner as Alcine snatched his shadow away. I morphed into a form halfway between my Demon and Dragon form, claws firmly on either side of Reagan and mouth open in a slimy snarl over her shoulder.

"Do not touch her," I snapped near his face. He stumbled back into the mantle, causing the frame of his mother's picture to shatter on the floor. Something red snapped in my mind, in his mind, a moment before both of us were engulfed in shadows.

I wrestled with his magic and managed to pull myself out and splash into the ocean. I casted myself onto the beach as he manifested. His black tentacles sprouted from his back to grab at my limbs. I changed into my Dragon form and closed my jaws around the tentacles. Several more grabbed at my arms and feet but I casted water to slice them off.

I spun around with my tail outstretched. He disappeared a breath's moment before it contacted his body. My tail slammed painfully into the sharp rocks.

Stop! Stop fighting! Calm down!

My own thoughts had no control over my actions. The most I could do was pull my punches but it wasn't a great amount. I was so angry. It was blinding. It was satisfying. It was dangerous.

He was dangerous.

His presence striked down on my mind and physically slammed my head into the sand with it. I followed his magic and attempted to do the same to him. His mind abruptly closed shut before I could, slingshotting me back into my own body.

He attempted to deprive me of oxygen but that was easy to deflect, forcefully opening my throat and sucking the air in. I felt him manifest behind me and kicked up sand in his face. I heard him yell as his grip on my mind loosened.

I wrenched my head off the ground and lunged for him. My body unwillingly changed into my Demon form before I could reach him. Tentacles grabbed my body and pulled me so hard into the ground that it knocked the wind out of me.

Alastor's magic grabbed my mind more forcefully, enveloping it in his magic and squeezing my veins painfully tight. I contorted in the sand, mouth agape in a silent scream, as he moved to stand beside me.

My anger changed to fury. I pushed against his mind as my body pushed against his tentacles. I attempted magic again but he shut that down instantaneously. My face dug roughly into the sand as I tried to physically wiggle out of the extra limbs to no avail.

Tears streamed down my face at the helplessness, at the hurt, at the rage I was feeling towards someone I cared so much about. I hadn't even realized until he was gone how much I actually cared about him. Our relationship had progressed so far but was stripped away when he disappeared. Struggling in the sand, it felt like we had gone back to when I was first trapped in the house.

"Darling, please hear what I have to say," he tried gently.

"You left me!" I screamed. I dug my heels into the sand further until my claws were separating to a painful degree.

"It was not intentional."

"You did it anyway!" I pressed my chest off the beach, slowly pushing myself to all fours. "Why the hell did you leave me?" The tears wouldn't stop. I looked so pathetic trapped by his magic, sobbing, and screaming. My breathing came in horrible gasped whines.

"If you will calm yourself enough to have a conversation, I can explain myself."

"I have every right to be angry." I managed to lift my head enough to glare up at his red, towering form. His claw was clinging to his microphone, the other arm behind his back. I attempted magic again, this time reaching for his soul. Something sharp and vile grabbed at my own soul in response. My strength was ripped from my grip and I fell back into the sand.

"Do not attempt that again," he commanded.

"I'll do whatever I want." I coughed on inhaled sand. "It's what I've been doing since you left eight years ago."

He let out an irritated sigh. "You are being difficult. I am attempting to be civil so we can properly reunite."

His tentacles were bruising me. "Properly? You didn't properly leave!"

I was pulled up to my knees and he roughly grabbed my chin so we would meet eyes. "This is as painful for me as it is for you. You deserve the right to an explanation. That is what I am attempting to give you."

I jerked my chain out of his grip and stared down at the black appendages. My ears were pinned back and my throat squeezed from another onslaught of tears. I had so much anger still left in me.

He knelt down so we were eye level and held out a red claw. "I have missed you so much, my dear. Please allow me to explain what happened, to explain why I couldn't return sooner."

"Couldn't or wouldn't?" I grumbled, glancing once at his red eyes.

"Couldn't."

I looked at him again. His smile was close-lipped and as small as I had ever seen him able to do. The tears clouded my vision so I dropped my head further, my hair a curtain between both our faces. My anger was dissipating and slowly being replaced with overwhelming sadness.

He withdrew his magic from my mind and his tentacles from my body. I slumped backwards on my tail before repositioning on my heels. I folded my arms in my lap and kept my face downcasted. I had to force my breathing in a steady pattern.

I heard him let out a sigh as he stood up. "I dealt my soul to someone long ago." He came to kneel in front of me again, black clothed knee coming into view. He tried to touch my hand but I pulled it away. He didn't press. "They called upon me and I could not ignore it."

I took a deep breath before asking, "Why didn't you leave a note?"

"It was sudden. I was called and trapped within...something."

"What do you mean?" I lifted my head just enough to see the collar flaps of his coat.

"It was...dark. There was nothing and no one else around me. I suppose you could call it a type of limbo."

I was inclined to believe him. For all eight years I had no way of reaching him in Hell or on the surface. "You couldn't leave?"

"Not until my dealer permitted me so," the answer sounded angry and strained.

"Why did they...do that to you?"

"They wouldn't explain."

That one felt like a lie.

I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, feeling the invisible bruises from our fight. Was this real or would I wake up tomorrow to an empty bed and broken soulbond?

"You were the only thing on my mind," he went on, "I wanted to do nothing more than to return to you. I knew you were suffering on my behalf but I wasn't aware how badly."

"I don't believe you're actually here."

"I am here, my love." He dared a gentle claw on my chin and lifted my eyes to meet his own. "I am real. I am here in front of you. I am home. I will not leave you alone again. That was not fair to you."

I pulled my face away as tears fell down my cheeks. He softly cupped my face with both claws and pulled my head up again. I grabbed his wrists and tried to pull free from his grip.

"Please do not fight me, love."

"You were gone for so long." My voice wavered. "I had to...had to pick myself up and piece it back together again."

"That must've been hard." He drew my face in closer, touching our foreheads despite my attempts to keep away.

"I had to protect the haven. I had to take care of everyone. I had to take care of myself. All on my own."

"You did well."

"I had to live every day like I didn't love you."

"Love me?"

I stopped resisting. My eyes widened, jumping up to see his surprise.

I wrenched my face free from his hands and hopped away. He grabbed my tail and held it long enough to wrap an arm around my waist. My hands closed around his wrists but he was impossibly stronger than me, arms fully encasing me in a tight embrace.

He held my back firmly against his chest as his face rubbed against my red cheek. I dropped my weight but, as expected, it did nothing. His one arm was over my shoulder and holding onto the other while his second arm stayed hooked on my hip. My claws gripped his arms dangerously tight.

"Do you mean that?" I felt his smile against my neck.

"Mean what?" I muttered with a sniffle.

"That you love me."

"I did until you left me." I pushed back into him but all it did was make him take a step back to catch himself.

He placed a kiss on my cheek and it brought me to a screeching halt. "I am sorry I caused you such pain. It was not of my own choosing and I was suffering just the same."

He drew me into his mind just enough to see the vast emptiness. I could only see his red claws and coat. There was no sound, no light, no soul, nothing. It felt cold.

I blinked back to the beach. He unwrapped his arms and I turned around to face him. His smile had no teeth and his eyes looked concerned. I couldn't hear his thoughts but I could feel the ghost traces of something painful.

He placed his hands on my shoulders. "I have missed you so much." He drew one hand up to run the back of his knuckles along my cheek, just like he used to do. "May I kiss you?"

I almost laughed. Blunt and forthcoming. That was the way of Alastor.

My nod was so small I worried he didn't see it. A second later, though, he leaned down to press his warm lips into mine. His claws hooked on that sweet spot behind my jaw and under my ear, pulling me further into the kiss. A jolt of excitement coursed through my body.

It felt foreign yet familiar. Warmth radiated off him as if it were sun stroking my cheek. His hair brushed against my forehead and his lips moved ever slightly against mine.

He pulled away too soon and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. Something unraveled in me.

I dropped my head as I choked on a sob. He put a hand on the back of my head as the other drew me in from behind. I fisted the back of his coat, face pressing firmly into his chest. I could barely smell his sweet, smokey wood scent through my clogged nose.

My whole body shook with every sob. The tears were releasing every possible emotion and feeling I had stored away so deeply for so long. The anger, the sadness, the confusion, the relief, all of it. It hurt my head and turned everything white when I coughed on my own spit.

"You will make yourself sick, darling." He pulled me away just enough to look down at my wet face. He used magic to dampen the overwhelming feelings, drying my face, unclogging my nose, and easing the headache.

"I've been through worse," I gurgled.

"You won't have to face anything alone, anymore." He kissed my forehead again.

I sniffed on nothing. "I wasn't done crying, you know."

"I know." He pulled me in for another hug. This time I drew in long, deep breaths of his scent. I heard him do the same on the top of my head. "But I need you to calm a raging teenager before she reaches us."

I looked over my shoulder to see Reagan sprinting up the beach. I didn't realize how far we had gone from the house. I could see it sitting on the cliffside but the haven wasn't visible from here. We were on the uninhabited side.

"She's not a teenager anymore. She's twenty-one now." I saw Husker flapping from the land side.

"Good thing Humans don't live long."

I pulled out of his embrace and crossed my arms. "I have half the mind to let her rip you apart on my behalf."

"That would not be ideal," he remarked gently.

I smiled despite myself.

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Author's Note:

Ta daaaaa

I wrote this scene like four different times before I settled on this version

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Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette @masochist-downfall

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open #hazbin husk

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smollsmule · 1 month ago

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Loved the Charles having a crisis at the beach post on your dash , but I have to ask …

What do you reckon is the most boomer thing Charles believes in ? 👀👻

(Ok second attempt bc tumblr decided to mess with me last time.)

I'm so happy to hear you liked it!! I don't usually like to post about my writing before I'm in the editing stage at least bc I don't like building expectations like that and making people wait. This time I hadn't even started writing (I was actually writing another, quite different fic that is almost ready to go up now). It was just an idea I had been rotating in my head for some time and I wanted to know if there were people who agreed with me. But everyone has been so lovely and enthusiastic and I can't wait to get it done and share with the class!

Now, for your question. Actually, no, first let me take this opportunity real quick to say:

I know what Gen X is, guys! I know Charles isn't actually a boomer, please stop yelling at me in the notes (please)!!!

Now, I was going to go into this whole spiel about how Charles is actually a really interesting case because he

seems to have had rather forward views when he was alive

unlike many of his peers, died before growing to adulthood in Thatcher Britain beat them out of him and left him a cynical husk of a person

So I actually like to think he is less behind than you'd expect from a guy who didn't live to see the iron curtain fall (see, just for some examples, his helping his classmate and unwavering support of other's queerness (though his reaction to Chad and Hunter in particular warrants a whole essay)).

And then after thinking all these thoughts I realised that pretty much everything we thought to know about dinosaurs in the 80's has since been overhauled. (Jurassic Park hadn't even been released yet!) And then I couldn't get this image out of my head of Charles scream-crying at a museum plaque (ineffectively since a) he is inperceptible, b) it is an inanimate object.)

So yeah, my answer is dinosaurs. I also firmly believe he checked out re the internet the moment they got rid of the dial up modem, if not earlier.

(All that said you should not think about the (lack) of sex ed this boy recieved and was probably never updated on)*

(*that last one might have been inspired by my own writing I'll admit)

But seriously, I am opening up the floor on this one, because now *I* wanna know what everybody thinks abt this. Thanks for the interesting question!!

#dbda #dbda headcanons #Charles Rowland #dead boy detectives #smule speaks #ask #writingsofophelia #also Pluto is a planet but we all know that #plz don't crash again tumblr I am sick don't do this to me

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atinylittlepain · 1 year ago

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Independence Day

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

warnings | 18+ this one is pure angst, sorry about it

wordcount | 4K

a/n | she is short, because she is pain. just remember, a happy ending I promised, and a happy ending I shall deliver. but this isn't it. as always, tell me what you think, and thank you for reading.

gif by @pascalisthepunkest

................................................

She’s humming along to the radio in her car, and she can’t help it. Something giddy and bright beating beneath her ribs. She could barely hold back her laugh when her mother waved her out of the driveway, some admonition about bringing a boyfriend home for Christmas. But she can laugh about it now, driving out of her neighborhood and toward Thatcher’s.

Everything she wanted to bring is packed in the trunk. Not much if she’s being honest, mostly books and the clothes she came home with. She muses to herself that after a few years, her mother will probably put a treadmill in her old bedroom. A much better use of the space, she thinks, than to let it sit vacant forever.

Her smile splits and stretches when she sees him as she pulls into the auto shop’s parking lot, though it tempers and turns sideways when she gets a better look at him. Confusion that he’s in his coveralls, she certainly didn’t think those would be making the trip. Confusion too that there’s no sign of a suitcase, not even a backpack. But he probably just has to get it from the apartment, that’s all. That’s all, she tells herself, as she gets out of her car to walk over to him on knees that are quickly weakening because whatever that look is on his face, no amount of rationalizing can convince her that it’s anything good.

“Joel? What– are you– are you ready?” She feels stupid and small asking it, especially when Joel’s eyes stay glued to his shoes. He’s holding something, down by his side, half pressed into his pant leg. A bouquet, she realizes, and her stomach turns into a tight fist.

“Cherry–” Long and low like a sigh, like a sorry, and she’s not going to allow the rest to come out, stepping forward and taking his face in her hands, finally focusing his gaze on hers.

“No, no, no– Joel, baby, don’t– let’s just– we’ll go get your things, okay? We don’t even have to pack them, we can just shove them in the backseat and–” She clasps his wrist, trying to tug him toward the office, toward the stairs up to his apartment, but he’s not moving.

“Cher, just–”

“Baby, c’mon, we need to get on the road soon if we wanna make it to–”

“Cherry, stop.” She can already feel the tears thickening up her throat, going limp as Joel tugs her back to stand in front of her. A sharp gasp breaking in her chest, when he swipes his thumb along her cheek, collecting the salt already starting to pool.

“Don’t do this, Joel. Please, please. Just tell me what happened and I— I can fix it, we can fix it.” His face crumples, a broken sound in the back of his throat that only makes her cry harder, pressing her forehead against his and letting everything swim in the periphery.

“I can’t. I just can’t. This is– this is gonna be better for you, easier. You gotta go, you understand? You don’t need me getting in the way of all your plans, your future.”

“Of course I need you. Baby, it’s– it’s you and me, remember? Just get in the car, please– just get in the car–” He shakes his head, slow and stilted, a fresh wave of tears that breaks first in his chest, his shoulders shaking with it.

“I can’t do that, Cher.” It’s like a real, yawning ache in her chest, something splitting open and bleeding out, and all she can do is ball her fists into the front of his coveralls and tamp down her shuddering tears enough that she can look him in the eye.

“I love you, Joel. I love you so fucking much it’s stupid. And I know you love me too. A-and that’s all that matters, okay? So please don’t do this.” He doesn’t say anything, his damp lashes dropping down to the tops of his cheeks as he steps back out of her grasp. It’s almost robotic, the way he holds out the bouquet to her, still not looking at her.

“You’re gonna do something amazing, Cherry.” She finds herself taking the bouquet from him, feeling like a fool even as she does it. Chrysanthemums, the fleeting thought, who the hell buys a bouquet of chrysanthemums? And then that perfect pang of despair turns into something else, something more bearable, something she can let get big and bright until it feels righteous, like anger.

“Oh, fuck you.” It seems to startle him, his eyes hiccuping up onto her face, and all she wants to do is chase after that shock, to dig her fingers into the wound and make it hurt as bad as it’s hurting her right now.

“You got what you wanted, Joel. That’s it, right? Someone to keep your bed warm all summer, so easy to keep them coming back. Just gotta tell them what they want to hear, huh?”

“It wasn’t like that, Cherry.” He says it so small, so broken that for a moment her anger falters, though she stokes it back to life with a bitter laugh.

“You promised me, you asshole. You fucking promised me.” She does it before she can really think about it, shoving her hands into his chest, only making him take a single staggered step back, but it feels good. Good like she should do it again.

“This was all just some fucking game to you, wasn’t it? I bet you didn’t mean a single thing you said to me.” Another shove, and then another, the bouquet in her hand going limp, petals falling all around them, only stopping when Joel barks out a sharp enough.

“I meant all of it, Cher. And now I’m trying to do right by you. You need to go, and I’m not coming with you because it’s the right thing for you.” It’s silent for a moment, both of them breathing hard, watery eyes wide and unblinking.

“Fuck you, Joel Miller.” Maybe it’s a bit childish, but it certainly feels good to throw the bouquet down and smash what’s left of the blooms with the sole of her sneaker, a smear of sorry on the curb before she gets back in her car with a hard slam of the door.

She holds it in like a breath until she crosses state lines. But when she does, it’s all she can do to pull over onto the shoulder of the road and let this reality sink in with a sob.

…

“You’re being good, brother. Finally learned not to harass the ump, huh?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Tommy is right. For once, Joel is staying on the bleachers, staying silent except to clap with the other parents when a run is scored or a play is made. But it has nothing to do with the ump, and everything to do with Cherry sitting on the other set of bleachers, their daughter’s teams playing each other again in the final tournament of the summer. He only steals sparing glances her way, trying to keep his focus straight ahead on the field between quick sweeps of his eyes. Her sunglasses are down, and much like him, she’s staying seated and uncharacteristically silent.

It’s been two weeks since she swept out of his house, and not a word passed between them since. He asked Tommy to take over the work on her porch, figuring that as much distance as he could manage between them would be best. It is a herculean labor on his part to not ask his brother how she’s doing, if she’s still taking damn phone calls every ten minutes, if she’s mentioned anything about him. But he doesn’t. Keeps his mouth shut and stays busy with that new build on Cypress. And no, he definitely doesn’t look at his phone at night, willing something, anything to come pinging through from her. Definitely not.

“You gonna talk to Cher today? Or are you gonna keep making those weird eyes at her for the whole game and then go home and pout?” He doesn’t reward Tommy’s quip with a response, settling for a cursory glance before trying to refocus on the game.

“Joel.”

“Tommy, enough.”

“What the fuck happened, man? You two seemed good one minute, and then the next she’s stomping out of your house without another look your way.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Well excuse me for trying to look out for you, brother. The girl you had a crush on since we were fucking kids comes back and somehow you’ve already managed to screw things up. A second time, I might add.”

“Are you done talking now?” Tommy’s face pinches up at Joel’s gruff question, an indignant sound in the back of his throat as he shakes his head.

“Fuck’s sake, Joel, I’m trying to help you out here. It was nice, you know? Seeing you two together again. I just don’t get why you’re both being so goddamn weird now.”

“It’s a complicated thing. And before you ask, no, I ain’t gonna try to explain it to you.”

“Well how fucking complicated can it be? What? Is there some estranged husband in the picture?”

“No.”

“Boyfriend then?”

“No.”

“Is she in a cult or something?”

“Jesus Christ, no, stop asking stupid questions.”

“Then what the hell is it?”

“None of your business is what it is. A lot has changed in seventeen years, alright? We’re different people. It just– it’s complicated.” Tommy seems perfectly unsatisfied with that answer, taking off his cap to run a hand through his hair as he lets out a frustrated grumble. Though mercifully, he drops it, focusing back on the field.

“You better fix it, brother.”

“Tommy, you have no clue what you’re talking about. It’s not–”

“Here’s what I know. You two were a good thing, and then you fucked it up, and now you’re fucking it up all over again.”

“Thanks for that, I really needed to be reminded again of how I fucked up.”

“Damn it, I’m not kidding around here.” Something in Tommy’s voice changes, something serious, something with a sharp edge that makes Joel quiet, his brother looking at him with a hard and narrow squint.

“You’re not gonna get another chance, brother, you know that? This is it. And I just– I don’t like watching you make the same mistake twice.” Joel isn’t sure what to say to that, and Tommy doesn’t look interested in his response anyways, shaking his head with a sigh before setting his sights back on the game, clapping and whooping for the next kid up to bat, a rather firm conclusion to their conversation.

He lets himself take another look over at Cherry, still seated, still hiding behind her sunglasses, and still not looking anywhere near him. He wants to, more than anything. To say something, to walk over there and try to make all of this wrong right. And he knows where he would start, but he’s not sure how to, almost twenty years worth of not sure how to. But he doesn’t have much time to feel too pitiful about that because in that way that summer in Austin tends to do, an errant groan of thunder cracks and shakes in the sky, everything darkening and dampening all of a sudden. The ump is already calling the game with the first few fat drops of rain, a perfect slice of lightning punctuating his words.

…

She has only tried this one other time. A moment of weakness, really. She had just moved into her dorm. A single, how fitting. And the phone at the end of the hall taunted her everytime she left for class. When her car broke down back in June, she had torn the number for Thatcher’s auto out of the phonebook in a fit of absent-minded frustration, the slip of paper ending up tucked into her cupholders where it still was when she got back to Chicago. Before she knew what she was doing, she was dialing the number on that slip of paper, a small prayer that he would, and a small prayer that he wouldn’t.

It wasn’t Joel that picked up that time, one of the other guys that worked at the shop answering the phone. She hung up the instant that she heard the voice, not the one she wanted to hear, relieved that it wasn’t the one she wanted to hear.

This time, she isn’t even sure what spurs her on. Coming home from her evening class, something about how dark it gets, how close and quiet makes that want impossible to ignore. She doesn’t even need the slip of paper to dial the shop this time, the numbers running a deranged and endless path in her mind.

“Thatcher’s auto, how can I help you?”

“Joel?” She doesn’t have to ask that, not really. She knows it’s him, and judging by the way the phone line goes silent, he knows it’s her too. Though there is no click of the line hanging up, just both of them holding their breath, waiting and willing for the other one to break.

“It’s me, um, I don’t know why I called, I just– are you there?” Still nothing. She tries not to let anger creep in, remembering what it was she’s been wanting to say. Almost the instant she crossed state lines, a sick slosh of guilt settled in her stomach. The anger was still there too, but something sheepish started to sting around the edges for the way she had railed against him. And she’s not sure what she hates more, the fact of what he did, or the fact that she didn’t mean a single word she screamed at him that day, that she never could, even if she tried.

“You probably don’t want to speak to me, and that’s fine. I just– if you could just listen to what I have to say I won’t try bothering you again.” Perfect silence, but still no dial tone. Part of her wishes he would just hang up. It’d be easier than what she’s about to say.

“I wanted to apologize for the things I said to you. I don’t know why you did what you did, and, um–” The words start to crack and slant with the hot weight of tears rising up her throat, stopping herself for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose to try to stave off the flood.

“You really hurt me, Joel, and, um, I think it was easier for me to be angry than to be hurt. But the things I said to you– I didn’t mean any of it, you know?” No use in trying to bite back the tears, her words become punctuated and jagged with small sobs, everything she’s been holding in coming out all at once.

“And the funniest part is– well, not the funniest, it’s more like the worst– the worst part is, I think I still love you. Hell, I’ll probably still love you twenty years from now.” Her tears tangle up into a weak laugh, sniffling back snot as she catches a bloodshot glance of herself in the metal of the phone receiver.

“So I guess I just wanted to say I’m sorry. And, um, I hope you take care of yourself out there.” There’s more, words getting caught somewhere between her ribs, turning into fluttery panic that makes her slam the phone back into the receiver before any more can get out.

She doesn’t call again.

…

“Jesus Christ, this rain is fucking insane.”

“Language.” Though he scolds his brother in the passenger seat, Joel is inclined to agree. Before they had the car packed back up, what had been a few large drops of rain had turned into a steady downpour and a low rumble of thunder, leaving the field flooded and thick with mud. And now, as four softball teams worth of minivans and SUVs try to maneuver out of the parking lot, also flooded out and gummed up with mud, they’ve come to a complete standstill in the deluge.

“Hey, is that–” Tommy’s sentence trails off, his brow furrowed as he looks out the passenger side window. When he sees what his brother is squinting at, Joel can’t help the low curse that settles in the back of his throat. It’s Cherry, standing at the bumper of her car, soaked to the bone as she gesticulates up to Ellie, who he can now see sticking her head out of the driver side window. He can also see that their back tires look sunken into a few inches of mud, cars honking and creeping around them as Cherry tries to guide Ellie through rocking their car back into motion.

“You oughta go help them, brother.”

“Uh–”

“Uncle Tommy is right, dad. This is like, your chance at an apology.” Joel whips around to look at a very smug Sarah in the backseat, her arms crossed over her chest with a satisfied huff.

“What are you– what’s Tommy been telling you?”

“Nothing, I’m just not blind and know that you messed something up.” He looks between Sarah and Tommy, both of them so self-satisfied that it’s all he can do to get out of their car with a grumble. It’s not like they were moving anyways.

“Cher– Cherry! You want some help?” He hates the way she looks at him, all exasperation in the way her squint slackens in the rain.

“Nope, not from you I don’t. We’ve got this under control.” They both have to shout to be heard over the hard drive of the rain and the endless thunder, though Cherry’s words are undermined when Ellie suddenly gives the car some gas, mud spluttering up behind the wheels and all along Cherry’s bare legs.

“Just– just let me help you. We can rock it, get it–”

“I don’t want your help, Joel. I don’t need your help. Just get back in your car and leave us alone.”

“Mom, I don’t think we have this under control!” A very worried Ellie shouts out of the driver side window, her eyes darting between her mom and Joel, though he’s having a hard time seeing much of anything with the way the rain is streaming down his face. For a moment, Cherry looks lost, glancing between her kid and the back tires, a few choice curses leaving her mouth before she focuses back on Joel.

“Look, Cherry, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Goddamnit, for everything. I’m sorry for everything. For what I did to you. But you gotta know that I’d do it again.”

“Well that’s really nice, Joel, thanks for that backhanded apology.” Her words get stuck and stopped by a shiver, both of them completely soaked as cars continue to weave around hers, and the rain just keeps on coming down.

“I mean it, it was the right thing to do for you. I would have held you back, and you know it. Look at everything you’ve done since then.” At that, Cherry lets out a sharp bark of laughter, her palm coming up to swipe away the water dripping down her face, stepping closer to him so she doesn’t have to yell so loud.

“Everything I’ve done? Everything I’ve done? Do I look happy to you, Joel? Do I seem happy to you? Jesus Christ, why do you think I moved back here in the first place?” He has no answer for that, Cherry letting out another incredulous laugh as she shakes her head at him.

“You know what would have made me happy? If we stayed in that fucking shoebox apartment above Thatcher’s for the rest of our miserable lives. I would have said yes to that in a fucking heartbeat, Joel. If it meant that I got to keep you with me, I would have done it and I would have been the happiest fucking person in the world.” Too much, his chest tightening up with all the words threatening up his throat. He speaks before he can think.

“Well I didn’t want that for you! I wanted you to have something better. You deserved something better. Fuck, Cherry, I have loved you since the first time I saw you in church, fucking eight years old and completely gone for you. And I couldn’t let you throw everything away for me, for nothing.”

“You were everything, Joel, don’t you understand that? All I fucking wanted was you with me.” Nothing to say to that, at least nothing that he thinks would make any of this right. And not any time for it either, cars honking all around them, reminding them of their situation, Ellie sticking her head out the driver side window to shout back at them. This, at least, something he can fix.

“Kid, we’re gonna rock it, okay? And when I say, you’re gonna give it a little gas, just a little, light touch, you got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, old man, I got it.”

He and Cherry both brace at the bumper, Joel shouting up to Ellie to hit the gas at just the right time to get the car moving with a slick spray of mud. And yes, the car can drive now and no, that doesn’t really fix anything.

“Thank you, Joel, and goodbye.” Said with all the warmth of a business associate concluding a deal, she doesn’t spare him another glance as her sneakers squelch and stick through the mud toward the drivers side door of her car, Ellie quick to switch places with her, shooting Joel a death glare that’s enough to keep his mouth shut and his feet planted. And then it’s Cherry pulling away in her car before he can say what he really wants to, a sight he is all too familiar with.

“Wait, what– that’s it? Did y’all make up?” Joel takes a long, shuddering breath when he gets into his car again, swiping his palm down his face to slough off the rain before he answers Tommy’s question.

“No, Tommy, we didn’t. And I’m only gonna ask you one more time to drop it. It’s– we’re done. What’s done is done.”

…

It’s Thanksgiving break, and while everyone else is getting ready to go home, she is hunkering down in her dorm room and willing the week to pass by mercifully fast.

Her parents tried to call a few times, messages left at the front desk that she blankly received with no intention of returning. Part of her is surprised by how quickly their efforts have relented, like they were just waiting for her to give them a reason to shutter her out. Fine by her. On scholarship anyways, so even the economics of it all are clean and simple.

And when the residence halls get quiet and still, that want, that itch returns. But she knows she can’t sate it, can’t call him. She doesn’t think he’d give her his voice even if she tried, he certainly hadn’t the last time she called. So instead, she spends all day and most of the night in the basement of the library, away from the possibility of any phone calls. She’s working on something. Something big. Something that maybe, possibly, one day could be bought and published.

It’s tedious. She writes by hand, and then she pecks at the keys of one of the three behemoth computers the school keeps in the library, printing each new day’s worth of work, a satisfying stack building on her desk. It keeps her busy, it keeps her focused, a rhythm and routine of work. Whenever that want returns, whenever her mind starts to trail toward him, she opens her notebook and gets back to work, or goes to the library to transcribe what she has gotten down. Whenever Joel Miller threatens at the edges of her mind, she writes, and it keeps her from thinking about him any more than she already has.

..............................................

taglist: @spookyxsam @libbylou223 @angel-in-beskar @starstruckunknown-princess @casa-boiardi @tieronecrush @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @amanitacowboy @pr0ximamidnight @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @suzmagine @everything-isfucked @lanabobana @kittenlittle24 @sarap-77 @officerrrfriendly @val-srz @bitchwitch1981 @redwoodsanddaffodils @themothersmercy @romanarose @lost-inhawkins @youcancallmeelle @hollywoodcaligirl @harryleatherfit @fifia-writes @brighttears @lokanda @hardlystrictlystarwars

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller smut #hungry hearts #joel miller au

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abardnamedreginald · 4 months ago

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im a wolf-demon-salamander-grey treefrog-katydid-cricket-luna moth-klingon-trad vampire-cat-romulan-harry potter wizard-gnome-drow-orc-wood elf-high elf-werewolf-twilight vampire-chihuahua-android-bard-druid-sorcerer-d&d wizard-lotr wizard-mind flayer-kraken-owlbear-genetically modified human-andes mint-harry potter merperson-h20 mermaid-great white shark-raven named nevermore-amontillado-sewer clown-animatronic-ink person-reality bender-ringwraith-chicken-fairy-telescreen-multibear-manic pixie dream girl-d class-horcrux-dragon-unicorn-pegasus-among us crewmate-among us imposter-game master-sharpie king size marker-dwarf-dragonborn-toothbrush-rock-paper-scissors-lizard-vulcan-politician-god-phone guy-icebreakers ice cubes pineapple-a doctor not a miracle worker-troll-ent-poodle-rabbit-Bear.-orange zombie-purple zombie-green zombie-professor plum-col. mustard-in the library-with a knife-hoola dancer-fish-villager-pelecan-defense against the dark arts professer-mafia boss-peep rabbit-peep chicken-gymnast-hairbrush-philosopher-music freak-school teacher-kidnapper-police lieutenant-farmer-trash can-dumpster out back-turtle-tribble-my little pony-kratt brother-high diver-pearl diver, dive, dive, deeper-chef-fire-earth-water-wind-wasp-bee-hornet-yellowjacket-mud dabber-grasshopper-rattlesnake-armadillo-cowboy-flashlight-starfleet science officer-harlet-elephant-gater-muppet-emo-goth-preppy-teabag-loser-sucker-mouse-rat-a puppet-a pauper-a pirate-a poet-a pawn-and a king-father albert-the pope-a nun-pastor jeff-gambler-metalhead-death rocker-the grim reaper-angel-lighthouse-paw patrol dog-hobbit-starfish-sponge-crab-squid-shrimp-jellyfish-chipmunk-hammerhead shark-nurse shark-humpback whale-blue whale-orca-sexual harrassment panda-south park character-jakoffasaurus-scrabble board-ouija board-pillow-toilet paper-period pad-tampon-baby diaper-elderly diaper-martian-touch tone telephone-starfleet operations-starfleet command-kirk-spock-bones-sulu-chekov-uhura-scotty-yeoman rand-KHAN!!!-mudd-the uss enterprise-the uss reliant-botany bay-v'ger-valeris-saavik-sybok-surak-sarek-the abbreviation 'idk'-sheldon-leonard-penny-howard-raj-amy-bernadette-mary cooper-george sr-george jr-missy cooper-meemaw-tam-dr sturgis-dr linkletter-dr jack bright-dr clef-dr gears-dr kondraki-dr mann-dr iceberg-dr crow-dr rights-dr sherman-scp 049-scp 3008-scp 4231-scp 166-scp 682-scp 2521-scp 590-O5 6-bill cipher-stanley pines-stanford pines-dipper-mabel-wendy-soos-schmebulok-gideon-mcgucket-dipper goes to taco bell-sheriff blubs-deputy durland-tad strange-andy taylor-william afton-michael afton-elizabeth afton-crying child-henry emily-charlotte emily-dave miller-jack kennedy-dee kennedy-peter kennedy-steven stevenson-aragorn-sam-frodo-merry-pippin-boromir-legolas-gimli-gandalf-faramir-denethor-sauron-elrond-thranduil-harry-hermione-ron-voldemort-pettigrew.-moony-padfoot-prongs-snape-edward-bella-alice!!-carlisle-charlie-cthulhu-greg heffley-pennywise-bendy-sammy-norman-jack-alice (susie)-allison-henry stien-joey drew-bruenor battlehammer-raskolnikov-heather-heather-heather-veronica-jd-kurt-ram-martha-kurt cobain-david bowie-freddie mercury-hozier-mitski-lemon demon-jack stauber-tally hall-hamilton-burr-jefferson-madison-washington-phillip-angelica-eliza-peggy-king george iii-king henry viii-ben franklin-catherine of aragon-anne boleyn-jane seymour-anne of cleves-katherine howard-catherine parr-dracula-𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂-evan hansen-conner murphey-john adams-raymond barron-fred randall-jane doe-ocean-noel-mischa-constance-ricky-karnak-vergil-alternate-thatcher davis-ruth-dave-cesar-mark-adam-sarah-jonah-evelyn-gabriel-trump-biden-sunny-basil-kel-aubrey-hero-mari-vanessa (the mean girl that kinda likes u)-tux the linux penguin-perry the platypus hybrid princess...dont fw me

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juchily · 23 days ago

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isekai fix-it au part 1

A/n: switches from third to first person, all gender friendly (no pronouns) but presumed fem because reader joins the team, other than that all people friendly (unless you don't like Chappell Roan's music and hate the idea of being born in Chicago to the point you won't read something where its just like that...), angst at the end, a lot of existential philosophical thoughts

Sorry, but if *I* got sent into the 1990s I would literally steal Femininomenon because that shit is gasssss this is the only pop song I can have on repeat forever not even Joyride compares i fear

One second reader was in their home town of Chicago at the Lollapalooza Chappell Roan set, circa, and next thing they know they're in an oddly highly populated mall listening to the low hum Madonna through upheld speakers

Odd, very much odd. What's odder, they think they might have just seen their favorite sapphic cannibalistic TV show protags

The spritz of water coming from the water fountain in front of them lowers with the pressure of the nice looking decoration and, yep, that looks like the shaggy bleached wolf-cut of Natalie "something catholic middle name" Scatorccio

Oh my fucking god. That's defiantly the constantly mewing face of Sophie Thatcher. *Wow*. They quickly ask themselves in their noggin, 'what harm would it be if I *just* asked if they were friends of dorothy...?' feeling the silent creep of desperation creep up in their warming with flush hands

oh God, they must be staring—

wait they have so many questions, first of all, what's going on?! Is this real? Would real mean canon compliant? What's even going on, are they dreaming? Are they hallucinating? Is life a simulation and it got fucked up to finally failed and Yellowjackets is reality??? To much thoughts, too little time— if this is in any way real, do this mean Lottie 's hallucination was based off of this?

They can't confirm at all since they have half the head to look away, what could be worse than to have the very real looking Yellowjackets look at *you* as if you're a weird starer and not an omniscient not-god?

You smell some fresh ass Auntie Anne's and your stomach rumbles from the shitty concert food you bagged in... your world (would be the term I guess) but then you think more about it and realize your money and pocket change are probably dated for a date that has yet to happen which will definitely bring up some questions and problems with getting the pretzels.

After the initial excitement they sort of wander around Wiskayok, it's far different than Chicago, although you figure that's because it's in the northern part of New Jersey, the south side is probably the more Chicago-ee part

Really it was just a bunch of walking, you explored the very much fictional but now real Wiskayok, and really it left you with a lot of time to ponder (read: overthink)

By nightfall you were, yes you guessed right, still in this damn town, and you were starting to get worried about not returning home, because you don't know what's going on, but if we humour the situation as an isekai, does time work the same? If you spend a day here does it equal two years in your world?

You could feel yourself getting a headache at the thought(s), you she already wandered around the overwhelmingly small town and checked out the school at a reasonable distance, you think you spotted the trailer park where Van and Nat live

You settle in the library for a bit, thinking 'fuck it, I don't have anything better to do, maybe I can get some sort of idea about what's really going on', and next thing you know you're looking at a calendar reading February 3rd, 1997. Yeah, very much not 2024...

But this peaks your interest, obviously the crash hasn't happened since you saw the girls together eating Chinese food at the mall, but you're here about four or five months before the plane crashed. And a little seedling sprouts in your little head

But still, nighttime fully arised and you were locked out of the library. And you don't exactly know where to go, it's not like you have a place to go. So you find a nice bench near a fairly shaggy side of the town— cracked, chipped sidewalks, weeds growing out of the sides and heeps of uneven dirt and stray cigarette butts littering the crevice where the sidewalk and the grass (if you could even call it that) meet, and you can distantly see the trailer park about a block or two down to the left– huddling up in a bean against the shitty metal arm

Hey bright side, at least you're sleeping on a bench during an age where they didn't sleep proof/devoid benches of their damn purpose

Of course unbeknownst to you in your shitty but albeit deep sleep, a certain red head on her way home in her worn green pickup truck driving home from a hookup with a certain curly haired girl noticed you, just a glance and yeah, okay young homeless person on that bench

When you woke up, you found yourself with a sore back met with pollen straight to the nose. Very much not your time

Okay... Well there's no way this is real right?

And so for two more days you wandered around town, slept on the bench, scrambled quick scraps of food either from the local food bank, one of the various churches, or by doing an odd job for a diner

And then it sort of settled in on you. Is this *permanent?* Uh... What the fuck are you supposed to do? This feels *very* real

You don't really know what else to do, at some point you happen to take a walk and pass by the school right when soccer practice is happening, and you have to say that no TV screen could compare to the sight

I mean, you didn't really have much going for you back 'home' so to say, no partner, no job, no hobbies you actually stuck to, no sports, nada zilch zam, it was school, go home, and sleep. That was your routine

So with a sign you figured if this might be long term you should try and conjure up a fake identity and apply to the school, which wouldn't be the easiest thing to do, but what's the harm in it? At least then you have something to do

About a dozen and a half library books later and a few very interesting conversations you were applying to Wiskayok Public School under the guisse of being a foreign exchange student (God bless your basic French and/or Spanish skills), telling them that your papers had yet to come in and switch to the American database (suspend your disbelief, damnit)

And so you found yourself taking Calculus again despite having that in the real world during your first semester, so you did well

But anyways, you had a class with aforementioned redhead. So Van was most interested when the homeless person is suddenly in the school, more so that they're a foreign exchange student

Even more weird, apparently Taissa (her hookup who Van of course is starting to have more than just hookup feelings for), saw the same damn homeless person with a pile of books at the library. Soccer, survival, psychology, health and wellness, the Dutch Famine of WW2 for some reason? So wow, they must have so many hobbies!

More interestingly so was when this same person (still sleeping on that bench as far as Van is sure) is applying for tryouts on the team. Late. Like, months late. But, with a hot headed attitude and determination, and surprisingly quick thinking skills with both their head and feet, they managed to impress the coach.

States comes around and for *some* reason this homeless person (to Van that is, no one else knows they're technically homeless) is... bombing? No one wants to accuse them of intentionally trying to make the team lose (besides maybe Tai...) but like... They slide tackled Jackie when she had the ball?

And sure one of the opposing team were close too, maybe they just overshot trying to go for the opposing player, but they've seen you play better than that.

Things happen and at some point you get benched by Coach Martinez and you have the absolutely worse panic attack of your life, you don't know what to do, you planned to just make the team lose states so that they never board the plane in the first place

But what are you supposed to do benched? And so you can't bring yourself to watch on the bench, walking to the locker rooms with tunnel vision and a bp that borderlines the beginning of hypertension.

You slide down against your locker that's in the corner of the room, knees to your chest and arms wrapping around your head as you try to stabilize your breath and shaky thoughts.

What now, what do you do? This is permanent is it not? Are you ever going home?

Your heart is beating up your spine, you can feel it in your chest, your throat, your head and it feels like your skull will split in two and you just want to scream and shout because what can you do now?

Do you go on that plane? Do you suffer too? What do you do? What can you do what can you do what can you do?

You put this pressure on yourself in the first place and yet you can't relieve it. Tears of frustration and horror fill your eyes and your body shakes with silent, utmost quiet sobs that make no sound but shake your shoulders.

And you hear the cheering outside and you know the Yellowjackets won.

Maybe you should have just busted Jackie's kneecaps so she couldn't play

But then maybe Shauna would have taken over and made the winning goal.

Or Taissa would have tackled a player on the opposing team and stolen the ball and made a pass to Nat so she could make the winning goal.

To many questions, too many variables, infinite situations. It's not something a finite being can predict or control.

You wipe your eyes, pulling your way out of the locker rooms to sneak away before they come into the locker room.

@kings-paintbrush @rougeclasslover @acidthecorvid

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #fix it au #light angst #van palmer x reader #taissa turner x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #lottie matthews x reader #jackie taylor #Isekai

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little-annie · 10 months ago

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WIP WEDNESDAY | The Honeymooner's | Steddie | Eddie's chaotic unreliable POV

It's just supposed to be a fun week away for the two friends, but when Eddie's guilt gets a hold of him and he learns if he and Steve were on their honeymoon Steve would save 30% on the room, well things get a little carried away.

---

Okay, so yes, Eddie is very excited and very appreciative of this little boy's week-long getaway that he and Steve planned and yes he can't wait to finally spend a few days without the gremlins gnawing on his ankles or demanding for a ride to the arcade. But… but he feels guilty, very very guilty. And why, you may ask. Well, Steve's paying for the whole thing, that's why. The guy insisted upon it, saying something about how Eddie's been working so hard on getting his GED and working at Thatcher Tire and helping Steve take care of their somehow combined 7 children. That he deserved it. That, "Don't worry man, you can get me back sometime if you're so worried about it."

Steve's a good friend like that. Always has been.

Eddie's not really sure how they happened, really it seems like some weird anomaly that they can even coexist in the same space let alone willingly spend the majority of their free time together, but they do. He supposes though, one particular gremlin is to blame for the colliding of their souls. Dustin Henderson specifically. At first Eddie was jealous then when he met Steve, well, then he was kinda infatuated and it's all been downhill from there. Eddie's in love now. Hopelessly, irrevocably in love. With his straight best friend. How cliche.

How fucking cliche.

Eddie huffs to himself and tries to avoid checking out Steve's ass in his way too tight Levi's as they enter the lobby of some too nice hotel in the middle of what he thinks to be some Indiana State Park. Truthfully, he doesn't remember where they are, slept the majority of the way here since they left after work and he's exhausted, but the place is nice. Cosy almost if it weren't for its vastness. Really it resembles what he'd imagine to be a lodge. A giant log cabin if you will. Somewhere he supposes Harrington Sr. probably stays for some fancy men's hunting trip or something. Looks like the type of place that'd be a resort in the winter. Large fireplaces, overstuffed leather furniture, mounts from what he assumes to be the owners hunting trips.

In all honesty it isn't what he expected, but it's still nice and well, he's not paying for it so he's not complaining.

God he doesn't even want to think about what the room cost Steve for the week.

"Checking in under Harrington," Steve's voice pulls Eddie from the fog of his thoughts as he checks in, a young giggling couple to their left doing the same.

Trying to not grimace at the sight of the love birds, Eddie too approaches the front desk, leans against its edge and watches Steve as he signs a piece of paper and hands over his ID and credit card to the receptionist or whatever the front desk lady is called, Chrissy, he assumes if the strawberry blondes name tag is anything to go by.

Idle and waiting to get to their room and sleep in until noon tomorrow, Eddie zones out, all too focused on Steve's profile as he talks. The only thing filtering through his brain is the crushing guilt of this weekend, Steve's sharp jaw and the couple next to him talking a little too loudly to ignore as they boast about their recent wedding to their receptionist, the poor young man looking far too exhausted to give a shit. But it's then that Eddie hears that same receptionist say to the couple, "With your honeymoon package, you'll be saving 30% on your stay with us. Here are your keys … -"

It's then too, that something occurs to Eddie and his mouth runs away from him as he more or less blurts out, "Oh congratulations, we're honeymooning too."

The couple squeals and congratulates them as they scurry off to their room and Eddie has all but two seconds to process what he's just done (tried to save Steve money in the dumbest way possible) before Chrissy is doing the same, saying to he and Steve, "Congratulations! Oh my goodness that's so exciting! Well, let me do something special for your little week away then. I'll upgrade you two to the Honeymooner's Package and Mr. and Mr. Harrington," the gal winks, "you'll receive a room upgrade, 30% off of your stay and free access to so many of our great amenities."

Red in the cheeks at the idea of being married to Steve Harrington, Eddie, for the first time in a long time is speechless. What has he done? They're going to have to act like a couple now or they'll get found out and kicked out. Fuck. What the fuc-

An arm slips around Eddie's waist and squeezes, his whole body going up in flames as he goes rigid.

"Thank you," Steve says, Eddie assumes to Chrissy as he momentarily blacks out and is solely held up by the muscular arm that wraps tighter around him, fingers on his waist that have never been there before.

What the fuck?

Then there's a kiss on his cheek and Eddie has never snapped so suddenly back to reality.

Steve's eyes find Eddie's almost immediately, somehow communicating at the same time, 'Are you okay?' and 'Man, you got us into this mess, act the part.'

He really did, didn't he?

Well…

Eddie leans into Steve more intentionally, trying to ignore the desperate flutter in his chest when Steve smiles and pulls him closer, his thumb gently caressing the thin fabric at Eddie's side while they wait for Chrissy to make the changes in the system and hand them their keys.

It's all so foreign, but really it's not. They're touchy, maybe in each other's space a bit too much, sometimes to the point that one of the kids or Robin feels the need to shout at them to get a room. But it's never this. It's never long lasting lingering touches that kinda make Eddie want to cry. It's never this intimate. It's normally teasing or comforting. Sitting in each other's lap just to be a pain in the ass or squeezes to the arm when they can tell the other is stressed out. Things like that. Never coupley shit. Never this.

"Honey?" Steve's voice comes as a whisper close to Eddie's ear, sweet like honey and teasing, there's a smirk on his lips, "Wanna go check out the room?"

Chrissy giggles after handing Steve the keys and disappears behind a door leaving just the two twenty-somethings alone in the lobby. Steve's arm is still around Eddie's waist.

Eddie blinks, nods like a fucking idiot and lets out a horrible, barely there gasp when Steve's hand leaves his body only to ghost down his arm and intertwine their fingers together, pulling him along.

It's not until they're in the closed elevator that their hands separate and Eddie's able to manage words again. "What the fuck did I just do?"

Steve snorts a laugh before he shrugs, leans against the wall next to Eddie and says simply, "Made our week away a lot more interesting, that's for sure."

All Eddie can manage is a groan, knocking his head against the wall to which Steve responds, "Well that and saved me a couple hundred bucks."

—------

Things only get worse once they get to their room. Not only did they get upgraded to the Honeymooner's Package, it appears they too got upgraded to a honeymoon suite.

Jesus H Christ

Steve's cackling at the door of the room, gaudy red carpet beneath his feet as Eddie shoulders past him to get a better look. And Christ alive, it's awful. So, so awful.

For starters there's only one bed. Heart shaped in all its glory beneath a mirrored ceiling with a basket of what looks to be condoms, lube and lotions stationed artfully in its centre.

Awful.

Than, there's the bathroom that's more or less a fucking fish bowl. From where he's standing, only a few feet further into the room than Steve, Eddie can see that those glass walls provide no privacy. NONE. What the ever loving fuck!? There's a huge tub and shower and nothing more than a thick pane of glass separating them from the rest of the room.

Aw-ful.

What has he gotten himself into?

#wip wednesday #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steddie #steddie fandom #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #maybe if the fic gods are nice ill have this done in time for valentine's day

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