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arcadia-of-pluto · 2 days ago

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Casually calling him daddy; Caleb

Word count; 922

Warnings; "daddy" ofc, fluff

Notes; Hope yall enjoy these updated drabbles!! <3

☆☆☆☆☆

You and Caleb weren't…well, technically, you weren't dating, but you weren't exactly sure what to call it. Your relationship is the same it's always been.

The usual cuddling, hand-holding, pretending to date to thwart love confessions…

And you were trying to figure out how exactly to push the envelope just a step further.

As you were scrolling through decade old apps, you found a TikTok compilation.

Now, you weren't exactly sure what TikTok was since it was, at least, 20-years old, but you decided to watch the video anyways since you were doom scrolling in bed at Caleb's home.

As you were watching, one trend caught your eye.

It was the aptly named “calling your boyfriend daddy” trend and while you didn't have a boyfriend…you did have Caleb.

You weren't exactly sure what kinks Caleb had, but whether his reaction was sexual, disgust, or whatever it may be, you wanted to see. So, with that thought in mind, you get up and call your OTTO into the room.

“Hello, master, what do you need help with today? Do you need breakfast? Master Caleb left two hours, thirty-five minutes, and 40 seconds ago to go to work. He won't be home until–”

“Thank you so much for that, OTTO, but I needed something else.” You quickly cut the circular robot off, feeling a bit bad for doing so, but you doubt its feelings would be hurt. “Whenever Caleb gets home and we start cooking, can you switch to your recording mode?”

“I can do that. Any video saved will go straight to Master Caleb's phone.” The bot says as it flies around your head and you shrug, “That's fine with me. Let me know when he gets home!”

Now, you just need to figure out how you'll seamlessly bring the word up in conversation with Caleb…

“He's home! He's home!” OTTO shouts, almost excitedly, as it speeds around the house similarly to an overexcited dog. Though, its warning was a tad too late as Caleb steps in the door while the bot is excitedly yelling.

“You missed me so much, you got OTTO to tell ya when I get home?” He laughs as he takes his Colonel hat off, setting it on the coffee table.

“Maybe…” you grab his hat, putting it on as you shove him toward his room. “Go get changed, I'm hungry.”

“Alright, alright. Geez, no need to be in such a hurry, pipsqueak.” He holds his hands up, allowing you to push him.

After he's changed, he joins you in the kitchen with OTTO flying steadily around the room.

“Did you tell OTTO to do something? It's acting realllly strange.” Caleb's eyes narrow as he shuts the rice cooker. “Nope, maybe it's broken.” You shrug, continuing to peel an apple.

You decided to make an apple smoothie for both you and Caleb, almost completely forgetting about your earlier plan. “Oh right…” you murmur under your breath.

How were you going to bring it up…

“What're you thinking about, pipsqueak?” Caleb rests an arm on your shoulder as he pokes the skin between your eyebrows. “What's got you furrowing your brows?”

“Well da– I mean, hmm…” you're honestly feeling a bit frustrated, but also embarrassed that you can't find a way to naturally insert this word into the conversation.

How come he can do it so easily when calling you pipsqueak?

Caleb raises a brow, leaning more into your view. “What did you say?”

“Ah, it's nothing.” You shove at his chest with a small laugh. “Give me some space, Caleb. You know I'm holding a knife, right?”

But as soon as you say this, you feel an odd pressure on your wrist. Your hand lets go of the knife and it clatters on the marble countertop.

“Caleb– ?”

He turns your body to face him, your back against the counter as he tilts his head to the side.

“Go on.”

“I wasn't going to say anything, seriously!” You can't help but laugh, turning your head to look away from him.

He didn't know exactly what you were going to say from just a few letters…right?

He grabs your chin, turning your head to face him. “Don't look away from me.” He jerks his chin up as he looks down at you. “Go ahead, say what you were going to say. I'm waiting.”

Embarrassment along with…something else was boiling in the pit of your stomach and you let out a low, panicked whine, lightly stomping your foot.

Suddenly, you felt like you couldn't say anything. So tongued that you just kept your mouth shut.

A sharp laugh escapes Caleb and his grip tightens around your chin. “Alright, brat. You really don't want to say it?” He hums, eyes flitting from yours to your lips. “Then I guess that means…no braised chicken tonight?”

“Huh–” you owlishly blink at him, before finally coming back to life. “That's not fair–!”

“Then…Say. It.” Caleb clicks his tongue, slowly leaning forward so his forehead rests against yours.

“I…ugh.” You sigh, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “I'm sorry…daddy.”

“Good girl.” He hums with a content smile, dipping his head down to lightly peck your lips before suddenly, he's gone. “Now get back to your smoothie.”

Your face was red as you stared at his back. How the hell was he so unphased!?

That's so unfair.

But as you puff out your cheeks in annoyance, you notice how one of his hands is balled up into a fist and his ears are a pretty shade of red.

Casually calling them "daddy" LADS

Word count; 1,913

Themes; slightly barely there suggestive content, fluff, established relationship

Warnings; mention of "daddy" ofc, fluff

Notes; So these turned out more fluffy than I originally intended...honestly, thought they'd be more smutty, but I've learnt that it's really difficult for me to write smut. Or at least, smut with little to no context before it all goes down. I might eventually write some smuttier drabbles, but regardless of smut, I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote!

You saw that there was an old trend about calling your boyfriend “daddy” and videoing their reaction so, obviously, you wanted to give it a try…

Xavier

It's been almost a year since you and Xavier started dating– and it was a wonderful eleven months! He told you everything about himself. What his future with you was like, all of his feelings throughout the centuries, and you listened. You wholeheartedly believed him, because it would be one hell of a lie if it wasn't true…and you didn't think Xavier had the time or energy to come up with a complex lie like that.

But even if you now know, time moves on. There's not much you can do about your future self, so you can't really change the future in that way though…Xavier's here now, in the past, and that's all that matters to you.

Anyway, today was just a normal day as any.

You were sitting at the counter, keeping a close eye on Xavier– who was attempting to follow, yet another, cooking tutorial. The man was desperate to cook a decent meal for you. His heart dead set on making you something edible for your upcoming year anniversary…and while that was cute, you also wanted to mess with him.

You push your cup just out of your reach and make a big show of trying to reach for it, before sighing loudly.

“Daddy, can you pass me my drink please?”

You can hear the clang of a spatula hitting the floor and you watch Xavier’s body comically whip around to face you.

“What?” His head cocks to the side as his wide eyes were set on your face. “Say that again..”

“Hmm? I said ‘Xav, can you pass me my drink, please’.” You copy his head tilt and he quickly shakes his head.

“No, no you didn't.” He takes a few steps toward you before grabbing your hand in-between both of his. “Say it again.”

You couldn't resist his sweet puppy dog eyes, so you hold back a smile as you meet his eyes. “I...called you daddy.”

“Really?” He seems unusually excited. “So are we…?” His gaze lowers to your stomach and you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips.

Gosh, he was so cute.

“Baby– no, no. We're not pregnant.” You run your fingers through his hair with a smile on your lips. “Are...you disappointed?”

“Mmh..” Xavier hums thoughtfully for a moment before he shakes his head. “No. We can just make it a reality later. No need to rush.”

Zayne

You and Zayne have only been dating for six months, but it felt like much longer. Having known each other since you were little, you both had always been close– well, your definition of close and his were probably different. You always thought of him as a friend while he tried to keep a distance and thought you hated him. But time brought you both back together with him as your primary care physician.

The two of you had been flirting up until his birthday and finally made it official once he blew his candles out on the cake you made for him. It was a sweet time, but that was six months ago.

Now, though, you really want to fluster the man.

He always embarrasses you and makes you feel nervous, but you never get to see him that way. Sure, his ears will turn red and sometimes he won't meet your eyes when you get too intense with him, but you've never seen him absolutely shocked. And you just wanted to see one look of surprise from him.

So, what did you decide to do?

You decided to casually call him "daddy” as a joke.

That should definitely go over well.

Zayne is seated behind his desk at the hospital, sorting through papers as you longue on his sofa. Your eyes continuously glancing toward the windows to make sure the door was shut and the blinds were closed.

“If you keep staring at the door, you just might burn a hole through it.” Zayne says, though he didn't even look up from his paperwork. He was attentive like that and probably already knew you wanted something or you were ready to go home. And he was right.

“When are we going home…daddy?” You ask as you kick your feet in the air behind you. You were on your stomach, resting your cheek against your arms as you watched his expression…which didn't change at all.

"Just give me a few more minutes, angel, and I'll be done.” Zayne pushes his glasses up with his index finger and clicks his pen, jotting down a few notes.

“I–” You puff your cheeks out with a small sigh and decide to keep going with it. “I want to go home now, daddy.”

“Didn't I just tell you to be patient?” Now Zayne finally looks up at you with one of his brows raised. “I'll deal with you when we get home.”

Rafayel

It's been four months since Rafayel asked you out. Four months since you tugged Rafayel down into the bath with you, which set off a chain reaction of a steamy night, followed by him asking you out the next morning; he also complained that you both went out of order, but he wasn’t too upset when you continued where you left off…

Now, though, you moved out of your apartment and to Rafayel's home, ‘Mo Art Studio’ at Whitesand Bay.

It was definitely odd at first, but it was a good change of pace. Always being by the ocean, able to take your morning walks together on the beach and collect seashells. You had a whole collection on your desk at work. He'd always give you the most unique and prettiest shells, saying “only the best for his cutie”.

He was also so easy to fluster.

You immediately knew you had him wrapped around your finger every time his ears would turn red. That same crimson slowly made its way from his ears to his cheeks, all the way to his whole face. So you assumed your little ‘prank’ would also have the same effect.

You were sitting on a beach towel in the sand with an umbrella blocking your eyes from the bright sun. In front of you was Rafayel, painting your visage, with an easel. His hand deftly moves across the canvas as he sketches the outline for his new painting.

Lately, you are the only thing he can paint. Always asking you to stop what you're doing so he can run and get his sketch pad. You could be doing something so normal and mundane, but he'd be struck with the inspiration to record your very image.

As much as you loved it and thought this was very sweet, after almost two weeks of this…You wanted some form of payback.

“Hey, daddy, can we take a break for a second? It’s really hot out here.” You squint your eyes to try and see Rafayel's face, your hand fanning at your body because you, seriously, are hot out here.

“Huh?”

It's like Rafayel is frozen in time, or buffering. He's just blankly staring at you with a confused expression on his face until his pencil drops into the sand. That's when he quickly stands up and makes his way toward you.

“Again.”

Now, it's your turn to be confused.

“Raf, what–”

“Not that, say the other word again.” His ears were red as he crouched down in front of you, a look of determination in his eyes.

“No– you're making it weird!” You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to put some distance between him as your face turns red.

“Please, I really need to hear you say it again! I'm seriously going to die if you don't.” There's your overdramatic fishy.

“Fine, but just this once.” You grumble, turning your head to look away from him. “Daddy…” Though you say it as low as you can and Rafayel groans, tilting his head back.

“Louder.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Come on, cutie. If you don't…I might want to change that to my new nickname.”

Sylus

It's been about…a year? Yes, definitely a year since you and Sylus started dating. Well, you both have differing opinions on when exactly you started dating. Sylus claims it was the moment he laid eyes on you in the N109 Zone, while you claim it was only about six months ago– which is when you and Sylus made a bet.

It was a bet where if he came back safely from his mission, he'd leave you alone. He wouldn't bother you anymore, wouldn't talk to you, contact you, anything of the sort…and you won, but you didn't realize he'd actually do it. So whenever you seeked him out to make sure he was safe, and he ignored you, you realized that maybe you did want him in your life.

This led to you running across the street to him and jumping into his arms like this was a hallmark movie, and you claim this was when you officially started dating Sylus.

But between us, you just agree with Sylus when he says a year, because if you don't, he'll pout for the whole day.

...And today was one of those ‘pouty Sylus’ days.

You went on a mission that was probably way too dangerous, even though you told Sylus you were going to slow down on your Hunter's work. But you couldn't just ignore endangered civilians. If any of them would have died, that would've been too much for your sympathetic heart to handle.

And even if Sylus understands your reasoning, he's still upset that you left without telling him– having woken up to a cold bed without you by his side sent him spiraling into a panic.

So, when you got home, you noticed he was sulking in the kitchen as he made dinner.

“Sy…” You take your shoes off by the door, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tentatively walk into the kitchen. Standing behind the counter, you sigh, “I'm reeaally sorry...”

“If you're reeaaally sorry, then help me make our dinner.” He says, not looking up at you and that doesn't make you feel any better.

“Okay..” You finally step past the counter and you look around. “So…what do you need?” You were trying to figure out something– anything that could make Sylus feel better when a thought comes to your mind.

Most guys probably like it when their girlfriend calls them daddy…right?

“In the cabinet, top shelf. I need a bottle of garlic powder.”

Okay, you got this.

You take a deep breath and open the cabinet, straining your arm to try and reach the seasoning bottle, but your fingertips barely brush it and knock it over. “Shit…” You swallow back your nervousness before continuing, “Daddy, can you grab it for me?”

The room fills with silence for a moment, but then you hear Sylus chuckle.

“Sure, kitten.”

Your back suddenly feels warm as a firm chest presses against it and Sylus reaches up from behind you to grab the bottle.

“I ask you to do one simple thing and you can't even do that.” Sylus chides, clicking his tongue as he pops the bottle open to pour some into the pan on the stove.

“Da–”

“If you think a few empty words will make me feel better, kitten…you've got to try a lot harder than that.”

I'd like to say, this is definitely one of my better drabbles– one of my favorites, in fact!

I have like...six more ideas for drabbles and then I'll need to come up with some more. Like these new cards and Rafayel's student photoshoot event really had me thinking of how seriously the LADS men would take roleplaying– and that spawned a whole different drabble idea, so you can definitely look forward to that!

I'm trying to come up with new ways to do my drabbles, so that's why I did a little prelude before I started writing for the guys. Please let me know any feedback yall have for me! Especially with the coloured dialogue, I'm not too sure if I like it, but it seems really pretty and probably makes it easier to tell who is talking apart. (I won't use it for my fic though, only the drabbles!)

Anyway, I have a small personal project I'm working on this weekend so I probably won't be able to write any chapters for my 'Divisa' fic, but I'm still going to post chapter nineteen of 'Twist of Fate' and try to write at least two more chapters since I'm only on twenty-three or so.

I hope you all enjoyed these drabbles and I hope yall have a great night/day! 🩷

#lads #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #lnds x reader #lnds #lads drabble #lnds drabble #love and deepspace drabble #lnds caleb #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #l&ds #l&ds caleb #l&ds x reader #love and deepspace caleb x reader #caleb

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 24 hours ago

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Buried Secrets Chapter 1: Demons of Deception

Buried Secrets Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Summary: After the harrowing events in South America, Frankie and the guys have returned home and opened their own private security business. They're eventually approached by an archeologist, named Mya, who is requesting their specialized services for an archeological expedition in the Amazonian jungle of southeastern Peru, hours away from where they stashed Lorea's money just over the border in the mountains of northern Chile.

Frankie is hesitant to accept the job, but with Pope's insistence this could be their cover to go back for the money, he relents. However, Frankie soon learns their new job assignment only further puts them and his new love interest in danger in an unexpected way as they set out to find the lost Incan city of Paititi.

Word Count: 6.2k

👉 Warnings: smut (MDNI), angst, mentions of mental health struggles and past drug use (it's Frankie), there are bad guys with weapons (gun violence, physical violence, death). Frankie Morales comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Badass OFC, there are bad guys with weapons (gun violence, physical violence, blood), a surprise appearance or two, brooding Frankie

Chapter Quote: “Why don’t you come a little closer so you can experience the adventure for yourself.”

Mya’s POV

I had been in a lot of tight spots in the past, but nothing could compare to this. The most infuriating thing about it all, it wasn’t because of something I did. I was left to take the fall by someone that I thought loved me.

When I came to, I found myself suspended from the ceiling by my shackled hands. My toes barely touched the floor, just enough to help take some of the weight off my aching shoulders and wrist that stretched above my head. The room was empty and dark, only small hints of sunlight sneaking in through the thick tattered curtains.

Looking around, I saw no way out of this. There was nothing I could use to my advantage and my restraints seemed secure. They had done their due diligence in making sure I couldn’t escape. That was the downside to being taken hostage by people who were familiar with your unusual skill sets.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed before the door creaked open, but it felt like hours. A very pissed off looking Miguel Collazo and one of his enforcers strode into the room, pausing several feet in front of me. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach because I could sense he was beyond reason.

He gave me a menacing glare as he spoke with his thick Spanish accent, “I never thought I would find myself in this kind of situation with you, Mya. You are one of my best collectors, so I am torn on what to do with you.”

I was seething, “How about you unlock these cuffs and let me go. I had nothing to do with this, and you know it.”

He tutted, “I do not believe you. You and Damien have always been inseparable, so I know you know where he is. I want my artifacts and money back.”

Collazo was a pudgy little man with a crooked nose and curly villain mustache that rivaled Dustin Hoffman in Hook. He had a perpetually smug expression that I really wanted to bitch slap off his face as he smirked up at me.

“I don’t know where he is. What would he have to gain from leaving me behind?”

He shrugged as he began to pace back and forth in front of me, “I do not know, to keep me off his trail? It does not make sense to me that he would not tell you his plan.”

I scoffed, “Well I haven’t done that now have I? I have no fucking idea where he is. He was gone when I got home…his phone has been disconnected. I have no way of reaching him.”

The door swung open with a little more force this time. Comandante Veracruz entered, moving to stand next to Collazo. I could see his scruffy angled jaw ticking as his dark eyes looked me over from head to toe. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, I could only hope he would take pity on me and talk Collazo off the ledge.

Veracruz was head of security for Collazo. Damien and I had gotten to know him well since we worked closely on several heists in the past. He had made his affections for me obvious but would never have acted on them because of Damien. Now that Damien was long gone, I hoped I could use his affections to my advantage.

“What are you thinking?” He asked Collazo in his Spanish accent.

Collazo smiled, “Still undecided…I am going to let Diego work his magic and see what happens. If she knows, she will break.”

Veracruz shifted his gaze to me. He looked conflicted, but didn’t say anything further. Collazo looked to Diego, nodding in my direction as he rasped out, “Comenzar.” (Begin.)

Diego stalked forward, then backhanded me across the cheek. I let out a threatening chuckle as I shook it off. “This isn’t gonna change my answer. I don’t know anything. All you’re doing is pissing me off.”

Collazo laughed, “Good thing we have you chained up then… Continuar, Diego.” (Continue, Diego.)

Diego gave me an empty stare before punching me in the gut, knocking the air out of my lungs. He went on like this for several minutes, punching and slapping. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I pushed through the pain. I refused to let them see how bad I was hurting, even as I felt my left eye swelling and blood running down the sides of my face. All the while Collazo continued to question me.

“Perhaps you could also fill me in on what happened at Lorea’s? Was Damien involved with that too? How much of my money does he actually have?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know anything about that. Maybe he was. If he’s capable of this, then why not? But I don’t know anything. He didn’t tell me.”

Collazo inched forward, causing Diego to momentarily pause his blows and face him as he awaited further instructions.

“Are you sure you do not have anything you wish to tell me, Mya?” Collazo asked.

Clearly, this was going nowhere. It didn’t matter what I said. He didn’t believe me. I spit out the blood that was pooling in my mouth toward his expensive looking white leather shoes, “Yeah, fuck you.”

He didn’t seem impressed, “Still not breaking…I’m shocked. You are stronger than I would have guessed. Hora de tu especialidad, Diego.” (Time for your specialty, Diego.)

My breath caught in my throat as I watched Diego reach for the knife at his belt. A sadistic smile curling on his lips as he nodded in affirmation to his boss. However, he had made a mistake, standing too closely to me with his back turned. I reacted before he even realized what was happening, kicking the knife from his hand and using the chain as leverage to lift myself so I could wrap my legs around his neck. The adrenaline pumping through my veins allowed me to push through the debilitating pain, but I wasn’t sure how long I could hold him. Every muscle and joint in my body was protesting, but I still managed to clamp down tightly around his throat as he clawed at my jean-clad legs. He fought it for a time but eventually passed out from lack of oxygen.

Veracruz stood in shock as he watched Diego fall to his knees. Collazo let out a boisterous laugh and clapped his hands in amusement, “It’s always an adventure with you, Mya.”

I loosened my hold on Diego, allowing him to drop the rest of the way to the ground. I gave Collazo the best sarcastic smile I could muster in my current state, “Yeah? Why don’t you come a little closer so you can experience the adventure for yourself then.”

Collazo chuckled, “I am going to miss your feistiness.”

Veracruz finally interjected, “Perhaps she is telling the truth. It does not make sense that he would leave her if she knew something. Maybe he is planning to return for her?”

Collazo weighed Veracruz’s words, his eyes eventually narrowing in suspicion. “Then he will find that she is missing and that you wait in her place…Acaba con ella, Comandante.” (Finish her, Comandante.)

Fuck. How do I get out of this one?

Veracruz gave a curt nod, taking a deep breath as he drew his pistol and walked toward me. He made sure to stay far enough away that he was out of my reach, but I could still see the nervous sweat forming on his brow and conflict burning in his eyes as he aimed at my face. He held the weapon there, his nostrils flaring and jaw flexing as he clearly struggled with his instructions. I held his gaze, my eyes silently pleading with him in hopes it might sway him to help me in some way. If he didn’t, I was fucked.

“What are you waiting for, Comandante? Finish her,” Collazo ordered again.

I sighed. I didn’t want to do this, but it was the only card I had left to play if Veracruz wasn’t going to help me. I knew it would stop Collazo in his tracks, but I hated myself for it before the words even left my mouth. The Comandante’s finger slowly moved to the trigger, but he was still hesitating.

I flinched away from the barrel of the gun. “WAIT! Wait…” I finally called out.

Collazo sneered as he twisted his stupid mustache with his fingertips, “Better make it good, Mya. This is your last chance.”

I could feel the fight leaving my body as I finally shared the news that I hoped would save my life - at least until I could come up with another way out. “I know the location of Paititi.”

Veracruz lowered his weapon, then turned to give Collazo a questioning look. Collazo’s brows pinched together in doubt, “You lie.”

I shook my head, “I would never…not about this.”

He scoffed, “How do I know you are not just saying this so I do not kill you?”

I huffed out a nervous laugh, “Well, that’s exactly why I’m saying it…but it doesn't make it any less true. I’ve seen the Vatican documents. I know where to look.”

Collazo smiled contemptuously, “That’s impossible. They are inaccessible...How?”

This was the tricky part that was probably going to get me shot, “I-I can’t tell you how…but just know, if you shoot me, the knowledge dies with me. No one else knows about this, not even Damien.”

Veracruz smirked in my direction, “Well…it seems the secrets run deep between both of you then.”

I let out a sardonic laugh, “Damien never believed in Paititi…he said it was a wasted effort…a myth. I kept a lot from him...”

Collazo came closer but made sure to keep Veracruz positioned between us. “What are you proposing, Mya? How can I trust you after this?”

“Let me prove my loyalty. Let me lead an expedition to find the lost city for you. All I ask is that you let me do it the right way, the legal way. I just need funding…”

He didn’t seem convinced, but I was still breathing, so it wasn’t a no. I changed tactics, now playing the role of a hurt and scorned lover, “I swear, I had no knowledge of what Damien was doing. IF he comes back for me, I’ll kill him myself. He betrayed me too. I’m here because of what he did. I can’t forgive him for that.”

Collazo sighed, “If you want to do this the legal way, you know you cannot have any known ties to me…”

I had him. Death would not be taking me today, but I had to think quickly so I could talk myself out of this mess.

“I’ll figure out the logistics…Maybe I set up a donation fund through the gallery…you can donate anonymously to fund the project. I’ll give you access to whatever I find first before I report the discovery.”

This was far from how I wanted to do things, especially since I was hellbent on getting out of my life of crime, but I saw no other way forward at the moment.

Veracruz turned to Collazo, “If you’re willing to chance it, I can keep an eye on her…”

Collazo met my gaze, “Fine. One wrong move though…and you are done. You understand?”

I nodded, “Yes, I understand.”

My eyes shifted to Veracruz, who visibly relaxed, realizing the threat had passed. Collazo turned to leave and tossed him the key, “Cuida sus heridas.” (Take care of her wounds.)

He watched Collazo exit and close the door before he turned to me, leaning in close to my ear as he worked to unlock the cuffs, “I really thought I was about to have to shoot up the place to get you out of here. That was clever…how long can you keep this ruse going?”

The cuffs loosened, I groaned at the ache in my joints as I lowered my arms and leaned into him for support, “It’s not a ruse…I was telling the truth…”

My words trailed off as I sucked in a sharp breath.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

I shook my head, my breath now shaky as the pain began to overtake me, “Fuck n-no. I-I think he cracked some ribs.”

He sighed, “I’m sorry. I should have done something more…”

I winced as we began to walk, “No, I get it. It probably just would have gotten us both killed. You did what you could in the moment.”

Veracruz did have a soft spot for me, but I wasn’t a fool. He would never sacrifice himself for me. He wasn’t that selfless. He would only help so long as it didn’t put him in the crosshairs. He was an unreliable ally in the best of circumstances, and I knew that. At least he cared enough to see that I was taken care of while I recovered.

I knew I would have to watch out for myself as I plotted and planned because there were demons of deception around every corner. I could put my trust in no one, not even the one person I thought was safe. I was quickly learning they would all betray me in the end, which is why I wanted out of this life. I wanted to walk the straight and narrow again. The money was not worth death. It was getting too dangerous to continue living this way.

Six Months Later…

Frankie’s POV

I awoke with a groan, squinting toward the window to find the sun was just beginning to rise. The reason for my sudden waking, my cell phone incessantly pinging from incoming text messages on the nightstand. I didn’t even need to look to know that it was Pope. I huffed, reaching for the device to see what the hell he wanted this early in the morning.

Pope: We still on for the range today? I know we had a late night, but I’m still going.

Pope: Will and Benny are out. Apparently, Benny is feeling last night’s fight. He 100% got his ass kicked.

Pope: Which means Will is being his bitch today.

Pope: So, that leaves us. You better not stand me up, pendejo.

I rolled my eyes. Why can’t he just put all of that in one fucking message? He texts like a teenage girl.

Frankie: Chill the fuck out, pendejo. I’ll be there.

Pope: 9AM. Don’t be late.

Frankie: 🖕

Pope: 🖕🖕

I dropped the phone beside me on the bed and sighed. Without Benny and Will there, I knew Pope would start badgering me about going back for Lorea’s money. He was becoming almost obsessive over the idea. Not that I could blame him, having a little extra cash on hand would be a huge help right now. Supporting two households wasn’t easy, even if the new private security business was doing well.

I palmed at my sleepy face, trying to wake up. My eyes finally blinked open and surveyed my near empty bedroom. The bareness of the place was a constant reminder of how I had fucked everything up and ended up alone. Starting over was never fun, but this was torture knowing that my now ex-fiancé, Maria, had given me every chance and I squandered them. Now she was moving on, my young daughter now spending time with a new man in their life and calling him Papi while I fought for unsupervised visitation.

I had no one to blame but myself. I was the one who fell off the wagon and started a slow coke spiral after we got back from South America. What we had gone through, losing Tom, it was too much and we did it for nothing. We left with nothing to show for it but the body of our Captain. We got messy. I got messy. And it broke me. I should have put my foot down about how much weight that bird could carry. If I had, we might be living completely different lives right now. Tom might still be here.

I puffed air out of my cheeks before slinging the blanket off so I could go make some coffee. After padding down the short hallway of my very modest two-bedroom fixer-upper, I loaded up the coffee machine. I stood, leaning against the counter, scanning the space while the sputtering drips began to fall into the pot. I really needed to do something to make the place look less like military barracks and more like a home. Especially if I was eventually going to have my kid here. The mere thought of all the work that needed to be done made my chest feel tight. I had to shake my head to push the never-ending checklist out of my mind and focus on something else before it put me in an even worse mood.

Once my coffee was ready, I decided to sit out on the front porch swing to enjoy the calm of the morning. After getting comfortable, I let my mind run through several things that needed to be taken care of at the office. I was thinking through some budget requests while watching two squirrels chase each other around the base of an old Oak tree when movement on the street caught my attention. A blacked-out SUV crept down the road, eventually speeding up and disappearing around the corner. It put me on edge. It was too nice of a vehicle to be driving through this neighborhood.

I was probably just being paranoid, but the fear of one of Lorea’s business partner’s finding out who stole some of their money and then torched the rest was a very real concern - for me at least. The rest of the guys seemed to think we were in the clear. I wasn’t completely convinced, and it constantly had me on alert.

I sat for a while, my eyes scanning the quaint neighborhood I had chosen to settle down in, looking for anything that seemed out of place. Finding nothing, I eventually scoffed at myself, thinking that perhaps I was being ridiculous about this whole thing as I stood to go get ready to meet Pope.

A short time later, I found myself pulling into the gun range parking lot. This had become sort of a weekend routine for us. It served as an escape, allowing me to have a taste of the military life that I was so accustomed to before retiring. It was the only time I found that my mind was completely empty. There was something freeing about it, helping me to relax - most days. Today, however, was another story. I could tell from the look on Pope’s face as soon as he stepped out of his vehicle that he was cooking up some kind of plan.

He smiled as I approached, clapping me on the back in greeting, “Hey, hermano. You get enough sleep?”

I gave him a tight smile, “Could have gotten a little more if you weren’t texting me at the asscrack of dawn.”

Pope grimaced, “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to the time.”

I rolled my eyes at him, “Of course not... What did you book for us today?”

He turned to grab his duffel out of the backseat, “I got us two one-hundred-yard lanes. They only had one three-hundred open.”

I shook my head, “Figures. Alright, let’s go.”

The range was busy, for which I was thankful. It made it harder for Pope to get a word in. There was an eventual lull in the shooting, and he wasted no time in taking advantage of it. He leaned in closer, pulling one side of his earmuffs away as we worked to reload. I did the same so I could hear what he had to say.

“I think I can get us into Columbia, off the radar. I’ve got a contact…”

I held up my hand, “Stop. I don’t wanna hear it.”

I could see the frustration on his face as his jaw tensed, “Come on Fish, this could work. I’ll cover the cost again…get the documents…everything. No one knows where that money is except for us. We shouldn’t run into any problems. There wouldn’t be any contact with the cartel. It’s a quick in and out.”

After inserting a fresh magazine into the rifle and replacing my earmuff, my lips set into a tight line. I gave him a tense look before stepping to the firing line to discharge at the target. My non-answer seemed to end the conversation, for now.

I took the time to get lost in the target, giving it all my focus as I peppered it with bullet holes in and around the center. My mind was finally quiet, and I reveled in it, wishing it would stay that way for the rest of the day. I knew that was wishful thinking though. It never did.

Once that magazine was empty, I returned to the table that separated my lane from Pope’s so I could reload. He joined me, staring off in the distance, seemingly distracted by something before finally turning his attention to me and removing his right muff. I did the same as I gave him a warning with my eyes.

“How’s it going with Maria? Any headway?”

I shook my head, “Nope. If she has it her way, I’ll get zero visitation. She’s done with me…won’t listen to anything I have to say. She doesn’t believe I’ve cleaned up my act.”

Pope sighed as he gave me a sympathetic look, “Sorry, hermano. I hoped she would come around. Don’t let it get you down though. We’ve got your back. Whatever you need…”

I nodded, “Yeah, I appreciate it. I might need you guys as character witnesses if it gets to that point.”

He gave me a soft reassuring smile, “Consider it done.”

His eyes drifted again as a larger caliber rifle began to sound off from the far lane. He seemed intrigued as I raised a questioning eyebrow at him. He glanced over at me, jerking his chin upward indicating I should have a look. It didn’t take me long to figure out what had his attention, or who rather. There was a woman in the farthest three-hundred-yard lane, lying on her stomach, shooting the high caliber rifle that had ended our conversation. She was wearing army green fatigues that definitely did not fit like military issue pants as they hugged her curvy hips and ass just right. She was also wearing a black ribbed tank top, black military style boots, and a black SWAT hat pulled down low over her aviators. Her dark hair was tied back in a messy knot at the nape of her neck. I could see why she had his attention. Aside from her attractive form, this wasn’t a sight we saw here very often.

As she stood, she turned toward us. Her eyes hidden behind the dark glasses with her lips set into a tight line, giving nothing away. I glanced at Pope, who seemed smitten already. I rolled my eyes at him as I stepped back up to the firing line. Hot women were always his weakness. He would disagree, but we all knew it.

When I returned to the table, it was clear Pope was still distracted as he continued to glance her way. His eyes finally met mine. “You been out with anyone since you and Maria split?” he asked.

I gave him an admonishing look as I shook my head. I didn’t feel like that was the best idea right now. I had too much going on.

It was his turn to roll his eyes, “Not saying you need to step into anything serious, but you do need to lighten up. A one-nighter might do you some good and help with that.”

I glared at him, “I’m not doing that. It always turns into trouble.”

He snorted, “Well…maybe you should be worse at it, so they don’t come back for more.”

I could feel my cheeks warming from his words as I flashed my middle finger at him, “Fuck off.”

He jerked his chin toward the last lane as the woman got into position again, hitting the three-hundred-yard target dead center when she finally shot off a round.

“You should go ask her out.”

I scoffed, “No. I’m not…”

Pope jutted his hip out, putting his weight on one foot, “Come on… Maria’s moving on. It’s time you did too.”

I could feel my jaw flexing at the mention of that, “No. Just let it go.”

Pope chuckled, “Yeah, I don’t blame you. That looks like too much woman for you to handle anyway. She’d probably kick your ass…I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

I shook my head, giving him an exasperated look, “What the hell does that even mean?”

He gave me a mischievous smile as he shrugged, then turned toward the firing line to begin shooting again.

Fucker. I was half tempted to talk to her just to prove a point.

I suddenly felt like eyes were on me as I glanced back over at the woman. I couldn’t tell because of her glasses, but it appeared that she was looking directly at me with a small smirk on her full lips. One eyebrow raised slightly as she picked up another clip, returning to the rifle to reload it. Now I was intrigued.

By the time Pope and I finished off our last magazine, she was gone. As we walked to the parking lot, Pope was quietly berating himself for letting the opportunity pass before he asked if I thought she might be back again. I shrugged, somewhat amused over his new infatuation because I knew he would be distracted by someone else as soon as he stepped foot into the bar later this evening.

After our goodbyes, I made my way to the local auto parts store to pick up a couple of specialty tools that I needed for a restoration I was currently working on in my spare time. I had inherited my dad’s dark red 1970 Chevelle SS 454 when he passed away several years ago. We always said we would work together to fix it up, but it never happened. Instead, it sat idle in his garage for years. It did the same after I took over ownership of it, not having the time or the energy for it. Now that I was alone, I found myself with plenty of opportunities and the need to keep myself occupied. It was another one of those things that helped keep my mind distracted when I needed it most. I was actually thankful for it even though it was turning into an expensive project.

With the new tools in tow, I returned home. After making myself a quick sandwich and scarfing it down, I sequestered myself away in the dilapidated shack beside the house that was meant to serve as a garage. It quickly became my refuge, and I had zero complaints about it - even if it did have a leaky roof and shitty lighting. It got the job done and that was all that mattered.

I spent all afternoon working, attempting to keep my mind from drifting to thoughts of the large bags full of money hidden in the Andes mountains of Chile. After the cluster fuck we got into last time we were in South America, I was having a hard time reconciling the idea of going back. Pope was right, we had no reason to interact with the cartels this time. We could easily sneak in and collect the cash without anyone knowing, assuming it was still where we left it.

What we should do about the money was a constant internal battle for me. I didn’t know if I should accept Pope’s reasoning over mine. However, the fear of losing another team member acted as a grey cloud that hung over my head and kept me from going back. I couldn’t go through that again. It affected every decision I had made since we got back. I couldn’t shake it no matter how hard I tried. The risk was too high without guarantee of a reward.

While I respected Pope’s attempts, I still had to consider outside forces that we had no control over. He had all of the trust in the world for his ‘contacts,’ but I didn’t. It would only take one of them to tip off the cartel if they got wind of what we were doing. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. I had spent hours going through every angle, all the possible problems we could run into. All of his plans seemed too dangerous, leaving too many unknowns. He just needed to accept that as my final decision and stop trying to rope us into another one of his crazy plans.

That was my final thought on it - for today anyway.

Mya’s POV

I had been planning the expedition for six months, meticulously researching every detail. That’s how I ended up at the local gun range for the last three Saturdays, doing a little recon on the owner of the security firm I was looking to hire. Collazo offered to provide security, but I needed this to be as far removed from him as possible to protect the reputation of my Gallery and the Archaeology Preservation Foundation that I had set up to fund the dig. Veracruz would still be on site to keep an eye on things, but all other aspects of the project were up to me and that included keeping my team safe.

Delta 5 Security Solutions had been recommended to me by a number of high-profile locals. It was owned by a military veteran named Francisco Morales, who worked to keep other veterans employed. Because of this, Delta 5 Security Solutions seemed much more equipped to handle the dangers of the Peruvian jungle than other firms. Word on the street was that they even offered specialized air transport services, on occasion. I needed a couple of pilots, so they seemed to check all the boxes. It would save me from having to set up multiple contracts at least.

The more time I spent watching Francisco, the more I questioned if he was the right choice. He definitely didn’t have the brightest of personalities, often seeming frustrated and stressed when he arrived at the range - like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I could, however, see his focus and determination as he fired at the targets. He was a good shot and exuded authority and control with his weapon. Sure, he came across as a little disheveled and scruffy, but there was something under the surface that intrigued me just enough to see where things went.

Like most Saturdays, Francisco wasn’t alone for his latest outing. He was accompanied by one of his employees, Santiago Garcia. Santiago seemed a lot more easy going and appeared to enjoy pushing Francisco’s buttons based on the serious side eye that was being thrown his way. From the intel I had gathered, these two, along with the Miller brothers, all served in the same military unit and seemed to be close friends in addition to running the security firm together. I had been watching all of them over the last several weeks to get a feel for their dynamic. I could see that they were loyal to each other and worked well together. It was almost for those reasons alone that I felt they would be a good fit. At least they understood loyalty and it left me wondering how loyal they could be to me if things took a turn.

However, I knew this all hinged on Francisco accepting the job. I had been warned that he wasn’t big on risks and wasn’t afraid to turn jobs down for that reason. He really was an enigma that I couldn’t figure out. Aside from his gruff demeanor, he seemed quiet and introspective - a reluctant leader, but the guy in charge, nonetheless. He also seemed to be having some life struggles but appeared to be on the upswing from those. I was concerned that it could serve as a distraction for him, but I still found myself wanting him and his team. I wouldn’t settle for anything less. My gut told me there was more to him than meets the eye and I wanted the opportunity to peel back those layers so I could find out who he really was as a person.

As I positioned myself on the ground to shoot the high caliber rifle that I had rented from the range, I could feel eyes on me. It probably wasn't the best choice since I hadn’t intended to draw attention to myself. There weren't a lot of women at the range, let alone any shooting a weapon like this at three-hundred yards. After hitting the target with multiple rounds, I stood, adjusting my aviators as I glanced toward the two men I was here to watch, realizing that I definitely had Santiago’s attention. Francisco gave me a brief glance before stepping up to shoot his own rifle. I had to give it to him; he didn’t allow for distractions. Santiago on the other hand, seemed to have at least one weakness. Women. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes over that realization as I packed up to leave.

After running home to shower and change into more professional attire, I headed toward my antiquities gallery to open for the day. Soon after opening, a well-dressed gentleman with dark hair and a beard entered, immediately asking to speak with the owner. The first thing I noticed were his kind eyes and submissive nature. He definitely had the tall, dark, and handsome thing going for him. Once I introduced myself, he got down to business with a polite smile.

“I apologize for showing up without an appointment, but I got a lead on this painting and wanted to follow up on it right away. I’m looking to purchase and pay cash if you have it…or can point me in the right direction.”

I returned his polite smile with one of my own, “If you can provide me with the details, I’d be happy to check our inventory for you.”

He pulled out his phone, tapping away to pull up a picture, “It's the Cazador (The Hunter), by Luis Magin…a 20th century Maya oil painting.”

I could feel my blood run cold as my body tensed. This was a missing painting listed in the National Stolen Art File. I was taken aback that this man would be asking for stolen artwork. He didn’t seem the type.

I laughed nervously, “Sir, I’m sorry…but we don’t sell stolen art. I’m not sure why you were sent here…”

He reached to pull a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and held it up, revealing Damien’s name scribbled on it. I could feel my breathing pick up as I fought to stay calm. Something felt wrong about this.

“I was told you could put me in contact with Damien Ravenwood…”

He seemed a little pushier now, like that name was supposed to magically solve the problem.

I shook my head, “I no longer associate with Damien Ravenwood…for obvious reasons. I don’t allow black market antiquities in my gallery.”

The man narrowed his eyes slightly, “My apologies. It must be a misunderstanding…”

His words trailed off as he reached inside the breast pocket of his suit jacket to pull out a business card, handing it over as he continued, “If he happens to show up…for any reason at all, please give me a call. I’d love to lock him down for a few minutes of his time.”

I glanced at the name on the card, Vincent Delacroix. It was obviously fake - a mashup of two famous painter’s names. There was nothing else on the card but a phone number. I gave him a tight-lipped smile as I waved the card in the air, “Yeah, sure, Mr. Delacroix. I’ll be sure to send him your way.”

There was something seriously off with this guy. I wasn’t sure if he was a black-market buyer or working undercover. Either way, I did not want to be in the middle of it. ‘Mr. Delacroix’ nodded and smiled before moving toward the exit. He paused halfway to the door, turning back in my direction, “I’m assuming you no longer have contact with Miguel Collazo either then? Or Persephone, by chance?

I could feel my jaw clench at the mention of Collazo and my black-market alias. I shook my head, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve had any dealings with those individuals.”

He gave me a charming smile in return, “Yeah, I thought that might be the case. Never hurts to ask...Thank you for your time, Miss Carnahan.”

He hesitated briefly, still smiling as he turned to leave. Once he finally exited the building, I let out the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

I was startled from my thoughts when my archivist, Emily, appeared at my side. “Who was that?” she asked.

“Honestly, I have no idea…if he shows back up, come get me. No one else talks to him. Understood?”

She nodded in agreement.

The day was certainly taking a turn that I hadn’t expected. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about as it was, it felt like something else had just been added to the list.

Chapter 2: The Divine Source

✨If you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to shoot me a DM or leave a comment.

A/N: SURPRISE! I know I said I wouldn’t start posting until Closed Position was complete, but it’s taking me for fucking ever to finish that one and I think I’ve made you wait long enough. Since I’ve got a decent start with this lovey adventure, I’ll go ahead and start posting. 😘

Now that we’ve gotten the first chapter out of the way, what are your thoughts? How are we feeling about Mya and Frankie? We definitely started with a bang (no pun intended).

I know I teased that Veracruz would be making an appearance. It turns out…he may have a slightly bigger role than I originally planned. We need a little extra tension with Frankie and I think Veracruz will serve as an excellent plot device for that. How do we feel about him so far? 🤭

We had another special appearance too. Anyone want to take a guess on who Mya’s surprise visitor is?

In the next chapter: Mya will drop in to visit the boys, Frankie has a decision to make, Mya accidentally gets a little nerdy on Frankie, and Frankie and Veracruz cross paths. Please do share your predictions. 😏

Tag group 1:

@2birdsofafeather @72scsuze @76bookworm76 @a-beautiful-but-sassy-world @almostfoxglove

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @annalovesflorida @anniet852 @ashleyfilm @ashlovesdrpepper

@auteurdelabre @avastrasposts @biggetywitch @bitchwitch1981 @bluestar22x

@bunniboo0015 @burntheedges @captainredspade @chaoticfestninja @cheekychaos28

@christinamadsen @copperhalfcent @darkheartgatita @diabaroxa @din-cognito

@elisabethloves @fifitheragertot @for-a-longlongtime @girlofchaos @guelyury

@harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @imdrinkingpedro @jackie923 @janeie87

@jeewrites @jensensational71 @jessthebaker @jessthebaker @joels-darlin

@kate-skates @katw474 @kels976 @lady-bess @gwendibleywrites

@ladyofmidlo72 @lizzie-cakes @madnessofadaydreamer @maggiemoo1892

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales #triple frontier #adventure fic #frankie gets his fucking money

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milkteabies · 2 days ago

Text

Haikyuu characters when (y/n) passes out bc of her period

characters: Tsukishima and Iwaizumi

(I meant to do more characters but I accidentally wrote too much just for these two)

a/n: this is purely self indulgent bc my period makes me pass out sometimes lol, so this is a female reader and ofc talks of periods and blood and passing out, so if that isn’t your thing or makes you uncomfortable, find something that’s more for you dear :D

also characters are probs ooc bc this is the first time I’ve written for them lol, so sorry in advance!!

—————

Tsukishima:

You had already started your period a few days ago, and just before it ends is when it’s the worst. The bleeding gets so heavy and no matter what, you feel very faint, but you couldn’t exactly skip school because you had an exam that you needed to do that you know the teacher wouldn’t allow to be retaken or rescheduled, so you hunkered down and trudged on.

Walking to school alone was uncomfortable, your cramps twisting in your stomach like a cheese grater to your organs. You were so distracted by the pain you didn’t even realize the footsteps coming up behind you.

“Can’t believe you’d leave me behind like that.” Tsukishima scoffs, his long strides easily falling into step next to your slightly stilted ones.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Tsukishima, I was distracted thinking about my exam today.” You smile up at him kindly, heart stuttering slightly, arms crossed over your stomach to try and alleviate the pain.

“Yeah, you told me about that last night… What are you doing with your arms?”

You look down at where they cross and shrug with a tired smile, “I’m just feeling a little cold today I think. Anyway, I’ll see you after your practice, yeah?” You wave as you walk off, joining Yachi and a few other friends to walk to class together, unaware of the secretly worried look following after you.

You’re in class, taking notes just before lunch when an incredibly strong pang hits you, squeezing the breath from your lungs. Quietly, you wheeze to try and distract yourself, and Yachi, who sits next to you, gently presses a hand to your arm in worry.

“Hey, you okay? Whats going on?” She whispers, glancing to the teacher to make sure they don’t notice.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just cramps.” You whisper back shakily, wrapping an arm snugly around your stomach.

Yachi gives you a sympathetic look, well aware of your struggles. “I have some extra strength advil in my bag, I’ll give you some at lunch.”

You mouth a thank you and quickly go back to taking notes when the teacher turns around.

As lunch starts, your friends amble around your desk to eat together, and Yachi quickly roots around for the medication and hands it to you, which you take immediately.

To try and avoid an extra stomach ache, you eat the light snack you packed with you, not having a lunch since you knew you would be too nauseous to keep anything down.

A minute later, the door to the classroom slides open and a familiar tall, bespectacled blond leans in. Your friend nudges you, and gestures with her head to the door when you look up.

You wave as you walk over to the door, “Hey Tsukishima, whats up?” You ask, standing in front of him.

“Just came to see if you were skipping lunch to do some last minute cramming for your exam.” He snarks, easily hiding the fact that he was worried and also wanted to maybe eat lunch with you to potentially help you study. Allegedly.

You laugh at his statement, knowing what he wants but continuing the bit, “I haven’t eaten in three days preparing, you think I’ll break my streak now?”

Tsukishima’s lips quirk before he hears a call of his name down the hall from Yamaguchi. “Ah, I have to go… Here. Make sure to actually eat something to power that pea brain of yours.” He huffs, pressing a strawberry cream bun to your hand before quickly walking off, his ears burning red.

You giggle after him, heart fluttering, before walking back to your desk where your friends all “oooh” and “aawww” at you which you wave off, slightly flustered.

Finally, at your last class of the day where your exam was set to take place, you knew it was gonna be tough. The medicine your friend gave you worked for a while into the exam, but by the end, it had worn off completely and you were not feeling good. You managed to finish the exam with a few minutes to spare, along with Yachi, because you shared the class, who you turned your exam in with, before packing up to leave.

Gathering your stuff, you felt almost all of your blood rush from your head as you stood up with your bag, and stumbled slightly. Yachi caught your arm and looked on in concern, but you smiled and waved it off to walk outside of the classroom. You barely made it a few feet out the door before your vision started to cloud.

Your heart was pounding and blackness bloomed across your eyes. You stumbled again, hitting the wall with your shoulder as Yachi rushed to your side, “(Y/n)! Oh my god, are you okay?!” She whispered loudly, kneeling in front of you, hands shaking.

“I- I can’t see.” You mumbled before your consciousness evaded you, and you slumped forward into your her arms.

It felt like an instant that you were awake again, no longer in the hallway, but now the nurses office, lying on a bed. As soon as you were aware of your surroundings, you became aware of your body and the cramps that were still crushing your insides.

You groaned as you sat up, a cold wet cloth flopping into your lap before you yelped when a snarky voice suddenly spoke up from next to you, “You should keep lying down, you might pass out again.”

Looking to your side, you found Tsukishima sitting in a chair, staring right at you with furrowed brows.

“Tsukishima? What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at practice- what time is it?” You questioned, looking around for your bag before another moment of lightheadedness hit you, making you press a hand to your forehead.

Tsukishima quickly stood up, pressing a hand against your shoulder, “Hey, listen to what I said! Lay back down!” He pushed, but you grabbed his wrist and pressed your forehead against his chest, breathing shakily.

“You idiot.” He mumbled, gently resting a hand on the back of your head.

You sighed before looking up at him, his hand still on your head. “Why’re you here?” You asked again.

“I was supposed to be at practice, but when Yachi called me, telling me you had passed out in the hallway, I couldn’t just not come. Who do you think brought you here? Yachi definitely isn’t strong enough to carry you.” He explains, brows furrowed again in worry.

“Ah, sorry about that.” You mumble, looking away from his eyes, but the hand previously on your head reaches for your chin and turns you back to him.

His eyes flicker around your face, as if searching before he finally demands, “What happened?”

You shrink a little into yourself, face flushing, but the hand on your chin holds firm as a second hand rests next to your thighs, trapping you in place. “…This’s never happened at school, it’s luckily only happened when I’ve been home, and normally my parents can take care of me, but my period makes me super light headed sometimes and I can pass out.” You murmur against squished cheeks.

Tsukishima’s face drops at the admission, “… So this happens regularly?”

“Well, kind of like every other period, but there have been times when it’s happened more than once if I have a really bad week.” You trail off, shrinking under his growing anger.

“And you’ve never told me about this because..?”

“I wouldn’t want to bother you and, like I said, normally my parents take care of me-“

“But what about times where they couldn’t?”

“I just lay down on the floor and then wake up later?”

Tsukishima can actively feel his blood pressure rise as he sighs, releasing your chin to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

“I’m taking you home and staying with you until your parents get home.” He states, standing back to full height before picking up both of your bags and pulling out his phone, presumably to text his team that he won’t return to practice at all.

“Tsukishima, you really don’t have to-!”

“I will, because you clearly can’t take care of yourself.”

“It’s not like I can control it!”

“Which is exactly why I’m going to take care of you. You can’t control it, and I don’t want to have to worry about you until I see you again!”

You’re stunned at the admission, feeling your ears burn at the worried look on Tsukishima’s face before you try again. “Really, it’s no big deal! You shouldn’t have to deal with your friend who-“ but before you can finish, you’re silenced by a pair of lips that press against yours.

You whimper in surprise as Tsukishima pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours, cheeks red as he glares at you, “I care about you and want to take care of you because I love you, can’t you understand that?” He demandss.

“Love?!” You squeak, pulling away to turn and hide your burning face in your hands.

“Yes, love.” He huffs, prying one hand away from your face to wrap an arm around your waist and rest his forehead against your shoulder. “…When Yachi called me, I ran across the school to get to you.” He mumbles.

Your heart racing, you take your other hand away from your face and gently tangle it through Tsukishima’s hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, making him shiver. “Sorry for worrying you.”

“… Whatever, it was my choice to worry, anyway.” He huffs again, standing and angling his head away to try and stop you from seeing his red face, but failing as you laugh, the cloth in your lap slowly wetting your skirt.

Iwaizumi:

Your stomach had been hurting all day. No matter of medication was able to stop the pain and despite having dealt with it for so long, you never got used to it and it never got better.

You just wanted to go home and lay down for the rest of the day, but responsibilities and school work didn’t stop just because you were tired, and you still had to get through practice after school, being the manager of the boy’s volleyball club. You’d just have to steel yourself to power through until you could go home.

Sighing when the final school bell rang, you slowly packed up your stuff and tiredly shuffled your way to the gym, biting your lip with each painful ache that shot through your system.

As you neared the gym, you could see the large cluster of girls already flocking to the open door, none of them daring to cross the threshold as they watched the team warm up. “Excuse me, girls.” You called politely, smiling when they shuffled around to let you through, greeting you kindly.

As you made it to the front, a stack of letters were shoved into your hands before the swarm cleared out, making you giggle as they chorused goodbyes and lightly pushed at each other bashfully. You closed the door to the gym and were again greeted, this time by the actual team.

“(Y/n)-chan! Is one of these letters finally from you?” Oikawa cooes playfully, taking the letters you held out to him, obviously from the girls who were just here.

“You’ve gotta try a bit harder if you want to actually be able to win my love, Oikawa.” You answered blankly, setting down your bag and starting on your basic duties.

Oikawa failed to respond as a ball ricocheted off the back of his head, making him fall forward as Iwaizumi barked out from behind, “Get back to practice Trashykawa!”

“Iwa-chan, you’re so mean to me!” He cries, stumbling back to court as you shake your head fondly at their actions.

As they continue to warm up, you go to fill up the water bottles, keeling over the water station when an especially sharp pain hit. You quickly straightened up when you heard someone clear their throat behind you, but winced again, pressing a hand to your side.

“Woah, are you alright?” The voice you now recognized as Iwaizumi asked as he appeared at your side, a large, warm hand pressed against the small of your back, making your face flush despite yourself.

You wave off his concern with a strained laugh, “Ah, I’m fine! Don’t worry, just a little side cramp.” You smile up at him, making his face burn at how cute he found you.

“R-right, sorry.” He quickly backs away, hands raised stiffly when he realized he was touching you. “Do you, uh, need help with that?” He asks, pointing to the crate of bottles.

“No, it’s fine. Focus of practice, Iwaizumi, not on the manager tasks I do every day.” You simper, resting a hand against his bicep before scampering off to return the, now full, water bottles.

Iwaizumi feels his heart race at the contact before shaking himself out of his head, where he will definitely be replaying that moment, to go back to practice. “Where did you go, Iwa?” Matsukawa asks rhetorically, snickering with Hanamaki at Iwaizumi’s flustered face before running off when he threatens them with a ball.

As they continue through practice, you’re sitting on your bench on the side, half empty water bottles to your left, a bag of towels to your right, and writing on your clip board the practice scores and what specific players should practice on, on their individual sheets.

Every few seconds you can feel your eyebrow twitch in tandem with each cramp that hits. You slowly feel yourself start to sweat, the back of your shirt clinging to your skin uncomfortably and your hands going clammy. Fanning yourself with a free hand, you reach for your own water bottle.

The cool water helps, partly, but not enough. The heat in the gym is getting to you, the constant squeaking of sneakers and slamming of the ball, you can feel your chest get tighter, your vision blurring, head starting to spin. You quietly get up and speed walk to the door, fanning yourself with your clipboard as you go.

Making it outside, you take a few stumbling steps to lean against the wall of the gym, hearing muffled and ringing, but suddenly aware of someone coming up behind you with quick steps. “Hey, what happened?” Iwaizumi asks, holding onto your shoulder in worry, brows furrowed.

“Aw, you care about me, Iwaizumi?” You can’t help but tease, a feigned, coy smile on your lips which makes him flush and stutter in his steps and response.

“I-I’m just feeling a little hot.” You pant, continuing to fan yourself and attempting to take a step forward when your legs suddenly fail you and you stumble to your knees, dropping the clipboard, papers scattering.

“O-oi, (y/n)!” He calls, dropping down next to you and catching you with an arm across your clavicle when you suddenly slump forward, eyes shut.

You wake up with a start, finding yourself on a bench in the team room with a cool pack on your head. Reaching up, you grab the pack and slowly sit up, swinging your legs down to sit normally.

“You’re finally awake.” Iwaizumi’s relieved voice sounds from the door of the room, startling you into dropping the pack on the floor. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologizes, quickly coming to your side with your water bottle in hand.

You take the bottle and drink a few gulps, accidentally spilling some drops from the corner of your mouth which slide down the side of your neck. Iwaizumi can’t help but watch them fall before shooting his eyes back to your face when you clear your throat.

“Did-uh, did you bring me here?” You ask awkwardly, wiping away the spilled water.

“Yeah, you collapsed in my arms, and the nurse’s office was closed, so I-uh, brought you back here instead. If you weren’t feeling good, you should have just gone home.” Iwaizumi reprimands gently, sitting on the bench sideways to face you, watching your shoulders slump in mild shame.

Nodding along, you laugh, “I probably should have, but I thought I’d be able to last. I didn’t want to leave you guys manager-less if I could just power through. This normally hap-”

“This is normal?” Iwaizumi cuts you off, leaning in to look at you with a shocked and worried expression.

You lean back, flushing at the sudden proximity. “W-well, kinda. My period can get pretty heavy, and it can make me all lightheaded, and sometimes I pass out. But it normally happens at home, not at school!” You stumble through your explanation, pressing a hand to Iwaizumi’s chest and turning to look any place other than his face.

“That’s not safe at all! What happens if you fall and hit your head?!” He demands, leaning closer, one hand grabbing your waist, the other pressing the hand on his chest closer so you could practically feel his heart racing.

“My-my parents help me, or I just lay down until I can get up!” You stammer, only making it worse.

Iwaizumi sighs into your shoulder, hugging you close to his chest between his legs. You sputter at the sudden contact, arms trapped between your chests, but freeze when you feel his hand squeeze your waist.

“You’re gonna make my heart give out. You make me so worried.” He mumbles into your shirt.

Your hands grip the front of his uniform tightly as your eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment at how hot your face feels. “Sorry.” You whisper into his hair.

“It’s not your fault, but… please, let me take you home so I know you won’t just pass out on the side of the road.” He practically begs, unconsciously circling his thumb on your hip comfortingly.

You giggle at his words, heart fluttering from his actions. “Ok, just so I can pass out in your arms instead.” You simper, quieting a giddy shriek when his hands squeeze your waist tighter as he chuckles into your neck.

—————

a/n: let me know if I should write for other characters, or if you have any fun ideas/requests!!

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #haikyuu tsukishima #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #fanfiction #x reader #haikyuu imagines

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elliesglock · 2 days ago

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Azzi go with Paige bad live!!!

youtube

some side notes before anything:

this live yalll 🚶🏼‍♀️‍➡️ unserious asf. first of all quit playing in my face kk with the my man comments you are so sick. i like how she switches from the my man comments to laughing at the baby stud comment like gurllll we know what you are 😭 don't even have to spell it out.

first of all, paige looking all fine in this live azzi i see why you were having some trouble studying in this live wooowweeeeee.

so there's gonna be some big time jumps in between everything because we don't see azzi a lot. however paige has never been subtle about her girl so we still get some lovelyyyt moments.

in the beginning of the live, amari walks in and they start laughing at her cause "her man's" over. kk leaves to go introduce the guy to the live and imo paige follows her out. she obv goes straight to her girl it sounds like and is giggling and laughing with her while kk's in amari's room. this probably why she's so irritated later in the live cause she can't know one moment of peace with paige 😭.

they come back into paige's room and kk sets down the camera. paige is so close to that camera like honey back up please i can feel that breath. she's staring HARDDDDDD at those comments and that's when a comment pops up that makes me want to shoot people. "paige with azzi real bad 🙄🙄". LIKE??? and ofc this nosey ass girl JUMPSSSS to touch the screen and read the comment. her eyes get all wide and she taps kk, she's laughing and kk starts laughing too. like they know yall. the way p's eyes LOCK DOWN when she sees azzi's name in the chat in general. it so gives who's talking about my girl? what they know about her? why are yall mentioning her? UGH PROTECTIVE P YOU ALWAYS BE FAMOUS. kk pushes paige in a joking way but you can tell she's so over them and us lololol. she's like i already have to hear them 24/7 talking about each other and now yall are giving them even more opportunities to mention one another GET OUTTTT.

skip to a little later, i think p's missing her girl a little bit and says, "get azzi on live." yall this whole live she's literally talking and wanting azzi to come in the room. she's mad because azzi's taking an exam and is so far (3 feet) away from her. kk kinda pauses and goes, "hmm?" like babe im just gonna pretend you didn't say that. i've heard you talking about this girl all day 🙄. live pauses for a second and im not sure if its kk doing it in case p says something or if it's just that uconn internet. i'm sure it's because of that toaster wifi. there's a interesting little moment next i wanted to bring up cause i find it funny. someone in the comments says, "kk should i get back with my ex?" and kk kinda hesitates and goes, "nooo..?" and paige says no as well. kk laughs at this. in a manner where it's sorta like she's saying girl you know damn well you did. she's basically calling out p subtly cause she knows she got back with azzi and she thinks she's being a hypocrite. that's just my interpretation according to my timeline. p's thinking of her freshman days oop. the comment replies back and says they were dating for 3 months and both of them say yeahhhh let it go. p confident as hell in her answer cause she knows she had azzi for so long and knew she was hella right for fighting for her back i know that's rightttttt.

someone in the comments asks where's azzi? kk reads it out and paige immediately says yeah go get her like she was waiting for the opportunity to speak or even see her girl again. THIS GIRL IS SICK IN LOVE YALL. she also has this....tone when she says it. veryyyy sensual. kk walks out of the room and goes up to azzi. also i'd like to point out HOW CRAZY it is that azzi's just posted up in paige's dorm room (that's not even a's dorm room btw) and she's just chilling doing an exam. azzi's a better soldier than me because the fact she's doing an exam with the literal LOUDEST most obnoxious woman ever near here is straight willpower. but since she's been caught doing hw before multiple times with paige i think she likes to do it in her dorm room. imo it's because if she gets a little frustrated she can go to p and have a little break and some snuggles before locking back in. and she knows p will help her and do whatever she needs to get through the assignment mentally and physically. p's her rock and that's always how it's gonna be. kk says azzi wants a cowboy hat from the live and azzi says nooooo in that cute little pouty voice she has. you can hear p GIGGLE in the back like a little school girl and i just find it so funny because she's definitely hanging over the edge of her bed watching the interaction to get some of her azzi time in. going back to what i saying earlier, i think az's a little upset because of her homework ofc but also because she's having a hard time and she can't go and cuddle like she's used to with p because kk's in there on live :(. poor azzi baby you'll make it out. kk asks if she's okay (like genuinely worried aweee) and azzi says she's taking an exam. kk goes ohhh and leaves immediately. paige obv is hanging onto every word because she pipes up and yells, "that's! don't let her- she's not taking an exam." GIRL HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?? she just wanna tease azzi every chance she gets. kk walks away and go back to p's room and as she's walking in she makes eye contact with paige. as if p was already staring at her and giggling for teasing azzi. they both start laughing. girlll leave my princess alone damnn. kk says "she is actually" and p responds and says "is she?" and i just want to point out whenever paige says something about azzi or is talking about her she gets this tone of voice. her voice goes deep and she speaks very lowly and flirty like. almost like the thought of azzi gets her feeling something and it translates into her voice. SHOOT ME IF YOU WANT TO BUT IM JUST SAYING.

later on, kk brings up wanting to see sabrina and steph in a three point shooting contest. paige not being able to help herself says, "my moneys on azzi." like when it comes to repping your girl yall are not fucking with p at alllllll. again, it's like she's bringing up az cause she misses her and her girls away from her :(. i know my friends and i do that whenever we're missing our significant others, we'll just bring them into conversation more because we're thinking about them heavily. kk sorta laughs and goes off camera for a second because she knows it's soooo goofy of paige to bring up azzi out of no where when the topic wasn't even about az. by god paige will make it about her tho. however, she comes back on screen and daps up paige almost like she's saying yeahhhh im tryna get like you in the future and rep my girl like that!! they both say "you already knowwwww!" and the first thought that came to my mind was dang p is so in love with azzi's talent and she wants everybody to know that's her girl and that's her goat. i mean she does it all the time saying azzi is the best player in the world.

kk sees a comment that says "i got my money on azzi lol" that's making fun of p. she laughs for a second and hands the phone to p to show her. p laughs with her little azzi smile reading it before repeating you already knowwwww. she's subtly hinting again that that's her girl and she WILL be her biggest fan and yall are not allowed to be at all. kk goofily says "and we're gonna end the live" at the comment and they both laugh.

they move on, but p can't stop talking about her girl for 5 minutes. again, because she's thinking about her and wants her to come homeeeeee (her room). she'd rather rip her skin off than not bring up azzi. so she says, "she's not even taking the test no more." she's so desperate it's soooo hiliarious. kk pipes in and says yeahhh she's chatting! p agrees. she needs to go mess with her again, so she brings in the big guns and both her and kk go in this time. kk goes in and says "are you okay" and I KNOWWWW az is giving her the dirtiest look and kk looks a little scared now. but fret not p knows she can mess with her and azzi will never get madddddd cause that's her girl and she loves her (at least in p's delusional head she thinks azzi won't say anything to her). so here's comes this loud ass bitch screaming " AZZIIIII!" and i know az's body immediately tenses up cause girl me too. and then paige screams, AZZI again. it's giving a little kid trying to get their moms attention fr 😭 she seems so done and defeated when she says, "no paige pls im almost done seriously." and she's truly begging for her life cause she knows p will keep annoying her. p obv gets very sassy and pouty and doesn't like this cause she goes, "WHAT THE HE....." before kk mutes her. they probs bicker for a calm little ten seconds and p ofc loses and tucks her tail between her legs. next time we see p she's sitting on the bed again playing her game, oh azzi put belt to asssssss!! she said SIT YO ASS DOWN I NEED TO FINISH THIS. and no matter how loud and sassy p is she's gonna do what her princess says.

kk leaves and goes to go to other peoples dorms. but the legend says azzi stayed and finished her final and went to paige's room and stayed the night 🤫 i just find it so funny as kk's leaving she says goodnight to both of them it just gives she's saying goodnight to her moms and leaving their room before going to sleep. it's so adorable. my kk pazzi's kid agenda IS UPPPPP rn.

that's it yall, thanks for reading!!!

(also aliyah and aubrey at the end isssssss soooo cute)

#gabi's anons 💜

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achaotichuman · 2 days ago

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ACOTAR Discussion

Okay, so recently my mutual @sonics-atelier posted this fic Perfect To Me (which is so fucking amazing, I cried, go read it rn) and in this fic, they write about Tamlin developing an eating disorder (specifically anorexia) since his body changed after starting to get Spring back on its feet. And it started me down a whole rant about fictional characters being the pinnacle of beauty standards, specifically in relation to what they're bodies look like. So, to save my mutuals the long spam texts about my thoughts, I'm gonna post em here.

General trigger warning- Discussion of a variety of eating disorders, body dysmorphia and Cassian.

SJM covers disordered eating within ACOTAR, it happens specifically to the female characters. And this is something, I have a huge problem with. That might seem like a massive asshole sentence, but let me explain my thought process.

These eating disorders are not well respresented, they do not further affect the plot, they only serve to be an outward appearance to the male saviour characters that something is wrong, and they never appear on the female characters in a way that makes them any less pretty, in fact, I would say, the resulting skinniness from said disordered eating, is the desired result. By that I mean, yes I think SJM writes her female characters starving themselves to make them fit the female beauty standard.

This is very evident with Nesta, who somehow miraculously only grows thinner in the waist and hips when she is starving herself. But still has massive breasts which Cassian makes a point of oogling, despite noticing how thin she is everywhere else. Instead of taking Nesta's not wanting to eat anything and turning it into a plot point for her character in which she learns to take care of and eventually love her new Fae body, SJM decides to further starve Nesta, but Cassian limiting her sugar intake, so she reminds the same 000 size in the waist.

Now, onto what really, truly makes me angry within SJM's series. Character's gaining weight, rather than losing it.

This happens once in the series. It is one singular comment, that put me off Cassian forever.

"You need to get out in the practice ring, brother. Don't want your mate to find any soft bits."

This comment was from Cassian to Rhysand in the third chapter of ACOSF, after looking Rhys up and down pretty much.

May seem like a harmless jab to a lot of people, but take into account all of the context around it.

Cassian had just been eyeing Nesta's body-clearly suffering from the effects of long-term starvation, like a hunk of meat.

They had just won a war not long ago-still coming down from the stress highs that would have no doubt been enough to put any normal person in bed for a month.

Rhysand had only recently found out about Feyre's pregnancy, if I remember correctly-would have also found out about the risks, and would be dealing the extreme stress that would be causing.

It would be incredibly normal for Rhysand to gain weight because of all these factors. Not to mention this being the first (and I'm fairly certain) only time, SJM's mentions a male character gaining weight, and it being in such a negative light, could only suggest she, and thus Cassian, find the idea unappealing or perhaps downright abhorrent.

Which really fucking pisses me off.

Most of her female characters have experienced a form of anorexia throughout the books as a trauma or stress response. And it never exists to go further than making them more conventionally attractive.

Now further on her male characters, not a single one of them ever has an ounce of fat on their body. Weight gain is entirely out of the question, even when it should be the obvious occurrence due to whatever change in their situation.

Now this also brings me to another problem I have, which also leeches into fandom behaviour.

We all love Tamlin's tits, ofc, ofc, but muscle behaves like fat if its not being actively flexed. Tamlin's pectoral muscles are no doubt incredibly strong, and would, probably be able to crack a nut (no pun intended) if flexed. But if they werent, they would be soft and squishy. No one talks about THAT THOUGH DO YOU???

Not to mention, that, Tamlin is a beast creature, wandering the forests, not training or exercising properly, and is only gouging on the carcasses of animals he kills. This could be an excellent time to lean into weight gain, and the intense feelings of guilt, and body dysmorphia that it brings.

Lets also discuss Gwyn, a traumatised young woman who fled to the Library in order to live a life of peace. She has never trained a day in her life before becoming a Valkyrie, why is she so skinny?

It's never mentioned Gwyn having any kind of reaction to her trauma that affects her eating (as far as I remember) and I think it would be far more interesting to delve into the effects grief and the lose of a dear loved one has on the body and ones eating habits.

Lets talk about Elain, who is said to use baking a coping mechanism, why is she skinny? This is the perfect opportunity to delve into a character binge eating, then extreme guilt from the times where they were in poverty, and purging. But finding comfort in food because food = wealth, wealth =safety.

And in the end, a character can be fat and be happy. Why do we have so many characters that are so thin at the end of their books?

So many of these characters also have near no stability, their diet would not doubt be changing constantly from the inconsistency in their living situations. Which should to lead to drastic changes in their body. This could be a very interesting way to explore body dysphoria. Hating seeing yourself in the mirror even if you just survived battle, because you can hardly recognise yourself. Changing so much in the mind and not even having the comfort of your body being the same. Especially with Nesta and Elain being Made against their will. I honestly believe Nesta's starvation should have been her hating her new Fae body so much that she just wants to destroy it. Her healing, should have been learning to love herself, no matter what body she is in.

In the end, your body is you, but you are more than your body. Bodies are such incredibly fascinating tool, and people don't always have to like what it looks like to care for it. Bodies can be smaller, bigger, stronger, they take your brain wherever it wants to go. But they are not all of you. And that should have been what especially Nesta's journey could have been.

Anyway, this is incredibly sensitive topic for a lot of people, so I do really want to open this up to everyone. What are your thoughts on this topic? Do you think SJM's portrayal of eating disorders is justified, or do you think I'm wrong on any of these points? Let me know in either the comments or the reblogs, I would be happy to discuss it.

#acotar #rhysand #nesta archeron #elain archeron #feyre archeron #gwyneth berdara #cassian #anti cassian #anti sjm #critical sjm #tamlin

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pedrito-friskito · 20 hours ago

Text

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part thirty-five

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

you leave jackson behind, and things take a turn.

a/n: WE ARE SO BACK BABY. didja miss me? I’ll be completely honest I have up to part 37 written, about to start 38 and I am determined to finish this before s2 drops in april ok? ok.

word count: 7k

warnings: if you’ve been here this long you know what’s up, and if you’ve seen the show you know what’s coming.

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

The morning seems to move in slow motion.

Joel’s not used to the warmth. He’s not used to the pile of blankets that covers you both, bodies bare beneath the sheets, mere inches separating you two.

He made the most of the bed, to say the least. After your conversation had come to a close, things had turned heated. There were more words he wanted to say, but they were all things he wasn’t quite sure how to voice. He didn’t have the right words, ones that would properly convey his gratitude, his love for you. So he settled for whispered I love yous and moans muffled by each other’s mouths, hands roaming until you both lost it, the warmth between your legs the only true home he’s ever known.

“You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me,” he told you after, brushing the sweat-damp hair from your face, his body still pressed to yours, letting his thumb ride the curve of your mouth. “You know that, don’t you?”

You’d just smiled, and damn it all if it still didn’t make his heart skip a beat.

Now, the sun barely cuts through the closed curtains. He feels guilty, needing to wake you — he can’t remember the last time he saw genuine peace on your sleeping face. A glance at the clock on the nightstand tells him it’s too early, but he knows you need to get going, one way or another.

He leaves you be at first, getting out of bed himself, crossing to the bathroom attached to the bedroom. You’d both taken a quick shower before going to bed, and he takes his time now, letting the hot water soothe aches in muscles he didn’t know could ache like they do.

Joel’s not quite sure how long he’s been under the spray when there’s the rustle of the shower curtain, your bare figure stepping inside and pressing up against him a moment later, arms wrapped around his middle. Neither of you says a word, just stood there, the steam surrounding you both, Joel’s hands lifting to cover yours.

It’s still quiet when you start moving again, taking turns beneath the water, Joel washing your hair and letting you return the favour, massaging his fingers against your scalp when he does. You let slip a little groan, and he kisses the noise out of your mouth.

The pace picks up slightly when you get out, towels rubbing skin dry, Joel watching you run a brush through your hair before pulling it back. It bares your neck and he takes advantage, pressing his face to your pulse, leaving a hot kiss there. He goes to pull back but you don’t let him, lifting one hand and fisting it in his hair, the other hand reaching back and pulling his arm around his waist.

“I wish we could just stay here.”

Joel tries to ignore the pang of guilt in his gut. You’d told him more about your conversations with Cowan and Henry, what you’d learned and how things had changed. It wasn’t hard to miss the light in your eyes as you spoke, and Joel knew you’d never ask, but it was obvious: if Ellie chose you, after you found the Fireflies, you’d want to come back to Jackson.

Lincoln was out of the question, he knew. Too many happy memories that could be tarnished by what waited behind Bill and Frank’s bedroom door. Boston wasn’t an option either — you’d never make it back through the gate, and while the memories were further from happy, it was a place that needed to stay in the past. Jackson made the most sense. Tommy is here, same with Cowan and Henry, and while it’s not the happily ever after he imagined for you, it feels like a soft place to land.

“We’ll come back,” he tells you, meaning every word, “if Ellie wants to go with us. I promise you, we’ll come back.”

He doesn’t have a name for the look in your eye, but you turn, leaning in to press a kiss to the patch in his beard, squeezing your hand around his before stepping out of his grip. “C’mon,” you say, your voice low. “I want to beat them to the stables.”

You’re quick to pack, dressed in new clothes Maria had left for you both. Joel keeps the flannel he nicked from Bill and Frank’s, not missing the smile on your face when you see it. As you leave the house, Joel finds himself pausing by Ellie’s door. He can hear movement, the telltale creak of the floorboards, but you tug on his wrist.

“She needs to decide on her own.”

The sun is just cresting the mountain range as you step out the front door, closing it as soundlessly as possible behind you. It casts a wintry glow over everything, and Joel’s grateful for the new boots Tommy had given him — even after the trudge from the house to the stables, he can still feel his toes.

There’s no one around as you make your way to the barn that holds the horses. Tommy won’t be far behind, Joel knows, and he won’t admit to the nervousness in his gut. He did this. He fucked it all up with his one-track mind and his messy emotions. What if she picks Tommy? What if he’s ruined it all?

“Aren’t you beautiful?” he hears you coo to one of the horses, a darker, chocolate-coloured mare he’d seen the day before. The horse chuffs in approval, nudging at your shoulder with her nose while Joel finds saddles for both the chocolate mare and the lighter, coffee-coloured one he’d rode through the gate yesterday.

It’s quiet again as you prepare the horses, strapping your bags to the saddles and finding what little supplies you can in the stables. There’s still no one else around, and it’s been nearly half an hour when your head perks up, listening, and a moment later, Tommy and Ellie come into view, standing outside the stall you’re both in.

“You came here to say goodbye or something?” Ellie asks, her tone biting, and Joel sees you flinch.

“No,” Joel answers, fiddling with the last buckle on the saddle. “We came to take horses and go.”

“I woulda given you horses,” Tommy answers, glancing between you.

You open your mouth to say something, but Joel beats you to it. “I know.” He takes a step toward Ellie, not missing the way her eyes dart to you over his shoulder as he moves closer. “You deserve a choice. I still think you’d be better off with Tommy, but Liv and I, we’ll—”

“Let’s go,” Ellie cuts him off, shoving her duffle at him.

“Okay,” Joel answers, a little stunned, holding the bag to his chest. She cuts around him, stepping into the stall and walking over to you, wordlessly wrapping her arms around your middle, and Joel can feel your grin from where he stands. “You wanna ride with…?”

“Liv,” Ellie answers, her voice curt, and he knows he’s going to have to make up for all this somehow. “Can we go now?”

Tommy just shrugs when Joel looks back at him, then helps you push the stable doors open, leading the horses out. Ellie walks toward the darker horse, and you go to help her up, but Joel moves faster, leaning down and cupping his hands together for her to plant her boot, lifting her up and over. She doesn’t say thank you, but he hands her the reins. “Hold onto both.”

“Uh-huh,” she mumbles, and her tone is already a little lighter.

“Which way?” you’re asking Tommy when Joel turns toward his brother.

“Head southeast till you hit I-25,” he tells you, glancing at Joel. “It’s right off the interstate. Shouldn’t be hard to miss.”

Joel nods, and you step forward, opening your arms to Tommy. “Thank you, Tommy, for everything.”

He hugs you tight. “O’course, Liv. Anything for you two, you know that.”

You just nod, stepping back and brushing past Joel as you step toward the horse Ellie’s perched on. Joel’s wrapped up in Tommy’s hug a moment later, squeezing his brother as hard as he can, reluctant as hell to let go.

When they part, Tommy’s eyes are glossy. “There’s a place for you here,” he says, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “All of you.”

“Countin’ on it,” Joel replies, glancing over his shoulder at you, at the grin still on your face. Tommy readjusts the rifle on his shoulder, and Joel hears you clear your throat softly. “Can I borrow that?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says instantly, pulling the gun off his arm.

“Cuz Maria took mine, y’know,” Joel continues, and you let out what sounds like a scoff.

“I already said yes, Joel,” Tommy laughs, handing him the rifle. “Adios, big brother.”

Joel mounts his own horse after making sure the pair of you are secure in the saddle, and then you’re heading for the gate, Tommy following between the horses. The men posted at the wall reach for their guns when they see you approach, but Tommy calls for them to stand down, and they do.

“Liv, wait,” Tommy says, and Joel watches you pull on the reins, your mare stopping quickly. “Take this.”

Joel watches his brother disappear into a small shed beside the gate, and when he walks back out again, he’s got your bat in his hand. Most of the nails are gone, but it’s still a decent weapon, and you thank Tommy as he helps you find a spot for it on the saddle.

The gate creaks open a moment later, and then you’re through, back out into the Wyoming wilderness, and well on your way.

It’s surprisingly peaceful, riding. Your horse — who you and Ellie have decided is named Brownie — is a sweet thing, gentle and obedient to every tug on the reins. Joel battles a bit more with his own mount, the lighter mare not as quick to trust, but by the time you’ve reached the first strip of forest, he seems to have the hang of it.

The cold doesn’t feel as bad either, not as biting. Ellie is a flare of warmth against your back, her arms wrapped around your middle, and the clothes Maria had left you are suitably warm. You refused to part with the sweatshirt you’d taken from Bill and Frank’s, but the long-sleeved shirt you now have beneath it is the perfect extra layer, along with the thick gloves and the sherpa-lined jacket. Your breath still turns to steam on the air, but your teeth don’t chatter.

She picked you.

You can’t get over the feeling of rightness in your chest. Anyone else would call you insane, you know, but this…this feels right. It feels like you were meant to do this, to find Ellie, to come as far as you have. It’s not just a job anymore — it hasn’t been for a long time, but the feeling is tenfold now.

There had been a moment where you weren’t sure. When she’d first appeared in the stables with Tommy, that split second when she saw you two standing there, the glower on her face, the pain in her eyes. For that moment, you thought it was over, that you and Joel would have to figure out something else, that she’d pick Tommy over you. And you wouldn’t have blamed her if she had.

But you’re sure as hell glad that she didn’t.

You push the horses into a trot when the snow gives way to large patches of grass, most of the white stuff melted away. A few hours of riding, and Joel calls you to halt. Your brow lifts, eyeing the fallen tree on one side of the grassy patch, another on the opposite side.

“Joel?”

“Just wanna stop here a bit,” he tells you, and you watch as he ties his horse to a nearby tree, walking over to you to take your reins a moment later. “Target practice.”

“Target practice?” you repeat, confusion in your voice as he leads your horse to his, tying the reins as well before offering you a hand to help you down. “I don’t think I need—”

“Not you,” he replies, shaking his head. Realization dawns as he juts his chin toward Ellie. “For the kid.”

“Me?” Ellie gasps, absolutely beaming as Joel helps her down from the saddle. “You’re gonna let me shoot?”

“You’re the one that wanted to learn how to hunt,” Joel says, shrugging, and you grin. “Now seems like good a time as any, don’t you think?”

She beams impossibly bigger and nods.

Her first shot goes wide, smashing a chunk of the fallen tree to bits and sending a spray of wood chips in the air. The second pulverizes a pile of snow. The third is just shy of the target Joel has set up, and she heaves a sigh. “Wide right,” Joel says, turning his head to look at Ellie. “You’re flinchin’.”

“The target’s too small!” she shoots back, peering through the gun’s scope. You stifle a laugh. It’s been almost an hour now, since you stopped, since Joel set up the target and showed Ellie how to hold the rifle, pointed out the different parts of the gun and taught her how to aim. You’ve been quiet, mostly, content to watch him with her, your chest nearly bursting with excitement at the ease you can see in his shoulders, the relaxedness in his expression.

It’s the most content you’ve seen him in a long goddamn time.

“I made it bigger than I should’ve,” Joel answers, nodding at the rifle. “Eject the cartridge.”

She does as he says, the casing pinging off the wood. “I am not flinching.”

Joel shoots you a look over the top of Ellie’s head and you stifle another laugh. “Mhm.”

“The rifle just sucks!” Ellie whines at you, and Joel scoffs.

“Okay, give it.”

Ellie sighs, but relents, still complaining as she hands him the gun and moves away to stand beside you. “It doesn’t aim right.”

“Mhm,” you echo.

Joel shifts into teacher mode. “A deep breath in, slow breath out. You squeeze the trigger like you love it.” His eyes shift to you as Ellie lifts the binoculars Joel had given her, watching the target. “Gentle, steady…nice and slow.”

“You gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant?” Ellie quips, and Joel grins, lowering his head to peer through the scope.

You’re definitely not pressing your thighs together.

“It isn’t gonna work,” Ellie continues. “It doesn’t aim right.”

The shot echoes through the air…

…and just misses, sending more snow into the air.

“Aha!” Ellie yells triumphantly, jumping up and pointing at Joel. “I told you!”

“Gimme that thing,” you laugh, holding a hand out to Joel. He lifts his brow at you but hands you the rifle. “Someone’s gotta show this kid how it’s really done.”

The glare he gives you is halfhearted, and you grin as you take his place, lining up the shot and looking through the scope. If there’s one thing Nick Cowan did right by you, it was teaching you to shoot. But Joel’s words are not lost on you either. You take a deep breath in, then slowly let it out. You squeeze both hands around the gun, the barrel and the trigger, your touch gentle but firm. It’s not a far cry from the way you’ve held Joel.

Gentle. Steady. Nice and slow.

The kickback makes your shoulder rattle, but you stay firm, watching the shot through the scope.

Bullseye. Right in the middle of the ASSHOLE Ellie had scrawled out while Joel was making the target.

“Holy shit!” Ellie nearly screams, leaping to her feet. “Your wife is a better shot than you!”

Triumphant, you get to your feet, handing the rifle back to Joel, unable to wipe the grin from your face. “More practice, is all.”

Joel mutters under his breath as he slings the rifle over his shoulder. His annoyance is just as halfhearted as his glare had been. “C’mon, we should get goin’.”

He pulls you under his arm as you walk back to the horses, Ellie skipping ahead of you both.

“That was a lucky fuckin’ shot, baby.”

“You’re really never going to admit I’m a better shot than you?”

He buries his nose in your hair. “Just annoyed I’m not the one that taught you.”

You bark a laugh. “You taught me lots of other good things, Joel, don’t you worry.”

“I can hear you being gross!” Ellie shouts, and you both dissolve into laughter.

Ellie surprises you by asking Joel if she can ride with him for the next leg. His eyes flit to you after the words have passed her lips, and you give him a little nod, the corner of your mouth twitching.

The horses are sweet animals, letting you push them through most of the day, stopping once or twice to let them drink from the river while you and Joel stretch sore muscles. Ellie asks to practice shooting again, and while Joel refuses the first time, her second ask is granted. He asks you to show her the right stance for shooting a pistol, and you do, helping her with her grip while Joel sets up a new target.

She hits it bang-on this time.

You’re reluctant to stop to camp, only because you know every bone in your body is going to scream in protest against sleeping on the forest floor again after the ecstasy that was that mattress back in Jackson. Joel lets Ellie take the first watch, giving her your watch and insisting she wake him after three hours, which she agrees to.

You lay out the sleeping bags and try to make things as comfortable as possible, warmer when Joel joins you, wrapping an arm around your middle and pressing his nose into the back of your neck. It feels louder out here — in Jackson, you’d noticed how…normal it felt. More like the way things used to be than the fear and insanity that had run your life in Boston.

It felt like Austin, in truth. The way you’d felt in Joel’s house before you left. The calm and the quiet and the warmth.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Ellie’s questions start your third day out of Jackson, after you’ve re-saddled the horses and forced some sort of protein bar down Joel’s throat, your new routine of sorts. There’s instant coffee, blessedly, and you’re riding solo, Ellie having picked Joel once again. You’re not even remotely mad — the easy grin on his face is all you really need.

“So the way they ran stuff in Jackson, was that how things used to be?”

“No,” you answer before Joel can, shaking your head as the horses weave between the trees. “The country was too big for something like that.”

“Back then, there were basically two main ways of lookin’ at things,” Joel interjects. “Some people wanted to own everything, and some people didn’t want anyone to own anything at all.”

“Which one were you?” Ellie asks him, and your brow lifts.

“Neither, I just did my job,” he answers, and damn it all if that isn’t the most Joel Miller response possible.

“Which was…building?” Ellie asks. Campfire conversation has gotten increasingly honest between the three of you, and you can see Joel’s walls crumbling for Ellie. He answers almost anything she asks, and you return the honesty in kind, offering your own answers when Joel falls short. Family is still a subject you all tiptoe around, though Ellie’s gotten a bit out of Joel regarding him and Tommy growing up.

“That’s right,” Joel tells her with a nod. “Houses, stores, that kind of thing. We were called ‘contractors’.”

Ellie pauses a moment, and then her voice comes out low and gravelly. “The Contractor. That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” Joel says, and you can see his jaw working to stop a grin from taking over his face. “We were cool. Everybody loved contractors.”

“Nice,” Ellie mumbles, and leans fully against Joel’s back, pressing her face between his shoulders. He doesn’t hide his smile then, glancing your way, and neither do you.

It all continues on, more of the same. You make it as far as possible when the sun is up, find a safe place to camp when the sun sets. You hadn’t been greedy with what you took from Jackson, but it’s enough to last you, to prevent you from needing to go scavenging. Not that there’s much left to scavenge.

Joel takes Ellie hunting one afternoon, when the horses have finally put their hooves down, as it were. They need a good rest, and you’re not opposed to it, your ass aching something fierce from the straight days of riding. They come back with a few rabbits and squirrels and Ellie has the most triumphant look on her face. Joel looks like he won the damn lottery, coming over and planting a hard kiss to your mouth, not pulling away until Ellie makes an exaggerated gagging sound.

“Okay, so if you mess up your fourth down, then you give the ball to the other team?”

“Right,” Joel nods. “It’s called a ‘turnover’.”

“Turn over. But, if you make it to ten yards, then you’re back to your first down?”

“Yep.”

“So, basically just moving in one direction.”

“Basically. But violent.”

You scoff a laugh.

“Oh,” Ellie mutters, her tone sarcastic. “Well, there’s that.”

It’s the tail end of the football explanation that has you reaching the I-25, just as Tommy had directed. “How ‘bout that?” Joel says as you come up beside him, tugging the reins to pull your horse to the same speed. “Made it in five days.”

“Easy days,” Ellie chimes in, her face popping up over Joel’s shoulder. “I don’t know what Tommy was so afraid of.”

“Still time to find out,” you say, glancing around as the horses slow to match pace. “It’s damn deserted out here, I’m not sure I wanna know what’s lurking.”

“I’ll tell you what’s lurking,” Ellie says, leaning around Joel with a grin on her face. “The Contractorrrrrr.”

You giggle and Joel rolls his eyes.

The closer you get to the university, the lighter the snow becomes. Grass and plants poke through the white, most of it melted away or just barely clinging on. It’s quiet, and Joel can’t quite tell if it’s a blessing or a curse. He can feel your unease from where you’re riding beside him, Ellie having switched saddles for the last leg of the journey.

He ignores the subtler pang in his chest at watching the two of you together. The way you automatically shift into protective mode when Ellie is near you is not lost on Joel; he knows he does the exact same thing. But watching it from afar, the conversation you’d had back in Jackson still echoing through his mind, it’s different.

As the buildings come into view, Joel’s heart sinks. It all looks just as rundown as the rest of the world, and though he knows that wouldn’t stop the Fireflies from setting up shop, he can’t ignore the way your unease increases, clearly on high alert as you make your way onto the campus.

“Home of the Big Horns,” Ellie reads as you pass the sign, weathered bricks covered in overgrowth, but not enough to block out the words. “What does that mean?”

“Team mascot,” Joel calls to her. “It’s a kind of sheep.”

Her head perks up from where she’d had it pressed to your shoulder blade. “Oh! See, Joel? One step closer to your dream.” You grin, but it doesn’t touch your eyes. “Don’t see any Fireflies, though.”

“They’re probably in the middle, if I had to guess,” you say, your gaze scanning the buildings and roads beyond the gate you’ve paused at. “Would be safer, farther from the main roads.”

“This way,” Joel gestures, nudging his heels into his horse’s belly.

You’re nearly silent as you get further and further into the campus grounds. The only sound is the occasional howl of the wind, the horses’ hooves clipping against the cobblestones.

“So these places,” Ellie breaks the quiet, “people would live here and like, what? Go to classes and stuff?”

“Yup,” Joel answers, glancing your way.

“Even though they were adults?”

“Sort-of adults,” you say, the corner of your lips turning up. “I definitely didn’t feel like an adult in college.”

“You went?” she asks, and you nod.

“Michigan State University,” you reply, and Ellie wrinkles her nose. “I wanted to be as far away from Texas as humanly possible.” Then your eyes shift to Joel. “Then I graduated and went back to Austin, and I never wanted to leave.”

Your words light a fire in his chest, warm and welcoming, just as they always do.

“What did you study?” Ellie asks.

“English lit, minored in business. And yes, all my classes were filled with very helpful information on surviving the apocalypse. I have the girls’ softball league to thank for my swing, but honestly, I think it was just as much about partying and finding yourself as anything else. Figuring out what you wanted to do with your life.”

“What you wanted to do with your life,” Ellie repeats with a laugh.

What do you want to do with your life?

The question manifests itself before Joel can stop it, between the warmth in his chest and your eyes on him, Ellie’s easy grin and all the conversations that have been had.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” he starts, and you reach back to swat Ellie when she mumbles ‘oh, here we go’. “I don’t want a sheep ranch, actually. I mean, if the deal is that I can do anything?”

Ellie perks up some, realizing that he’s carrying on the conversation she’d started around the fire what feels like forever ago. “That’s the deal.”

“Well, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a singer.”

Your jaw drops, surprise plain on your face, and Ellie laughs. “Shut up.”

“Why is that funny?” he asks, adjusting his grip on the rifle as the horses veer close to each other, Joel’s knee bumping yours.

“You gotta sing something now,” she tells him.

“No.”

“C’mon, man, I’m not gonna laugh!”

“You’re already laughin’.”

“Yeah, okay, true.”

You glance at him sideways. “You know, in all the years I’ve known you, Joel Miller, I don’t think I have ever heard you sing. I’ve heard you hum, mind you, but never sing.”

He shrugs, feeling his cheeks heat. “It never came up.”

Your head drops back and you laugh. “I guess not.”

“Well, Joel, you’re singing for me later,” Ellie pipes in. “I’m gonna save the fuckin’ world, man. It’s the least you can do.”

You laugh again and Joel shoots Ellie a glare. “Fair enough.”

The horses continue forward, and high-pitched yelps make Joel’s shoulders tense. He sees your eyes cut to him for a moment before Ellie asks, “Are those monkeys?”

Sure enough, they are. Maybe a dozen of them, all yelping and scattering across the field before you. Joel deflates some, but the wariness doesn’t dissipate. “Must be from the old labs.”

“Look at ‘em go!”

“First time seein’ a monkey?” he asks Ellie, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“First time seein’ a monkey!” she echoes, and you huff a little laugh.

You keep moving, the sound of the horses’ hooves growing louder when you reach the mostly uncovered pathways, paved over but cracked to hell. You reach the place where the paths all intersect, a signpost standing in the middle, and you suck in a breath.

“Joel,” you call, and when he looks at you, you jut your chin back toward the signpost. “Look. Biomedical Sciences Building.”

There’s a yellow firefly painted on the sign, identical to the ones hidden all over the Boston QZ. There’s no mistaking it.

“Here we go,” Ellie mumbles, and you push the horses a little faster. Anxiety riots in Joel’s gut, and he can see it etched into your features when he steals a look in your direction.

You follow the signpost toward the medical building, and the field opens up, trees long dead from the cold lining the edges, and Ellie points out the two guard stations toward the building itself.

“But no guards,” you mutter, and Joel’s brow pulls down as he adjusts his grip on the rifle.

Ellie makes a wary noise behind you, and Joel sees your hand drop to her knee. “Get your gun out.” Your eyes skirt back to Joel’s as you pull your own from the holster on your thigh, and he gives you a nod.

It’s quiet. It’s too goddamn quiet.

You bring the horses to a stop between the guard stations, tying the reins to the tree that stands there. When you’re close enough, you reach for Joel’s hand, your skin frozen against his when he pulls off his gloves. Ellie comes up behind you, her gun held in both hands, and Joel pulls out his own pistol, swinging the rifle up onto his shoulder.

There’s another Firefly painted onto an overturned dumpster, and Joel can see the muscle in your jaw working as you walk past it.

Inside the building is less than promising. Papers are scattered on the floor, a few gurneys and stools cast on their sides. Your footsteps echo as you move through it, keeping close together. Ellie stops by a table that hadn’t been tipped over, runs her fingers over the instruments and test tubes and papers that litter the surface. “There were definitely doctors here.”

Joel opens the file folder on the table, scans the words scribbled there. Textiles, medical, ammunition, food/perishable…It goes on and on, and he realizes, “This is a packing list.”

Ellie’s brows shoot up. “They just left?”

Before you can answer, the sound of clanging metal echoes through the building, and you all look in the direction it came from.

“Maybe not all of them,” Ellie whispers, and you squeeze her arm, angling yourself in front of her as you look up toward the second floor.

“That came from upstairs,” you say, and Joel just nods, moving past you both and leading you toward the stairs. You’re sure to keep Ellie behind you, Joel checking the corners before signalling you to follow. The sound comes again, making you flinch, and Joel slips his free hand into yours.

Just as you reach the first door, the clanging echoes once more.

Joel lifts a hand to signal you to stop, and you step back, taking Ellie with you as Joel lifts his gun, his hand around the doorknob.

The door creaks as he pushes it inward, and a monkey with an old computer keyboard in its hands, the keys now scattered on the floor, screeches before taking off out the open window. As it goes, a few more scamper out the far window, metal clanging to the floor as they go.

You sigh, following Joel inside, and Ellie pushes past both of you, trying to get a better view.

“Well,” Joel mutters, reaching for your hand again, “at least it ain’t Clickers.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “but no Fireflies either.”

“Maybe in all that research, they turned into fucking monkeys,” Ellie quips, and Joel doesn’t miss the disdain in her voice.

This was supposed to be it. The endgame, mission completion, whatever they call it in those sci-fi books he never got into.

You step further into the room, releasing Joel’s hand to look at the desks, and he knows you’re looking for more Firefly symbols. He follows suit, picking his way around, avoiding the shattered glass and whatnot.

There’s a large corkboard along one wall, a map spread out and studded with thumbtacks. They’re in a pattern, of sorts. It looks like a route, the three different colours converging on—

“Salt Lake City,” you mutter, appearing at Joel’s side. He nods as Ellie appears, pointing at the spot with her gun.

“That’s where they went?”

“All the pins lead there,” Joel says. “Maybe gettin’ ahead of the weather, better facilities? I don’t know.”

“Then we need to—” you start, but cut yourself short, your head twitching toward the window, grabbing Joel’s arm in a death grip. “Get down.”

He does as you say, pulling Ellie down with him as you slink along the wall to the window, peering up and over the ledge. You’re all dead quiet, but Joel can see the fear in your face as you peer through the glass.

You hold up four fingers. Mouth the word. “Raiders.”

Joel tries to orient himself, figuring out the direction the staircase had led you. “They have the horses?” he whispers.

You shake your head, moving back toward them. Ellie stares between you. “What do we do?”

“Out the back,” Joel declares, grabbing your hand as you grab Ellie’s. He takes the lead, taking the stairs the opposite way and heading for the side door he’d spotted on the way in.

You crouch behind the piles of sandbags on either side of the door, both of you watching as Ellie tries to close the door as quietly as possible. The click makes you all wince, and Joel grits his teeth as you peer around the sandbags, trying to spot the raiders.

The horses are still where you left them.

“Quick,” Joel murmurs, and moves around the sandbags, acutely aware of the two of you following behind him as he reaches one of the guard stations. “Ready?” he asks you, and you nod, glancing at Ellie over your shoulder.

You sprint for the horses, Ellie unhooking the reins and handing one set to you as Joel puts the rifle in the saddlebag. She coos at the horse, trying to lead it away as you do the same, but then you freeze, staring over Joel’s shoulder.

“Joel!”

He’s got your fucking bat.

Your heart has simultaneously sunk into your toes and jumped into your throat as the man comes at Joel. He swings too high and Joel ducks low, and the bat cracks in half as it collides with the tree, the impact splintering the middle.

From the corner of your eye, you see Ellie lift her gun as Joel grabs the guy, shoving him back, away from the two of you. He swings his head back, slams it forward and into the man’s face, stunning him enough that he can adjust his grip, slinging his arm around his neck and pulling tight.

You put yourself in front of Ellie, pushing the horse’s reins into her hands as you lift your gun, pointing it past Joel. It’s quiet enough on campus for you to hear the man’s neck snap beneath Joel’s grip, and your gut roils with relief as his body thuds to the ground.

“Jesus Christ, we—”

You cut yourself short when Joel turns around. Behind you, Ellie lets out a quiet gasp.

No.

The handle of your bat, the broken end, is jammed into Joel’s stomach. Blood stains the edges of the green plaid, and Joel stares at you before dropping his gaze to the wood stuck in his body. Before you can stop him, he puts a hand against his stomach, closes his fingers around the handle, and yanks it out with a wet squelch. You can see just how jagged the end of the handle was, the splinters of wood where it snapped making the perfect makeshift weapon.

It falls to the ground at your feet, and his eyes move back up to yours again. You look away, movement catching your eye over his shoulder. “Ellie, get on the horse!” you shout, three figures sprinting toward you. “Now!”

Joel falters as you reach for him, pulling him toward the horses as Ellie clambers into one saddle. He shouts in pain as you push him up first, grabbing the reins and digging your boots into the horse’s belly.

“Go!” you shout, and Ellie obeys, taking off ahead of you. Joel flicks the reins, his hands bloody around the leather, and as the horse starts to gallop, you swing back, your gun aimed at the three raiders running for you. “Get back!”

They all drop at the gunshots, and you fire until the clip is empty.

Ellie looks back at you. “Go!” you shout again, and she does. Ellie just keeps going. You’re disoriented, no idea which direction you entered the campus from, or what direction you’re heading now. You reach the roads again eventually, and you’re far enough that you don’t think the raiders will catch up to you. You take a few turns, double back a few times to confuse the horses’ tracks in the snow.

Joel’s silent in the saddle. You fish a t-shirt out of one of the bags, fold it into something resembling a bandage and snake your arm around him, pressing the wad of fabric to his stomach. It makes him yelp in pain, the sound making your heart ache, but you have to do something.

You’re a week out from Jackson, and then some. You can’t double back now, Joel wouldn’t make it, he wouldn’t—

You push the thought away. Shove it into the farthest corner of your mind.

Eventually, you make it to train tracks. Train cars dot the station, long abandoned, and you don’t want to stay here long, if you can avoid it. There are too many places for people to hide.

Ellie brings her horse up right beside you, her face dripping with concern. “They’re not following us,” she tells you, glancing over her shoulder. “I think we’re safe.”

“Safe,” Joel repeats, and it’s the first word he’s said you took off. His weight sags against you, tipping backward, and you try to adjust your grip, digging your heels into the stirrups, but it’s no use. You both go tumbling out of the saddle, the earth hard and unforgiving as you hit the snow. Joel flops onto his back, his eyes fluttered shut, and you scramble upright as Ellie slides from her horse, leaving the pair of beasts standing on the train tracks.

“Joel?” you yelp, barely aware of the snow and dirt and rocks that broke your fall, now covering one side of your body. “Joel!”

No.

“Shit,” Ellie cries, moving to where you’ve fallen. She keeps talking, you think, but you can barely hear her.

This cannot be happening. Not like this.

“Joel?” you say again. He doesn’t move. You scan the length of him, see the spreading blood where the t-shirt has fallen away. You scramble for it, pressing it over his still-bleeding wound. “Joel. Joel, open your eyes.”

Ellie calls your name this time, her voice cracking on the syllable, and it brings you back to yourself. Your head snaps up, meeting her eyes where she’s crouched on the other side of him. “Fuck, Liv, is he dead? Is he gonna die? Oh god, we can’t fuckin’ do this without him, we’re fucked, we’re gonna die, we’re gonna—”

She cuts herself short, but her breathing is laboured, her eyes brimming with shiny tears as she stares down at him, her cheeks bright red in the cold. “Ellie, look at me,” you say, but she shakes her head.

“This is all my fault,” she says, reaching for Joel’s hand, moving it to put pressure on the wound. “He’s gonna die and it’s all my—” She sucks in a pained breath, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Ellie,” you say again, and she finally looks at you, “Honey, I need you to calm down.”

“But I—” she starts, but another hard breath cuts her off.

“You need to breathe,” you say, surprised at how calm your voice sounds. “Listen to me. I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too.” You reach out and grab her hand, squeezing your fingers around hers. “But I can’t help him if I’m helping you. Breathe deep and breathe slow.”

She stares at you, and you take your own advice. Breathe in, breathe out. Rinse. Repeat. You cover Joel’s hand with your own, keeping pressure as best you can. Eventually, Ellie follows your example, breathing deeply. It shakes on the way out, but it’s something.

“Good,” you tell her, nodding. “Now, we have to figure out how to move him.” You lift your head, blinking back your own tears as you look around the train yard. Something catches your eye and you lift your free hand to point. “You see that shed over there? The covered one? I need you to go see if you can pull the tarp off, okay?”

On shaky legs, Ellie gets up, her eyes glued to Joel as she does. Her breath shakes again and you reach out and catch her wrist.

“Breathe, Ellie.”

You see it then, the change in her expression, the shift from fear to determination, and you know you need to find the same switch within yourself, but…You wait until her back is turned to let your tears fall. He’s warm beneath your hands as you brush your palm over his head, his hair soft and familiar against your skin.

No. Not like this.

“Joel Miller, you do not die today,” you tell him, lifting the t-shirt slightly. The fabric is nearly soaked through with his blood, and you wrack your brain for every bit of medical advice Deanna ever gave you. “You are not allowed, do you fucking hear me?”

Nothing.

Leaning down, you brush your lips against his, hoping for something, anything. You can hear the thump of his heart against his ribs, but he doesn’t so much as twitch. You glance in Ellie’s direction, seeing her back is still turned.

“Please, Joel. Please don’t leave me like this.”

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x oc #joel miller x liv stone

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lunaandco · 1 day ago

Text

old wives tale

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: when silvia's best friend asked her to be her bridesmaid, she didn't expect to be the victim of an unreasonable old wives tale, that would get her tangled with the groom's best friend

taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia

masterlist // I do not take requests

"I'm sorry, you want me to what with who?"

"Shhh"

"Don't sush me!"

Silvia was perplexed, she would speak loudly if she wanted to. Her best friend, Marina, was finally getting married to the love of her life, and had asked Silvia to be her maid of honour. She would have said no if she had known what entailed.

"It's an old wives tale, the maid of honor has to fuck with the best man the night before the wedding. It's meant to bring good luck!"

"That makes zero sense," complained Silvia, crossing her arms. Marina shrugged.

"We tested it in our family, the only wedding that did not follow the tradition ended up in a divorce years later."

"Marina, that is just some bizarre coincidence."

"Please, Silvia. I would feel more calm if you just..."

"I don't even know the guy's name," insisted Silvia.

"His name is Gavi. I promise you, he is not some ugly bitch, I told Carles to ask his sexiest best friend."

"That is so fucked up" she began, but it was Carles himself that interrupted her.

"I take it you already told her?" Carles had a shit eating grin plastered on his face, and Silvia was tempted to refuse just to get Marina to divorce him eventually out of a self fulfilled prophecy. "Here, Gavi just arrived. Let's introduce them, no chick can resist him."

Silvia huffed.

The wedding was meant to happen by Carles's family house, a huge mansion right by the mountains. Silvia had travelled the day before to help Marina prepare, but she was starting to suspect it wasn't decorations the reason she had been asked to take the trip earlier.

Gavi was pulling his suitcase out of the back of his car when they met him. He wore some comfortable loking gray hoodie and black sweats, his brown hair toussled by driving with a lowered window. His eyes were covered with sunglasses, but Silvia didn't need him to take them off to know who he was.

When Carles said Gavi, she should have suspected it could be him, the midfield star in Barcelona. Carles had spent his youth in La Masia, even if his talent was never enough to compete for a spot in the first team. Nevertheless, it meant that he had some interesting contacts.

It still pissed Silvia off, even if she quite liked Gavi, and would have probably flirted with him on her own, had the couple not asked her to sleep with him.

"Hey," he greeted curtly. "I'm Gavi."

"Silvia."

"You're Marina's friend, right? The maid of honor?"

"Yes."

The way he asked it let her know he already knew about old wives tale.

"Well," Carles clasped his hands. Let me take you to your room, I prepared the spare bedroom with the biggest bed specially for you two."

Silvia froze, when the realistaion hit that Gavi was going to share a bed with her. She had found it odd that she had been given such a big room, but everything about Carles's family house was too big and fancy, so she hadn't commented.

She decided that she hated it.

💙❤️

"I'm going ot be honest with you," said Gavi, once they were alone in their room. "I'm not exactly thrilled about this. Not that I don't find you atractive," he fumbled a bit, "but Carles likes to meddle on other people's business too much."

"Well, so does Marina, so I guess their perfect for each other," snarked Silvia. Marina had indulged once or twice in the art of match-making, but this was something she had never thought she'd do.

Gavi snorted.

"I could give you a hickey," he offered with a shrugg. "That way we could offer it as proof that we fucked."

It was crass, but Silvia knew he was right. She threw her head back, an invitation for him to do what he suggested. Gavi took a short step forward, one of his arms wrapping around her waist, the other coming up to hold her head as his lips descended on the column of her neck.

Silvia gasped, her hands flying to grasp at his shoulders, as she felt his hot tongue licking at her skin, searching for the perfect spot. Silvia's neck had always been sensitive, but this was a new intensity all along. Gavi groaned halfway through suckling on her, as if he was enjoying it as much as she was.

"I could scratch the back of your neck a little," she added. "To sell it perfectly."

"Please, do." He almost begged. His voice sounded rougher than a few moments earlier, his wrip on her waist tightening.

Silvia's nails sank on the back of his head, gliding to the base of his shoulders. Gavi moanaed again and Silvia let out a small noise. He lifted his head to make eye contact. And then they were fully kissing. Silvia gasped against Gavi's lips, her hands gripping harder at his shoulders.

"I don't know about you," he said, struggling to catch his breath. "But indluging Carles is starting to not look like a bad idea at all."

Silvia squared her shoulders and looked at him. Gavi was beautiful, and he clearly wanted her, at least for the night, but she could not ignore the annoying voice that had appeared in her head since Marina told her about the old wives tale.

"I think we've done enough," she told Gavi with a sad smile. "I don't feel comfortable with this set up."

Gavi nodded, clearly disappointed.

"Yeah, that is totally fair," he said. "But I need to go to the bathroom now, if you don't mind."

💙❤️

"Did you do it?" asked Marina while putting on her earrings. She looked stunning on her white dress, but Silvia could barely focus on that. She just wanted to go home.

Silvia pulled down the turtle neck of her dress so she could see the hickey. Marina squealed and hugged her. Silvia could only return the gesture half-heartedly.

The entire night she had been looking at Gavi's sleeping form, wondering how her life had become such a mess. She had met a guy that was nothing short of perfect, in what was supposed to be the eve of her best friend's wedding, but a stupid and invasive petition made her feel like she was out of her body.

Ironically, Silvia spent all of the wedding searching for Gavi's side. It felt comforting, being with the only person in the entire wedding that could understand how she felt. Even if she had rejected him in the end, he was still kind and sweet.

💙❤️

Two weeks later, Marina was back from the honey moon. Silvia listened to everything she had to say about her trip. She had decided that her relationship with Marina was going to change, they would never be as close as they once were.

And that would happen by starting to see each other less and less.

"Oh, before I forget." Marina pulled some papers from her purse. "Gavi invited us to his next game. I think he was very impressed with you at the wedding."

She winked, like they were sharing a very complicit moment. Silvia smiled forcefully, taking the ticket.

She could go see what he wanted, right?

💙❤️

The game was against a middle table team, and it ended in a very easy and predictable win for Barça. Silvia sat in silence through it all, clapping when everyone cheered so Marina and Carles wouldn't notice her tension.

They met Gavi after. He looked as handsome as ever, with his hair wet from the shower and his shoulders relaxed after the heavy workload. He also looked bashful and a little bit nervous.

"Silvia," he greeted immediately, ignoring their friends in common. "Can I talk to you in private?" He didn't wait for an answer, dragging her to the parking lot. "I need to ask you, would you let me take you on a date, away from anything that has to do with Marina and Carles's wedding?"

Silvia hesitated, taken by surprise. She had not thought of such proposal as an option.

"Yes," she replied after a beat passed. "Please, do."

💙❤️

Years later, when Silvia and Gavi were preparing for their own wedding, the distant news of Marina and Carles's divorce reached them.

Contact had been broken years earlier, and neither missed their friendship, but Silvia still laughed merrily.

"I think we should get Berta and Fermín as our maid of honour and best man," she said. "Just in case."

#gavi #gavi x reader #pablo gavi #gavi x oc #luna's one shots #pablo gavi x reader

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