#but shits finally settled down for more than a day at a time so im slowly trying to sort some stuff out

[storm-of-feathers]

back on the phone

[stevie-petey]

chapter six: e pluribus unum

“There’s my pretty girl!” Steve giggles, head lolling to the side as he admires you. “Isn’t she the prettiest, Robin?” Robin giggles as well, her face just as bruised and bloodied as his. “So pretty!”  “Oh God,” despite their injured state, the two teens are in an unusually good mood. They giggle like school girls, Robin even bats her eyelashes at you. Something is off with them. “How hard did they hit your heads?”

Summary: things get hot and heavy in the face of death, mean russians kidnap your hot almost-boyfriend, you have a philosophical discussion about nerdiness with the kids, acid becomes your new favorite weapon, and steve and robin try drugs together. yippee !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, violence, cursing, blood and mentions of death, use of weapons

Words: 6.7k

Before you swing in: oh BOY do i have a lot to say about this chapter ,,, but for now i will hold off. pls, enjoy her. youve all waited so very patiently for this moment, and im SO excited to see what yall have to say <333

-

“The gate,” you, Steve, and Dustin breathe out at the same time. You stare at the machine before you; the gravity of the situation settles upon all of you as the machine continues to send pulses of light into the entrance of the Upside Down. 

The lights flash, the blue flickers across your face as countless men in lab coats marvel at their creation, and your hands tighten into fists. What they have created will only undo the endless hours you have spent trying to protect everyone, it diminishes every sacrifice that has been made, it taunts the blood that has been spilled. 

You hate them, you hate what they have brought back into your life. 

“We have to get out of here.” No one argues with you, and quickly you guide everyone downstairs.

“What’s going on?” Robin asks as you gently push her down the stairs, quickening her pace. The urgence of your actions, however, only alert her that something is wrong. “Why do you guys look so scared?”

Days of hiding the truth from her have finally caught up to you, you can feel it, and yet there isn’t anything you can really tell her. Not yet, at least; there isn’t enough time. Hurrying down the stairs, you shake your head at Robin. “It’s a lot to explain.”

“I don’t understand, you’ve seen this before?”

She’s always been too perceptive.

You hate her genius mind. 

“Not exactly.” Steve takes over now, trying to help.

Robin’s voice raises, she’s becoming inpatient. “Then what, exactly?”

Two of them argue and Dustin joins in, though you ignore them and reach the last step to start looking for any possible weapons in the room. If you guys have even the slightest chance of making it out of here alive, then you’ll need more than your switchblade and Steve’s surprising new combat skills. 

As your eyes scan the room, you realize, too late, that the Russian guard Steve had knocked out only minutes ago is now gone. Horrified, you frantically whip your head to find him, but the man is gone. 

Wonderful. 

Erica notices this too. “Um, Steve? Where’s your Russian friend?”

With impeccable comedic timing, lights begin to flicker above you as an alarm sounds. Seems the Russian guard snitched, then. 

“Oh, shit!” Your switchblade finds its way into your hand. This just keeps getting worse and worse.

Steve curses as well and sprints to the door to open it, trying to find another way out, but instead he finds a swarm of guards all staring back at him. Cursing again, he slams the door shut. He doesn’t have to say anything, you know by the look on his face that you’re in deep shit. “Go, go, go!”

Blindly you shove Dustin and Erica into the nearest door, tugging at Robin, and Steve takes the rear as the group starts to run. Your senses are in overdrive, your head swims with anxiety and your eyes flicker to any possible way out. Your legs ache with exertion, but you have no fucking idea where you are. 

You make a sharp right and open a random door, but almost immediately you stumble to a halt when you see that it’s the room to the goddamn machine opening the Upside Down. Of course this is the room you chose. The scientists all stare at you, and you really wish you had stayed in bed yesterday. “Fuck!”

“Go, Y/N!” Dustin yanks on your arm and goes left, finding stairs to run down.

You risk a quick look over your shoulder and your heart drops when you see that the Russian guards are close behind. “We got company!” You’re on the landing platform now, too close to the machine and the gate for your own comfort. Dustin screeches as he shoves a Russian against the railing. You wince, feeling bad despite the horrible circumstances. “Sorry!”

“Why are you apologizing to the Russians–holy shit–” Gripping the back of your brother’s shirt, you save him from face planting into the giant laser beam. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!”

Steve and the others have joined now, and you realize how helplessly cornered the five of you are. You’re standing on the edge of the platform and the laser’s heat can be felt even six feet away while twenty armed Russian soldiers approach from behind. 

Defeated, helpless, terrified, you turn to the person whose hand rests gently on the small of your back; the only person who gives you solace. “Steve.” 

It’s all you can say, your knees feel weak and your body turns to his, helpless. You don’t know what else to do. Steve’s eyes find yours, he can feel Dustin looking to him for help as well. Robin, Erica. Everyone is looking to him, and yet he’s just as terrified. 

“This way!” He doesn’t know where he’s going, he just knows that he has to protect you. Running back down the stairs, he shoves a guard that blocks the path and you’re right behind him, pushing barrels at more guards that round the corner so that no one else can follow. 

“Go!” You wave the others ahead, now taking the rear with Steve. The two of you do whatever you can to slow the Russians down as Robin leads the kids towards another door. You’re all blindly running through the endless walls of the facility.

The door flies open and everyone rushes into the room. 

Everything happens quickly after that.

Steve slams the door while you hold the kids behind you, away from the door and fearful of the bullets that may rain through it. Steve braces his back against the door. The Russians pound the frame from the other side. 

Madly looking around for any sign of an exit, your body fills with unbearable dread when you realize that you’ve locked yourselves in a room without any way out. 

Dustin’s scared hand grips at your arm. He seems to realize what you already have. “Shit!”

“Robin!” Steve calls out to her, desperate. He’s rapidly losing his footing to hold his position as the guards’ fists rage a relentless war. “Help me, come on!”

She runs to him and throws her back against the door as well, and the distress in Steve’s voice only hastens you as you run around the room. There has to be a way out. You refuse to die like this, far below Hawkins and the sunlight you’ve come to love within the small town. 

Breath quickening, you rush up the steps within the room and drag Dustin along with you. Robin’s face is red now, Steve’s feet keep slipping, and from the force of which the door they hold thuds, you know the guards have started to throw their own bodies against it. 

Something creeks below your foot. You look down and inexplicably hope jumps into your chest. There’s a vent grate, this entire underground facility is full of air ducts, it’s how you got into this entire fucking mess in the first place. “Here! I found something!”

Erica joins you and Dustin and quickly the three of you pry the vent open. You help Erica lower herself inside, instructing her to start crawling, now, when Dustin shouts down to Robin and Steve. “Come on!”

“Go! Just get out of here!” Steve screams back, groaning as the pounding on the door becomes more and more violent. 

Your hand, which had been on your brother’s back, ready to help him inside the air duct next, stills. Your entire body freezes as you look over at Steve, ice cold fear crawls up your neck; doubt creeps in as you realize, far too late, that there isn’t enough time for them to escape into the vent. 

There never seems to be enough time. 

But you have to try anyway. All you ever do is try, you will die trying, you just can’t let it be in vain. “Steve, Robin, let’s go!”

Steve clenches his teeth as another body throws itself against the door. Through his exertion he can see how pale you are now, the realization that dawns on you that you will have to leave him behind, and Steve wishes he could kiss the despair off of your pretty face. “No! Just go and get some help, okay?”

“I–I can’t–” Dustin tugs at your shirt to come with him, but your body is unmoving. You can’t, you won’t leave them behind, Steve’s biceps strain against the doorframe and Robin groans in pain, and yet your brother’s fearful grip on you reminds you of your responsibility to him as well. To protect him, to get Erica home, be with them.

But Steve is in danger. He needs you.

You don’t know what to do. 

“Y/N!” Dustin calls after you as you tear yourself away from him.

Blindly, as your vision darkens and the terror in your body threatens to consume you, you stumble down the steps towards Steve. You need to be close to him, it’s all your mind and body can register as the roaring in your head nearly deafens you.

As soon as you’re in front of him, grasping at his shoulders to try and take him with you, Steve pushes you away. “Y/N, you need to leave–”

“I’m not leaving you!” The shrillness scares even yourself, the sheer desperation to stay with Steve comes deep from within your chest as you scream at him. You’re panicking now, angry at him for even considering the idea that you’d ever leave him. As if you haven’t just gotten him back.

You’re never letting go of him now that you have him. 

Not again. 

Robin tries to reason with you herself, distantly you think she pleads with you, but your vision tunnels and all you can see is Steve. Your body hums with the need for his.

“Y/N, listen to me,” Another thud against the door, Robin’s foot slips, and Steve has to throw his head back and brace for yet another impact. He’s angry at you, too. For not listening to him. For how you’ve always blindly sacrificed yourself, harmed yourself to protect others.

Steve won’t let you hurt yourself anymore, not when he can save you.

Not again.

“The kids need you–”

“I need you!” Tears wet your face now, you’re clutching at Steve’s shirt as Dustin continues to scream at you to run, to not abandon him, and it feels as if you can’t breathe as words begin to tumble from your mouth with hysteria. “We–we can run, right now! You’re fast, and–and Robin can jump and–”

Steve’s lips crash against yours. 

He’s weak and scared and helpless; this is the only way he knows how to get you to listen. 

You breathe in sharply as his lips move against yours, you melt into him. He pours everything into the kiss, your teeth knock against his and your hands find his hair, tugging at it as Steve tries to convey everything that time won’t allow him to. 

The kiss is rushed, it’s messy and it’s aching, and through it Steve begs you. To love him despite the fact that he has to leave you, that he’s doing this for you, he begs you to remember him, and selfishly he kisses you because he doesn’t want to die knowing he’s wasted half the damn summer without ever knowing how your lips felt against his. 

It isn’t death that terrifies Steve, it’s the idea that he almost died without knowing how you tasted. 

When Steve finally pulls away, you’re too shocked to move. His lips are tinged pink and his brown eyes are dark in the lighting and you’re both breathless. Your hands remain in his hair, all you can register is how the strands feel between your fingers and that Dustin is now at your side, yanking at your arm to follow him back towards the vent. 

Numbly you allow Steve’s hands to help Dustin move your limp body, your feet rise to reach the steps. The warmth of Steve’s body is gone now. Faintly you feel your brother’s firm, but gentle, hands as he shoves you inside the vent.

There’s a tugging within your chest suddenly, an overwhelming sensation to turn around, and abruptly you come back to yourself. The roaring in your head quiets for only a moment, the lights are bright and Dustin’s fingers dig into your skin, yet still your eyes find Steve.

He’s far below you now, the Russians have almost broken through the door, and his kiss still sears your lips. Urgently, viciously, you scream the only thing you can think of that encompasses all the love and terror within you, “Come home to me!”

Steve opens his mouth to promise you that he will, he always will. You can hear the promise even before he’s said it, but the doors burst open and Dustin slams the vent’s grate down. 

You ran out of time. 

The echo of the grate’s slam rings in your ears. 

– 

Erica is the one that guides you through the air ducts. 

You haven’t said anything since leaving Steve and Robin behind; it’s been hours now, and yet still you do not speak.

Dustin crawls behind you, worried. He watches your body shake slightly as you crawl through the narrow space. His stomach lurches when he notices how white your knuckles have become from how tightly you clench your fists. 

You’re clinging onto what little resolve you have left, it’s evident to Dustin, and he worries about when, not if, you’ll finally snap. He knows that now isn’t the right time to initiate a code blue, but he’s concerned seeing you so broken. He hates that he can’t do anything, that he dragged you away from the others. 

The air inside the ducts is warm, almost nauseatingly so, and the ringing in your ears has yet to fade. Steve’s kiss still burns your lips. His promise to you, that he would return and come back home to you, the promise that he couldn’t make, drowns out all of your other thoughts. 

Come home to me.

He hadn’t had time to answer you. 

The thought nauseates you more than the sickening heat that surrounds you. You left him. Robin, too. 

You left them both behind, just like you left Will behind the night the Demogorgon got him. And the kids, that night when you abandoned them at the middle school and left them vulnerable to that fucking monster. And Jonathan, when he thought his brother had died and you were too lost in your self pity when he needed you the most. 

Now, after promising Steve you’d stay, sworn in the passenger seat of his car as the snow fell around you both, you’ve left him once more. 

Take all the time you need, I’ll be here.

The promises you’ve made burn so deeply that a wince escapes your lips, and Dustin quietly asks if you’re okay. 

“‘M fine,” you manage to rasp out, crawling forward despite the tormented tugging that begs you to turn around.

You hear Dustin’s lips part, he doesn’t believe you and wants to argue, but you keep your head turned away from him and he instead settles on sighing. You’re not ready to talk about it, not yet. Not now, not when you feel as if you’ve lost a piece of yourself. 

Erica turns a corner and starts to slow down. “Fans up ahead.”

“Great,” Dustin groans when he sees the giant blades spinning, blocking the way forward. “Think we could time it right and jump through them?”

“If you wanna lose a head, sure.” Erica snorts, unpleased with the risky idea. “Don’t you have tools in those lame ass cargo shorts you’re wearing?”

“My cargo shorts aren’t lame…”

You sit quietly as Dustin and Erica try and figure out what to do. You’re still in shock, you can’t gather the energy to try and help them. It’s like a switch has been flipped inside of you, deactivating your ability to do anything other than be plagued with the crippling sensation of loss. 

Eventually Erica convinces Dustin to try and break into the control panel next to the fans and shut them down manually. He pulls a screwdriver from one of his pockets (to Erica’s utter amusement), and starts unscrewing the bolts. Through it all, you remain quiet, and when Dustin looks over at you, he finds you staring blankly at the walls with an almost lifeless gaze.

He sighs. Needing to distract himself, Dustin figures now is as good a time as any to explain everything to Erica. The Russians, why they’re here, why you’ve almost lost your mind trying to protect everyone. “It all started the night Will disappeared, two years ago.”

Dustin explains the Upside Down, the Demogorgon and how it was able to travel to their world through a gate El had accidentally opened with her powers, and now how the Russians have somehow found this gate and are attempting to reopen it.

Erica, to her credit, listens. She doesn’t question a thing, and Dustin is surprised by her lack of sarcastic input, but when he finishes explaining everything, the girl only has doubts about one thing: Lucas being involved. 

“Wait, so you believe everything about El and the gate, and the Demodogs and the Mind Flayer, but you question your brother’s involvement?” Dustin asks the girl, in disbelief of how her mind works. 

“That’s correct.”

Then, surprising them both, you finally speak. “Lucas is brave, Erica. He’s done a lot for the party.”

Erica’s stony expression softens slightly, her usual argumentative demeanor backs down. “Yeah, well. Whatever. You’re damn lucky it’s your birthday and I feel bad for you.”

It’s not much, but you know that she’s spared you her malice. For once you accept the sympathy, even if your luck has run out hours ago when Steve kissed you and then tore you apart. “Lucky,” you snort. “Yeah.”

Dustin and Erica look at one another wearily, though you pretend you don’t see it. After a few heartbeats, your brother clears his throat and goes back to unscrewing the control panel.

“Um, you need help with that?” Erica asks the boy, doubtful of his capabilities. When Dustin tells her no, she doubles down. “I mean, it’s taking a while, so–”

Dustin huffs at her. “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

“Don’t cuss at her.” You butt in, but Erica has already started back with her arguing. 

She claims that at the slow pace you’re going, Steve and Robin stand no chance, and her words make the nausea claw up your throat. Dustin notices the way you clutch at your stomach and he quickly tries to reason with Erica, maybe say that she’s wrong, but the girl only continues to talk. 

“I mean, we’ve made it about point-three miles in nine hours.” Erica looks down at her watch as she speaks, but her eyes almost swim with the numbers you assume she invisions in her mind. “Then we had to walk three hours down that tunnel, so I’d estimate ten miles back to the elevator, which should take us approximately twelve and a half days.”

You and Dustin look at each other, baffled. No way Erica managed to come up with those numbers all on her own. Sure, you’ve always secretly suspected that she was more intelligent than she let on, but Jesus. You can hardly remember the multiples of seven on a good day. 

“Did you just do all of that in your head?” Dustin asks her, eyes wide with astonishment.

Erica shrugs. “I’m good with numbers.”

“That’s an understatement,” you mumble under your breath, though you’re starting to feel more like yourself again. Dustin calls Erica a nerd, which she adamantly denies, and the light hearted conversation almost seems to draw you out of your state of shock, albeit slowly. 

Your brother lists off all the proof he has of Erica’s “nerdiness” and you listen, chuckling. The genuine offense on the girl’s face is hard not to laugh at, and when Dustin sees that it seems to be cheering you up, he doubles down on his efforts. 

“Fact number three: you love My Little Pony.” He holds up Erica’s backpack that has two ponies printed across it, which you snort at.

Erica crosses her arms defensively. “And what does My Little Pony have to do with this?”

“Let’s recall the ponies’ latest adventure, shall we?” Dustin clears his throat and begins retelling the tales of the ponies, and you cannot believe that your fourteen year old brother still watches the show and pays enough attention to understand its themes and narrative. “Ergo, My Little Pony is nerdy. Ergo, you, Erica, are a nerd.”

“Not to take sides,” you poke your head between the two kids. “But why do you know so much about the show, Dustin?”

“Because I’m a nerd.” He manages to get the control panel open and rips the wires out of it. Electric sparks fly as they disconnect and the fans behind you slowly come to a stop. “Now, let’s go, nerds.”

Erica glares at him before turning to you. “Do you watch My Little Pony, Y/N?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not that pathetic. I read comics instead, like the mature seventeen year old I am.”

The girl rolls her eyes at you, entirely over you and your brother, and starts crawling through the air ducts once more. As she leaves, Dustin stays behind. “Hey,”

His hand wraps around your arm and stops you from following Erica. You pause, confused as to what he may want. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” In the lighting, for just a moment, Dustin looks up at you and he’s the nine year old little boy who once feared you would get lost in your mother’s grief and father’s anger.

The last icy tendrils of shock melt, you come back to yourself when you hear your little brother’s fear for his sister. Taking Dustin’s hand into yours, you squeeze it. “Of course I’m okay. I have you.” 

Dustin laughs softly, relief evident within his exhale, and you yank his hat off of his head to break the remaining tension away. He lunges for it, betrayed, though he laughs again anyways, and for a few seconds it’s just the two of you giggling to yourselves as you fight over the hat. 

“Are you two shitbirds coming, or do I gotta kill those Commies on my own?” Erica shouts, now on the other side of the air duct.

With one last tug, Dustin tears the hat from your grasp and sticks his tongue out at you. “Last one to Erica owes the other $5!” He starts speed crawling towards the girl, giving you absolutely no chance of winning, and you hang your head in defeat and sigh.

The fucker owes you so much money already.

–

It takes hours.

Back aching and knees bruised, you crawl behind the kids in the seemingly endless maze that resides in the facility’s air ducts. It’s similar to the tunnels you walked through what feels like years ago originally, with Steve holding your hand through it all, though you know it couldn’t have been less than a day ago now.

The entire time, your mind doesn’t once quiet its concern for Steve and Robin. Just when the pounding in your head becomes splitting, Dustin stops you and Erica.

“Y/N, help me remove the vent.”

“Why, what’s up there?” You’re next to him, squinting through the grate’s small holes. All you see are what appear to be a line of vaults, though it’s hard to tell. “I don’t see anyone.”

Dustin starts prying at the vent. “Exactly, there’s no one up there and look, can’t you see it?”

You squint again, getting even closer to the holes to peer inside. Something glows bright green on one of the vault’s shelfs. “Is that…?”

“Uh huh. Now help me, will you?”

It takes a minute or so before you’re able to pry the vent open. Together, the two of you slowly lift your heads through the opening and look around. The room you’ve ended up in is empty. Along its walls are rows of vaults with multiple vials of the green chemicals you found in the elevator. 

You’re not entirely sure what your brother has in mind, but you know it can’t be anything good.

“Jackpot!” Dustin breathes out with newfound exhilaration. He climbs out of the air duct first and eagerly starts looking around while you help Erica out. 

The two kids look around in amazement, but you survey the area out of habit. It’s too quiet within the room. Being so close to the chemicals again leaves you on edge. “Stay close to me, we don’t know who could be nearby–”

“Oh!” Dustin abandons your caution in a heartbeat. He starts running down the steps, and when you see what’s gotten him so excited, you follow after him. There’s a cart right at the bottom of the stairs, parked to the side without anyone in it. 

It could be your ticket out of here, if you’re lucky.

“Do you even know how to drive?” Erica teases Dustin, but you step past her and join him to inspect the vehicle. 

He waves an indifferent hand at her. “How hard can it be? Max did it.”

“That was the worst car ride of my life” You shiver at the memory. The taste of blood fills your mouth and you can almost feel the bruises again. Shaking your head, you force yourself to focus. “Think you could hotwire this?”

Dustin furrows his brows and ducks his head under the wheel. He shuffles around, mumbling to himself, before he curses. “No, it’s one of those fancy, expensive carts. Which is goddamn ironic for people who hate wealth. We need a key.”

“Okay, that’s not how Communism necessarily works–”

“Did you two seriously think they’d leave keys in there?” Erica interrupts you, cutting straight to the point as she always does. 

Dustin starts digging around the cart now. He checks the mirror compartment, under the seat, wherever his hands can reach. “There’s gotta be a spare…” When he comes up with nothing, he shoves you out of the cart. “Go and look inside the vault room.”

“A ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt.” Though you do as you’re told, trusting that the room is secure enough to leave him and Erica alone for a few minutes as you look.

There are vials everywhere, but no signs of a spare key. You wander the rows, the green liquid glows ominously. Drawing your face closer to one of the vials, the liquid bubbles in its glass container. This small, inconspicuous vial is what melted cement back at the elevator.

An idea comes to you. 

“Dustin,” you call over your shoulder, eyes still on the chemical. “What if we grabbed some of these vials and used them as some kind of weapon? I mean, it’s some pretty powerful stuff.” No one responds, which you frown at. It’s then that you realize it’s become suspiciously quiet, and with your heartbeat in your throat, you run back towards the kids. 

You find Dustin with spare keys in his hand, a proud smile on his face. “Found ‘em.”

“I’m going to start making you pay me every time you give me a goddamn heart attack.” A hand rests against your chest as you try to lower your heart rate. “I mean, this just can’t be good for me–”

A loud, spine tingling crack of electricity zaps behind you.

Screaming, you jump at the noise and into Dustin’s side. You both turn around, coming face to face with a giant electric prod held by a smiling Erica. 

“What the hell is that?” Dustin shouts at her, fear still in his voice. 

“A deadly weapon.” She zaps it again and the sound is deafening. “Could be useful.”

Both hands on your chest now, you hunch over and try to not to have a heart attack right then and there. “You kids are going to kill me one day.” You swallow, take a deep breath. “God, why can’t we stick with knives? They’re quiet, quaint. Not at all terrifying.”

“Knives against Commies? I thought you wanted to save your boyfriend, Y/N.” Erica swings the prod as she speaks and you hold your hands up.

“Let’s not swing that around, okay? The last thing I need today is to be electrocuted by that thing.” When she lowers the prod, you continue. “But…  you should keep it. It’ll be useful for saving Steve and Robin.”

Dustin steps in front of you. “Wait a minute, aren’t you always lecturing me about being realistic? We don’t even know where they are.”

“And aren’t you always lecturing me about putting the party first?” You can’t believe that Dustin isn’t tearing the place apart to find Steve. “We can’t just leave them here. No way you think I’d let you do that.”

“But there are a million guards up there with weapons way deadlier than that!” He points at Erica’s electric prod. He starts walking towards the cart, keys in hand, and beckons you to get inside it as well. “Admit it, the best thing we can do for them is get out of here and find help. Our chance of surviving, and theirs, rises substantially.”

“No.” You don’t step foot in the cart.

“Just trust me on this.” Dustin tries to get you into the cart, but you plant your feet on the ground and refuse to move. “Y/N, please don’t be difficult right now.”

“I said no.” Your voice hardens. Dustin has never been one to back away from a challenge, and yet here he is. Accepting defeat and leaving Steve and Robin to suffer the consequences of it. You’ve always been the first to stand behind realism, to denounce insane ideas and stunts that the party always manages to get itself into, but this time it’s different. 

Somewhere within these walls, your friends are facing unimaginable terrors. They sacrificed themselves to save you and the kids. Once again, Steve Harrington has saved your life.

And you’ve always evened out your debts to him. 

“We’re going to look for them.” You walk back into the vault room and start grabbing vial after vial of chemicals. There’s an air of authority in your demeanor, daring the kids to argue with you. You’re taking control now after being numb for so long. Dustin follows you, tries to argue, but you continue grabbing vials from the shelves as a plan forms in your head. “We are going to grab as many of these as we can, load them up into the cart, and then drive around this shithole until we find our friends.”

You shove the vials into Dustin’s arms. He blinks at you, this is the most clear headed he’s seen you since descending down in the elevator. Marching back towards the cart, you place your own vials down. “Then, we are going to use whatever chemical this is to cause a distraction. We’ll melt something, maybe cause a fire. I don’t give a shit what we do. All I know is that we are going to then save our friends and get the fuck out of this hellscape. Do I make myself clear?”

Dustin and Erica stare at you, jaws slacked, both now sitting in the cart. Taking their silence as a yes, you nod, pleased. “Fantastic. Now, my dear brother, start driving or I will. Either way: we’re leaving.”

He gulps and tightens his hands on the steering wheel. When you’ve settled into the back of the vehicle, he starts the cart. “Let’s go, then.”

As Dustin drives, Erica twists in her seat to look at you. She’s impressed, albeit still slightly terrified. “Have you always been so scary?”

“Yes. I just hide it well. Makes it more useful when I need it.” 

– 

You’ve just finished counting the vials when Erica seems to decide now is an appropriate time to ask invasive questions. 

“So what do you see in that hair guy?”

“You mean Steve?” Although, you suppose that hair guy is a pretty good indicator for him.

Erica nods. “Yeah, I just don’t understand how someone like him could impress you. He wears a sailor’s uniform and flings ice cream all day long.”

You’re oddly touched by this, though her description of Steve makes you sad. He’s so much more than just some guy who scoops ice cream. He’s brave, selfless, sensitive, and kind. “Don’t give me too much credit. There’s a lot you don’t know about Steve.”

She makes a disgusted face. “Yuck. It sounds like you love the guy.”

Dustin cringes and looks disgusted as well. He doesn’t want to hear his sister waxing and waning about his friend. “Can we not talk about that right now?”

Erica pinches his side, causing him to nearly crash the cart into the wall. “I’m an inquisitive person and clearly they’re in love. Y/N almost bit your head off when you suggested abandoning him.”

“Okay, I didn’t suggest abandoning him.”

“It’s just the facts!”

They argue, forgetting that you’re there. However, you need the distraction, and talking about Steve has always made you feel braver than you really are. A smile spreads across your face when you think about him. The words spill from your mouth without any effort. “I do love Steve.”

Dustin’s arguing fades away. His eyes meet yours in the cart’s rearview mirror. He already knew that you loved Steve, but to hear you say it, to see the blush that invades your face whenever you talk about him, it makes everything more real. Guilt washes over him. He wanted you to leave the boy you love behind. 

“Look,” Dustin sighs. He needs to get this off of his chest. “I’m sorry about telling you to leave Steve and–”

A scream echoes within the hall. It’s feminine, familiar. 

“Robin,” your stomach twists. She’s alive. And close. She has to be close if you can hear her screams. You grab Dustin’s shoulder. “Go!” 

He slams on the gas and the cart picks up speed. Rounding the corner, he brakes harshly and you’re in yet another hallways. It’s silent, there isn’t anyone there. You close your eyes, you’re close. You can feel it, but you can’t locate them if you don’t know where they are. 

“C’mon, Robin, “ you plead. “Help us find you.”

Another scream, this time it sounds even closer.

“That way!” Erica points left, and there’s no time to doubt if she’s right. The three of you jump out the cart and grab the chemicals. Dustin also grabs the electric prod, and then you all start running. 

Robin screams again, and this time you can place which door it comes from. Adrenaline rushes through you. You have to work fast. At the end of the hall you see what looks to be an alarm switch on the wall. It wasn’t a part of your plan earlier, but it’ll have to do.

“Erica, go to the switch down there. When I say go, you press it. Alright?” She nods at you, quickening her pace. You turn to Dustin next, grabbing the vials from him. “Get the prod ready. I’ll throw the vials.”

When you get to the door that separates you from Robin, you press your ear against it. Voices are muffled, but still Steve's voice comes through as well. Your heart jumps. He’s with her. He’s alive as well. 

Erica stands at the end of the hall and you hold your palm up, signaling her to wait. Looking at Dustin, he nods at you and holds the prod to his chest. Taking a deep breath, you start throwing the vials harshly against the floor.

You use all the anger within you to guide what little strength you have left. The anger drives you, it propels the vials, it shatters them. The chemicals spill everywhere. The cement floor begins to erode away, sizzling. After you’ve thrown your last one, you shout to Erica, “Now!”

Alarms sound overhead. Erica runs back towards you and you shove the kids behind a barrel. Within seconds the hallway fills with Russian guards and they swarm around the melted floor, but you keep your eyes on the door. Silently you beg for your plan to work. The door has to open, whoever is inside has to come and investigate the damage you’ve caused. 

An agonizing three seconds pass. Sweat drips down your face. Then, a man comes crashing out of the door. He marches down the hallway and disappears when he turns the corner. As soon as he’s gone, Dustin slams through the door. There’s a man dressed in doctor’s scrubs within the room, but your brother attacks him with the prod and knocks him out quickly.

Erica and Dustin stand over the unconscious man. They’re surprised the plan has worked. Yet all you see is Steve. 

Everything else fades away. He’s tied to a chair, his face is bleeding. You run towards him, uncaring about whatever else may be in the room. A whole fucking army of Russians could be standing next to you right now and you still wouldn’t spare them a single glance. 

“Oh, honey.” The sentiment drips from your lips as your knife cuts through the rope that binds him. You’re so fucking relieved that he’s okay, that Robin is as well. But there’s so much blood. In your periphery you see a tray with a bone saw on it. 

“There’s my pretty girl!” Steve giggles, head lolling to the side as he admires you. “Isn’t she the prettiest, Robin?”

Robin giggles as well, her face just as bruised and bloodied as his. “So pretty!” 

“Oh God,” despite their injured state, the two teens are in an unusually good mood. They giggle like school girls, Robin even bats her eyelashes at you. Something is off with them. “How hard did they hit your heads?”

Dustin starts to help you untie Steve. “Get ready to run.” He instructs them with a firm voice. However, Robin and Steve continue to laugh. As if this is all one big joke to them. 

They almost seem… drunk. 

But there isn’t time to ask any questions. Any minute now the guards will return. You cut the last rope that’s tied around Robin and ask Erica if she can carry her. They’re too loopy to walk straight, you’ll need to help Dustin carry Steve back to the cart.

It takes a lot of yelling, slapping Steve’s hand away from your face as you struggle to drag his limp body to the cart, more bribes for Robin than you ever would’ve imagined, but miraculously you get the two idiots into the cart parked outside. 

As soon as they’re secured in the back with you, Dustin steps on the gas and you leave the Russians behind.

“Tried promising you I’d come home, angel.” Steve is sprawled on your lap. His eyes are cloudy, he isn’t quite here with you. 

“You didn’t have to say anything. I knew you’d promise me.” You reassure him. Carefully, you brush hair out of his face and you inspect his wounds. The cuts don’t look too deep, but you’re worried he might have yet another concussion. Thankfully, however, the blood has already started to scab over. The worst of it is over, and yet your heart still constricts when you remember that he’s injured because of you. “My poor, sweet honey.”

Steve closes his eyes and hums with content. “I love it when you call me honey.” He rolls onto his side now and nuzzles his bloodied face into your stomach. “Makes me feel special.”

Your fingers find his hair, careful to avoid any bumps and heart swelling at what he’s said. Clearing your throat, you look to Robin who is on your other side. You start checking her over as well. She isn’t as battered as Steve is, though a bruise is forming on her cheek. 

When she sees you looking at her, she winks. “I lived!”

“You did,” you squeeze her hand and her head falls against your shoulder. She lets out her own content sigh, and you play with her hair as well. They’re still with you. Still whole and alive.

With Steve and Robin safely wrapped around you, you can finally rest.

-

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[azulpitlane]

just pr I ln4

pairing: lando norris x ricciardo!reader summary: after being caught hooking up with lando, you both decide it would be good for your images to fake date. too bad you hate each other. notes: been loving enemies to lovers rn🫣 masterlist

f1gossip

230,421 likes

f1gossip New WAG alert? After a night of partying, Lando Norris was pictured kissing Y/n Ricciardo outside the club! Onlookers claim they then went home together after this👀 He was seen having a private dinner with another girl just a few days ago and rumored to have brought a different girl on his ski trip a few weeks ago.

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user lando is on a streak LOL

user this is so random?!? i was not expecting this duo but im here for it HAHA

user no cause she rarely attends races but when she does shes never seen with lando?😭

user omg he better not play my girl, I love y/n

user WHAT DOES DANIEL THINK OF THIS OMG

user I wanna read the family gc so bad...

user wait they would be so cute

user is he finally settling down omg

user I hope so, I lowkey see them together

user im here for it!! shes so much better than these other girls hes been seen with

notification center

danny what. were. you. thinking. you're in so much trouble missy call me ASAP!!!

y/bff/n LANDO NORRIS?!?!? WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM BEING A PIECE OF SHIT??? girl we need to debrief last night

lando norris we need to talk

Fucking fantastic.

Based on your notifications, you put two and two together and realized you were paparazzi'd with none other than the man you hated the most. You and Lando had a very complicated relationship to say the least. You had met when your brother, Daniel, joined McLaren and from the start he had given you the cold shoulder. You didn't know what you did wrong and tried to be kind to him, but after a while you stopped when he dismissed you like a child. You thought you would get along with him after Danny had told you about his interest in photography. You yourself were a photographer and decided to take the year traveling with your brother to capture some photos in F1, but you had figured the fame was getting to Lando especially after his breakup with his girlfriend. He was starting to bring different girls to the garage in every race and you would never see them again after.

You remember your last interaction with him in the McLaren garage in the final race of the '22 season was when the complicated part of your relationship began.

"What are you doing here, y/n? This is a place for serious professionals, not hobbyists."

"Lando, always the charmer. I'm here to photograph greatness."

"Greatness? You wouldn't know greatness if it lapped you on the track."

"Well, I'm pretty sure greatness doesn't come with an ego the size of your car."

"Watch your tone, y/n. This is a dangerous place, not a playground for kids."

"I can handle myself, Lando. Unlike some people, I don't need a helmet to protect my head."

Both your eyes were filled with hatred as they interlocked, each refusing to back down. As the race begins, y/n continues to snap photos, capturing Lando's intense focus and determination.

After the race, both Lando and Daniel were disappointed they were not able to get into the podium on their last race of the season. Your brother asked for some time alone so you approached Lando, camera in hand, knowing it would be the last time you were in the same garage as him.

"Tough race, Lando. I got some incredible shots, though."

"Don't patronize me, y/n."

"You know for what it's worth, I saw a different side of you on the track this season. It's like you're fighting not just against other drivers, but against something within yourself.

"What are you talking about?"

"I may be the younger sister of your teammate, but I'm not blind. There's more to you than the arrogant facade you put on."

After that conversation, you began seeing Lando less and less considering your brother was now racing in AlphaTauri and you were hardly at the paddock anymore. The few times you did see Lando, the tension had shifted into something different. But it was now winter break and you and Lando were both back in Monaco.

You had gone out last night and you did not believe your luck when you saw Lando in the same club with a smirk on his face. Determined to show you could rise above the tension, you decided to lose herself in the pulsating rhythm of the music. As you moved to the beat, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you found yourself face-to-face with none other than Lando.

"Surprised to see me, princess?" He looked at you with a mocking smile knowing the nickname would rile you up.

"Surprised to see you alone at a club and not wrapped up with some girl? Yes, actually."

"Didn't take you for the jealous type, I like it."

Against your better judgment, you found herself drawn into banter with him. The tension between you turned into a strange kind of chemistry as you exchanged barbs, each remark escalating in intensity. A few drinks were exchanged and you slowly began to lose your guard around him and eventually ending up on his bed that night.

You groaned at the memory of last night's mistake and decided it was best to text Lando back before anyone else to get your story straight. He quickly replied saying he was on his way and you began to straighten yourself up.

"You know usually when I hook up with a girl I don't see her the next morning. Consider yourself lucky y/n."

"Still arrogant as ever, even when we're both fucked right now."

"Well you're a little more fucked than I am really."

"Just get in here Lando." You opened the door to let him in and quickly shut it afraid you would be pictured together again.

"I've got good news for you sweetheart. My team has made a plan to sort this mess out."

"Go on with it. What is it?"

"Jeez feisty in the mornings, heh? But congratulations, you are officially my girlfriend, we've been dating for a few weeks now and have kept it under wraps to figure out our feelings for each other privately."

"A fake relationship? That's your solution? No fucking way."

Lando sighed and rolled his head back in annoyance. He knew you were immediately going to shut this idea down but he had planned what he was going to say beforehand and knew what to say to convince you.

"You think I want to do this? My team needs me to do this, I haven't exactly looked like a saint these past few weeks and hooking up with my friend's sister behind his back isn't going to make me look any better."

"And what's that got to do with me?"

"Well in case you haven't noticed, this doesn't look good on your part either princess. There's some hateful people on the internet already slut shaming you and saying you betrayed your brother. If we tell people we were already dating prior to these pictures, it lessens the hate. Not only that, are you really going to tell Danny you had a meaningless one night stand with one of his friends?"

You knew he had a point. Danny wasn't going to be happy if he found out about the brewing tension between you and Lando.

"Please y/n, the internet already likes us together. This would be good for us."

"Lando Norris saying please? Wow, never thought I'd see the day." You genuinely were shocked at his desperateness for you to agree, you didn't think about how this affected him as much it did you.

"Yeah, yeah. It's only for a few months then we could go back to pretending we dont exist to each other."

"Okay fine, just for a few months. And I'm doing this for Danny, not for you." You quickly agreed not really thinking it would be that big of a deal. Just a few posts and appearances together and this would be over before you knew it.

"I knew you'd give in." Lando gave you one of his infamous smirks and planted a kiss in the corner of your mouth. "Now come on we need some pictures to make this convincing."

And so it begins.

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 3,294,240 others

landonorris secrets out

tagged yourusername

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user OMFG

user im actually so happy theyre so cute😭❤️

user WHAT WAS DANNYS REACTION

yourusername 🧡

danielricciardo on the next flight to monaco btw. maxverstappen1 yourusername ooouuu you're in troubleeee user LMFAO MAX user WAIT DID DANIEL NOT KNOW???

danielricciardo 🫠🫠

user AHAHAH he doesn't seem too happy user 💀

user am I tripping or is he holding y/ns camera🥹

user it looks like the one she always has on her I LOVE THEM ALREADY

user my new roman empire I won't shut up about them from now on

user wasn't lando just with other girls?

user he can have female friends!! its not impossible

part two??

[cosmiiwrites]

OKAY SO I HAVE AN IDEA. What about established relationship domestic fluff with Adam?? Like waking up in the morning cooking breakfast that kind of stuff (I AM STARVED OF HAPPY ADAM CONTENT)

˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ domestic life

.ೃ࿐ adam x reader .ೃ࿐

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ hc/drabble: how adam would be like as a domestic partner cw: cussing, fluff, established relationship, reader is lwk fem coded a/n: ME TOO ANON. ME TOO. sorry for the hold up on the adam fics btw😭🙏

alright SOO

if you're in a relationship with adam, you obviously mean a lot to him

sure, he brags about his groupies and hookups all the time, but he's never actually been in a serious relationship with any of them

and he never stays in contact with them unless he needs a quick orgasm

without a doubt he drops them all for you

so when you’re dating him, let alone living with him, you’re a lot more than a good fuck

at first, waking up and adam being the first thing you see in the morning took you a while to get used to

you’d always find an arm slung around your waist when you woke up, stopping you from leaving the bed

you found it cute at first, but it started to get annoying when adam literally would not let you get up

“adam, hon, babe, love of my life, i gotta get ready for work,” you yawned. “adaaam,” whining his name clearly did not work. unfazed, the angel only tightened his hold on you. his face buried itself deeper into the crook of your neck. “c’mon, sera won’t be happy if you’re late for the fourth time this week…” you reminded him.

“i don’t give a shit,” adam groaned, voice muffled and barely audible. you loved his morning voice: husky, low, less insufferable. “i jus’ wanna be here with you. i don’t want to hear sera’s bitching this early in the morning…” his last sentence made you laugh, earning you an annoyed growl. “fine, i guess that’s fair.”

you settled more into your shared bed, one arm slinging around adam’s neck while the other combed through his hair. adam gave you a low groan in response. “mmh… could just stay here in bed all day, with you, y’know?” usually, you would object, but this time you gave it some thought. laying in bed with your boyfriend, cuddling all day? hm. you let out a defeated sigh.

“…fine.”

“fuck yeah!”

you had actually found a way to let adam release you from the bed without him bitching about you “abandoning him”

that is, by cooking him bomb ass breakfast

the first time you cooked him breakfast was when he was deep in sleep and you were able to sneak your way out of his grasp

he wasn’t happy about you not being in bed with him, but your cooking made up for it.

an unfamiliar smell woke up adam. “[name], what the fuck is that sme- [NAME]?!” he frantically looked around for you, scanning the bedroom, the bathroom, he even checked the closet. this dumbass didnt even try following the smell. finally, adam found you in the kitchen, back facing towards him as you flipped pancakes.

he gave out a sigh of relief. almost instantly, adam pulled you into a hug from behind, head resting on your shoulder. because of the unexpected gesture, you let out a squeak. cute, he thought. “calm down, babe, s’ just me.” he chuckled. “but seriously, don’t leave me alone… i thought you got murdered or somethin’.” you whipped your head around to meet his eyes. was he serious? “first of all, this is literally heaven. secondly, i left to cook you breakfast, dummy. now go sit down or you’re not getting any.” immediately he complied.

“holy fuck.” he said, munching on a pancake. you giggled. “do you like it?” adam stared at you like you had gone crazy. “do i—do i like it? sweetheart, if i knew you cooked like a god i would’ve forced you to make every dish in the damn book.” his praise went straight to your head. you didn’t think he was capable of complimenting anyone that much but himself! still, you weren’t complaining.

not only did you make breakfast for adam, but lunch and dinner, too

when adam came home from work and found ribs on the table, he went FERAL

“baaaabe, im home,” he announced rather loudly. adam scanned the kitchen for you, instead landing his eyes on a large plate of ribs. never had adam wanted to wife someone up so bad.

“oh, adam! i just made some-“

“marry me.”

i feel like adam wouldn’t be too keen on doing chores around the house

washing dishes, doing the laundry, taking out the trash? not quite his forte

once said that it was a “woman’s job,” and you gave him a firm smack to his head (well deserved)

“adam, you NEVER do anything around here!” you complained. adam only groaned in response. “c’monn, doing the dishes won’t kill you,” “i dunno, it might.” “ADAM!”

“fine, jeez! so fuckin’ dramatic i swear…” he muttered under his breath. he reluctantly picked up a sponge and a plate and began cleaning the plate profusely fast. you leaned on the counter next to him, a smug grin on your face to which he only tsked at.

he put away the last dish, finally. “there, you happy now?” he huffed. “very.” you grabbed his face and pecked his lips once, twice. adam was taken aback at your sudden movement, nevertheless kissing you back more fervently. “mph- shit, if this is what i get for doing the dishes, i might start doing it more often.”

[awearywritersworld]

Ryomen Sukuna x Reader summary: you're cuddling in bed with your very sleepy boyfriend, except he's not exactly your very sleepy boyfriend w/c: .75k tags/warnings: somewhat suggestive but not smut. praise. "good girl" but no other reference to gender. fluff. "kitten" i can't help myself. aged up!yuuji a/n: idek! wrote this in an attempt to get inspired and to let everyone know im still alive, kicking, and most importantly, suffering from sukuna brain rot. currently rewatching so this is brought to u by s1e4. masterlist

Your favorite place to be, even after all this time, is Yuuji's arms. His embrace is warm and inviting, and it never fails to put your mind at ease, even with Sukuna in the picture. You've known him for as long as you've known Yuuji, but his snide, snarky comments never deterred your love for his vessel.

Though, after many long months, his commentary became more... unassuming? At least when you were around, anyway. The first time it happened, you'd asked Yuuji if he knew where you left your phone.

"It's on the couch," another voice answered.

You and your boyfriend stared at each other with raised brows before your eyes shifted down to ever abiding mouth on his cheek.

"What?" Sukuna actually grumbled before disappearing.

It's been a while since then. You're resting against Yuuji's chest, his arm snaked around your waist, his breathing deep and steady. Sleep nearly overcomes you, but his chest vibrates with words you're not quite able to make out and it just barely tugs you back to consciousness.

You hum drowsily, your hands grabbing at his sweatshirt in a weak attempt to pull him nearer.

"That's it," he encourages, drawing you impossibly closer.

The small noises you make as you situate yourself have the man exhaling just a little more harshly than before.

"Want me to praise you?" he offers, a sly edge to his voice. It's only then your mind registers that something is... off. This voice is more intense than the one you're used to. "It's obvious you like it when the brat tells you what a good girl you are."

Your eyes snap open, the top of your head nearly colliding with his chin as you pull back from him. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you're unable to help the small gasp that passes your lips as you take in your boyfriend's changed appearance.

"W-What the hell, Sukuna?"

There's a lazy smirk on his face and his hand settles on your hip like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"He's right, you know."

"What are you even on about? It's too late for this shit" you remark, free hand rubbing at your eyelids in an attempt to wake yourself up.

Despite Sukuna never having randomly appeared before, you're not intimidated. Well, not terribly so, even if the man before you is of infamous legend. These days his voice is a constant in your life and that keeps you from registering the possible (probable?) danger of your current situation.

"I was trying to tell you how pretty you are."

"Oh," you squeak out, warmth creeping from your neck toward your cheeks. He chuckles, but you're uncertain whether or not he's teasing you.

His fingers trail up your waist, his touch just barely grazing the skin there before catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Hm, and so sweet too." His thumb extends to brush against your bottom lip.

The contact leaves your stomach swirling with one too many emotions and your hand reaches up to his bicep, as if the action might stop anything else from being said or done.

It doesn't.

He moves his arm from your grasp, but only so that he can wrap his fingers around your wrist. You finally meet his lidded gaze as he brings the inside of your wrist to his lips, peppering a few light kisses there. "So that means you're a very good girl, don't you think?"

His tone is even and low, unfeigned in a way that makes you shudder. The whole situation has you shifting restlessly and averting your gaze.

"Why are you...?" Your voice is barely above a whisper and you're incapable of figuring out a way to describe what was happening at the present moment.

He takes a few seconds before answering, studying how you've pulled your bottom lip between your teeth with a furrowed brow.

His voice quiets to match your own. "Is Yuuji the only one who can concern himself with your happiness?"

You attempt to mask the surprise that threatens your features, but still glance up at him with widened eyes. A momentary silence falls between the two of you and there's an air of suspense to it.

"I never said that."

That must be answer enough, as he tugs you back to his chest once more. You let him envelop you with ease and tangle your legs between his.

"Then stop worrying and go back to sleep, kitten."

[hitomisuzuya]

i remember u writing abt hybrid catboy scara and fox childe and im literally in love🤭🤭

catboy scara fluff ur fluff is literally amazinf

Hybrid! Scaramouche x fem!reader. Fluff fluffy fluff fluff.

I'm really glad you guys enjoy my fluff. I love writing it. I'm not feeling the best so I am sorry if this is shit. I don't want you guys to write me off or abandon me for inactivity 😭

You could feel Scaramouche's cat eyes staring, or rather glaring at you, peeking his little head out just so around corner. He wanted to be close to you while you did chores around the house. But, you know, people sucked. He had an image to uphold.

You turned your head to smile at him. A smile that always took his breath away, be it in his cat or human form. "Come hang out with me while I clean, Scara," You coaxed.

You swore you heard him give his trademark scoff, tinged behind a meow before he darted off around the corner out of sight. You sighed and went about your day.

You decided to try again once you finished cleaning. You knew right where he was, hiding in your room under your bed. "Scara, I'm going to the farmer's market down the road today for some fruit. Do you want to come? We can stop by the grocery store, and get your favorite, expensive cat food."

You saw his eyes staring at you from underneath the bed. You heard a low meow followed by the sound of his stomach growling. Howver, he made no move to come out from under the bed.

You hide a laugh behind your hand, making him glare at you. "Okay, I understand. I'll still pick up cat food and your favorite treats," You left your room, leaving the door open so he could wander the around the house as he liked while you were gone.

Scaramouche came out from under the bed when he heard the front door close. Trotting downstairs, he stared at the front door for a long time. He was being distant and short tempered with you, and you still were being considerate of him.

You were different from other people. He could more than see that. You'd already proved that to him when you'd found him injured. You hadn't dropped him when he clawed at you a little picking him up. You'd bandaged his leg, stayed up reading to him all night and didn't fall asleep until after he did.

He waited right by the front door for you to return, wishing with ever fiber of his being that he had gone with you. Who knows who would be lurking around the corners of the farmer's market or the grocery store, ready to take to you away from him?

"Hi, Scara," You greeted, hearing a soft meow, "you finally came out of hiding. You wanna help me put the groceries away," He trotted into the kitchen behind you, hoping up on the counter to sit with you while you put the groceries away.

"You wanna watch a movie with me after you eat?" You asked, closing the fridge and getting a can of cat food out for him. Scaramouche didn't want to eat first, though.

He just wanted to be with you.

Scaramouche followed you right to the couch, leaving his cat food untouched. You even read the titles outloud to him, scratching him behind his ears and petting him after he settled in your lap. He was just starting to purr softly when he shifted into his human form, sighing contently as he rested his head in your lap.

"Was this what you wanted the whole time, Scara?" You asked, running your fingers through his hair.

"Mhm," He admitted shyly, his cheeks flushing as his ears twitched. After the movie, he slept next to you in his human form, holding you to his chest to keep you warm.

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 5}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: Another overnight patrol, an asked favor, a miscommunication, a fleeting moment of pleasure and it all comes crumbling down. Even worse than you had anticipated, the allure of being a part of something bigger than yourself blinding you into believing it was finally within reach.

Word Count: 10.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, mild injuries, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, adult content, teasing, yearning, protective joel, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, size kink unlocked in reader, (girl, i feel you), reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: holy shit, i am so sorry for the mix up with the original content. i'm so emotionally drained from today that i didn't realize it wasn't the final version of the chapter that i uploaded. but it's fixed, all scenes are complete and as they should be.

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It was your fault, you realized. As you set about searching for something you remembered seeing in the house when you had first been assigned to it and moved in with Aiden. It had been one of those things that you stared at in disbelief, startling manic, nearly hysterical laughter that had turned into tears and uneven breaths. So ridiculous to have come across it over a decade after the end of the world.

A pack of index cards.

Index cards. Who needed index cards at the end of the world, when language was all people had. Skills like writing, reading, all faded away and dormant reflexes that could be called upon if and when needed.

It hadn’t mattered if you could write, had the ability to write or read when you were running for your life from Infected and humans, crashing through the remains of what was once a town or city, crashing through snapping and unforgiving forests, crashing through unforgiving open land in the hopes that you weren’t spotted a mile away by someone trying to protect what was theirs or looking for targets.

It was your fault he had pulled away to the point of beginning his…thing with Marsha. The way you had run from him, run from what you had both shared. But it didn’t mean anything, he was...Joel was…an important part of the settlement. Integrated far better than you ever had the chance to and you would just ruin it for him. He had to understand that because he too, hadn’t tried to bring it up.

Gathering them and a few of the cookbooks you had, you settled at the kitchen table. Taking the time to flip through the recipes to find simple ones that could be adapted to the more limited means the settlement could produce. Eager to find ones that Joel wouldn’t find too challenging and would like the end result of.

Just as your pen hit the paper, a knock sounded on your door. Sighing, you set it down and made your way across the front of your home to find Tommy with a crying bundle in his hands.

“Maria left me with ‘im for the day to handle some council business and he won’t stop cryin’.” He looked like he was about to burst into tears himself, but you didn’t say as much. Knowing firsthand how draining it was to look after a newborn.

“Well, good morning to you too.” You said as the man shouldered his way past you and took up half of the couch, an old backpack swinging from his elbow.

“You said to come to you for anything we needed, and I need your help.”

“How do you know I’m not bad with babies, huh? Maybe they hate me and I’m one of those women who don’t like them?”

“But you’re not. Right?” His curls were a frizzled mess, his eyes telling of his sleepless night as they widened and regarded you almost desperately. Rocking the bundle in his arms gently, holding it close, But his arms looked angled weird, totally not in a natural hold. “Joel always said I was too anxious around Sarah when she was super little and that’s why she cried for him for hours until she tired herself out. But he’s busy workin’ on finishing up that new roof before the snow really starts to come down.”

You did know who Sarah was. It had been a rather slow and somber conversation between you and Joel one day in the middle of summer. You had only been going out on patrols with him for a few months at that point. Him and Tommy focusing on getting as much done around the town upon his return, taking longer than usual to add a newcomer to the roster.

He had asked after you, if you lived alone. You had answered yes, saying you lost everyone in the initial chaos of the outbreak. Your city too densely packed for a chance to return home, the only chance at survival had been to immediately flee. He had told you something similar, that he had lost everything but his brother in the wake of the virus. You hadn’t asked after who, but he had told you of his daughter. His biological daughter with a wet chuckle at how she was too kind for this world anyway. You had looked away from his tears, knowing even back then that he needed to speak otherwise it would eat him from the inside out. To think of her constantly and not be able to talk about her must’ve hurt just as much as losing her. Mentions of her sprinkled future conversations and you were glad he trusted you with that part of himself.

 But you weren’t sure if Tommy knew you did beyond her name as chalk on a blackboard memorial in his living room.

“I’m good with babies,” You assured the man beside you. Slipping a full bottle from the side of the pack and asked him to dap it to your wrist. You licked up the milky liquid, immediately pinpointing the issue.

“It’s too bland, a little sugar mixed in won’t do any harm. But I prefer maple since it’s got the same qualities of honey but less of the local pollen. Both will help build immunity to the blooms come spring time.” Standing up, you carefully moved the baby to rest along your front, head on your shoulder and moved into the kitchen. The cap had been unscrewed by a watching Tommy and you stirred in a bit of maple syrup that had been collected outside the gates.

The bundle in your arms was still crying, though not as high a volume as when Tommy had first entered the house. Softly hushing and cooing to try and calm him. The second you touched the bottle of sweetened milk to his little lips, he quieted down and began to sip.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy’s head was in his hands, elbows atop his knees. You settled beside him once again, smiling over at the older man. “Olive, if this is too much, I promise-“

“It’s okay, really.” You let him rest a wide palm on your knee, his fingers caressing the bare skin there as your dress skirt allowed for them to show. His eyes wide and beseeching, making sure you were really okay before he sunk into the cushions. “I’ve made peace with it a long time ago…”

It was his fault. The thought consumed him as he inspected the planks of olive wood, having brought them into the house after the first heavy coat of frost that covered the whole town after a particularly chilly night. He recalled having woken up, shivering as he yanked on a pair of thick socks and searched through the closets in the house for a spare blanket to throw over his bed. How he wondered if you were warm enough in your own bed as he donned his boots unlaced and jacket unzipped to drape another blanket he had taken from the closet over a passed out Ellie in her little studio.

And then he had wondered what type of clothing you wore to bed. When you had answered the door in your robe, it hadn’t looked like you had anything on underneath it aside from maybe underwear and a tank top. Not enough to keep your skin from the chill that tended to seep in through the panes of the windows all around Jackson, despite the blessing of functioning heaters.

He hadn’t gone after you, his attention being called away. You had run off, too startled by being interrupted and most likely embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate moment. But…it had been such a good moment until it had been shattered.

You had shown up at his door in a long dress, the skirt flowing down to your knees, thick fabric around your legs to combat the ever-present chill in the air. There was a whicker basket, handle draped over your forearm. That paired with your worn boots and wide brimmed had had been such a lovely image to open his front door to.

It had been hard not to stare at you and you talked and guided Ellie through dinner, faint music drifting into the kitchen from the living room as he set about cleaning up after each step and setting the table. It was all so domestic and he wanted for more nights like it. Just you and him and Ellie.

Sighing, you made sure to lock the front door behind you. Apron bundled up beneath your armpit and thrown in the general direction of the laundry room door on the other side of the kitchen. Filling and setting a kettle over the stove, you stood and looked out your kitchen window for a moment, taking in the fluffy snow that had attempted to stick as the dark, moody sky brought it over the town. It was still early, the sunrise more than likely about to occur, but it hidden in the overcast.

You shifted your gaze over the counters, logging the ingredients you had on hand for a possible breakfast even if you weren’t terribly hungry at the moment. When they landed on the broken mixing spoon that had decided to crack and splinter last night under your soapy hands as you cleaned up over dinner, you moved to rummage in the hall closet. The scrape of untreated wood along the floor sent a chill up your spine as your fingers closed around what you were searching for.

The thick slab of wood is covered with an old flat sheet. It had been from a tree last year, one that had lost a main branch in the same winds that had taken a whole one from your collection.

It was beautiful. Rich in color, the grain so detailed and curling in beautiful swirls. Burl added layers and looking pretty as it was set just so in the cut. You had kept it, unable to burn it for the soil. The thought of asking Joel to make you a set of cooking utensils had been in the back of your mind for nearly the entire time he had been here. But now with the crop of cutting boards artfully crafted, you were tempted to ask him to make of those from the hefty source in your hands.

But he hadn’t offered you one, hadn’t so much as mentioned that he had begun to make more and more ever since that first one he had been ‘trying out the idea’ in Tommy’s kitchen. You were hesitant to bring it up, but with the holidays only a couple weeks away…you were curious to see his reaction to the request.

You didn’t ask anything of anyone. Not even when you first got here, had taken the time to acclimate to the way life was led here within the settlement. Community, social circles, job detail, patrol. All of it had been taken in stride, and you worked for everything in your possession. Joel did too. You admired him for it.

A few moments later, you were rapping your knuckles against the man’s front door.

Ellie comes around the side, hearing it from her separate garage. She had looked frustrated, then curious, then excited.

“Hey, Olive,” She walks up to you, noticing the wood in your hands. “The old man’s not home, he went to help out with the lil guy.”

“O-oh, okay. I’ll just come back, I guess.” But when you began to inch closer to the porch steps, she ascended them with a small smile.

“Nah, come hang with me until he gets back.” She brushed past you with a soft touch to your arm. A key slid into the lock and then you were hesitantly following her into the house. “Feel free to make some of that god awful coffee you two enjoy so much, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

You saw her dip off down the hall, the sound of her rustling through something behind an open door allowing you the privacy to make up your mind on the offer of coffee as you stood on the threshold to the kitchen. With a determined push, you set about to search for the coffee grounds and mugs. He had only two, one with a detailed owl and another more simple one. It was a plain white one that was hefty and looked like it belonged in the full hands of diner waitress. 

It transported you back to late nights and early mornings surrounded by ruckus laughter and inside jokes, the scent of pancakes and bacon cooking on a flattop and the jingle of a bell to signal overflowing plates were ready to be dug into.

“What’s that in the cloth?” Ellie’s curiosity piqued by the bundle you had set down atop the kitchen table, her long thin fingers slowly unwrapping it. With a nod from you, she did so completely. Her eyebrows shot up, thoughts swirling behind her keen eyes. They flicked to the back room just on the other side of the kitchen wall. Her bottom lip was taken between her teeth and she looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“I know it’s silly, but…” You couldn’t help but feel nervous admitting it out loud, that you wanted to ask Joel to take some of his sparse free time for a personal project. You poured yourself a steaming cup of the finished coffee, searching for the sugar cannister. “This has been drying for nearly a year and I was gonna ask Joel-“

“Gonna ask Joel what?” His voice sounded from the doorway into the kitchen, startling you both. You rushed to put yourself between him and the table, a poor attempt to hide the plank of wood from his curious eyes. He looked tired, no doubt having been up more than resting all last night if he had been over at Tommy and Maria’s.

Taking that as her queue to leave, Ellie bolted out the back door with a hollered goodbye.

“Oh, um. Hi,” You waved slightly at him, unsure of how he would take to coming home to his house and finding you in his kitchen. Even if Ellie had said it would be okay. You were nervous, knowing that asking for something was a tricky thing. Even if he was so willing to give to others; his time, his attention, his skills. “I ha-have this.”

Moving out of the way as he crept closer on heavy feet, you allowed him to see the olive wood you had hauled over here.

“I-I was wondering i-if you’d be able to make a set of cooking utensils out of this? But I understand if you’re too busy, or don’t want to work with the dense wood, or don’t have the time-“

"Of course, sweetheart. I’ll try my best for you." And just like that he melted all your worries away and a smile pulled at your lips.

He easily moved the chunk of wood from the kitchen to his workspace. The muscles of his arms bulging beneath his flannel, the muscles of his shoulders straining at the fabric over his broad shoulders. All for your viewing pleasure as you followed behind him. The room was smaller than you expected, on his ground floor, just down the hall from the kitchen. But it was such a reflection on who he was.

The main desk had a comfortable looking chair, thick cushion on the seat. Atop it was an open book, propped up on a few stacked behind it and open to a stunning photograph of a deer. In the center was a partially carved figurine of the deer in the photo, shavings around it and tools lined up in a half circle around the back of it.

“How many pieces did you want?” He carefully bent his knees and lowered the wood to the ground, atop a tarp that several long pieces of lumber were set on and leaning against the wall. Blocks of wood beside them and lined up against the wall almost like bricks.

“Oh, um, just however many you can manage.” The crack of his knees as he straightened worried you, but it happened to you more and more so you understood it wasn’t really painful so much as uncomfortable most of the time. 

"The cutting boards all around town...” Trailing off as a familiar scent caught your attention through the general smell of lumber, you moved toward the pile of wooden planks lined up along the wall like books atop a work table. There were many shades and types of wood, all different steps of being sanded down or stained, shavings nestled in a waste bucket beneath. Tools scattered over the surface and small cannisters of sealant and paint stacked neatly beside them. Two of the planks of wood were light, ashy and your attention honed in on them as you moved toward the table. “It was kinda my idea and I was wondering if-"

"Sweetheart, I can't make you one." You startled at the boom of his voice so close, blocking your view from the stack of them as he moved to stand in front of you. The hand that had been reaching out with the intention of caressing them fell back to your side.

"Oh, um, okay." You cast your eyes down, taking in the worn leather of his boots. Of yours. There were so many of them, easily two handfuls and yet he wasn’t willing to share one with you. But everyone else around town seemed to be worthy and you couldn’t help but wonder why you weren’t. You were friends, he had said it himself. But then…but then you had kissed him and fled.

No question as to why flowed from you. You were used to not being included, but you had to admit that it stung coming from him. In an attempt to mask it you tried to smile but you weren’t sure if it actually showed. Your chest ached, body feeling like it wasn’t yours. Like you were looking down on it as it stood in that workspace with the man who sought solace within it. Like you had intruded, and shame bubbled up for having made yourself comfortable where you shouldn’t have.

"Can't find a sealant that would hold up to those knives we found. You'd just cause damage to it."

"Okay, but-“ You tried to backtrack, to apologize for being so curious.

"No, Olive. I don't have one for you, so please quit askin'."

You didn’t say anything, your voice stuck in your throat. Turning and walking away from him without looking up, afraid to see his expression. You faintly heard his voice calling after you, but you ignored it, it was far away. It was as if you were down in a tunnel, like you had tipped over and fell down into one the second Joel had turned you down.

You wanted to move past it, to gloss over it, to stay and enjoy in the time he had been willing to give you on his one day free from responsibilities. But you couldn’t, your chest felt like it had caved in, like you were hollow, like you would never be able to break into the social graces of the settlement. Marked with the death of someone who had, someone who kept messing up and making it easy for people to turn you away.

He thinks about how hurt you looked when he tried to ward you off from the stack of cutting boards he had practiced designs on and different shapes. berating himself for being so harsh when he had been scared you would see the wood he had taken from you without your knowledge. You had been reaching for the planks made from it, drawn to them as if they were magnetized.

The way in which you had shut down, his soothing words after denying you falling on deaf ears as you turned and simply walked away from him. He had been under the impression you wanted to spend the day with him. You had been an unexpected guest but not an unwelcome one. It had been nice to return to his home to find you there, comfortable enough to have put on a pot of coffee and the errant scent of that woodsy, floral perfume that seemed to be a part of your skin from tending to the trees in your yard.

But you had just turned and walked away.

He watched you go, not liking the way you had shrunk into yourself at his denial. He had tried to be soft with it, you couldn’t know that you had been asking after the one thing he wanted to keep a secret from you. That you had given him the idea and he was practicing and making so many different prototypes all to ensure that when it came time to craft yours, that he would be able to do so easily.

He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face, sighing out as he dressed for patrol. His alarm had gone off an hour ago but he had already been awake, sleep evading him as the moment from the other day played in his mind’s eye over and over again.

Settling on the musty cushions beside you, the memory of the last time he had done so puffed up along with a cloud of dust. It had been a long day. Clearing the village and finding a place to hole up in for the night.

“I’ll take the first watch, try ‘n get some rest.” He murmured low, taking in the way you were already curling your legs up underneath your body on the other end of the couch. The scarf around your neck pulled up for you to bury your face into it, hands in their gloves and secure in the pockets of your coat.

You didn’t think you even responded, the cold of the day draining you and making sleep too alluring a respite even with the broad man beside you and all alone for the first time in a while.

Bird calls woke you up hours later, signaling the start of a new day. The warmth of sleeping was a lull to the chill you knew awaited outside, but you pressed into the bed further, burrowing even more into the lump of blankets you tended to scrunch up beside you.

But the lump shifted and your eyes flew open to find a different setting than you dark bedroom. You weren’t asleep in your bed, you were sunk into a decrepit couch and pressed into Joel’s right side, having sought out his warmth in the cold house. He was asleep too, his eyes closed despite his body still seated up with his feet resting on the ground.

You couldn’t help but rest your cheek on his shoulder, taking comfort in how close and warm he was, even if it had been an instinctual move to begin with.

He was so handsome. Beautiful. From the scar across the bridge of his nose, the one at his temple, to the freckles that littered his tan skin. Wrinkles relaxed as he slept, his plush lips parted slightly. His body sunk into the fabric where he had settled last night, long and lean. His mass so large you had shifted in your sleep to press up against him, partially on him to share the small couch and steal his warmth. His neck bent back a little as his head lulled onto the back cushions.

Your eyes roved down the strong column of his neck, catching on the way his adam’s apple jutted out and you resisted the urge to lean in and nip at it.

His hands, dear god, his hands. They were slack in his lap, his entire body completely lax as he slept slumped beside you. Veins and freckles decorated the skin, mind running with the idea of them tight around different parts of your body. How they would feel wrapped around your hips, your breasts, your neck…

You couldn’t help but reach out and lay a hand atop one of his, your palm over the back of his. Your stomach fluttered, the heat settling low. Your own hand looked so small, atop his. The difference so startling.

“Mm, good mornin’,” Joel’s gravelly rumble made you jump, realizing you had gripped two of his fingers in your hand. He jostled the hand in your grip and you felt heat flood your cheeks at being caught touching him. When you moved to take it back, he curled his fingers, catching your hand and pulling it up to his lips where he pressed his lips to the back of it. “Don’t act all shy now, sweetheart.”

You throb.

The gusset of your underwear suddenly dampens as you clench around nothing.

“I-I don’t know what came over me, you were sleeping and I shouldn’t ha-have-“ Trying to tamp down your less than friendly thoughts, the allure you felt wash over you at his sleepy timbre, to backtrack away from what could end up being another thing to have him avoiding you around the settlement.

But he surprised you, emboldened by the hazy thoughts displayed in the parting of your own lips, the heat he could feel rolling off of you, the pressure you tried to relieve between your legs with a clench of your thighs together. And then his thick, sleep coated words turned sultry, pitched low and velvet.

“Thinkin’ about my hands on ya, huh? Sweet little thing, what was it?” He guided your hand to cup his cheek and then rest against his neck. “Thinkin’ about my hands here?”

When he squeezed your hand around it, you felt faint for the way your blood was rushing and thundering loud in your ears.

“N- no.” You swallowed, voice breathy and pitched low as you struggled to find words.

“No? What about…” He moved your hand to his chest, right in the middle of his ribcage. His heart was thundering beneath the flannel, mirroring your own. “Here?”

Your breath hitched as he moved it further, not giving you the chance to answer this time. Down ,down, down past the hem of his shirt beneath his jacket to the denim of his jeans. Pressing your palm down atop the zipper, you could feel the long line of him, hot and semi-hard. It twitched at the pressure, and you couldn’t help the whimper that fell from your lips. Eyes having been dragged down along with your clasped hands.

“What about here?” His lips grazed the shell of your ear as his question was pressed close, nose brushing sensitive skin just behind it. Mustache and beard lightly scraping against you, causing you to shiver and press down your hand more firmly. He groaned out, the sound burrowing deep into you. He twitched again beneath your palm and all the air in your lungs whooshed out.

And then he was dipping his head to capture your lips in a hard kiss. His tongue trailed over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a thought. Pleasure flared from the heat that had taken hold of your entire body, the air crackling with the need for him to be closer, to be pressed to you completely, pressed inside of you completely. Body buzzing, needing more more more from him you shift to cup his cheek with your other hand.

When he speaks next, his voice is all soft. Southern twang breathy and so close as his lips graze yours, his forehead pressed to your own. The press of hot skin only a prelude to what you hoped was more…

“Sweetheart, I-“

The sudden creak of the back door opening cut the tension of the room and your stomach filled with dread. Joel’s hands became almost painful on you as both your heads whipped around to stare at the kitchen threshold, waiting with bated breath for the intruding source to walk through it.

He was up off the couch in a second, his handgun in his palm and he stalked silently toward the kitchen, leaving you on the couch to reach for your own. But your attention was pulled to the front door of the house just as he disappeared through the threshold.

Two shadows crept into the house and your ducked down to avoid being seen immediately.

There were sounds of a scuffle in the kitchen and you took the opportunity to sneak around the couch in a crouch and stand with the gun trained on the larger figure of the two just on the other side of it.

“Drop your gun or I shoot.” You kicked his legs apart, hand patting him down as he listened to your command. He didn’t have any other weapons on him and the woman a few feet away didn’t visibly have any, her clothing tight around her middle, large jacket draping over her to keep her swollen middle warm.

You took your eyes off of her for one second to kick the gun away and behind you when she lunged. A shiny piece of something glinted in her hand and you shouted out as it cut across your own middle.

Grunting, you elbowed the man in the ribs, winding him and sending him to crumple to the ground in pain. You kicked out and wrapped your foot around one of the woman’s legs and tugged her close, ignoring the sensation of that same piece of whatever it was in her grip as it tore into your jacket sleeve.

You smacked her hand against the wall behind her, being mindful of her stomach and was about to wrap your hands around her neck when the man wheezed out a pleading cry.

“Don’t hurt her, please!” He tired to catch is breath, but you didn’t break your focus away from the woman you had pinned down. A wave of nausea rose over you, the only indication before you collapsed, blood soaking the front of your shirt in a dark, wet patch.

“Shit, I think you cut her too deep.” The man crawled over to you, his hands pressing down to try and staunch the flow. The woman fell to her knees beside him, her hands reaching out to grip one of your arms. The clatter of the weapon she had used was loud and you looked over to it. It was a piece of dirty glass.

“I-I didn’t me-mean to hurt you so badly! I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck, okay, go to my pack.” They shared a confused look, but the fact that they hadn’t run off with yours and Joel’s supplies to their remorse at hurting you told you they were good people. “Go! There’s a spare shirt, we need it to put over the wound.”

Just as she bent to dig into the pack by the couch, Joel’s quiet steps and low threat called as he entered the room.

“Get your hands off of her and step back.”

“Wait! They aren’t Infected!” You panted, voice sharp despite the effort it was taking to breath as your middle burned, knowing the man’s instincts had taken over completely. His steps measured. His gun raised. His reasoning marred by the sight of you bleeding on the floor.

“They hurt you.” His honeyed drawl gone, replaced with an air of authority that demanded attention, all dark, rich molasses sticking everyone in place.

“It was an accident, Joel, please. They…they have a baby on the way. We have to take them back.”

“That true?” He kept the shot gun aimed at the man hovering over you, the blood shining on his hands making his nerves twitch. But his eyes landed on the woman who had been rummaging through your bag for first aid supplies. She slowly stood from her crouch, revealing her swollen belly.

He ordered them both to take a seat on the couch, telling them he would deal with them once he tended to you, letting them know that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if they tried something. He then kneeled down on the ground beside you, one of his large hands going over yours holding the wad of fabric to your middle, the other going to cup your cheek.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” His eyes bore into you, stern edge to them. You were visibly shaking, skin looking sallow and sweat beading at your temple. He carefully moved your hands aside, eyes flicking from your pained expression to the injury as he slowly lifted the fabric you had pressed to it. And then the hem of your sweater and tank top underneath.

Lips a grim line and eyes dark as he took in the still bleeding injury. His brow furrowed deeper as a thick rivulet ran down your side to spill onto the floor and Joel cursed under his breath. The gash was a few inches long across your stomach, to the left of your belly button, rimmed and irritated red. Angry and no doubt already infected if the shard of dirtied glass abandoned beside you was any indication. Your blood stained it, the woman’s fingertips pressed into it in smeared, red marks.

“Shit, it’s already starting to get infected.”

You managed a weak nod, both in response to his question and muttered worries fighting off the tears as he pressed around the wound, trying to get a gauge of how deep it was. You held back a whimper at the prodding, bottom lip firmly between your teeth.

“Joel, there’s gau-gauze in my pack.”

“Find it and toss it to me, quick.” He raised a threatening look to the pair on the couch, their heads turned and watching everything play out. Worried that if you were to bleed out, the man wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate or leave them here to their own devices.

The woman rushed to dig into your pack once more, fingers finding the crinkling plastic wrapped around the sterile gauze. She tossed it to Joel, the hand that had moved down from your cheek to rest over your heart on your chest reached out to snag it from the air. He ripped it open with his teeth and urged your hands to hold it down atop the wound.

You could only watch through hazy eyes as he shucked off his jacket and then his flannel. With a smooth motion he removed his t-shirt, his most base layer. With his chest on full display, the dark hair over his chest and trailing down from his belly button you startled at the sound of ripping fabric. The knife he kept holstered on the back of his waist out of is sheath as he used it to cut a thick strip from the hem of his shirt. He gently urged you to lift up from the ground for him to wind it around your back and tie it securely over the wound.

Slipping two fingers below it to ensure it was tight enough to keep pressure but not overly so as to cause more problems. It felt a thousand times better already, your nausea waning as the blood stopped flowing from your body. But you would definitely need stitches and antibiotics once back inside the gates. Once he was sure the wound was okay for the moment, he took both your hands in his, a slight tremor to them. His thumbs rubbing soothingly across the backs of them.

“Okay, you’re okay,” He murmured. He leaned down to press his forehead to yours. Breathing in deep and your lashes fluttered as he sighed out. His eyes were clenched shut and he took a moment to ground himself before he pulled back and peppered chaste kisses over your face. Your forehead, each of your cheeks, the tip of your nose. The edges of your mouth.

“I’m okay,” You promised, unable to ignore how shaky his breathing was so close. A nervous giggle sounded from you, unable to tamp it down as your head swam. “But maybe you should put your clothes back on before you freeze.”

“Can’t lose you, sweetheart.” The whispered sentiment washed over you, leaving you warm and light in the chest for a completely different reason. Only when you nodded in understanding, did he reach over for his flannel and shrug it back over his broad shoulders. The buttons closed up with deft fingers as he watched you take a mental stock of your body and how it felt. You said up just as his jacket was pulled back into place over the flannel.

“Good thing ‘m not goin’ anywhere then, huh?” His wet chuckle was the only response you got before he helped you to stand. He guided you over the couch with an arm around your shoulders, silently demanding that the pair move from the cushions to make room for you. Making sure you were comfortable with both packs beside you before he turned his attention to the people who had injured you.

A nurse took you in quickly, insisting someone else would do a thorough check on the brother and sister you and Joel had brought to them once leaving the horses at the stables. The backup shirt you had taken along with you in your pack tied to your abdomen with a scrap of fabric from the bottom of Joel’s undershirt. It was better than nothing, better than bleeding out.

You had insisted that the woman, Callie carefully got up on Lowry for the trip back. Joel had been worried about them sharing a horse together, the very real possibility of them taking off on it at the forefront of his mind. But you had assured him that they could be trusted. That they could’ve taken both your packs and left you to bleed out on the floor.

That was how you had found yourself once again sharing a horse with Joel for an entire day. The feel of his body pressed close to your back so different from when he had tried to keep his distance. His hands secure around your waist and resting atop the saddle horn. You tried not to let it distract you, carrying on casual conversation with them to get a feel for who they were. Every so often, when you grunted at particularly hard hoofbeats or a rough jostle, his right hand would press against your roughly patched wound.

Stitches, the nurse had said. At least four of them.

Joel was outside the hall, waiting for you to be released. He looked up from the notepad in his hands when you exited the room, brown eyes tired. You couldn’t read his thoughts, though you were too tired to begin to think what that could mean.

“Hey, what’d they say?” He surged up, the notebook going back into his pocket, the worn fabric snug around it. He retrieved the coat and sweater he had kept for you when the nurse had asked you to remove all outer layers.

You lifted the torn tank top, allowing him to see the clean, bright white bandage that had been taped over the injury. The fait outline of stitches could be seen through it. Two of his fingers brushed against it, almost tenderly.

“No painkillers, those are only for serious cases.” You let him help you put the sweater back on, his hands holding the head opening side for you to slid it on, gently tugging the fabric into place around your sore arms. “They gave me a shot of antibiotics and a pack of fresh gauze. Gotta come in next week to get the stitches looked at.”

“I’m so sorry.” He murmured as he held the coat up for your to slip your arms into. When you turned around to face him again, he pulled you to him in a loose embrace. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Joel, it’s okay. We’re okay. I promise.” You leaned up, mindful of the new pull on your middle, and pressed your lips to his cheek. Sighing at the soft pressure, he walked alongside you out of the building.

Since there wasn’t anything they could give you for the pain,  you just wanted to lay in bed and rest. But you also wanted to try and find a reason to get out of the house later. Swallowing down your fear of rejection, knowing he was the one person who wouldn’t do that to you, you asked him for a drink later in the evening.

But he didn’t look up from the paper in his hands as he walked out the front door with you, scribbling something down on a page that only had two previous lines of script. The chill of the wind breezing past you both as you repeated your question in slightly louder volume, sure he just hadn’t heard you. You knew he was hard of hearing in his right ear and that was the side you were on. But what you didn’t expect was his haphazard response. So at odds with the tenderness and care he had shown you throughout the day.

"Huh? Oh uh, I can't tonight. Sorry, I'll see ya, Olive." And then he's off without so much as a glance your way, leaving you standing outside the infirmary. It left you more than a little concerned, whiplash at the sudden shift from intimate, to protective, to nothing so much as a glance all from the same man.

It’s early, the sun not even showing signs of rising. Snow drifted down, a perfect morning. You were humming to yourself, mentally planning out the meals you could make. A breakfast casserole that would allow for the use of root vegetables, eggs, some of the goat cheese that had been made perhaps. You were minding your own business, enjoying the walk to the mess hall and the kitchen that would allow you to work and forget the hollow feeling that hadn’t left you all last night. It was easier feeling nothing other than the faint pull of stitches on your abdomen.

You catch a figure walking out of a front door further down the street. The figure broad but their steps light as they descended the porch to Marsha’s house.

Oh.

It was Joel.

He didn’t have a utility belt, he didn’t have a toolbox, he didn’t have anything that indicated he had been there to repair something.

It was Joel Miller, leaving Marsha’s house. Far too early to mean anything other than the fact that he had spent the night inside, with her. Guess that's why he had turned down your offer for an evening with you. He already had someone to share drinks with, someone to spend his time with.

Turning, you tried not to follow his figure as he began to walk down the street, facing away from you.

You could only think that it was because of the way you had run the other night. Because of the way you two kept giving into yearning touches only for the moment to be yanked away. Three times now, far too much trouble for someone as busy as him. Someone with a life like he led as he cared for his family and the repairs that were needed around the settlement. You were desperate, for company, for attention, for him. It must’ve not settled well with him to realize how much you wanted him and that it never seemed to work out in his favor, only friend or not.

Deep down, you knew that wasn’t the reason. He was such an understanding man, and he wouldn’t put the blame on you. But the fact of the matter was that he was willingly spending his time with Marsha.

He wasn’t sure where you had disappeared to, your house dark safe for the light over the stoop light up in a warm tone. He had a box in his hands, something he had rifled through his, Ellie’s, and Tommy’s homes for to fit the finished set of wooden utensils you had asked him to make.

He had taken his time, sneaking glances at the ones in your kitchen when he dropped you off after patrol one morning and you offered him a light lunch. You had made grilled sandwiches, pairing them with some steamed vegetables that were beginning to wilt in the cold air of the house. You ran the heat on a good middle range, to ensure it didn’t get too stuffy and begin to take a toll on the record collection in the living room or the books you kept on every surface and crammed lovingly into the many bookshelves you had.

You seemed to favor spoons, though he did catch sight of a few rather flat spatulas. He had inspected the wood thoroughly before he even thought of measuring it. Admiring the way the dried wood looked and taking notes down on the pad of paper he kept on him at all times. Compared it to the two planks he had, noting the different feel and heft of them versus the completely dry specimen you had brought to him.

He let his thoughts wander as he took a seat on the cold concrete steps of your stoop. Opting to wait for your return for a few moments, hoping that you would return soon as evening had fallen, the set having set a few hours ago. He didn’t recall you mentioned evening shifts at the mess hall, opting for the mornings that you enjoyed. Something about the quiet of the town, less lonely than the nights, had been a quiet admittance. He had been too shocked to respond, you must’ve taken his silence as the end of the conversation. You had turned quiet alongside him, the only sound for the rest of the route back to the gates had been the hooves along the ground.

It struck him now, that you had been admitting even early on how lonely you were. How the town choosing to not interact with you had hurt, had been hurting you. A warning even then, that you were sensitive to the dynamic and went along with it even if you didn’t agree with it. You were such a lovely person. Kind hearted, giving, caring, and he loathed that people like Marsha perpetuated the agenda against you.

She was relentless in her attention on him and he was getting a little annoyed with it. But he was being cordial, the exact word you had used to describe the woman. He had finished the last of her shelving the other day. He had worked overnight to get it fitted and fastened to the wall. Securing it with bolts and weight holding supports, wanting to be done with the project that had been more of a coercion of his skills. She was a manipulator and he had played into her hands just like she had wanted.

He felt like a fool, knowing he had agreed to do it for your sake and out of a need to protect you.

Then he realized there were two people who allowed you into their lives. That spoke fondly of you, invited you to dinner, allowed you shares of what they could get the last of in down on main street.

Standing, he hoped to find you among his family. Making his way his way to Tommy’s, Maria was the one to answer the door. A finger to her lips to signal him to keep quiet as she slipped out the door to join him on the porch.

“They’re both sleeping, it took an hour to get him down and then of course Tommy slumped over.” She didn’t seem upset, but the news allowed for Joel to realize you weren’t here either. Clocking his silence and the box in his hand, she cocked her head up a little to examine his features. “Everything okay, Joel? Olive didn’t pull her stitches already, did she?”

“Yeah, everythin’ is okay. I’m actually looking for her. Have you seen her today?” He shuffled on his feet, aware of how they ached as the cold settled in to stay for the season.

“She’s at the bar, came by with dinner for us on her way out.” Maria explained, watching his closely. Able to pick up on his agitation. It was odd when she compared it to the almost forces nonchalance you had exhibited earlier.

“Can you hold onto this for me, I’ll be back to get it tomorrow.” He thrusted the box into the woman’s hands and was making off down the street before she could even respond.

The bar is a cacophony of sounds, of laughter, of conversation, the clink of glasses being lifted and then placed back on tables. The gurgle of more drinks being poured, of ice tinkling in glasses, all of it was so nice to just sit in and enjoy. Even if you were alone on your stool.

"Another round?" You disguised the clenching of your hand around your empty glass, the voice right behind you. His voice, the charming drawl pitched low and so so close.

“I don’t think we should be drinking with each other.” You shifted away from him, not wanting him to think you were open to spending time with him after his rejection, after his secret of seeing Marsha was exposed to you in the form of his leaving her house far too early for any reason than having stayed the night, for the way you had wanted to say yes to spending time with him but it hurt too much. For the way that it was getting harder and harder to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him, to run your hand down his arm or back in a soothing caress. “I’m waiting for someone.”

His brow furrowed as he regarded you, lifting his drink to his lips and taking a deep pull from the amber liquid inside. He sat down atop the stool beside you despite your words. His glass settled on the bar top, now empty. Your eyes were focused on the melting ice, not able to look at the man who was giving you his attention.

“What’s that?” He huffed, almost chuckled as he believed you were just joking, teasing him like you tended to do sometimes while out on patrol. But you weren’t, both of you seated at the long bar of the Tipsy Bison on the main street in town. When you still didn’t raise your eyes to him, he realized you weren’t, that you were turning him down and away.

“Tell me the real reason,” He leaned close, pivoting the seat of the stool so you faced him. Your insides whooshed with the movement. With the way he demanded your attention, with the entirety of his focus on you almost breaking your resolve to remain professional. Aware of all the eyes constantly watching you, judging you; all the eyes on him constantly watching for entirely different reasons, fawning over him.

“Because I like you.” You admitted, unable to deny him the truth. You could only lift your eyes as high as his lips, which was a mistake as you recalled the feel of them. They were so soft, so plush and you never had the chance to gently nip at his bottom one…

“Well, I like you too, Olive.” His nose brushed your cheek, moving impossibly close, his thumbs digging into your thighs as he held to the stool.

“No, I like you, Joel. And this isn’t a good idea.” You pulled back, aware that you were both in a very public place. That the looks focused on you both, your intimacy, combined with soft murmurs of voices that could be saying anything. Making notions in their minds that he was associated with you, that he spent time with you enough to feel comfortable engaging in this type of behavior. And that was bad, it was so bad for people to associate him with you. It would cause people to question him after everything he did for the town. It would begin to erase all the good he had provided.  “Joel, people are looking.”

“Don’t worry about them, just focus on me.” Your eyes snapped to his, taking in the way the brown of them was alight from the sconces around the bar. There was no hesitancy in them, no remorse. Only adoration and your stomach swooped, your heart fluttered. But you tried your best to resist.

“That’s not a good idea either.” You whispered.

“You thinkin’ of doin’ somthin’ to me?”

“M-maybe.” The admittance rolls off your tongue, his lips close enough that he can taste it.

“Sweetheart, I’d let ya if that’s what you wanted.”

“N-no.” It took everything in you to deny him, to deny the tension that pulled your muscles tight in every part of your body.

“No?” He leaned back, taking your words and heeding them, sensing that you meant them, even if it was a stuttered, breathy response.

“I don’t want to, I mean I do, but- this” You motioned between the two of you, how little space there was between your bodies. His body pivoted toward you and his hands still partially around the denim of your thighs. “Isn’t a good idea.”

His eyes roamed over you, seeing the nerves and truth of your demeanor. You did like him, and it was becoming a problem. He didn’t need a younger woman fawning over him, the friendly rapport riddled with holes. Of temptations that were tamped down by his unwillingness to share his craft with you, the time he had been spending with Marsha, the pull of his attention in so many directions, especially with the holiday hurtling toward the town tomorrow.

“We’re hardly friends, Miller. You barely started acknowledging me outside of patrol.” You reached for your drink so you’d be less likely to cup his face in your hands and throw caution to the wind.

“What makes you think I haven’t been tryin’ to keep my hands to myself, bein’ around you?” His voice tipped low, to avoid being overheard despite the closeness he had initiated. Closing your eyes at the visual, you shook you head as your throat bobbed with the sip you had taken from your drink.

“Because you don’t like me that way.” You scoffed, beginning to lean away from him. “You didn’t even get me anything for the holiday…You’re with Marsha.”

“Didn’t get your name in swap.”

“Oh.” And all the fight you had in you crumbled at his simple words. The reassurance in his voice that drowned out the hum of the environment all around you.

“But I thought - Ellie was asking so many questions I figured she was doin’ the work for you.”

“Maybe she got you?” He tapped the lip of his glass as the bartender wandered close, signaling for another when the man got the chance. His hand going back to your leg in a second.

“N-no. She got Jesse. Whoever got me most likely tossed the scrap of paper and picked another.”

“Marsha and I are just friendly, it’s nothing beyond that. Olive, I swear to –“

Someone cleared their throat unnervingly close. You both turned away from each other to face the person who had decided to break the currents flowing between your bodies, tension thick in the air with their approach.

Marsha. With a wrapped gift in her hand and a yearning look for Joel. Her attention solely on him.

“So much for just being friendly, huh, Miller?” You set your drink down, glass nearly empty and pushed off from your stool. The drag of his large hands over the tops of your thighs not registering as you quickly took off. Leaving him to the woman who seemed to be a constant companion as of late. Better company for him, you though begrudgingly as you made your way through the snow-covered streets and back to the safety of your home.

Sighing, you picked up the wrapped bundle of recipe cards. Joel’s gift.

The one you had spent hours pouring over, making sure your writing was neat and legible, the cursive loops delicately over the lines on the thick cardstock. You had debated whether or not he would be able to read the script, knowing how he squinted at certain things. No doubt needing glasses in his older age, an item you always kept a keen eye out for should it end up being a perfect match for him.

Your heart panged, the fleeting image of him tucked in bed beside you with a book or manual in his hands and a pair of reading glasses perched on his aquiline nose. His scruff catching the light of a soft bedside lamp and the silver sparkling. His curls damp from an evening shower, the scent of him so clean and pure beside you as you lay tucked in the other side. It hurt. It hurt to think you would never get to experience that, experience him in every simple, mundane way.

With a long-suffering huff, you reached for some of the dried leaves you kept from the trees when you last preened them. Fastening it to the top of the bundle with a piece of twine. You don’t write Joel’s nor yours. He would know it was from you from the writing inside, from the olive twig. A parting gift, you guessed.

This would be the last thing you would offer him before drawing back to your solemn life. He had brought color and life and laughter into it, but the hurt wasn’t worth it. Your heart and body aching for a man who had too much to lose.

You faintly heard soft voices trailing along the dark streets, the light fixtures doing their best to illuminate the way for any one who was out at the late hour. The sky dark with the added overcast that hadn’t waned during the day. Making everything feel pressed down and low, condensing the world to make it feel almost suffocating. Snow soft as it descended. Maybe it was just you, sensitive to the weather and things around you in your anxiety as you turned down the street Joel’s house was nestled on. Just as you turned the corner, feet scuffing on the weathered gravel packed down to create solid paths in the broken asphalt you collided with something hard and lost your balance. The built up snow making it hard to catch yourself.

The scrunch of paper you had wrapped the gift in was loud, ripping at the drag of thick fabric that made up someone’s coat. The index cards fly up into the air as you landed heavily on your side. Through the sounds of the fluttering paper, there was a gasp pitched high that gave way to delirious giggles and a grunt pitched low. Your own indignant noise floating amidst it all, the pull of your stitches uncomfortable.

“My apologies, didn’t see you the- Olive?”

You had run into Joel’s broad back, his front now facing you as the cards rained down to scatter all over the corner. Snow dampening them instantly upon contact, blurring the ink you had taken the time to put down to them.

Behind him was a bright-eyed Marsha, her hands holding tight to one of his. She looked flushed, no doubt from the drinks she had indulged in, leaning heavily into him. And Joel…he looked shocked as he stared down at your fallen form. Either unaware or uncaring of how the woman he was with tried to burrow into his side.

They had been the ones whose voices you heard. But what had they been doing just standing still in the middle of the street….and then it hit you. They had probably been kissing or sharing in casual touches as they walked back from the bar to one of their homes for the evening and your stomach lurched, dropping out from under you.

Joel detached from her, intending to reach down and help you back up. But you didn’t want him touching you with the same hands that had been soft just an hour ago, the same hands that had been touching her with the same intent.

“Don’t!”

“Just tryin’ to help you up,” He backed off immediately, his eyes alert, not used to you raising your voice nor the heat behind your tone. Especially toward him, the hurt making you unable to tamp it down to a polite tone. Tears burned behind your own eyes, in your throat. The perfect match to your insides feeling like they have just been set in a mixer.

“Don’t need your help,” You pushed up from the ground, legs tingling as you fought the urge to run from the awkward and tense scene. And then you realized you could. You did.

Leaving the two alone in the middle of the street, surrounded by white spots of paper all around, the wrapping that had been around them crumpled on the ground. The dried olive leaves that had been fastened to it with twine lay abandoned at their feet.

You ran all the way back to your house, the front door slamming behind you and the lock loud in the silence that followed. Your back thumped against the wood of it, sliding down until your bottom hit the floor.

And you let yourself break down, crying into your hands. Hating how you had begun to believe that your life was going to change, that Joel was going to be something good in your life. And deep down, underneath all the hurt and anger, you still believed he was. Even if he wasn’t meant to be anything other than a patrol partner.

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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

taglist: @merz-8 @morning-star-joy @joelsgreys @orcasoul @sawymredfox @sabmat @dreamingofleon @keylimebeag @pascalpvnk @picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal @joeloverture @joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @idontknowyou-12345 @corazondebeskar @honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @fluff-lover @hiroikegawa @dugiioh @persephone-girl @furiousmushroom @communism-bitches @formulafun @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc @ohhellotherebumblebee

[vivwritesfics]

Now hear me out. Bob x reader x rooster maybe reader thinks theyrealready with bob but he tries to set reader up with rooster because he thinks the two of them just wouldn’t like him? Im not against a good hurt/comfort where they try and show bob just how loved he is

I love this throuple more than anything omg

Bob stood in the doorway, watched as she curled against Roosters chest. Roosters fingertips danced over her skin and she let out a series of giggles.

Music to both of their ears.

Bob wore a small smile as he watched them. He'd done this, he brought them together. Because of him, she was finally happy with Rooster.

He just didn't think he'd feel so pushed out. He just didn't think he'd feel that, now she had Rooster, she didn't need him.

They didn't need him.

Of course, Bob didn't know this was a load of shit. He didn't realise that, as much as Bradley had her giggling in the bed as she writhed away from his fingers, they were so much happier with Bob there.

Bob turned on his heel and walked out of the bedroom. They'd both been desperately waiting for Bob to come and join them in bed, waiting for him to crawl in behind her, pull her close as Bradley soothingly touched his side.

"Is he coming?" She asked, looking up at Bradley.

Bradley looked towards the doorway. Bob had just been standing there; where the fuck had he gone?

"I don't know, pretty girl," Bradley whispered, lips against her skin.

She pouted at Bradley. "Can we go find him?"

Bradley pulled her up out of the bed. He laced his fingers through her own (she looked so good in Bob's yellow shirt and a pair of Bradley's lazy day shorts), and pulled her through the apartment.

It wasn't very difficult to find Bob. Bradley sucked in a breath when he daw him settled down for the night, looking ready to fall asleep on the sofa. Why the hell wasn't he in their bed with them?

Immediately she was running into Bob's arms, throwing herself onto the sofa beside him. "Come to bed," she whined as Bob instinctively wrapped his arms around her.

Bob looked towards Bradley as she began pressing kisses to her face. "What's going on, Floyd?" Whispered Bradley as he sat himself on the coffee table in front of him.

Floyd. It didn't sound it, but it was an incredibly affectionate nickname, one that came only from Bradley's lips.

"Come to bed, Bo."

Bob let out a sigh. "Sorry, baby," he muttered. It was a pet name he'd picked up from Bradley, one he didn't use before they had the man from Virginia in their bed.

His eyes, still shielded by his glasses, met Bradley's. "You guys just looked so cosy, I didn't want to intrude."

And, suddenly, she was wearing that pout that had Bob folding every damn time. "But... we sleep better when you're here," she mumbled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Yeah, Floyd," Bradley whispered, hand on Bob's knee. "Come to bed with us?"

How could Bob say no to that?

Bradley led the way back yo the bedroom they now shared. She laced her hands through Bob's and pulled him along beside her.

The both waited for Bob to climb into the bed first. Bradley climbed in and grabbed him, pulling him into the middle. Bob never slept in the middle. She made her way onto his other side and wrapped her legs around his middle, clinging onto him like a koala.

"Love you, Bo," she whispered, laying her head against his chest.

"Love you, Floyd." Bradley pulled Bob against him, abd the three of them fell asleep like that.

[crownofgildedlilies]

feelin' like an absolute fool about it -> cool about it [1]

in which: a son of jupiter can't remember the life he lost to time and circumstance. or the daughter of mercury he lost, too.

pairing: jason grace x daughter of mercury!roman!reader

warnings: angst, angst, and angst. oh and cursing.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this is a four part fic and im so obsessed with this idea. Jason Grace the man that you are. oh and this follows a nonlinear plot so be warned. lmk if you want to be added to a taglist or wtv!

[one] two three four

"If I have to sit through one more meeting with you making kiss me eyes at the praetor, I'm going to run myself through with my own lance."

"Good morning to you, too, Dakota." You grunted, half amused, half still pissy from the horror show that had been your previous night. "I slept like shit, thanks for asking."

"You're welcome," He didn't miss a beat, pouring more kool-aid than was probably healthy into his cup to drink with breakfast. "Now, man up."

"Real inspiring."

Dakota leveled you with a flat look, and you fought the urge to roll your own eyes. But you knew he would twist the action into your admitting defeat in your impromptu staring contest.

And you were nothing if not a sore loser.

"Admit you want to date the praetor." Dakota demanded, trying to push the conversation along.

On instinct, your gaze darted throughout the dining pavilion, looking for a certain head of blond hair that had yet to make an appearance that morning. And it was then that you knew Dakota meant business, because he didn’t call you out for looking away first.

"Reyna's pretty. Not my type, though." You deflected, stabbing a fork into your breakfast with what was probably more force than necessary. Dakota's eyes widened at the action, briefly, before narrowing at you in suspicion.

"Moving past that comment," He waved his hand in front of him, as if to physically move the conversation along. "Does your current attitude have anything to do with last night's freak thunderstorm?"

Maybe, you would have said, if your mouth didn't suddenly taste so bitter. Still, you winced, and you knew that was enough of an answer for him.

"Oh, come on!" Dakota groaned, pausing only to sip greedily on his kool-aid. You looked on in near amusement, cheek propped up on your fist, waiting for his dramatics to pass. "I finally get my speech all prepared to get you to confess your unending love to Praetor Grace, and you two get in an argument the night before?"

"Pity," You replied dryly, hoping the way you exaggeratedly poked out your bottom lip and knitted your brows together masked the ache in your chest.

"Centurion," Dakota whined, and you wondered how you had gotten so lucky to be promoted to lead the Fifth Cohort alongside him. "What happened?"

Your eyes flashed, shooting him a glare that made him snap his mouth shut.

"Oh-kay." He whistled, sipping his kool-aid some more. Seriously, you needed to figure out how to trick the poor guy into drinking water. "My point still stands. One argument does not change the fact that you guys are in love with each other."

You scoffed, shoveling pancakes in your mouth to avoid answering, head ducked.

Dakota slammed his open palms down on the top of the table so forcefully, almost every head in the pavilion snapped towards him.

"So you admit it!" He accused, grinning wickedly and showing off the red-stained mustache his drink of choice left. You grimaced, swallowing your breakfast to avoid choking. "You do love him!"

"Keep your voice down or I will shove Octavian's entire teddy bear collection down your—"

"Okay!" Dakota interrupted, grinning proudly, as if he hadn't just been threatened. "No need for violence. I was right."

"So is a broken clock twice a day. You're not special." You rolled your eyes, settling stiffly back into your seat. Risking another glance around the mess hall, you still found no sight of the world's most irritating, kind-hearted, moron of a praetor.

Also known as Jason Grace, your best friend.

And as Dakota had just so eloquently uncovered, the guy you've been in love with for years without ever uttering a word about it to him.

"Put me out of my misery, please, and just go talk to the guy, will you?" He begged, like he truly was the one suffering. You glared at him again, but you knew it wasn't fair.

Dakota hadn't been there last night, when you had tried telling Jason how you felt. But the boy was as emotionally oblivious as he was pretty, which was saying a lot.

"Wait," Dakota wiped at his mouth, but the kool-aid stains remained behind. "Did you already—?"

"Centurions," Harper from the Second Cohort appeared at your side, slightly out of breath and eyes wide. You had only ever really spoken to her during Senate meetings, but you were friendly enough.

So you were more than a little confused when she looked at you and took a step back, like she was afraid.

"Everything alright, Harper?" You asked, turning slightly in your seat, mind already running through a million different scenarios of horrible things that could have happened and dragged such a reaction out of Harper.

You had seen the girl take on four sons of Mars before. She wasn't exactly afraid of much.

"He's gone," The words tumbled past her lips before she winced, taking a second step away from you. Face twisted in confusion, you tried to make sense of the vague explanation. "Jason, I mean. He's just—"

Gone.

You were out of your seat before she could finish talking, breakfast long forgotten. The few bites you had managed to swallow felt like lead in the pit of your stomach, weighing you down and making you feel like you were barely moving, even as you raced so fast through camp that even the Lares barely had time to get out of your way.

There was no way Harper was right. Jason couldn't just be—be gone. He was everything a Roman aspired to be; strong, resilient, dedicated.

And maybe you had gotten into an argument, but Broken Clock Dakota was right for the second time that day. One argument didn't mean you stopped loving him.

You have never been so thankful that your father was the god of travelers as your feet pounded on the dirt roads. Sprinting towards the bunk houses, you utilized every ounce of Mercury-blessed speed. Jason had to be there. Or maybe he had snuck off to New Rome to buy you apology flowers, like he had the one time he missed your birthday—you had forgive him easily, as he had been off on a quest he nearly died during.

Heart in your throat, you skidded to a halt outside the small, private bedrooms given to the praetors. You had always teased Jason that his looked like a prison cell, considering his only decorations were books on war strategies used throughout centuries.

But then he had taped up that one gods-awful photo of you and him, both squinting against the sun shining in your faces, and it hadn't seemed so desolate.

"Jason!" You shouted with relief, voice choked up, because the door to his room was open. He never kept his door open, unless you were inside, because he claimed it stopped the other campers from making assumptions about what the two of you were getting up to in his bedroom, alone.

And then you would ask him to explain what he meant by that, trying to hide your grin for as long as you could while he stammered over his words with a blush.

"Jase, they're saying—" You pushed open the door to his room further, voice almost shuddering, and stopped cold when you saw the room's only occupant.

Because it wasn't your blond haired love leaning over the small desk in the corner of the room.

"He didn't show up to our praetor meeting this morning." Reyna's voice was flat, giving you only the facts. You were glad, because if she had spoken with pity, you were certain you would have thrown up.

Jason would be nice about it, but you didn't want to vomit on his carpet.

"That's not like him," You stated dumbly, fingertips vibrating with anxious nerves. Reyna shook her head, and it was then that you realized she had been sifting through the stacks of papers on his desk.

It felt like an intrusion of his privacy, even if it was a necessary precaution. There might have been clues to his whereabouts in those papers. Instead, you were certain they were only his to-do lists, scribbled in his neat handwriting you so adored.

And when she spoke next, you wish you could have plugged your ears and ignored her.

"Centurion, Jason Grace is missing."

Six months, one week, four days, nine hours.

And thirty-six minutes.

Jason had been gone for six months, one week, four days, nine hours, and thirty-six minutes.

In total, you had slept probably a total of nineteen consecutive hours. Octavian had tried calling for your removal from role of Centurion five times. Reyna had offered you the open position of Praetor twice, behind closed doors.

"It's not available," You had snapped. Fear and exhaustion had turned you bitter. "Jason's coming back."

Six months, one week, four days, nine hours, and thirty-seven minutes.

"You know," Dakota's voice was slightly slurred, already gone on the kool-aid on such a bright summer afternoon. He had found you on the steps of the forum, searching through dozens of letters from retired legionnaires all claiming to not have heard any word about Jason but would keep scouting, and suggested you join him for a walk. "I bet he's out there, fighting for his life to get back here to you."

You shot a glare at Dakota, but kept your mouth shut. Lately, he was the only one of your old friends that could stomach being around you. No one else wanted to subject themselves to your attitude. You were glad to have a friend, even if you didn't act like it.

But you wished Dakota wouldn't talk about Jason fighting for his life.

"Brenda said I could take another eagle out searching today," Your voice had a rasp to it. Rarely used, but never rested. For the first three weeks following Jason's disappearance, you spent each night crying in your bunk, murmuring desperate pleas that your golden boy be returned to you.

And maybe he had never truly been your Jason, but it had felt pretty close.

Finally, Reyna had slipped a key into your palm, disguised as a handshake. The silver key, the one that unlocked Jason's empty praetor room, currently sat on a chain around your neck.

You slept there, now.

No one mentioned your nightly disappearance. You figured everyone was just thankful they didn't have to hear your crying anymore.

"Are you sure you should be flying?" Dakota looked you over with unease, the Little Tiber coming into view on the horizon. You were certain you looked a mess, but what did it matter? You only cared about what Jason thought of you, and Jason never cared about what you wore.

Still, the dark bags of exhaustion under your eyes probably were cause for concern.

"Says you," You countered dismissively, waving a hand towards the flask of kool-aid attached to his belt.

"That's not what I mean," He huffed, defensive. "When's the last time you slept—"

The shouting from the Little Tiber interrupted your conversation. You squinted in the direction of the sound, both surprised and startled to find two massive fists of water raised in the air, a gorgon in each.

At the bank was Hazel Levesque, submerged up to his knees was Frank Zhang, and... controlling the water-fists was a boy you had never seen before.

Without warning Dakota, you took off in a sprint towards the edge of the Little Tiber. You reached the bank just as Frank shot two incredibly well placed arrows at each of the gorgons, turning them to dust and swallowing them downstream.

"Centurion!" Hazel gasped, spotting you approach. Dakota was slowly closing in, muttering curses about children of Mercury and their swiftness. "We found him by the front gates. He was carrying, well, a goddess, so we figured we should let him in."

By the time Hazel finished rambling, both the new boy and Frank had made it ashore. Frank, with his probatio tablet swinging around his neck avoided meeting your eye.

Most people did, lately.

But the newcomer met your stare head on, confidently, if not a little confused. Pursing your lips, something about him set off alarms in your mind.

"What's your name?" You asked, still frowning. You hated being so angry all the time. You missed smiling. You missed your reason for smiling, too, but you had other things to worry about, somehow.

Like the son of Neptune who showed up on your front door.

The boy shifted on his feet, a bronze sword clenched in his tired hands. He looked far worse than you had realized at first, and his voice was exhausted when he answered you.

"Percy Jackson."

"Jason Grace!"

"Careful," He grinned, pointing his sword lazily at you. Your laughter echoed throughout the room, setting the world around the two you singing. "People might think your form is getting sloppy."

"Then they'll think you're a shitty coach," You teased, twirling your own sword as you danced throughout the room, always light on your feet. Jason chuckled, and if you could have bottled up the sound to keep forever, you would have in a heartbeat.

Your favorite moments were when it was just you and Jason, in the training center alone. With curfew fast approaching, everyone else was taking advantage of the two short, sweet free hours before lights out.

"Water break," Jason ordered, flipping his sword gracefully back into the golden coin he always kept in his pocket. You obliged him, slipping wordlessly over to your water bottle on the edge of the mat. "I was serious, earlier. You're dropping your elbows."

"And you're more stiff than a flagpole," You countered, raising a pointed brow at him. Jason gave you a look that screamed 'I don't think so', which was practically an invitation for you to mess with him. "Seriously, Jase, you gotta loosen up."

"I'm loose." He argued, and you let out another loud laugh, the kind that had your head tipping back with the force of your joy. Crossing the room to stand before him, you lifted your chin so that you had a chance at meeting his eye.

I'm loose, he claimed. The thought made you snort, again, as you took in his rigid posture, how even just standing, his arms were crossed over his broad chest.

"Jase," You crooned innocently, settling your left hand on his shoulder, fingers smoothing over the muscle. His reaction was instant, to your excitement. Flush coating his cheeks, his eyes tracking the movement of your hand against him.

Just as you had hoped.

"Baby," You taunted, and he actually choked, burning a bright red as you stepped closer to him, smirk on your lips. "If you're going to talk shit about my elbows, you better get ready to fight back."

Grinning wickedly, you held up the magical golden coin you had lifted from Jason's pocket while he was distracted.

"Give me that," He huffed, eyes rolling and catching your wrist before you could get away. Your laughter fell from you in echoing shrieks, trying to escape Jason as he tried to snatch the coin back.

You stuck out your arm in the opposite direction, trying to hold out as long as you could against him. How rare it was you ever were able to outsmart the great Jason Grace.

He simply pulled you closer, his longer arms stretching out over your body to try and get his coin back. Knees knocking together, your laughters mixed in the air.

By the time his fingers finally wrapped around the golden coin, you could barely breathe. Smiles spread wide over both your faces, you grinned up at him, cheeks albeit a bit flushed.

His arm was wrapped around your middle, holding you flush against his front. And even as he stuffed his coin back into his pocket, he kept his arm wrapped around you tightly.

You weren't going to complain, either, your own hands settling on the tops of his shoulders, toying with the collar of his purple camp shirt.

Gods, you were so in love with him, you felt it in your bones. How was it fair that the powers that be put him in your life, just out of arms reach? And how could Venus despise you so much that she would give you Jason Grace, let him hold you and smile at you, and not have him fall in love with you, too?

He was blinding, golden sunlight, and you just needed to be caught in his rays, however briefly.

"Why do you train so much?" You weren't exactly sure where the question came from, but you were certain it was an important one as you studied the emotions swirling in his sky blue eyes. Confusion, mostly, but also a hint of something so similar to admiration it made your skin feel flushed.

"We're soldiers." He reasoned, ever the level-headed Roman. And you loved him for it, really, but you loved him more than the Roman traits.

"Do we have to be, all the time?" You hated how desperate your voice sounded, and you hated Jason for making you ask.

"What else is there for us?" His counter argument was like he hit the panic button in your mind. And maybe if you had more time to think about how to best react, you would have slowed down and talked him through a life beyond the military prowess he had been practically conditioned to think was the only life for him.

But you didn't have time, and you could barely think, so all you did was pull away from his hold.

"Forget it." You mumbled, not entirely sure if you intended for him to hear. It wasn't his fault, you distantly reasoned, he didn't know any better. Raised by wolves then sent to Camp Jupiter? He had no chance at seeing any sort of life beyond battlefield glory.

But you weren't the daughter of reason. Your father was the god of thieves, and your emotions stole the moment from your fingertips.

"Hold on," Jason urged, taking a step towards you as you backed away, mumbling some excuse about needing more water. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Never, Jase." You nodded solemnly, your frown never once leaving your lips as you twisted back around to face him. "And maybe that's the problem."

I want you to break regulation and kiss the daylights out of me, you wanted to scream.

"I don't understand." He shook his head, open palms splayed up towards the sky, like he was pleading with you or the gods to explain to him.

You laughed once more, but this time, it echoed coldly in the empty training room. Gone was the sunshine smiled you wore, as if it had fallen behind the horizon as the real sun set over your head.

Bitterness twisted your heart, firing unfamiliar cruelty through your gaze, pinned on Jason. He almost flinched at the look on your face.

I don't understand, he had claimed. He didn't understand just how much you ached for him, praetor or not. Roman or mortal, you wanted him.

But he was a soldier, first. And maybe he was a soldier, only.

"Maybe that's the problem."

He called your name, but you were already out the door, letting the metal slam shut behind you.

You weren't enough of a fool to pretend to not see the lightning strike the roof of the training center, ruining the perfectly clear skies from only moments before. The only proof of Jason's frustration he would let the world see, you knew.

The only proof that maybe he ached the same way as you.

That night, you didn't sleep. Your poor bunkmates, listening to you twist and turn and try and get comfortable when it felt like knives were piercing your insides. Acid burned your tongue, cursing the appendage for ever trying to broach the subject about being more than soldiers to the other with Jason.

The next morning, you walked into breakfast, determined to avoid talking to Jason for at least a few hours.

Oh, what a mistake that wish was.

[python333]

task force 141 getting gaslighted by [reader] — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the title says, tf141 gets gaslighted by [reader]... nothing serious, dw!!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

warnings gaslighting, but used in extremely stupid and unnecessary ways, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], probably ooc but i'm a little more confident in this one than the last one!

note i'm so sorry that this is so long... it's like 3k+ words :{ and the soap and gaz sections are a majority of those words LMAO also tysm to the people who reblogged my last post?? thats so sweet?? im crying?? it was my first post too so i was just hdjsfhjdhsfjf tysm tysm!!

JOHN “BRAVO SIX” PRICE

➥ price is basically your dad atp.

➥ so it’s safe to say he knows about pretty much all of your weird little antics and shenanigans.

➥ this includes your tendency to gaslight people about the stupidest shit possible.

➥ trust him, he was a victim of this.

➥ the first time it happened, it was just too perfect of an opportunity for you to pass up.

➥ price was trying to eat his food in the mess hall, when you had sidled up right next to him at the small table he was eating at, and commented on his food choice.

➥ “Oh, nice. We got the same thing.” you’d said, setting down your tray of chicken, rice, and potatoes right next to price’s bowl of soup.

➥ at first, he thought you were just joking, and gave you an amused look and commented something along the lines of you being blind because you absolutely did not get the same thing as him.

➥ you take your gaslighting very seriously. this is not a joke.

➥ so you insist that you did in fact get the same thing, and you shoot a very confused look at him for good measure. your definitely-serious tone throws price off, because there’s no way you could possibly think you both actually got the same thing…

➥ … right?

➥ cue the rest of your lunch being spent alternating between eating your food and arguing that, “But we did get the same thing!” while price can only counter with, “No we did not!”

➥ now you may think that this is the point where you give up.

➥ it absolutely is not.

➥ see, price’s first mistake was giving you leeway to argue with him over this. his second mistake was suggesting that you ask someone to come over to the table and settle this by telling you both if you did get the same thing for lunch.

➥ naturally, you chose soap, because who else would encourage your bullshit with the same enthusiasm he does?

➥ long story short, he agrees to come over and settle the very weird argument you’ve started with price, and takes a very close look at both you and price’s chosen food items for the day and after you shoot him a glance that tells him everything he needs to know he confidently says, “Aye, these’re the same.”

➥ price has never recovered from the crisis he had after that entire interaction.

➥ so, the next time you do it, he knows exactly what to do.

—

When you sat down next to Price during lunch, he immediately got a sense of deja vu. Which is weird, because you sit next to him everyday, so what could possibly be different about today?

“Oh, nice. We got the same thing,” you’d commented offhandedly, setting down your tray of food, of which was just about the direct opposite of Price’s meal. Oh, so that’s why I feel like this has happened before. Price stared at your tray for a moment, flashbacks running through his mind, recalling his trauma from the last time this happened.

Then finally, cautiously, he agreed, “... Yeah. Whatta coincidence.”

You didn’t know if you should feel disappointed, happy, or shocked by him agreeing with you this time. You were fully prepared to pull Soap and Gaz aside to take a look at both of your trays of food and agree that they were the exact same meal, down to the portion sizes and everything. After a quick moment of thinking, you smile at him with the most innocent smile you can muster and eat your food, ignoring the sigh of relief Price lets out when you don’t begin to argue with him.

—

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

➥ actively enjoys being gaslighted.

➥ in the sense of like, how many ways can he defend himself in ways you can’t argue with?

➥ he’s like the gaslighting victim version of markiplier with the whole ‘i’m not a masochist, i just wanna see how much pain i can handle’.

➥ so safe to say he very much encourages your gaslighting.

➥ the first time and only time you ever gaslighted him was when you were both hanging out in his room, both of you on your phones, soap watching ‘my babysitter’s a vampire’ after you told him you thought he’d enjoy watching it, and you scrolling through social media to pass the time.

➥ then, you got an idea.

➥ “Soap?” soap perks up at the sound of his name and hums in acknowledgement of you talking to him, “Have you finished that show I recommended to you yet?”

➥ “Nah, I’ve still got a few episodes left.” he’d responded.

➥ “Really? What season are you on?”

➥ “The last season, season two.”

➥ “... What do you mean the last season?”

➥ you two go back and forth, with you insisting that no, you told him to watch ‘the vampire diaries’, not ‘my babysitter’s a vampire’.

➥ the entire thing goes on for at least thirty minutes before soap sighs and insists that you’d told him to watch ‘my babysitter’s a vampire’ one last time, and you finally break.

➥ you break out into a small fit of laughter, and stop yourself to take a deep breath and admit, “Yeah, I did.”

➥ honestly, soap is very impressed by your determination to manipulate him. 10/10 would encourage you to do it again. in fact, will help you gaslight anyone you so please.

—

You and Soap were sitting in his room, him on the bed and you on the floor sitting down on one of his pillows. You’d just been scrolling through any and all apps you had, even going through your photos app, bored out of your mind, when you suddenly got an idea. You turned off your phone and looked over at Soap.

“Soap?” He tapped on his phone screen to pause the show he was watching and hummed, looking over at you. “Have you finished that show I recommended to you yet?”

“Nah, I’ve still got a few episodes left,” he’d answered, sitting up and cracking his knuckles.

“Really?” you’d asked, feigning confusion, “What season are you on?”

“The last one, season two,” he replied, showing you his phone screen. You looked at it for a moment before drawing your eyebrows together in pseudo-confusion.

“... What do you mean the last season?” you’d asked, “There’s eight seasons.”

“Uhh…” Soap looked back at his phone screen, confused, and tapped his screen a few times before he shook his head, “Nay, there’re two seasons, c/n.”

“Are you watching the right show?” you’d asked, watching as Soap nods confidently, and yes. You had set down your phone, ready for this new form of entertainment.

“Yeah. My Babysitter’s a Vampire, right?” he said, hoping for confirmation that he’s watching the correct show. You slowly shake your head negatively.

“No, I told you that you should watch Vampire Diaries,” you’d clarified, watching as Soap started to disagree.

“Nay, ye told me tae watch the Babysitter one,” Soap argued, quickly pulling up his text messages with you, “I reckon I’d ken if ye told me tae watch Vampire Diaries.”

“Well, I did,” you argued back, “I told you, verbatim, ‘hey you should watch Vampire Diaries, I think you’d really like it, since you like making fun of old 2000s shows with me’. I texted you yesterday about it.”

Soap raised an eyebrow before he’d turned his phone to you, showing you your text messages from yesterday, where you definitely did not tell him to watch Vampire Diaries. You took a good look at the text messages, before looking up at Soap, concerned, “Are you okay? That clearly says what I said it says.”

Soap looked baffled, and it took everything in you not to laugh, “Nay, ye messaged me tae watch the Babysitter one, so I’m watchin’ the Babysitter one!”

You two went back and forth, arguing over what the text actually said. You’d constantly deny everything Soap saw and he’d argue back in the most flabbergasted tone that ‘Nay, it’s richt there, I ken I’m no’ goin’ daft!’ and you argued back that he’s definitely seeing things because how could he possibly be reading the text but see completely different words than what it actually says?

Eventually, you both stopped arguing, taking time to catch your breaths. You had taken one look at Soap’s miserable facial expression before breaking out into a small fit of laughter, giggles spilling from your lips as you tried to muffle them by putting your hand over your mouth.

“Ye ‘nd I baith ken that the text says you want me to watch My Babysitter’s a Vampire,” Soap breathed out, watching you try and muffle your laughter.

After you’d taken a moment to catch your breath, you admit, “Yeah, I know.”

Soap’s eyes widened and he immediately said, “So ye admit it?”

You nodded affirmatively and he groaned, flopping back down onto the bed, the action having made you giggle even more. “Ye’re a bampot,” he’d grumbled, though there was no serious anger or irritation behind his words.

—

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

➥ now why would you even try this, huh?

➥ have you MET the dude?

➥ he absolutely will not fall for it.

➥ he won’t encourage it, won’t argue with you, in fact he’ll shut you down with a simple “No.”

➥ you’re too scared to even try again after the first time you tried it.

➥ the first time you tried to gaslight him, you were both just walking down the hall together.

➥ you tried convincing him that gaz was off on a mission when you had just passed by him.

➥ the look he gave you… my god.

➥ “No he isn’t.” i’m so sorry please let me jump off a cliff i’m sorry i made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgment and i don’t expect to be forgiven i’m simply here to apologize mr. simon ghost riley lieutenant sir.

➥ you never try to gaslight him ever again.

—

You thought it was a good idea at the time. You don’t know what drugs you were on or what meds you were off, but you decided that, yeah, I can totally gaslight Ghost with no repercussions, that’s definitely possible. So here you are, walking right beside him, the both of you going to completely different locations but he doesn’t need to know that.

When you first sidled up to him, walking by his side down the hall, he looked over at you for a moment and was just a bit confused but didn’t say anything otherwise. The two of you passed by Gaz, who was minding his business just walking past the two of you. He gave you both a quick nod and you made a point to nod back, not only out of respect but because you thought it would make your gaslighting session just that much better.

Just a minute after passing Gaz, you sighed and commented, “Can’t believe Gaz is on that super long mission right now. Two weeks is crazy.”

Ghost had slowly turned his head towards you, a sight that made your stomach drop because oh God I definitely fucked up, and simply said, “No he isn’t. We just saw him.”

I think I just shit my pants. “Y- yeah, right, right, definitely, no clue what I was thinking,” you blurted out, stumbling over your sentences because oh my GOD I’m gonna piss myself why is he so scary lord have mercy on my soul. Ghost raised an eyebrow at you, before huffing out a small laugh and continuing his walk, amused by your sputtering. You let out a sigh of relief as he simply walked away, and you headed in the correct way of where you're supposed to go, completely chickening out of your original plan.

—

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

➥ oh that poor poor boy.

➥ probably gives into it and just lets you gaslight him tbh.

➥ like maybe if your argument/gaslighting isn’t too strong he’ll argue with you, and sure he still won’t win but it was worth a try, but if you’re gaslighting-gaslighting him? he’s just gonna agree with you.

➥ like at that point anything you say is law and he is a law-abiding citizen.

➥ if your argument is strong enough and he’s tired enough he will genuinely believe you, too.

➥#savegazfromreader

➥ the first time you tried to gaslight him, it was pretty easy. you two had just finished sparring, with you coming out on top, much to your own surprise. gaz had given you a lighthearted pat on the shoulder and went off to shower, when you had the best idea you’ve ever had.

➥ you had groaned and playfully complained, “I can’t believe you won that.”

➥ gaz turned around, confused, and was like, “Won what?”

➥ cue the next 5 minutes being spent by you saying that gaz had won and arguing with him that he did win.

➥ “Honestly, you don’t have to lie and say I won. I appreciate that you don’t want me to feel bad, but I can take a loss.”

➥ hes so confused omg.

➥ starts gaslighting himself into thinking he won, then he’s like ‘wait no i didn’t’.

➥ but he still goes along with it because… what else is he supposed to do?

➥ ever since then he’s been your main gaslighting victim, and your favorite.

—

You hated the feeling of being sweaty, but you hated the feeling of someone else’s sweat even more. Maybe that’s what tripped you up that day, letting Gaz swipe his leg underneath yours and force you to fall down onto the mat beneath you, where he then started counting to ten, as per usual with sparring. But luckily for you, you were able to grab his ankle and yank it towards you, making Gaz fall on his ass and letting you straddle his chest and begin to count to ten just as he was doing earlier.

Of course, you dramatized your counting, because who would you be if you didn’t? You emphasized every number and your lips twitched into a small smile as you watched Gaz scoff and look away from you, clearly fed up with your theatrics. Once you were done counting, you got up and held out a hand for Gaz, who took it and got up, letting out a huff and patting you on the shoulder.

“Good job,” He’d said, smiling down at you, stepping off the mat and walking over to the bag of stuff he’d brought with him. After that small interaction, you just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to gaslight him. It’s not your fault! Who else would pass up an opportunity like this?

You groaned and stepped off the mat, muttering, “I can’t believe you won that. I really though I had you.”

“Won what?” Gaz questioned, looking back at you, confused.

“The spar?” You answered, though you made your answer sound more questioning, as if confused on why he’d even question your words. As if it was obvious that you hadn’t won. Gaz simply looked at you, very confused, trying to figure out if you’re joking or not. By the serious look on your face—a poker face you’ve worked on for the longest time—he figured that you weren’t not kidding, which worries him a bit.

”... No, you won that spar,” Gaz insisted, before nervously joking, “Remember? Thirty seconds ago, when you kicked my arse after I thought I had you down?”

“Honestly, you don’t have to lie and say I won,” You laughed, walking over to Gaz and patting him on the back, “It’s not like I’m a sore loser or anything like that. I can take a loss.”

He was so confused, and continued to insist that you had won the small sparring match, and got more and more confused the more you fought with him on this. He was so sure that you had won—you did, didn’t you?

He eventually just sighed, and ‘admitted’ that you were right, he did win. Satisfied, you smiled up at him and reminded him that you can take a loss, and you went on with your day. And if you heard him asking Price if he could go through the security cameras for a moment, requesting to go back to that specific time the two of you had sparred, no you didn’t.

[fairydustblossom]

losing control {part 4}

azriel x reader

summary: you and azriel have been best friends for decades. giving romance a chance takes some time to figure out.

category: angst, slow-burn, friends-to-lovers (kinda)

word count: 3.5k

warnings: none i think

Notes: i cannot believe it took me a month to finish this up. i apologize for the wait and i thank you all for being so patient! life got super busy for a second there and also i just was not liking this chapter at alllll. but i finally do! it's a good set up for the next few parts which im so EXCITEDDD to write!!! as always /please/ let me know y'alls thoughts i love hearing them,,,, anyways enjoy :)

{part 1} | {part 2} | {part 3} | {part 5}

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Half the night you tossed and turned filled with longing and regret and the other half you felt your anger reignite. The back and forth of your emotions leaving you rattled and unsure of what to do next. 

When morning came, you felt like shit. Dark bags under your eyes, face a greyish color, eyes bloodshot red and hair a mess. You stared at yourself in the mirror feeling the weight of the day ahead. You had to go to training and more than likely see Azriel, you knew he wouldn’t skip it, after that you had a meeting with Rhys, and then you had to work all day at the library. A sigh left you as you thought of the long day ahead and all the responsibilities you had when all you wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep the day away. The thought of you and Azriel ending  made you want to drop to your knees. If the possibility of that made you want to weep, you couldn’t imagine what seeing him today would do to you.

Closing your eyes you managed to quiet all your thoughts and started breathing in and out, telling yourself that Azriel hadn’t broken up with you last night. This was just a disagreement and everything would work itself out… You repeated this to yourself until you finally felt determination settle over you. Determination to work this out, to not let it consume you, and especially to not let Azriel see how much he had affected you. If he was going to act the way he did last night, cold and distant, then you would act the same. 

So with one last look at yourself in this state, you turned around and started getting ready for the day. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Every bone in your body begged you not to go to training. Your body was sore, thanks to Azriel, and the sleepless night did little to soothe your body. But you wouldn't give Cassian any reason to hold skipping for a second time this week against you, and most importantly, you wouldn't let Azriel get in the way of your duties to the Night Court. You owed much to Rhys.

As you walked into the training pit, you immediately noticed the Shadowsinger's presence. His back was turned to you as he adjusted the wraps on his hands. He continued what he was doing but you could tell by the slight twitch of his wings and the movement of his shadows that he knew you had walked in. 

You wondered if he wished you had stayed back, if he wanted to see you, or if he simply just didn’t care. By the way he carried himself, it seemed like the latter. You fought against the pain blooming in your chest. You always wanted to see Azriel. Right now, all you wanted was to touch him, hug him, and rest your head in the space between his wings. But you were starting to realize your feelings for Azriel were stronger than his. Was he not filled with the same need as you? The realization came to you late in the night as you replayed the argument, the way he had looked at you, talked to you.

There was no doubt in your mind anymore that you felt more for him. 

Training went by agonizingly slow, your heart never slowing down, your mind never letting you forget Azriel was nearby. You had tried sneaking looks at Azriel, hoping to catch him staring at you, but he seemed unbothered by your presence, never sparing you a glance. 

You couldn’t understand how he could just turn off his emotions like this. You knew becoming involved with your best friend, as emotionally challenged as he was, would be difficult, and you were aware his profession relied on detachment of emotions but how could he act like you meant nothing after having consoled you just the night before? After showing you how much he cared for you. It didn’t make any sense and you felt that you were being toyed with.

Azriel was trying very hard to stay focused on his workout. He was ready to be done for the day, not wanting to be near you any more than he had to. He felt ashamed and embarrassed at his actions from the night before, and quite frankly he had not gathered the courage needed to talk to you. During all of training, his mind kept racing with thoughts of what to say to you, jumping from one thought to the other. Azriel felt all over the place and nowhere closer to finding the words to better explain his actions. He tried keeping his eyes off you, knowing he wouldn’t be able to carry on with his day if he saw how you looked. Instead he relied on his shadows’ descriptions of you- whispers of the bags under your eyes, the frown on your face, the looks you were sending his way- which didn’t aid his overthinking.

He wanted to comfort you, to hold you, but knowing he had been the reason why you felt this way made him feel sick. Training felt like torture, his self-deprication not letting him get the relief he seeked from a hard session. Deciding he was better off in solitude today, he started getting ready to leave. He figured if he could just get away from you, the smell of you, the whispers of his shadows, he could think of an apology. All night he had replayed the possibility of telling the inner circle, of becoming official, and he couldn't escape all the negative outcomes his mind had come up with. He needed to figure out an apology that would not compromise his belief in remaining private for as long as possible- until he felt assured that nothing would go wrong.   

Finishing up your last set of drills, you looked over at Azriel for the countless time that day. He was stretching, having just finished his drills as well, and the anger building up in you took over. You started walking towards him as everyone else headed out and his shadows rushed around him, probably letting their master know you were walking over. He looked from his peripheral view to confirm and straightened up, turning his back to you and starting to walk away to the changing rooms. 

You were livid. The way Azriel had ignored you during training irked you in a way you had never experienced before. You had never been this angry at him. You understood the way the conversation went last night wasn't the best but he didn't have to ignore you. All morning you kept trying to make eye contact with him and he had refused to meet your eyes. And the way in which he walked away when he saw you headed towards him right now fucking hurt. 

The way he was treating you hurt. Never had you felt so little and unimportant to Azriel and although you had promised yourself you would be as cold and distant as him, your anger had other plans and you were not going to stand by this treatment, not from him. 

Trying to catch up to his long strides you marched after him into the changing area

pushing the door open.

"Azriel" you said stopping a few feet away, his shirt was already off, back facing towards you. You ignored the tightness around your throat and the conflicting emotions rising within you as you tried to not stare at the sweat gleaming down his back, his wings in all their majesty. 

His wings twitched while the rest of his body went still at the mention of his name. He didn't respond which caused a scoff to bubble out of you. You were in complete disbelief. This did not feel like your Azriel. This dynamic between you two was completely new. 

"Are you really just going to ignore me?" You asked, anger coating your voice. 

He remained quiet and took a deep breath. Internally he was a mess. He didn't want to say anything that would make things worse than he already had last night. He felt if he opened his mouth he would completely ruin everything and he was trying his hardest to not let that happen by remaining silent. He knew he was being unfair to you, but he had already hurt you last night and he felt unworthy of even being in the same room as you.

You however were not understanding that. All you could see was his cool mask of indifference. 

"I'm just confused, Azriel. I don't understand what's happened. I believe what I asked for isn’t unreasonable, considering we've been doing this, whatever you want to call this, for over half a year. I don't understand your reaction." 

You wanted to plead with him, beg him to turn to you to listen to you, to love you. You wanted to cry and have everything be alright. But you wouldn't. Instead you straightened yourself up and narrowed your eyes.

"Azriel, turn around." you said in a low voice. 

Azriels fists tightened in response, you could see his knuckles turning white.

"Azriel. turn. around. Look at me, I'm trying to talk to you. This feels weird, this isn't us. " Your voice softened, exhaustion and pain taking over you now. "I want to talk through this." 

Azriel turned around, your belly fluttering with hope. You were sure if you could just discuss this, everything would be okay. Your eyes met for a second and you thought you saw sadness in his eyes when he looked at you but you blinked and his walls were back up. 

"I don't want to talk right now Y/N" he grumbled, dismissing your attempts at fixing the problem. 

"Then when Az? When are we going to talk? Why can't we just work this out right now? Why does it have to be a thing? Just talk to me Az." Your breathing was getting more agitated with every word you spoke, his silence cutting deeply. Still, you carried on

"I’m sorry for the words I chose last night, for how it came out but… What did you mean last night? You are enough for me, I don’t ever want you to think that you can’t give me what I need. I know you can. You already give me everything I want. I don't see how telling our friends would change anything between us." 

"It would change everything, don’t you see? It already has" he said, becoming just as irritated as you. He was over this conversation, he didn't want to have it right now, not when he still hadn't found the words to explain his feelings. Gods he hadn't even been able to tell you he loved you . He wanted to do that before having to tell everyone. 

"How Az? How?" You almost shouted, your patience running out, you were ready to argue it out. 

Suddenly the door opened, Cassian walking in muttering about forgetting something when he abruptly stopped, noticing the tension in the room. He could see both you and Azriel breathing heavily, your fists were clenched and Azriel's shadows were mostly covering him, swarming frantically. The way you both stood looked like you were engaged in an argument and he raised an eyebrow. 

"Everything okay?" He asked. He looked at Azriel's face, set on a scowl, and then at yours, noticing the tears lining your eyes and your cheeks flushed pink. “What’s going on?” he tried again when he was met with silence.

Azriel held your gaze before muttering “Nothing” and winnowing away. 

You and Cassian stood in the changing rooms staring at the spot Azriel had just stood in. 

You blinked the tears that had welled up away trying to not let Cassian see but it was too late. He could see the state you were in and he knew he had just interrupted an argument between you and his brother. An oddity, given how close the two of you were. What could his brother have said to have you at the point of tears? Cassian started asking “What happe-” before you cut him off “I don’t want to talk about it Cass.” and then you winnowed away, going to your meeting with Rhys. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In front of you stood your high lord and one of your best friends, Rhys. Immediately you wished you had winnowed somewhere else to compose yourself, Rhys could read everyone in the inner circle in a matter of seconds. There was no way he wouldn’t notice your current state. Your red rimmed eyes and your heaving breathing. 

He took in your appearance for what felt like forever, but was really a matter of seconds, and raised his eyebrows in a questioning look.

You shook your head, letting him know you didn’t want to talk about it. He gave you a look that said he was sorry, but wasn’t going to let it go. 

“Not only as your high lord, but as someone who cares very dearly for a friend, a friend that I consider family, you know I have to ask. What’s wrong?” he asked, going around his desk and leaning against it, arms crossed waiting for your answer. 

You rolled your eyes “Really Rhys? You’re gonna pull the high lord card?” 

He scoffed and shot you a smirk “Here I was thinking I was pulling the family card”

That made a small smile appear on your face. You knew Rhys was just worried and it wasn’t fair to take out your frustrations on him. If he showed up at your office in the same manner you would also ask.

“I’m sorry… just… feeling a little scattered. I didn’t mean to snap” 

“My dear Y/N, you have been snapping at me since the day we met. I do not hold that against you. However, I will hold it against you if you keep things from me that are clearly disturbing you. I heard you missed training this week, I also heard you used your powers against Cass… and now you are showing up to our meeting, quite frankly, looking like a mess. So, what’s really been going on?”

You sighed and sat down across from him, head falling between your hands. “I can’t tell you”

At this Rhys stood a little straighter, eyebrows drawn in confusion. “You do realize one of my top spies telling me she can’t tell me something is cause for concern” 

Your eyebrows rose in alarm “I don’t mean it like that Rhys, you know I tell you everything of importance. It’s just… it’s personal” 

He sighed and went to sit next to you, placing an arm around you. “Alright… I won’t press you if you really don’t want to talk. Just know you can always come to me”

You leaned into his side and whispered “I know Rhys, thank you.”

He squeezed you into his size letting you rest there for a few minutes before proceeding with the meeting. 

“As you know, we will be hosting a gala at the end of this week, it will be a chance to celebrate the alliances we have built after the war and for the courts to further strengthen relationships with one another. Eris is coming to stay with us for the next few days. Now that Beron’s rule is over, I have offered our courts help to Eris. I intend for the Autumn Court’s new High Lord to have as smooth a transition as possible, otherwise all our work to remove Beron was for nothing. Hopefully, in return, Eris will help us when it is time to change the ways of the Hewn City and fully be the Night Court we all dream of. Now, I need you to keep an eye on Eris. I have no reason to doubt his loyalties, but one can never be too careful. I have already told him you will be there to help with anything he needs.” said Rhys, concentrating on some documents on his desk. 

“I have to babysit Eris?” you muttered, crossing your arms. You had learned to not hate the former heir, he had proved himself to the inner circle and he was often around, strategizing with Rhys and whatnot. He had asked for Mor’s forgiveness, and everything had for the most part been worked out. However, Azriel still despised Eris. The High Lord's attempt to right his wrong has done nothing to diminish Azriels’ distrust in him. Naturally, due to your proximity to the Spymaster, you had kept a professional distance from him. Never actually becoming friendly with Eris.

“If that’s what you wanna call it, yes.” Rhys looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes “But I like to think of it as giving you the honor of being an extension of me for the next couple of days” he said, shooting you a grin, knowing you would like the sound of that.

A laugh burst out of you, “Alright Rhys, you don’t have to butter me up. You know I’ll do it, shouldn’t be too bothersome. Eris hasn’t been a problem for some time” you drifted off “Although, I do I wonder how Feyre will react when I tell her I’m an extension of her husband” you joked, standing up and walking towards the door.

Rhys chuckled, muttering about the kind of trouble you would get him into. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cassian felt weird about the interaction from earlier with you and Azriel. He was running the events of the past weeks in his head and he felt that there was something he was missing. He thought of your skipped practice, of your outburst during training, of Azriel’s mood at the debrief the other day and what he had just walked in on. 

Clearly he hadn’t walked in on nothing, regardless of what Azriel said. Set on finding his brother, he wandered around the places Azriel usually frequented. He found him on his balcony, face in concentration, leaning his body over the railings, wings drooped, and shadows swarming around him in chaos. It had been a long time since he had seen his brother so out of sorts. 

Cassian landed a few feet away from Azriel and approached him cautiously. Azriel looked at him from the corner of his eye and stood up straighter. “I want to be alone right now Cass.” Azriel said, trying to harden his voice to deter Cassian from trying, but Cassian knew his brother. He could hear the mask covering his turmoil.

Cassian sighed and went to stand next to Azriel. “What’s going on, brother?”

Azriel huffed and muttered “I said I wanted to be alone”

Cassian grinned at him “Since when do I follow orders from you?” 

Azriel rolled his eyes but didn’t try to argue with Cassian, he knew there was no point. The general wouldn’t be leaving yet. 

At Azriel’s silence, he continued. “Brother, we have been there for each other our entire lives. I am not going to leave you alone when I can so clearly see something plagues your mind.”

Azriel debated for a second telling Cassian what was wrong, he wanted to ask how Cassian navigated his relationship with Nesta. How he was able to put aside the fears and worries of things going wrong, of Nesta getting hurt because of him, but he reminded himself that Nesta was Cassian's mate. The bond tethered them to one another, and the risk of things not working out was significantly less, given that the Mother had decided they were meant for each other. No matter how many times he had prayed to the mother, you weren't his mate. He didn’t have that same level of assurance, Cassian wouldn't understand.

“I’m fine Cass, just thinking about work” Azriel said. He figured that excuse would satisfy Cassian, it wouldn’t be the first time work consumed him and had such an effect on him.

Cassian narrowed his eyes at Azriel before asking “Is that what you and Y/N were arguing about? Work?” his tone letting Azriel know that he didn’t fully buy it. At the mention of your name Azriel’s shadows became agitated again, the Shadowsinger having to reign them in from becoming a frenzied mess. He cooled his expression, hoping Cassian hadn’t caught any change in him.

“We weren’t arguing” Azriel stated, looking at Cassian in the eyes briefly before setting them back on the horizon. 

Cassian scoffed “Az she was literally about to cry. Y/N always tears up during arguments. I heard some arguing before walking in, that’s why I walked in. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two argue. What happened?”

Azriel’s jaw tensed. His chest hurt at the thought of you crying. At the thought of him making you cry. He felt that he was only making things worse. He had to fix things with you, he just needed to figure out how.

Azriel ignored Cassian and turned to walk away “I have some work to catch up on. I’ll see you tonight at dinner” he said to Cassian before winnowing away. 

Cassian was left standing there wondering what the hell was going on between you and his brother.

taglist: @acotarxx @fall-myriad @moonlwghts @fictionalmenloversblog@kennedy-brooke@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @rebs2210 @angelshadowsinger @sstrohma @lahoete @alohaangels @fanboyluvr @thelov3lybookworm @hyemishii @thewarriormoon @reiincarnatiion-blog @gretavanbobatea

[simp4wom3n]

Requited Love

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Reader

Requested: Yes/No ~ request

Summary: Y/N is cast to play Mia Reed in ‘The Fallout’ and her feelings for her costar, Jenna Ortega, start to resemble those of her characters. Love. ~ Word Count: 1887 ~ Warnings: tiny bit of angst if u squintttttt

A/N: Hello everyone!! Firstly I want to say thank you for all the support shown on my first few posts, and I also wanted to give you guys an update. I’m currently travelling overseas with very busy days so my time for writing is limited but I am writing I PROMISE. This one took a little longer than expected but I hope you enjoy it <3

It's your first day working on the set of ‘The Fallout’, your newest film in which you play Mia Reed. You are a little nervous despite having an impressive collection of films under your belt. When it comes to new sets, new environments, and more importantly new people, you were always anxious about how you would fit in. Your nerves certainly weren’t helped when you learned that Jenna Ortega had joined the cast. You are a huge admirer of hers. Since you've seen pretty much everything she's been in and respect her as an actress, the idea of sharing the screen with her was undeniably daunting.

You pull up to the ‘base camp’ of the film, where all the trailers are located, in an attempt to find yours and get a head start settling in. As you get out of the car your Y/E/C eyes scan the area in search of your trailer, your eyes instead landing on a girl. She appears to be about a foot shorter than you and has long, dark hair. She is dressed in baggy pants and a black singlet with headphones around her neck. Your breath hitches in your throat as you realise, “Holy shit… it’s her oh my god ok” you breathe as you hesitantly start walking in her direction, attempting to calm yourself down. ‘Relax Y/N it’s fine you got this just don’t be weird’.

The sound of your approaching footsteps catch her attention as she turns her head in your direction. Her brown eyes meet yours causing your breath to catch in your throat once again. To your surprise, a genuine smile crosses her face as she too starts walking towards you. “Hey, I’m Y/N. I’m your costar it’s really nice to finally meet you.” you start, giving her a little wave, thrilled you somehow managed to not stumble over your words. “It’s amazing to finally meet you too! I’m Jenna, and I have to say I’m a really big fan of your work” she smiles at you as you feel your cheeks start to burn. Your brain can’t even fathom the idea of THE Jenna Ortega knowing who you are, let alone being a big fan.

“Really?!?” “Of course I am I’ve seen almost everything your in.” she giggles at the disbelief painted all over your face. “And here I thought I was going to be the one fangirling. I’ve also seen pretty much all your stuff and you are incredible. Im still in disbelief that I get to work with you.” you rant, the words flying out of your mouth faster than you ever thought possible. “You are so adorable” she giggles, your cheeks at this point on fire. “Trust me the honour is all mine” she concludes.

You spent the remainder of the day talking to Jenna whilst walking around set, meeting all the important people who you will be working with over the next few weeks. To your delight, whilst exploring the set, you discover that Jenna’s trailer is right next to yours. If there was one thing you were sure of in this moment it was that you couldn’t wait to get to know her better.

*time skip*

You jump as you are awoken suddenly by a loud banging on your trailer door. “Sh*t what the hell” you mumble, rubbing at your tired eyes as you sit up. Your eyes glance towards the clock hanging on your wall, the hands reading 9:17. That’s odd your supposed to be at hair and makeup by 9. “Oh sh*t. I’m coming!” you launch off your trailer couch realising you must have fallen asleep whilst memorising your lines, meaning you didn’t set an alarm. You quickly attempt to fix your disheveled hair as you swing your door open, met with the disappointed glance of your makeup artist. “Sorry! I’m so sorry give me five minutes I’ll be right there I swear” you apologise rapidly, chucking on a random hoodie and running into the bathroom to check you don’t look too much like a corpse.

*small time skip*

Jenna jumps slightly as the door to the makeup trailer swings open, revealing a very cute and disheveled Y/N wearing… wait is that her hoodie? “Morning sleepyhead. I like your hoodie I’m surprised it fits you” Jenna chuckles as you look down and realise that you are actually wearing one of her hoodies. “Huh. I didn’t even notice.” “It looks cute on you” she flirts, your cheeks gaining their familiar warmth, one you often feel when you are around her. You drop into your makeup chair letting out a sigh as you allow your slightly irritated artist to get you ready for your scenes.

“You ready for today?” Jenna asks, smirking as she makes eye contact with you in the mirror. “As always. Why wouldn’t I be?” “We are filming the kiss scene today remember”. As soon as the words left her mouth you felt your stomach drop. “Oh. Right. Yeah I totally forgot about that haha” you chuckle nervously. Being completely honest with yourself, you had been harbouring a crush on Jenna for quite a while now, and whilst the idea of kissing her should fill you with excitement, you can’t help but be terrified. “You okay?” she asks sincerely, noticing the slight change in your demeanour. “Yeah! yeah no I’m fine I just had a rough sleep last night. I feel asleep on my couch memorising my lines so it wasn’t the most pleasant.” you ramble, trying to cover up your nerves, your attempt appearing to work.

“I think the way Megan has set the scene up is really smart.” she says whilst glancing towards you. Noticing the slight confusion on your face she elaborates, “I mean the way she has us kiss whilst we are both lying down. It gets rid of the whole height difference issue. Not that I have anything against it, I love it.” “Good to know” you reply, attempting to diffuse the tension by jokingly winking at her causing her to laugh and quickly hide her face with her hands. ‘Is she flustered?’ ‘Is there a chance she likes me back?’ you thought. However, just as quick as the thoughts came to your mind, you shut them down, ‘No Y/N stop. Don’t get your hopes up’. 

*time skip*

“Action!”. You are lying on the floor of Mia’s bedroom as Jenna, or Vada, rolls towards you. You stare deep into her eyes as she can’t stop giggling. Once she finally settles down, her face is only a few inches away from yours. She starts, “What?… ok I know your a woman of very little words… but I know you got some deep shit happening in this nice little head of yours.” she recites her lines perfectly as you giggle on cue. “God… ugh” you sigh. “Anything? Ok. Lets say this. Lets say you die tomorrow, ok, and what if you die sad because you regret not saying what you wanted to say… then what?”.

Those words, although scripted, make your heart sink, because as true as it is, you can’t tell her. You can’t ruin what you have with Jenna over some stupid crush. They say you should always pick roles you relate to, and you hate to agree that you relate to the fear that Mia is feeling right now, absolutely terrified of losing her best friend. You lie there in silence for a few seconds whilst your mind races. “I can’t say it” you whisper, drawing your eyes off of her. “Why?” she immediately responds. You can feel her eyes burning into the side of your face which both comforts and unsettles you.

When you finally pluck up the courage to face her, she looks almost ethereal in the ambient lighting of the room and you regret ever taking your eyes off of her. You aren’t able to seperate your own feelings from your characters, all you feel is love. You notice Jenna glance at your lips, as she is directed to, and the next thing you know she is leaning in. Your heart is racing faster than it ever has before, so much so you are worried she can hear it. When her lips touch yours, you feel warmth blossom in your chest. She pulls away slightly asking “Is this okay?” to which you nod softly. As she connects her lips to mine once more, her lips part slightly allowing my tongue to slip inside. Before I know it she is climbing on top of me, our bodies pressed together as our lips moved passionately against one another’s. Her hands begin exploring your body as your fingers travel through her hair as you breathed her in. It was utter bliss. Until it wasn’t.

“Cut! That was perfect girls well done. The chemistry was amazing, very believable.” “Thanks” you murmur as you seperate yourself from Jenna and get to your feet, avoiding all eye contact with her. “I think we got it guys you can head back to your trailers”. With that you made your way swiftly out of the room, attempting to avoid Jenna’s concerned stare and get to your trailer as quickly as possible. “Y/N! Y/N wait!” Jenna calls from behind you as you hear her rapidly approaching footsteps. She eventually catches up to you, stopping you when she grabs hold of your hand, swinging you around.

“Hey what’s wrong?” she asks, her hand still holding yours with concern written all over her face. You couldn’t help but think about how pretty she looked which didn’t help with your current predicament. “Nothing. I just… I need to be alone right now” you say, turning on your heels attempting to avoid having the conversation you have been dreading. She grabs ahold of your other hand in order to pull you back, not allowing you to avoid her and suffer in silence. “Hey.” she comforts softly “You can talk to me you know. Just tell me what’s wrong we can figure it out together.” “I can’t say it” you quote Mia as a tear rolls down your cheek, the weight of the conversation finally taking its toll on you as the fear of losing your best friend overcomes you.

You witness the moment it clicks in Jenna’s eyes, her gaze immediately softening as she wipes away your stray tear with her thumb. You see her lips twitch into a smile as her hands land on your cheeks, the two of you having a silent conversation with your eyes. Her eyes flicker down to your lips which doesn’t go unnoticed, but before you can comment on it she is guiding your face down to meet hers as her lips brush against yours tentatively. You were taken over by pure desire as you close the remaining distance, leaning into the kiss as you place your hands around her neck. The familiar feeling of her warm lips against yours makes your heart flutter as you begin to comprehend what is happening, she likes you back. Your lips slowly parted as your foreheads remained against each others. “I love you too Y/N” Jenna intimately whispered, placing a chaste kiss on your lips before pulling back completely. “So you really do love the height difference?” you joke, unable to take your eyes off of her. “Of course I do. I love everything about you”.

[pedgito]

hey, im a big fan of your writing. I am also a big fan of Javier Peña, Joel and Din lmao. So can I request a story about either one of those (mostly sfw mainly because im in my feelings) that is more of a hurt/comfort angst? Maybe bottled feelings are freed, a near death experience occurs after a heated confession that didn't go well...? idk I leave it up to you if you want to write it of course. Anyways, again, love love your stories, especially the way your portray Javier. Have a nice week <3

pairing | javier pena x fem!reader

content warning | mostly sfw, arguments over commitment/relationships, mention of violence (bombing), descriptions of minor injuries and emotional distress, just lots and lots of angst [2.6k]

author’s note | this screamed javi so hard so i couldn't pass up the opportunity to write some angst for him

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3

You’ve been at it for months now, waiting for Javier to finally give in and confess to you what he’s been holding back for so long—he’s so closed off it’s impossible, his back turned to you as he grips the chair shoved into the small dining table tucked in the corner of his apartment.

This was supposed to be a one off job, spend a couple months down in Bogotá with Steve—play alongside him in the hopes of catching Escobar, settling into a mix between the three of you, realizing fairly quickly that Peña wasn’t the type of nice guy you were used to.

He was brazen, straight-forward and a little bit—scratch that, a lot of an asshole, so full of himself that it oozed out. Still, that didn’t stop you from climbing into his bed a week into your stay, breaking the one rule you had.

Never fucking sleep with your co-workers.

Look where it got you; fighting an emotionless wall of stone.

He wants you, but he can’t have you. He doesn’t want to see you with other people, but he can’t stake his claim and call you his—but god forbid you so much as consider eyeing another person, someone interested in showing you the attention you wanted, that you deserved. His jealousy is unmatched, the curl in his lip when he sees you across the room around them, the short and fleeting touches they gave to your arm in passing—from your perspective, a simple gesture between friends, but to Javier, it's a threat.

And it wasn’t that he didn’t try to show you attention—Javier was more than that, all-consuming in a way, passionate to a fault. But, he was not a lover type guy.

Still, you were naive enough to think you could change that.

“I’m not doing this anymore,” You spoke strongly, watching the tilt of his head as looks down, burning a cigarette held between his fingers, “whatever this is—we can forget about it.”

“Yeah—I’m sure the others will have a fuckin’ field day when they catch wind,” Murphy let it slip once and it’s been the constant topic of conversation, playful teasing toward you but torture on Peña who likes to keep things private, always, “always eye fucking you across the room.”

“Who cares, Javi?” You ask, feeling like you were talking to a ghost as he refused to look at you. “You don’t give a shit what’s going on here, why should I?”

And it hurts because you do.

It was innocent at first, one hookup that should’ve ended that night. But, one turned into several and eventually you were spending most night at Javier’s apartment to the extent of grabbing dinner on the way there—or, for fucks sake, cooking for the man. You knew that he loved breakfast in the mornings despite his constant refusal to eat it, how he couldn’t focus without his first cup of coffee and why he kept his gun at his bedside and the spare under the mattress.

He’s got scars, faint but visible when you lay against his chest at night—some from childhood, some not, but you wouldn’t know had you not spent the time with him and watched the vulnerability he showed when it was just you, just him after a long, stressful day trying to catch a terrifying monster and the both of you itching to burn off steam.

“You can’t ask me on a date, can’t—jesus—you can’t even look at me, Javier.” He hears the break in your voice, how hard you’re struggling to keep things together.

And you’re fuming, furious, aiming to hit him where it really hurts. You want him to feel. Feel anything.

“You like to play house and let me cook you meals, act like I’m yours when it’s convenient for you.” He twitches at that, slamming the burnt end of the cigarette into the ashtray. It’s the only real sign of emotion he’s shown all morning. “That’s all you care about. Egoísta.” (Selfish)

He slams the ashtray down roughly, ashes flying over the table. You don’t jump or flinch, not at all fazed by his outburst. You saw it too often during work when things fucked up or didn’t go his way. When he did show emotion it was intense and full body.

“I told you,” He says slowly, turning toward you now, “I don’t do this,” He punctuates slowly, fingering wagging between the both of you, “I can’t do—this.”

Clearly.

“Can’t or won’t?”

The difference is staggering, truly. You wanted an answer.

“You tell me you never want me to leave your bed, your apartment, that you want to keep me here forever because there’s nothing that makes you feel this close to home—and you can’t do this?”

He speaks it against your lips almost every night when he’s pulling you into his chest, pressing those soft lips of his against your forehead and kissing you with a tenderness reserved only for you.

Javier never answers, gaze growing more intense by the second, bound to retreat from the situation before emotions boil over—but you beat him to it, grabbing your bag and storming out without a word.

He’s never had to beg you to stay and he doesn’t realize how desperately he’d wished to ask you until a few hours later, a phone call from Steve that has his heart dropping into his stomach, the equal worry in Murphy’s voice as he relays the information.

Steve mumbles your name—hurt, bomb, Escobar written all over it, dead, so many dead.

You’re lucky to still be standing—or rather alive, forced onto a gurney lined in the aisle of some rundown Bogota hospital where the workers were running rampant, clearly on edge and scrambling to save lives.

It was minor compared to what could have been. A small concussion, some lacerations to your face and a nasty gash on your side that required some stitching. It wasn’t anything some pain medication and bandages couldn’t fix, but in that commotion you had lost all of your belongings, undoubtedly damaged beyond repair. You had been in the shopping center ten minutes prior to the explosion and you were shaken, admittedly, wondering why your life had been spared over so many others.

And you always hear about your life flashing before your eyes during a near death experience, never really believing it until it happens—and selfishly, you couldn’t think about anything but Javi.

He was a nasty parasite, the kind that sucked the life and energy out of you, took everything and gave nothing in return. You knew how he was going into things, knew he wouldn’t budge or change his ways.

But still, there was a hope that maybe he would change.

The first thing you manage to do when you find a phone is call the embassy—anyone who would answer and let them know what happened, but they were miles ahead and already fifty feet deep into investigating.

Carillo is the first to ask if you’re okay, not that it matters—but then Murphy is scrambling for the phone, a soft commotion in the background as he argues with the man until he finally lets up and hands it over.

“God, we thought you were dead. Please tell me you’re alright?” Murphy pleads, sounding just as strained and worried as you’d expect, “All your limbs, nothing missing?”

You laugh softly into the phone, the first breath of life back into after what has been a terrible day. It’s already evening, the day has come and gone and the sun is setting without a trace of anyone coming to help.

Not that you expected it—Javier wasn’t the type to get over things easily.

“Yep. Head’s still attached and everything.” And Steve can appreciate your way of coping, adding a bit of lightheartedness to a dark situation. You release a shaky breath, squeezing the plastic tighter until cracks under your grip, “Is there—I mean, they just discharged me, but I don’t have a ride.”

“Javier didn’t pick you up?” Murphy asks, sounding confused. “I told him—he should’ve…”

He trails off, cursing away from the phone as he speaks to someone distantly, “Which hospital are you at?”

You look around for any indication, reading off an unfamiliar name to Steve as he repeats it, scribbling it down on a piece of paper.

“Shit—Javi’s probably clear on the other side of town from you.” Murphy runs a tired hand through his hair, over his face. “They told us they sent everyone to the one here close by the embassy.”

Everyone.

Families searching for their missing—you couldn’t even imagine it.

“He—does Javi think I’m—“

“Shit, I don’t know. He’s been on edge since he got here this morning, we’ve been trying to figure something out, anything—he left a few hours ago when we weren’t getting answers and I just—did something happen?”

“I think I pushed him too far this morning,” You say softly, huddling closer to the wall as the halls become more crowded, louder and suffocating in a way that has your curling around yourself slightly, mindful of the pain in your side, “fuck, maybe this is karma, Steve.”

“Hey, no—don’t say that shit,” He stops you in your tracks, “Javi is…Javi, you can’t predict anything he’s gonna do. Dude’s a fuckin’ brick wall half the time.”

There’s a long moment of silence.

“Steve, I don’t have my phone.” You tell him, “Can you just—call him? Let him know. I need to find a cab or someone willing to drive me back to Bogota if that’s even fucking possible. I don’t even have my wallet or badge with me.”

It’s almost like a divine intervention that you hear Javier on the other end, cutting through the flurry of other voices and busy telephones ringing. He’s wrenching the phone out of Steve’s hand before he can get a word in.

“Querida,” He says soft, voice quivering slightly, “Querida, is that you?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will yourself to remember how badly things ended earlier in the day, even if they didn’t feel as important now, they were still important to you.

Emotions were high now, but the fallout could be devastating.

“Yes, I’m—Javi, I’m okay. A little banged up and stuff but I’ll survive,” The silence grows as he absorbs the information, “Look, I need to go. I have to find a ride back to town.”

“Don’t move,” He says briskly, suddenly, “Fuck—I mean stay there, no te vayas. I’m coming for you.” (Do not go)

The line cuts before you have a chance to reply.

You love how well he sticks out in a crowd despite how he likes to blend in and not draw attention to himself, but he’s all tanned skin and shiny with a layer of sweat that tells you he probably ran a few blocks to get here.

You did wait, even if it was closer to a half hour before there was any sign of him, despite how upset you still were, you waited.

Of course you did.

His eyes dart around nervously before they land on you, tucked away in a corner as you cradle your side and he’s barreling toward you, scooping you up before you can protest. The small squeak you release has him pulling back like someone stabbed him with a hot brand, brows furrowed with worry.

“My side,” You mumble, shifting his hand away from the wound, watching as it falls helpless to his side again, his gaze lingering over your body, face, seeing the amount of damage you took, “hey—I’m fine, all things considered.”

Javier blinks slowly, rubbing around the side of your jaw, careful of the small bandage covering a nasty cut, that familiar pout growing on his lips. You saw it earlier, but the implication was different.

This wasn’t anger. It was worry.

“Mi amor,” He murmurs, oblivious to the commotion around you both as he looks at you, almost straight through you, “fuck—I’m so sorry.”

You breathe through your nose deeply, shaking your head as you grip his wrist for leverage, pulling him alongside you until you’re outside, away from the crowd of people and alone.

“No, I’m sorry.”

And for once, Javier is surprised.

He knows you always have a comeback poised on your tongue, the will to fight and work through any argument that surfaces, but this is defeat. It’s clear as day on your face in the way it falls, eyes softened to the point of near tears and your cheek covered in a dark bruise that makes his chest hurt.

“I don’t know why I’m forcing you to answer to something you don’t want,” That something in question was you, but it didn’t matter, “maybe we let things drag on too long. I was just—happy, I liked it. I shouldn’t have expected anything from you since you were clear from the beginning.”

Even with Javier being the first to cross the lines he drew himself, asking you to stay that one night and never going back, making mistake after mistake until it stopped feeling wrong and started to seem, well, normal. But, here you were, taking the blame like he had no wrongdoing in any of this.

“Bebita, no.” His voice is low, thumb rubbing a tender spot in the side of your neck, a soft touch that massages the ache in your muscles, head tilting into the touch as you look at him. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Oh, the irony.

“Now look at you,” He says, scanning over your face briefly, “consumes mi mente, nena.” (You consume my mind, baby)

“I can’t do halfway anymore, Javi.” It’s pure honesty, fingers finding his wrist as they wrap around delicate, using his touch as an anchor. “I need all of you.”

“Then have it,” Javier says mindlessly, without thinking and speaking instinct—it’s real, you can see it in the way his eyes widen and soften in the same instance, that pleasing look that entraps you, “tómalo.” (Take it)

The tears that sting your eyes don’t fall, but they rise, blinking rapidly to will them away and force yourself to keep composed despite hearing those words, knowing how deeply he meant them.

“Fuck, I’ll marry you if that proves anything to you, querida.” He’s being over-dramatic, but it has your insides fluttering like wildfire, “I should’ve never let you leave this morning.”

But, he was scared. Terrified of how deeply he felt for you.

“There’s so much you don’t know,” Javier explains, “so much I need to tell you but I don’t want to scare you away.”

As if he could.

“Javi, I’m with you.” You tell him steadily, “I always have been.”

Javier laughs through a sigh, breathing through his nose as he smiles for the first time that day.

“We can talk. We will.” Javier nods assuredly, “But, I want to get you home first.”

Home. He means his apartment, but it comes out that way without realizing.

He’s tender when he helps you shower, cleans your wounds up with what little first aid he has, but he manages, helping you dress in what has to be the most vulnerable moment you’ve had since meeting him.

Javier holds you for a long while after that, curled up in his lap on the sofa as he smokes away with his head leaned against the back of the cushion, rubbing a hand over your thigh softly.

“Hermosa?”

You’re nearly asleep by then, rousing with a small hum.

“After all of this,” He trails on, “when we put Escobar away and this shit is done,” He pauses, taking a short drag from the cigarette and blowing it out into the air, “I want you to come back with me.”

“To Texas?”

He nods, squeezing your leg for reassurance.

“I'm terrified of losing you here, but home—I would never let you out of my sight, I could keep you close.”

His trepidation will always be his downfall, but he knows he can’t let you go anymore. He needs you here, he’ll need you after.

“Anywhere you want, Javi. I’ll follow.”

He doesn’t have any reason not to believe you.

“Buena.” (Good.)

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[dinogoofymutated]

NSFW!Gladiator/AFAB!reader

Tmi warning but I'm about to start my period and I've been loosing my mind over fictional men. It's like ovulating but WORSE. Mostly over Cable, but @lina-lovebug sent in an ask about gladiator from episode 6 and although I'm definitely going to write it I got distracted while doing research on him and this kinda happened!!! Speaking of which, in your ask you said you were starving for content for him so I figured I go ahead and tag you :) sorry if NSFW isn't your thing.

Anyway, Big, serious men with no humor are making me absolutely feral this week IM NAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSRE UGHHHH For those who don't remember gladiator is, He's the hot purple dude that punched the shit out of the bird lady lol

TWs: MDNI!!! Pnv sex. Name calling. Not degradation tho. Too many positions, too much stamina. Purple alien man doesn't know how to process his feelings for you™

Imagine annoying gladiator with your every being. You just can't help it. Most of the time the stoic man just ignores you outright, never smiling nor even acknowledging you, period.

To be honest, he didn't like how talkative you were. You were always running your mouth about something or other, and when you weren't, you were teasing him. Holding simple and insignificant "victories" over his head due to your origin as a mutated human terran.

On your side, you just wanted him to acknowledge you. You figured he wouldn't be able to ignore you forever. Whatever strange relationship the two of you had, the one thing that seemed to affect him the most was your mutant abilities - or specifically, the parts of your abilities that effect your stamina.

When you realized you had a stamina bar that very much rivaled gladiators own, your teasing had started to take a turn towards something a little more lustful.

You just never expected Gladiator to take you up on your offer to have a friendly little "stamina competition."

You've lost count of how many positions the two of you have gone through. Both of you are panting, sweaty- sticky. Really sticky. Who knows how much time is passed, but neither of you are willing to quit now. Gladiator currently has your knees over his shoulders, pounding into your slick cunt steadily. His hands are holding onto your hips in a tight grip, pulling you onto him each time he bottoms out.

"You are... infuriating. Annoying. Agh- Hah-... Greedy. I've pushed you to the brink, and still, you want more." Kallark says above you, his voice still surprisingly steady in between his moans of pleasure. Your own throat is sore from taunting him in between your own moans and screams of delight.

"I-fuck! I can go as long as you go, pretty boy." You say, smirking at him. Gladiator Scowls at you, face flushed, sweat beading down his forehead. You doubt you look much better, the both of you pushing each other to the farthest limits of your stamina. You let out an embarrassing shriek as Kallark leans forward, bending you in half as he presses your thighs to your chest, hitting the deepest spots inside of you. Kallark's usually steady thrusting begins to become a little more frantic as he starts to reach his umpteenth peak of the day. -but his thrusts become unsteady. Inconsistent. You're finally starting to tire him out, you think.

"Aww, look at that- ah... You're beginning to slip, Kallark." You taunt him. His hand reaches up to cup your face harshly, his grip slightly tighter than normal. He turns your head to face him as his heated gaze pierces your own.

"Would you- please, stop talking."

By the time the two of you are finally out of breath, you swear that At least an entire 24 hour period has gone by. Hell, maybe even longer. You and gladiator are sprawled out side by side. Your eyes are closed, fading in and out of consciousness as you try (and fail) to collect yourself. You feel weight shift next to you as Kallark rolls onto his side. He's full on against you now, a hand settling on your chest to feel the quick beats of your human heart. It's strange. Not like him. You open your eyes, finding yourself lost in the sight of Kallark. He's looking at you with a mix of fond emotions, and for the first time, it's almost like his brain has stalled. Like a computer stuck in between the loading screen.

"Kallark?” You whisper. He doesn't respond. Doesn't even blink.

“You okay there, big guy?" You try again, biting your lip. Kallark's gaze catches the motion, then trailing down to the bruises he's left in your neck- “hickeys” is what he remembers you calling them. He can feel his heart do something strange, and he chooses to look back up at your face instead. Your flushed cheeks. Kiss-swollen lips. Messy hair. He feels a familiar heat as his body reacts to such a lustful sight.

"Vixen. Temptress. I know not what you've done to me. " Kallark finally says, thumb gently pulling your bottom lip away from the pinch of your teeth. You raise an eyebrow at him, not mockingly, just confused. He then reaches up to brush the hair from your face, an action fueled by a much more gentle warmth in his chest.

"...I don't believe you know what you've done, either." He whispers. You can't help but smile at him, especially as you reach up to caress his cheek and he leans into the contact with a sigh.

"Well… we have plenty of time to figure that out together."

[kens-ramblings]

i’m back on my singer tim drake au bs(sue me he’s my current fixation and im always obsessed with music so take it or leave it).

okay so after the bruce quest he decides he can’t do the vigilante bs anymore, and bruce will be back so WE can be ran remotely until he’s got it again. he leaves gotham not long after the ra’s thing. he picks a new alias and decides he will finally use the vocal lessons his parents made him take when he was younger. and he starts a band, some how cassie, bart, and kon(since they are also back from the dead and cult shit now and if that’s not the timeline,,, it is now) find him while he is in the beginning stages and they are like fuck it let’s be a band. they blow up and fast, bc plot  convenience. so it’s only like a year after bruce quest, bruce has taken WE back and the batfam has just been busy. they are vigilantes shit never stops for them; they just got their dad back into fully working order, they are still acclimating dami, there is some shifting of suits and responsibilities happening. all this meaning the fact that tim never came back just,,,, got lost in the shuffle. so now that everything is slowing down they are like,,, wtf,, where is tim? they spend a while searching for him but the trail goes cold bc aliases and tim is damn good at hiding when he wants to. they eventually have to put it on the back burner. but then one day, maybe now it’s been about another year since they started looking for him, and dukes favorite band is coming to town. the wayne’s all decide to go, even jason is gonna go under the guise as a body guard for the fam. and color them shocked when they see kon settle behind a drum set, bart come bouncing on stage with a guitar and cassie grinning with a bass. they’ve all been missing for just a couple months less than tim. and then their breath is stolen as they see him. it’s fucking tim,,, walking right on stage as if he hasn’t been the center of a bat hunt for the past YEAR, smiling with a microphone in hand and asking the crowd if they are ready to get going. even more shocked with the first notes of a song starts playing and he makes direct eye contact with each and every one of them and calmly says, “this songs for you, you know who the hell you are.” and starts singing. I like to think the song is “love from the other side” by fall out boy. there are just so many parallels to parts of tim’s story(the fannon ver. anyways, im still working on the comics) and lines in the song(i’ll expand in the comments this is already long as hell)

and they are taken aback, why the hell is he so angry. and then dick specifically is reminded of how he treated tim right before he left. how at the time he thought tim was going to fine, and dami just needed him more. so tim just fell to the wayside. a running theme recently. and from the few times they had to deal with ra’s while looking for tim, it sounds like he went through some shit, and then he left. and they are at a loss. struggling with wrapping their heads around it all. and then the concert is over, and they are left scrambling, hoping to talk to tim before he’s gone in the wind again.

[kitashousewife]

in its place

an: i'm back with a full piece! this is based on alonica by LANY. this is probably my new favorite song and it is SO powerful. i recommend listening to it!

pairings: timeskip!atsumu x fem!reader

warnings: angst! stress! dissociation! angst to comfort, mentions of eating and drinking, established relationship

-

the weeks have dragged on lately, days seeming almost excruciatingly long no matter how many breaks are taken. the end of the summer has decided to go out like a lion.

schedule changes, and last-minute plans that grab the entire structure of the day with a greedy fist. long days, longer nights, and limited sleep.

needless to say, atsumu is suffering.

little by little, you've noticed atsumu become almost a shell of himself. it started off subtly, with small moments of him losing attention or ending the conversation quicker. short chats turned into silence after a couple weeks.

about three weeks ago, atsumu began losing interest in everything. typically one for sharing every detail of his day with you, gushing about his incredible practices or a new PR while lifting with the team, he was nothing if not excited. lately though, despite your best efforts, you can't get more than a few words out of him.

his smiles are small, his eyes are tired. atsumu's laugh travels through the house in both volume and joy, boisterous and contagious and full love life. now though, it's hollow.

numb, is how he put it the other night.

after a long day for the both of you, atsumu sat on the couch with your head on his shoulder. he didn't say much, only asking about your day and nodding along for the duration of your story. when he didn't react to some rather juicy gossip from work, you sat up. he jumped slightly at your abruptness, but said nothing.

"atsumu, im worried about you."

his ears rang from the silence. he opened his mouth to speak, but shut it quickly.

"do you want to talk about it?" you hold his hand and look at him. he nods.

"i don't feel like myself," he whispers. "im overwhelmed, i'm over it. everything. im gettin' sick of volleyball, i'm tired of coach and his shit advice," he sighs.

"i just don't know what to do."

that night, the two of you planned a trip. once the weekend came, the two of you would drive a couple hours down the coast, stay in a hotel, and spend the weekend relaxing and recovering.

when the weekend finally came, you could feel the relief washing over atsumu. he was smiling wider, he was speaking louder, and he couldn't stop asking when it was time to leave. when he began driving, he tossed his phone into your lap.

"pick somethin' sweetheart, we've got a long road ahead."

the drive went by rather quickly, and lots of stories were exchanged between the two of you. atsumu shared a story from his youth, when his mom got time off work and took him and osamu to the coast for the weekend. he was cracking up, grinning ear to ear, and you were doing anything you could to keep him going.

you arrived to your hotel around sunset, and atsumu rushed to check the two of you in to give you guys enough time to catch it on the sand. the two of you rushed down, laid a blanket down and sat down just in time for the sun to kiss the waves.

"just in time," you sigh, and he kisses your forehead.

"thanks to me, ya couldn't find the entrance to the hotel. i'm never gonna forget that," he smirks.

"how could you? you bring it up every few minutes," you nudge his side and he snorts.

the sun sets in silence, waves crashing with a hum as twilight takes over the sky.

atsumu feels restless. half of him wishes he would've stayed home, anxious about the work he's leaving behind. the other half of him is ecstatic to be away from it all.

the worry and the thoughts bubble up, slowly until they begin to sit at the top of his stomach. he's settling in, but with each passing moment he feels soaked with emotion and a yearning he can't explain.

his eyes look up at the sky and widen in amazement. the tranquility, the stillness, and the calming feeling become too much for him.

the stars glow against the purple sky, almost too bright to be real. the sand under his palms is cool and grounding, and his throat tightens.

he blinks once, twice, three times. slowly, then all at once, atsumu begins to sob as every emotion shatters the dam in his chest, flowing out mightily with their release.

you wrap your arms around his torso as he shakes, chest bouncing as the tears roll down his face, angelic as they sparkle in the moonlight. after a few minutes, he calms down, sniffling as he catches his breath.

"sorry," he sniffs, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"never apologize for crying, 'tsum. you are safe with me," you rub his back.

"i don't know the last time i cried like that," he looks out towards the water again. "everything is just so beautiful, i can't explain it but i just feel so relieved,"

you nod. he pulls you closer.

"even though were a few hours away, i feel at home with ya here. i feel full again,"

he pulls you in for a kiss, deep and special as the world freezes around the two of you. the type of kiss that feels like jumping into a pool, losing your breath, and taking a deep breath of air all at the same time.

"i love you," he sniffles again, cheeks wet with tears and eyes crinkling from a smile.

the two of you stay out well past dark, splashing in the water like children and dancing in the moonlight without any music at all. the two of you run in the sand that feels almost never-ending, filling both of your souls with relief and grounding each other in love and support.

atsumu falls asleep quickly that night, mind clear for the first time in weeks. he holds you close and rests with a smile.