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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 months ago

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Pairing: Russell Shaw xf!reader, Reader POV

Summary: The last thing that you wanted was to be woken up in the middle of the night by Colter Shaw for a favor, but when he shows up toting a ruggedly handsome man with green eyes you decide to forgive him. Reader is the niece of Velma and Teddi!

Word Count: 10.3K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ just in case I missed anything. Blood, Cleaning Out A Wound, Mentions of Allergies? Gunshots, Some Cursing, A Bit of Sexual Innuendo, Sexual fantasy/reader has active imagination, Self-deprecating Thoughts/Body Issues (reader), Mentions of Infidelity, Reader Is A Single Mom, Appearance Of Creepy-Jerk Ex Husband, Probably a Poor Description Of What It’s Like To Be A Single Mom (I tried my best, please I do not mean to offend anyone❤️), Russell Shaw might be a little bit OOC. Reader is occasionally described as "curvy."

Song Inspiration: Long As I Can See The Light By Creedence Clearwater Revival

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n if any. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! This is my first time writing for Russell Shaw, so, please be gentle. 😅

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: I finally watched Tracker… Could you tell? 😂

Sunday nights, in your opinion, were the worst.

It was like the last few moments of freedom before you were thrust into a busy work week, like the last few rays of light before the coming darkness that you barely survived with copious amounts of coffee and bloodied fingertips. Monday always loomed, but never as much as on Sunday nights.

The dull thud of your phone vibrating against your wooden bedside table grates on your ears and pulls you from the sweet precipice of sleep before you can fall into the void.

It felt as if you’d just collapsed into your bed and one look at the alarm clock on your bedside table as you blinked your bleary eyes confirmed it. It was 3:58 am, which meant you had been in bed for exactly three minutes.

You were still covered in chocolate cupcake batter, pink frosting, and rainbow sprinkles from the last six hours you'd spent in the kitchen making gluten free, sugar free, and peanut free cupcakes for a bake sale at your son’s school.

Even though you hadn't volunteered Stephanie Jacobson, or rather the wicked witch of the PTA, had cornered you in the pick-up line on Friday afternoon to remind you of your "duties as a parent" and the coming bake sale to support the building of the new gym. And then she’d handed you a list of student allergies and asked you to create something that was safe for everyone.

Taste be damned.

Why the school needed a new gym you didn't know, but the guilt that rose when Stephanie mentioned your "duties as a parent" was enough to make you say yes to whatever she asked you.

You had enough guilt already about raising your kids without a stable father figure, and the last thing you needed was guilt from a stuck up bitch in the PTA.

Stephanie reminded you of the girls in high school that used to pick at their food, the ones that knew exactly what to say to make you feel like a freak, the ones who dated the football players and spent their Friday nights wearing cheerleading uniforms and waving pom poms, and the ones who basically made everyone else's life a living hell.

Everything about her screamed superior. The flawless way she curled her perfect platinum blonde hair, the stylish clothes she wore than never seemed to have a wrinkle or a mashed carrot smeared on the pants, the supple breasts that she swore were real, a perfectly toned stomach that never seemed to change despite her having a child two months ago, and the easy way she handled all of her three children with a flourish of her left hand that housed a 6 karat diamond ring from her gorgeous husband that was so attentive, perfect, and rich that it made you feel sick to your stomach.

All of which anyone could read on her mommy blog that she'd dubbed "Little Mistakes Make Perfect Lessons," and the same blog that she'd created an empire from.

Fuck, you hated her.

Mostly because despite everything you tried you never had enough time in the day to look as flawless as she did.

Your hair never seemed to be as bouncy or perfectly styled, you never had time to put makeup on, you always had mashed carrot on your pants or some form of cheerio or baby food, as many times as you tried to carve out time for the gym you never seemed to make it, the small ring you'd once wore on your finger was sitting idle in your jewelry box upstairs where it had been for the past year after your husband of six years told you that he met someone else, and your stomach and your breasts… you didn't want to think about that right now.

You had two kids and you weren't going to pretend that it did nothing to your body, any part of your body. And as many times as you saw all the other mothers around you who were proud of the way they looked, you never had their confidence, especially not after the comments that your ex-husband had made each time the two of you finally had some time to be alone together.

But that wasn't to say you hated being a mom, you loved it, wouldn't change it for the world. It was just sometimes you wished you had a little help, that, and you wished that Mondays didn't exist.

You groan as you reach for the phone that still vibrates desperately on your bedside table and flip it over to see who's calling before you answer it.

"Colter, why the hell are you calling me at four am?" You half moan, pulling the comforter up over your head as if that'll make Monday go away.

You'd been close to murder several times, first when you found your husband in your bed with his nineteen year-old secretary, second when your local coffee shop was out of espresso and you did your entire shift at the hospital with no coffee, and Colter Shaw waking you up at almost four in the morning was quickly becoming number three.

"Because I didn't want to wake up Emma or Luke. Can you open the door?" He replies, stating the names of your children, sounding slightly out of breath.

"What door?" You groan again, eyes still shut wishing that this was just a bad dream and Colter wasn't calling you because he needed your help… again.

"The front door. Please, I need you to let me in."

"Why are you here? Couldn't it wait until tomorrow? Did you try to call Teddi or Vel-"

"I'll explain when you come open the door."

"By doing that I'd have to get up."

"Please."

You hesitate. Colter didn't usually say please, let alone twice whenever he showed up needing your help.

You'd met him by accident.

Sure your Aunt Teddi had talked about the "rewardist" that she and your Aunt Velma worked with, but you hadn't been expecting to ever meet him. But when Colter got shot on a job and showed up at Teddi and Velma's home you'd helped patch him up. You'd been there picking up your six year old son Luke and your three year old daughter Emma, after work. Teddi and Velma watched them for you when your deadbeat ex Lance couldn't be bothered to give you the support you needed.

Which was all the time despite his continuous arguing that he was in their lives enough and if anything it was your fault that he didn't have more time with them.

Each time he said that it made you want to slam his head in the door of his brand new bright red BMW, the one he'd bought right after you found him in your bedroom plowing his secretary now girlfriend Crystal. Or as you liked to remember her, the girl who still believed that Santa Clause existed and that the U.S government was hiding him from the world.

But Colter had been hurt and it was just fate that you were there at your aunts home to pick up your kids.

Being an ER nurse meant that you knew how to patch Colter up and it wasn't long before he went on his way. That was about four months ago and since then you'd talked to him occasionally when he'd pop by at your aunts home or just to see if you could help him with something.

"Five minutes." You sigh.

This time you crawl out of bed, standing just to the side of it for a second shaking your head to clear the sleep, and grab the long sleeved blue colored duster/robe that was hanging on the back of your bedroom door. Navigating your way down the stairs in the dark as quietly as you can, while half asleep was difficult, but somehow you avoid falling to your death.

Unfortunate, because now you have to go see what Colter wants at freaking 4 am.

The second story home had been you ex-husband's idea, stated that the two of you needed "room to grow" and that the two of you were "investing in your future."

You frown at the thought.

Yeah, room to grow right into your fucking secretary.

As if you needed another blow to your self esteem, but looking at the skinny red-haired goddess that he'd traded you in for that was about as dumb as a rock had been enough to send you so low you might as well be navigating the Marianas Trench in a submarine with a Megalodon chasing after you.

Maybe that means I'd get to be with Jason Stratham.

That thought was welcome. Honestly the thought of any man was a comfort, especially in the dry spell you'd been having since -well- since you'd had Emma three years ago.

Not gonna think about that right now.

The smell of chocolate cupcakes hung heavy in the air as you crossed through the messy living room, wafting out through the open concept kitchen into the space. One look into the kitchen would show enough cupcakes to make anyone salivate, and yes maybe you'd eaten a few before going up to bed, but eating the chocolate didn't count if it was on Sunday night and you could always go to the gym tomorrow…

Yeah. Like that'll happen.

You open the front door. "Alright, somebody better be dying Colter or I swear that I'll-" You stop mid-sentence when you take in the scene on your porch.

Colter is standing there, looking worse for wear. His usual black jacket is gone, he's got a black eye and a scrape along one of his perfect cheekbones, but that's not who you're looking at.

Colter isn't alone.

There's a man leaning heavily on Colter, his muscular right arm is thrown across Colter's shoulders and due to the fact that the man is a little bigger than Colter, he's buckling slightly under his weight. The man is wearing a green army jacket that is soaked around his left shoulder in blood, his dark hair is falling long into his bearded face, and his skin is a few shades paler than it should be. But that doesn't make him any less handsome.

The man still manages to throw you a sly grin, brilliant green eyes shining beneath the strands of his dark hair. "I think you got your wish sweetheart."

"You're not dying Russell." Colter sighs as if he's annoyed. "Hi." He directs at you.

You do feel a little bit bad about saying that now, but you shake it off.

"What the hell happened?" You say as loud as you dare and pull the front door further open so Colter can drag the man, now named "Russell" into your home.

"Shoot out." Colter breathes. "Where do you want him?"

"Kitchen table." You say trying to reach for Russell's left arm to help Colter, but he groans low under his breath and you retract your hand.

"You've got to be a little gentle with me sweetheart." Russell laughs more to himself, but it comes out in a choked sound. "But you can have me wherever you want."

"Colter, he needs to go to the hospital." You say, following behind them, keeping your voice down. "I don't think that I can-"

"Can't, they'll report it. They have to report all gunshots, you know that." Colter grunts, helping Russell lay back on the large kitchen table. "Why are there so many cupcakes in here?"

"Bake sale at Luke’s school." You clip while waving a hand and looking down at Russell who is laying on the kitchen table.

You can't deny that he's attractive, even in this condition. Russell has the perfect ruggedly handsome features that would make the smartest girl stupid and combined with the piercing green eyes that shine beneath the hair that's fallen forward into his face, even you could see yourself being susceptible to his charm.

Fuck.

Deep down you know that Colter is right, that if he did go to the hospital they'd be required to report it and that meant police and an official report. You figured that it was the last thing that Colter wanted.

Then again the guy has so many marks on his record already. You eye the man on your kitchen table. Russell kinda looks like he would have a few marks too.

"Don't want who did this to find him." Colter clarifies.

"So instead you brought him to my house where my children are?" You cross your arms over your chest.

The fear that whatever Colter and Russell had stumbled upon following behind them to your home made a cold trickle of fear race down your spine.

"We weren't followed." Colter soothes. "I promise I'd never do that to you. And I've got Bobby doing a trace to make sure they don't come close."

He actually looks a little hurt that you'd think that of him. Colter was a lot of things, but uncaring was not one of them.

You relax, but don't apologize despite the guilt swimming in your gut. "Fine. Give me a second." You leave the room to find the first aid kit in the hall closet, the same one that you'd made for your aunts to keep at their house if Colter showed up in the middle of the night with this exact problem. You'd even been involved enough to show your aunts how to deal with a gunshot wound if you weren't there.

When you get back in the room, Colter is removing Russell's jacket, and Russell grits his teeth when it jostles his left arm.

You set down the kit and reach for the bottom of Russell's shirt to pull it up off him, and he chuckles.

"Aren't you going to buy me a drink first? Better yet we could have a few bottles of my home brew-"

"She's not going to help you, if you annoy her." Colter interrupts.

"I told you that I didn't need anyone's help, I'm perfectly fine- ow!" Russell exclaims when you accidentally yank the shirt over his left arm. "Your bedside manner is a little lacking." He grunts, but his eyes still twinkle with humor.

"Too bad. I'm tired and I've been making chocolate cupcakes for the past six hours, so you get what you get and you don't throw a fit."

"What?" Russell grins at the rhyme that you often tell your children.

You shake your head, and drop your eyes to his chest. There are two perfect circles on his right upper pectoral muscle, but not high enough to reach the collarbone and one in his left bicep where blood seeps around the bullets, but truthfully you're trying not to notice how perfectly muscular he is. There are dark splashes of tattoos against his skin, swirling around other scars that resemble slashes and bullet wounds that you wish to drag your fingertips across to study each mark, to memorize each one beneath the soft pads of your fingers.

How is he just as beautiful covered in blood?

You clear your throat to focus back at the task at hand, examining the current wounds. "Okay. The good news is that the one on your arm is through and through, but these two," Your hand hovers over the two on his right upper chest. "I've got to extract the bullets. Which means that this is going to hurt."

"Been through worse sweetheart."

Your eyes scan the rest of his scarred muscular chest thoughtfully. "Yeah, you have." You murmur it more to yourself than to Russell, but he still grins.

Colter's phone rings shrilly in the kitchen and he groans. "One second. Try not to make her want to kill you Rus."

"No promises little bro."

Oh, so this is Colter's brother.

You'd heard little bits and pieces about Colter's brother, mostly second hand from your Aunt Velma. One of the best things about going over to Teddi and her home was sitting in the living room and hearing Velma gossip about everything she heard from Teddi while drinking wine and eating fancy cheese that you could never afford.

Russell Shaw was no exception.

"Alone at last." Russell says with a wink. "I didn't think he'd ever leave."

"I'm going to get some water to clean these with." You reply, ignoring him, but when you turn away the end of your mouth quirks up into a smile.

He wasn't what you were expecting based on all the rumors that you'd heard from both of your aunts, in fact, you thought he was kind of charming.

You roll up your sleeves and wash your hands before turning back to Russell. He's sitting up on your kitchen table, hands braced on his sides, with his legs spread wide apart. He doesn’t look like someone with three gunshot wounds, and you wonder if this is a regular day for him. Colter certainly didn't get shot that much.

"So are you a rewardist too?" You ask standing between his legs and trying not to focus on the warmth of his breath against your collar bone.

"Naw. I work for a private security contractor." He breezes.

"Oh." You swallow, looking up into his green eyes for a minute. They're even more beautiful up close, green with flecks of gold around the iris that flicker in the light like stars. "Is it okay if I touch you?"

"You don't gotta ask me that sweetheart, the answer will always be yes."

You flush and brace your hand on his left shoulder, before pouring water into the two wounds on the right side of his chest, trying to clean them the best you can before you extract what's left of the bullets. His skin is warm and smooth beneath the palm of your hand and it's difficult to focus.

Just pretend you're in the hospital and you're treating a patient. You take in a shallow breath. He's just a patient and he's not that good looking.

You know you're lying to yourself, but you were trying your best. It probably didn’t help given the current dry spell you were in or the fact that he even smelled good. Something like gunpowder, leather, and a hint of something spicy that you bet was his shampoo. It prickled under your nose, and activated something in the back of your mind that was having a hard time being quiet. You hadn't been this close to a man you found attractive in a long time.

"Okay. This is going to hurt." You say as you look through the small medical kit that you'd grabbed from the hall closet for the tweezers, trying to calm the thudding of your heart.

"It's okay." Russell replies. "Do what you have to baby. I won't stop you."

You weren't prepared for the warmth that bloomed in the pit of your stomach when he called you baby in the wonderfully rough rumble of his voice.

A voice like that could convince me to jump into a pit filled with alligators with no regrets. Fuck. I'd bet that a voice like that could make me- FOCUS. I will focus. He is Colter's brother and he just got shot. He doesn't need you lusting over him.

Extracting the bullets is as painful for you as it is for him. Watching the way his face scrunches up in pain hurts you more than you thought it would. His hands grip the rim of the wooden kitchen table so hard that they're turning white, and Russell's jaw is clenched so tight that you're afraid that it's going to snap.

You squeeze his left shoulder to give him some comfort. "Almost done." You murmur, searching for the second bullet.

Russell lets out a breath when you finally fish out the other bullet and drop it into an empty cup with a resounding "ping" just as Colter walks back into the room looking worried.

"What?" Russell asks him, looking over your head at his brother.

"That was Bobby. He said that the trace we put on the phone just got a hit a few miles north of here." Colter states. "I'm gonna go check it out."

"Alright, I'll come with." Russell starts to get up, but you push him back with your right hand that you've still got pressed against his left shoulder. Difficult given the fact that he was almost twice the size of you and broader than anyone you'd ever seen. And also difficult because of the way you were trying to ignore how good it felt to feel the pull of his muscles beneath your hand.

"No. You still need stitches and I haven't finished patching you up." You clear your throat, but it still sounds a little hoarse.

"Baby as much as I like you ordering me around-“

"It's alright Russell, I've got this. Just stay here and let her take care of you." Colter interrupts.

Russell frowns at his younger brother. "I'm fine."

"You're not." Colter rolls his eyes. "Stay here. I'll be back in a few hours to pick you up." He turns to look at you. "I'm sorry that we woke you up-"

"It's okay." You shrug. "But you owe me."

"Just add it to my bill." Colter smirks.

Honestly, you weren't as angry as you were when you answered the phone. Something about Russell was different and you didn’t mind helping him at all.

He wasn't like anyone that you had ever met, certainly not in the circles you ran with.

All the dads from your mom friends were blue and white collar workers who worked in the big office buildings downtown, wore suits to work and were more straight-laced, but there was something refreshing about Russell.

He was mysterious, sexy, and his had this aura of self-resilience and survival that you found immensely attractive. Especially when compared to your ex, who couldn't survive without his mocha-caramel double shot latte or wifi.

Russell was the exact opposite of him and you found yourself wanting to know more. More about the almost beautiful scars that curved over his muscular body, more about each tattoo that he’d chosen, and more about him.

He seemed like the kind of guy that hid his trauma under easy smiles and jokes, the kind of person that shrugged off anything that seemed remotely serious with a well placed joke, but you could feel that there was something deeper beneath that he didn’t allow many to see.

And you wanted him to show you.

You weren't sure where any of this was coming from. Russell probably was about as stable and consistent as his brother, and you liked consistency. Spontaneity and surprises tended to make you anxious. But not with Russell.

Though the stability might have been an issue. You were a single working mother, which meant that you didn't want to introduce some random guy into your children's life just to have them get attached and him to bail with no strings attached and-

Calm down. You just met the guy, it's not like he's asking you out on a date.

When Colter leaves and after you’ve cleaned around the wounds the best you can with some alcohol, you realize just how quiet it is in your kitchen.

“You know, I think I’ve seen you before.” Russell says breaking the silence while you search for a needle and thread in the medical kit.

“Really? Where?" You ask looking up.

“In my dreams.”

“Wow." You smile at him. "That line is pretty cheesy."

You shift your right hand over to begin to sew up the wounds on his chest. Russell doesn't even wince when you push the needle through, almost as if he didn't notice it at all.

It made sense, given how many scars and tattoos covered his body. You remember what he said about "being through worse" and it made you feel bad for him, to worry about him. Odd given the fact that the two of you had just met.

"Well I'm a little distracted at the moment sweetheart. It's not often that I get such a beautiful woman to take care of me."

"I thought you didn't need my help?" You smirk.

"Maybe I did." He admits sheepishly.

"Mhmm."

"So how do you know my brother?"

“Why?”

“Trying to see if you’re off limits or not.” Russell tilts his head to the side and flashes a charming smile.

You laugh at his boldness. You’d never met someone so upfront before, it was refreshing. Most of the men you’d meet occasionally at work tended to beat around the bush and made you want to give them a map to get to the point. "We met when he got shot a few months ago."

"Oh so the two of you aren't-" He wiggles his eyebrows and you snort.

"No."

"Huh."

"What?"

"I was just wondering why not?"

"What?"

"Well, you're gorgeous, you're smart, and you're not scared of blood or gunshots. Colter really seems to be dropping the ball."

"Colter doesn't exactly have a stable lifestyle. And I'm kind of complicated."

You were, there wasn't any way around it.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because I've got two kids."

Russell blinks in surprise. "Really?"

"Mhmm." You hum continuing your task, not phased by the blood at all.

His eyes trace your figure for a minute, making a shiver travel down your spine. It was the first time in a long time that you were okay with someone looking at you like that and to be honest, the first time that you wanted someone to look at you like that in a while.

After everything that happened with your ex-husband and his secretary you were more inclined to sit on your couch with a glass of wine and read away your troubles with a steamy romance novel that did more for you than any of your ex-husband's attempts to satisfy you. It also didn't help that you had no interest in going out with your few friends and meeting someone at a club who probably would never call you again and probably wouldn't be as enthusiastic to learn that you were a mom.

You'd only been on one date since you'd broken it off with your husband with your aunts accountant Jerry, and the date stuttered to a halt when he learned you had two children and weren't interested in having an open relationship.

"I wouldn't have guessed that."

“Really? The mountain of chocolate cupcakes wasn’t a clue?” You arch an eyebrow with a smirk, while gently tying off the string to close the first wound before moving on to the second.

“I thought you just really liked baking. And I’m okay with coming home every night to a mountain of chocolate cupcakes if it means you’re there too.” He winks.

“Not sure you want any of those.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’re gluten free, sugar free, and nut free.”

The horrified look on Russell’s face makes you feel like you’d just told him that hot dogs do in fact contain trace amounts of dog.

“Why on earth would you make them like that?! They're not even cupcakes anymore!" He exclaims.

You found it funny that he seemed more upset over the mutilation of the chocolate cupcakes than over being shot.

Maybe he's always like this?

"I know. I'm a monster." You sigh. "But Stephanie Jacobson said I had to." You let out a frustrated sigh with her name.

Bringing anything other than what she asked for was a suicide mission. The last person who did that was Gale Smith in the great Fourth of July Cook-out calamity of 2021. In Gale's defense, no one though that the bushes would catch fire so fast, but Stephanie had a memory like an elephant so Gale decided to transfer her children to the school one town over. The last thing you wanted was for your name to go down in history for the Cupcake Catastrophe of 2024.

Russell leans forward and lowers his voice like it's a secret. “Is Stephanie your imaginary friend?”

“No!” You laugh. “She’s this other mom at my son’s school who said I wasn’t living up to my ‘duties as a parent’ and that I needed to ‘participate.’”

"She sounds great."

"Oh yeah, we're practically best friends." You continue to work on the other wounds in the silence that follows.

"I bet you're a good mom." Russell says watching you with an unreadable expression. He's leaning a little bit towards you still, making the smell gunmetal, leather, spice, and just a hint of mint come through the space between the two of you.

Damn he smells really good.

"Uh-huh. You've known me for ten minutes and you haven't seen me with my children-"

"I can tell."

"Is that your superpower or something?" You reach for a bandage to lay over the wound in his chest smiling to yourself. "All the other useful superpowers like being bulletproof got taken?"

"I don't think it's useless if it makes you smile like that when I say it, sweetheart."

Your eyes flick upwards to Russell's face. His green eyes are shining in the light of your kitchen, his dark hair still hanging over his forehead, and he is still just as ridiculously handsome as he was the moment Colter dragged him through your front door. You don’t remember why you were so mad at Colter anymore.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're too smooth for your own good?" You raise your eyebrow.

"No ma'am." Russell cracks an even wider smile and it makes you loose all feeling in your legs. He was just so effortlessly handsome that it made you want to do something stupid, like have sex with him on top of the same kitchen table that you serve blueberry pancakes to your children.

"Hmm." You bite the inside of your cheek. "Well, now you know and maybe now that you're aware, it could prevent you from getting shot."

"Are you saying I got shot because I'm too smooth?"

"Maybe."

"Because usually it has a different effect."

"Huh. Well in that case, maybe try using some of that to smooth things over and you'd avoid getting shot." You begin to wrap another fresh bandage around the bullet wound on his arm, bracing your free hand against his chest, trying to ignore the way his skin is warm and chiseled beneath your palm.

He had the kind of body that you'd never imagined actually existed. Russell Shaw looked like he walked out one of the romance novels you loved so much.

Hell, they should use pictures of him to make the book covers.

"I'll remember that next time." Russell pauses. "But then it means I wouldn’t get shot and I wouldn't get to have you patch me up."

"I guess not."

You didn't think that you'd smiled as much as you had in the past twenty minutes with him than you had your entire five year marriage. Not to mention that it was nice to talk to someone who wasn't trying to convince you why they should be allowed to have a cookie before dinner.

A charged silence passes through the air between the two of you, his eyes locked on yours sending goosebumps over your skin. You weren't sure if anyone had ever looked at you like that before. You'd noticed that most gave you the obligatory skate over, but Russell didn't. He looked at you as if he was studying you as if he were genuinely curious to know more.

Your eyes trace his broad shoulders, toned abdomen, and muscular arms, noting that he's the kind of strong and broad that was made to handle someone a little more curvy like you. And you'd be lying if you said that you hadn't thought about it more than once since Russell came through your front door.

You felt your mind sink into the fantasy of Russell pining you to the kitchen table and feeling the warmth of his rough hands against your body-

Snap out of it. The guy is bleeding, he got shot. He needs to rest.

"I think you'll survive." You smile pulling back from him to clear your head. It was much easier when you couldn't smell him as strongly. "And if Colter isn't going to be back for a few hours you can crash on the couch. It's not the most comfortable but-"

"I'm sure it's fine." Russell shrugs and stands from your kitchen table.

You try and fail to ignore how his muscles pull with the movement as he reaches for his shirt and you step forward to help him put it on, knowing that it might hurt with his injury. "Okay." You clear your throat, that has become thick all of a sudden. "And if you're hungry I've got plenty of cupcakes-"

"Please don't call them that. They're an disgrace to the cupcake name."

"Yeah, but the ones in the microwave are actually cupcakes. I had to make a few that were edible." You gesture with your hand and laugh at how quickly Russell goes to get one.

He doesn’t even bother to pull away the wrapping before he takes a bite and he audibly moans. Russell looks at you awestruck. "Holy shit, you made this? Where have you been all my life?"

"Shut up." You roll your eyes at him.

"I'm serious, this cupcake is my reason to keep living. Here I thought putting sriracha on French fries was the height of cuisine, but damn."

You could feel yourself blush bright red at his compliment. You weren't used to a man going out of his way to compliment you on something other than how you looked, but everything about Russell Shaw was refreshing and nothing like you expected.

"Thank you." You wait another second, watching him eat more of the cupcake and smash icing and flecks of chocolate over his chin. You laugh at him and hand him a paper towel. "You're worse than my three year old."

"Your three year old is a lucky kid, if she’s got a mom like you to make stuff like this for her."

It's like he wants me to fall in love with him. How can someone look so unbelievably cute and sexy while covered in chocolate cupcake?

Don't answer that.

"Sometimes I think I'm the lucky one. I love my kids-" You say before you can stop yourself. You hesitate afraid that it would send Russell for the hills when you brought up the fact that you loved your children.

"Yeah?" Russell's smile brightens as he wipes his face with the napkin.

"Yeah." You blink mildly shocked. Of all the people in the world to talk about your children with, you never expected someone like Russell Shaw. “I do."

Again he was surprising you, and talking to him was just so refreshing and it made you feel like your head had finally cleared, like your chest was lighter and you could actually talk to someone for real without putting out this together image of yourself you thought you had to when inside you were crumbling from the overbearing expectations of the people around you.

The silence is back, filling the kitchen with a palpable energy that you wonder if Russell can feel, but you shake it off.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning. It was nice to meet you Russell, but I'm sorry that you got shot." You smile.

"I'm not." Russell smiles. "I got to meet you."

"Alright Casanova, I need to go to bed, because my kids will wake me up in about two hours." You frown over at the couch. "There's a pillow and a blanket down the hall in the bathroom closet." You gesture with one hand. "I'll see you in the morning." You repeat because you're not too sure what to say.

"Yeah. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

You turn and walk up the stairs to your bedroom, feeling the thin blue robe swishing around your ankles as you do.

And as you fall into your bed all you can think about as you start to drift is the ruggedly handsome man downstairs, with the brilliant green eyes that crinkle with his smile, and the large hands rough from hard work, that seems to be more than what meets the eye.

The alarm clock on your bedside table might as well be employed by the devil for waking you up and the idea of smashing it to bits with the heavy metal table lamp that sits beside it crosses your mind. You weren't sure how many hours you'd gotten in, only that they weren't enough, and you were in desperate need of coffee.

You roll over on your back, looking up at your ceiling as you blink your eyes open, following the familiar sweeps of the paint brush that were left behind.

The memory of the night's events come back in full color and you stiffen remembering exactly why you'd gone to bed so late. Images of last night flash through your mind. Colter dragging a bloodied Russell through your front door, Russell sitting on your kitchen table looking much too attractive covered in blood, him flirting with you with a wide smile that made you feel warm from the inside out…

Oh fuck he's still on my couch. How am I going to explain that to my kids?

You dress in a flash and stumble down the stairs as quickly as you can, tripping and falling into the living room, but when you look you realize that Russell isn't on the couch. The pillow and brightly colored quilted blanket he used are neatly folded on one of the plush cushions, but he's nowhere to be found.

I guess Colter came to get him.

You weren't expecting the wave of disappointment that comes with that realization, but as you turn to go back up the stairs to ready yourself for the day, you hear your daughter’s voice.

"Mommy!" She says. "Look! Rus is making pancakes."

What?

You turn to investigate your spacious kitchen. It was still covered in an alarming amount of cupcakes, but that’s not what’s surprising, what’s surprising is Russell, standing at your crowded stove with a spatula in his hand, sliding a perfectly golden brown pancake around in the bottom of a pan.

You blink your eyes to make sure that you’re not imagining it and make sure that you’re not asleep.

"Hey gorgeous." Russell flashes a wide grin. "How'd you sleep?"

"Um-" You glance at where your daughter is sitting with your son, both eating stacks of pancakes at your kitchen table, the same kitchen table that you were fantasizing about Russell and you-

Nope. Not going there.

Honestly, any fantasy you had about him was blown away by the sight of him standing in your kitchen making pancakes for your children. Something so domestically wonderful that turned you on even more than the image of him shirtless sitting on your kitchen table.

This was something even your husband refused to do, cook. Any day that you tried to get him to, he'd said that it was your "job." And here Russell was standing in your kitchen looking even more effortlessly gorgeous cooking for your family without being asked.

"I sleep good. How did you sleep?" You ask taking a hesitant step towards him.

"Good. Better than I have in a bit actually." He turns back to the pan and flicks his wrist, flipping the pancake inside.

Emma claps happily and Luke watches Russell with a look of absolute awe on his face, while you try not to have impure thoughts about Russell in front of your children.

"You didn't have to make breakfast-"

"I did." He plates the pancake and holds it out to you. "I wanted to thank you for patching me up."

"It wasn't a big deal." You shrug, but take the pancake from the plate, rolling it up like a taco before you take a bite.

Russell cocks his head to the side studying you for a moment. "It was to me." His green eyes are just as hypnotic today as they were last night, tracing over your body in a way that makes pins and needles tickle over your skin. "Plus, wanted to make the kids something that wasn't gluten free, nut free, and sugar free. Emma sure can put away some pancakes."

It was odd to see someone so eager to make himself comfortable in your house, especially a man you barely knew and who you owed absolutely nothing to. Not to mention that Russell genuinely seemed happy to be making breakfast for your children as if he belonged there.

It was so different from every other man that you'd ever met, and you wanted to get used to it. You wanted to get used to having a man around again, to having Russell in your home and in your life. You'd never been spontaneous or wanted to jump headfirst without looking at the pros and cons, but watching Russell standing at your stove, with the sunlight coming through the windows behind him and illuminating his broad shoulders and sifting through his dark hair, you saw absolutely no downside.

"Yeah she's always had a good appetite."

"Hope she doesn't lose that. I hate it when women don't eat." Russell shrugs his shoulders and goes back to make a pancake for himself. "Plus Luke needs to bulk up. He said his dad is going to sign him up for baseball."

You stiffen at the mention of your ex, not sure if you should supply the information, or if you should let it slide. Russell's eyes flick down at your left hand for a half-second, so quickly you could have missed it, but you understood what he was doing.

"He's my ex-husband." You murmur low enough so only Russell could hear.

"Good." Russell replies with a knowing smirk. "Means that I don’t have any competition."

You roll your eyes at his reaction and walk over to where your children are eating. Luke is covered in maple syrup as per usual. He had always been a messy eater, but because he insisted on having his hair cropped short, it never seemed to be too much of a problem.

Just as Emma looks like your ex-husband, Lance, Luke looks like you. He has the same eyes and same colored hair, but he'd always been a little short for his age. Lance usually picked at him for that, but you didn't know what Lance was expecting, Luke was six years old, he'd grow!

"Good pancakes?" You ask, trying to wipe at his face with a napkin but he pulls away with an exclaimed "Mom!"

"What? You're covered in syrup." You laugh, raising the napkin again, but Luke dodges your hand.

"Mom!" Luke says again.

"Alright, fine. But go get dressed, your dad will be here to pick you up any minute." You say, urging him with a hand against his shoulder.

Today Lance was taking Luke to school and picking him up after for a baseball game, before staying with him at his apartment. You’d told your Aunt Teddi and your Aunt Velma that you'd help them plant a garden today, and Emma had been looking forward to it as much as you had.

Velma had been talking about it all through last week, and you’d gotten the day off specifically off for it. Emma was also excited about it because Teddi had bought flowers specifically for butterflies and your daughter loved them more than life itself.

You were looking forward to working out in the sun, feeling the healing rays against your skin, listening to the sounds of the world outside your aunts familiar home soothe you, play with the dogs for a little bit, and finally go inside for a few glasses of wine while Velma, Teddi, and you talked about the book of the month. Book club nights were especially special for Emma as well. Velma always poured Emma's apple juice into a plastic pink wine glass that she'd bought for Emma so she could feel included.

This book had been really good and you couldn't wait to share what you'd thought while eating expensive cheese and cupcakes and while the dogs circled below like raptors.

You loved being at their home. It was always such a comfort to be somewhere where you felt that you could be yourself especially after Lance left you. Your mother had died when you were a kid and your dad had never been equipped to handle things like that so your Aunt Teddi had picked up the slack in your early years and now after she'd married Velma, you had another person in your life who supported you and made you feel like you could be yourself. Both of them had been furious when they learned about what Lance had done and sat with you while you cried into a box of tissues.

It had been difficult to talk them both out of killing Lance. Surprising since your Aunt Teddi was usually the voice of reason.

Luke sighs, but listens to you, getting up from the table to make his way upstairs. You can hear his footsteps as he walks down the hallway above and into his room.

Despite his reluctance, he was looking forward to today as well. Sometimes you thought that he felt left out when you all went over to your aunts house. You knew that Luke longed for the attention of his father, and something broke inside of you each time your ex-husband made him feel forgotten.

You turn to look at your daughter. "Good pancakes?"

"Yes!"

"Did you tell Russell thank you?"

"Thank you Rus!" She sing-songs with a wide smile, before moving her plastic fork back into the pile enthusiastically.

"You're welcome sweetheart." Russell says from the stove, picking up the pancake in the skillet bare handed before he puts a generous stripe of maple syrup along the inside and rolls it up just like you did. "Do you want another one?" His gaze turns to you, warm and open.

Fuck, why is he so damn attractive?

"No I'm-"

The knock on the front door interupts your answer signifying the arrival of Lance. When he'd moved out of the house you'd changed all the locks and then refused to give him a key. Something that he'd pouted and stomped about worse than your toddler, but you'd held firm. You didn't want him in your house and you definitely didn't want her in your house either.

"Daddy!" Emma squeals and before you can stop her, she leaps from her chair like she'd been shot from a cannon and runs down the front hallway to open the door for your ex.

You sigh out a breath to prepare yourself for what comes next. Talking to Lance was always tense and as much as you tried to be civil, Lance didn't. He didn't pull punches, and often lacked the common decency that everyone else had.

Russell's studying you again, his easy smile slipping into a frown when he notes the change in your attitude.

"Stay here. This shouldn't take long." You force a smile, but it lacks the enthusiasm you’d had whenever you talked to Russell before.

Sometimes just the thought of your ex took the energy out of you, as if you were on a space ship and all the air got sucked out into the cold silent vacuum.

Lance is standing on the front step hugging your daughter with one hand while the other holds his phone behind her head, his gaze intently on the screen while Emma chatters in his ear. He's not paying attention though. He never was and never did.

His black hair is slicked back over his head and cropped shorter than the last time you saw him. Now it barely touches his collar but hangs long over the top of his head. His brown eyes glint an amber in the light of the sun, and he’s wearing a tailored blue suit with a dark patterned tie.

“Hey.” Lance clips to you as he stands, releasing Emma who is still trying to talk to him, but he ignores her.

You grind your teeth together. “Hi.”

He sighs audibly sensing the tension, as if it’s you that’s done something wrong.

“Emma, why don’t you go finish your pancakes?” You smile down at your daughter and pat her on the head. “We’ve got to go soon.”

“Okay! Bye daddy!”

“That’s nice honey.” He says absentmindedly, still typing furiously on his phone, while Emma rushes back down the hallway and into the kitchen, that is hidden from view of the front door.

“You know you could put the phone down for once. The world won’t implode if you wait a few seconds to answer a text.” You say.

“Don’t start.” Lance rolls his eyes.

The BMW idling at the curb catches in the early morning sunlight and you see a flash of red-hair. Crystal is in the passenger seat, her auburn hair piled on top of her head effortlessly, her lips painted a dark colored red, there’s a pair of heart shaped sunglasses over her eyes, and she’s wearing black dress low cut enough that her ample breasts spill out through the wide V.

She peers at you from where she sits in the car, her phone perched in her lap, and you watch her dark colored lips twitch into a knowing smirk when she catches you looking at her.

Each time you saw her was like taking a punch to the gut. It made you pull your oversized sweater a little tighter over your chest self-consciously.

“I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying that you should pay more attention to-“ You begin, but Lance interrupts.

“I don’t want to do this with you. I have a deposition due today and I have to finish sending this email.” He snaps.

“Fine.” You sigh, trying to remain calm. You hated when he did this, when he made it seem like no one and nothing else was important except his job. “Luke is getting ready. I have to box up these cupcakes for a bake sale at the school. All you have to do is drop them off and tell-“

“Oh sorry babe. Can’t do the thing today.”

You bristled when he called you babe. You weren't his, not after everything the two of you had been through.

“What do you mean you can’t do the ‘thing’ today?” You plant your hands on your hips trying to comprehend what he's saying.

“With the kid. Sorry. Crystal made plans for us at some fancy restaurant or whatever. Supposed to be the best in the city-“

“What?”

“I can’t take the kid today.” He repeats slowly, this time looking up, but he doesn’t bother to apologize, and his gaze barely meets yours before he drops his eyes back to the hand clutched in his perfectly manicured fingers.

“But you promised Luke that you were going to take him to a baseball game today after school. That he was going to get to spend the night with you and-“

“Sorry.” The apology isn’t sincere and you know it, despite Lance’s attempts to drop his smile into a sympathetic frown. It comes across as more condescending.

Crystal honks the horn of the car as if to tell Lance to hurry up, and it takes a very large amount of effort for you not to flip her the bird.

“No. Luke has been looking forward to this all week! Not to mention I had to ask off for today specifically-“

“And I’ll apologize to him too.” Lance goes back to typing something on his phone. “This dinner means a lot to Crystal-“

“I don’t give two shits what means a lot to that red-haired bimbo!” You snap, the rage and frustration building in your chest. “You made a promise to your son to take him to a baseball game and actually spend time with him and that’s exactly what you’re going to do!”

Lance looks up from his phone, his eyes narrowing. “You always fucking do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pick a fight.”

“I am not picking a fight Lance. All you’ve done since you’ve shown up here is ignore your daughter and tell me that you’re backing out of the one thing I’ve asked you to do in months!”

“I told you that I have a meeting and a deposition due today! Damn it, what do you want from me? To quit my big job that pays for this house?” He steps forward towering over you. Lance was taller than you, but he had always been lanky and thin, unable to gain too much weight or muscle at a time. “Why do you find the need to make me feel like my life isn’t important?”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything about your life! I’m talking about our son’s life-“ You shout incredulous.

“This is exactly why I got out when I did. Because you always try to control every little thing. You’re so damn OCD that if I did one microscopic thing that wasn’t apart of your ‘special plans’ you’d spontaneously combust! You never just shut your big mouth and let me just fucking live my life! You never let me feel like a man! And Crystal understands-“

“Crystal can’t even understand that pickles were once cucumbers! I doubt she can understand whatever warped reality you’re living in Lance.” You spit. “But I’m sorry that me asking you to be a part of our children’s lives is too much for you. That it’s such a chore for you to make them happy.” The frustrated tears had begun to burn against your eyes.

You didn’t know why you expected anything different. Lance had been doing this since your son was born, putting his career above everything else, working late, schmoozing whoever he could, being so damn selfish that he was willing to throw everything the two of you built together for the woman sitting in the car on the curb watching the two of you go at it with a sick satisfaction.

“Don’t fucking do that!” Lance roars and this time he slams his hand against the door frame so roughly that the glass inside shakes and you flinch. “I don’t know why I even try to talk to you. So why don’t you get your big ass up those stairs and-“

“Is there a problem?” Russell’s voice interrupts whatever Lance was going to say, his body sliding into the space behind you so suddenly that you didn’t hear him walk up.

But it felt good for him to be there, to feel the warmth of his body through the air at your back.

He places his hand on the door to open it up a little wider and to seem a bit more intimidating. Russell is easily taller and broader than Lance.

Lance looks up at him confused, puffing out his chest to look more intimidating. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t use that kind of language around the kids-“ Russell says with a tight lipped smile.

“They’re my fucking kids. Don’t tell me how to talk.” Lance’s gaze flicks to you. “Who the fuck is this?”

“I’m Russell.” He replies before you can. “And if you know what’s good for you I’d take a few steps back from her.” Russell’s large hand gently presses against your waist, a comforting weight that you weren’t expecting, but welcome, nonetheless.

It made you feel a little bit bolder.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Lance snarls. “Is this your boyfriend? Really? You finally decided to go out with someone and that’s who you pick?”

“Look buddy, if you keep talking to her that way, we’re going to have a problem.” Russell sighs. “And I don’t want to get any blood on your fancy suit.”

“I’m not your buddy. And trust me she’s not worth the fight.” Lance sneers at you, giving you a once over that makes you want to crawl into a hole and die.

Russell’s jaw clenches tight and he takes a step forward, but you hold out your arm to stop him.

“He’s not my boyfriend and even if he was, it’s none of your business who I date!” You snap back.

Lance only shakes his head, ignoring what you’ve said. “I’m serious pal you don’t want to get involved with her. She’s fucking crazy, not to mention nothing special when it comes to se-“

The next words are lost in the sound of Russell’s fist landing against Lance’s face, the sharp crack followed by the inhuman scream of Crystal at the car. Lance stumbles back off the front step clutching a hand to his face while blood streams through his pinched fingers and over his chin.

“I warned you. Now if you keep talking, I'll make your eyes match.” Russell growls, flexing his hand.

I hope he didn’t rip his stitches.

“You son of a bitch.” Lance sputters, his hand still holding his broken nose. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!”

“It’s worth it, if it shuts you up.” He replies unfazed.

Lance’s eyes narrow with hate as he looks at you one more time, before stumbling back to his car where Crystal has begun to wail over the amount of blood coming from his nose. The car squeals down the street and out of sight, leaving Russell and you standing on your front porch. Thankfully Emma was still in the kitchen eating her pancakes and Luke was upstairs, you didn't want either of them to see Russell punch their dad.

But that didn't mean that you wouldn't mind seeing it again.

You groaned when you thought about your son. You didn’t know how on earth you were going to explain to him why his dad wasn’t going to pick him up or take him to the game.

But at the same time there was a sickening amount of pleasure that bubbled beneath the surface at the thought of Russell breaking Lance’s nose.

“Are you okay?” Russell asks turning to look at you. There’s anger still simmering beneath the surface. You’d never seen him angry in all the time he’d stayed with you. All you’d seen was the funny, easy going, guy with the gorgeous smile, but to see him like this and especially to see him angry over what had just happened…

Just when I thought he couldn’t get any more attractive.

“Yeah. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize for that asshole. He shouldn’t have talked to you like that.” Russell hesitates. “Does he always talk to you like that?”

“Pretty much.”

“Damn, should have knocked a few teeth out too. He’s got to learn how to speak to a lady, especially one as beautiful as you.”

You felt your cheeks flush. You couldn’t remember the last time that someone called you beautiful and before you can stop yourself you say:

“I don’t think you’re too bad looking yourself.”

“Oh I know. You couldn’t keep your hands off me last night.” Russell’s grin makes you smile and roll your eyes at him.

Again you’re struck by how charming he is and how kind. He didn’t have to do any of the things he’d done today, but he did anyway. He didn’t have to make breakfast for your children, he didn’t have to step in when your ex-husband got mouthy, and he didn’t have to punch Lance in the face, but Russell had.

He'd done more for you in the past few hours than your husband had done in the six years you'd been married to him.

Behind where Russell's standing, Colter’s truck pulls up to idle on the curb in the same place that the BMW had been sitting moments ago, and you raise a hand in a half-wave to greet him. Colter shoots you a grin and waves back.

“Guess my ride’s here.” Russell says glancing back at his brother over his shoulder before he looks back at you.

“Seems so.” You nod. “Are you sure you don’t want me to check your stitches for you one more time before you go? I mean you probably ripped them when you punched Lance."

“Sounds like you just want to catch another peak of me without my shirt on.” Russell laughs, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and hit him on the arm.

“Ow.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Maybe.” He’s studying you again, the sunlight turning his hair a honeyed brown and his eyes into a sharp jade. The light catches his broad shoulders and traces along his strong jaw that is covered in a healthy amount of stubble that makes him look rugged and more handsome than any man you’d ever met.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “It was nice to meet you Russell. And again, I'm sorry that you got shot."

Russell shrugs. “It was worth it. I got to meet you and I got to punch that asshole in the face so win-win.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“Yes, I did.” Russell’s jaw tightens. “You didn’t deserve any of the things he was saying about you or about the kids.”

“True.” You hesitate.

Should I ask him for his number or is that too forward?

“I’ll see you around.” Russell smiles at you one more time before making his way to his brother’s car, just as Emma joins you on the front step.

“Did daddy leave?” She sounds sad.

“Yeah. He did.” You take her small hand in yours.

“But why does Russell have to go too?” She whines.

“Because he’s going home.”

You felt a twinge in your chest watching him get into the car, knowing that you probably would never see him ever again. It made you sad to know that. You'd been interested in him and you thought he was interested in you, but he hadn't asked for your number.

Maybe he's flirty and charming with everyone.

You hide the frown that comes with that thought. Emma waves goodbye with her freehand, and Russell smiles from the passenger seat, waving back at your daughter, before he raises his gaze to yours again and winks.

Or maybe not.

When you go back inside the house, Luke is still upstairs, and instead of going up to tell him about his father, you turn to go back into your kitchen to clean up. As you near the stove, you notice a bright green piece of paper under one of the magnets on your refrigerator, fluttering slightly in the air-conditioning.

You pull it down to look.

In case you want some more pancakes or if you bake any more of those life changing cupcakes. Give me a call. -Russell.

His phone number was written under his name, next to a smiley face that made you laugh aloud to yourself.

Sunday nights were the worst, but not this time.

A/N: Alright, I had so much fun with this one! I just had this urge to write Russell with a reader who had children and a trash man ex because why not? And I know I said it would be a one-shot… but my mind is already thinking of all the possibilities lol. Mostly because we all know I can’t really write just a one-shot 😅😂

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Likes, and Comments are not required but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y’all think!

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester

#jensen ackles #russell shaw #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw x you #russell shaw x reader #tracker cbs #tracker #tracker fanfiction #colter shaw #justin hartley #jackles #jensen fucking ackles

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s-4pphics · 8 months ago

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A/N: me vs writing what i’m supposed to aka moth aka vampire possession aka anyway here’s post santa barbara angst don’t ask questions im not really sure LOL

“You’re back.”

Determined hands freeze in the dirt, the freshly watered daisies glistening under the beaming sun rays. Your soiled fingers halt all movement at the soft acknowledgment from behind. A sigh leaves your lips.

“… I am.”

An exhausted one, and it’s not from your strenuous labor in the garden. Your body refuses to turn, but holes burn in your spine, leaving behind lasered streaks of green.

“Can you look at me?” Ellie pleads gently. The softest you’ve heard her be in months.

What she doesn’t know is that you’ve been back. For a week actually, hiding out in other people’s homes throughout Jackson, assisting in places where Ellie’s least likely to go. The garden in particular; Pollen makes her sneeze.

Time is vital and interesting; Dina left her and Ellie’s farmhouse with her son when you fled Jackson. She sought you out, but you weren’t there. You spent most of your time alone, walking, running, killing what you had to. Searched for peace, internal and external. The sight of the waterfall was worth the months-long trip. Your home is different now. Eerily quiet. The kids you helped teached to read don't play outside or laugh as often anymore. You hardly see Tommy or Maria around. Jesse is dead. Joel is dead. Dina isolates with JJ. Hugs him like she’ll die if she lets go.

Ellie’s forever changed. The town’s forever changed, and you’ve finally accepted that it’s for the worse.

“Is listening not enough?”

Cordiality is beyond you. Spite is evident. Even the flowers can feel it.

You tried to be patient, to coddle, to mourn and aid and tend. Sacrifice your own wellbeing for the sake of hers. You tried, Dina tried, Tommy didn’t but he did at the same time. Oddly, destructively, but in his own way. You blame him and don’t. Hate him and don’t. He’s violently and permanently scorned, but so are you. So is Ellie. She says nothing from behind you. You rise with a pop in your knees and an upturned lip.

When you face Ellie, your knees wobble. Scarred: emotionally, physically, mentally. Permanently. Her eyes are more breakable than glass, the shattered hand that displays defeat hid shamefully behind her back. But her cheeks are fuller, no longer the hollow vacancies they were before she left. Maria was always on her back about finishing her meals.

Grief is complicated. Hurt. Anger. The flowers wilt. Listening isn’t enough, and neither is sacrifice.

Ellie’s nose always twitches when she thinks. Your heart gives a sporadic pulse, but not enough to revive the shell you're trapped in.

“I don’t want an apology from you.”

She shakes her head, “I know.”

“Then why are we talking?”

Another twitch of her nose. She searches for something. “I—“

But then she flinches away from you, a bent arm coming up to cover her nose and mouth when she sneezes. A painful jerk thrums through your chest, but still not enough.

“Bless you.”

One more sneeze, but softer. A bit squeaky. Remnant of when you first met her at 13 and she followed you out to the greenhouse to watch you water the orange trees.

“Thanks.”

You nod stiffly. When she doesn’t say anything, you move to leave. Your work is done and she knows you’re back; There’s no point in being alone with her.

Ellie doesn’t follow, but she does speak.

“I’m trying.”

You pause, one foot in front of the other. A doe learning how to walk for the first time.

“I’m trying to be normal. I’m trying to be okay but it’s not working.” Her voice trembles.

You weren’t expecting a confession. Normal. An interesting use of the word. No one feels that anymore.

“It probably won’t for a long time.” You state, just as quietly as she, “But if you stop trying, you’ll rot from the inside. If that’s what you want, then fine. But if not… That's all you can do now.”

“Will we ever be okay?”

‘We’ means many. ‘We’ means two. Your back’s to Ellie, but you can see her. Unmoving, but frantic. Her mind cranks at a million miles a minute. You feel her eyes on you. Too familiar.

You’re not sure how to answer, so you don’t. You take one last look at her before you walk away.

Flowers never look the same the next day.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x you #ellie the last of us #ellie williams au #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪

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ch0llies · 10 days ago

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REVIVAL | CHRIS STURNIOLO

A story in which a messy breakup lands you in your best friend’s Boston apartment a year after high school, and you find yourself face-to-face again with Christopher Sturniolo—your first love. As your paths cross again, the bitterness of how you left him still lingers, fueling every hated glance. But with your best friend dating his brother, you know is there’s no escaping Chris—or the tension that refuses to die. Is this revival destined to reignite, or will it crumble under the weight of your unresolved past?

story warning: filthy smut, angst, swearing, underage drinking, underage drug use, abusive behavior, morally skewed choices, toxic relationships, and overall mature themes. if any of this upsets you... don't read!

word count: 9k

CHAPTER FOUR:

The next morning, sunlight streamed through your blinds, and you groaned, pulling the blanket over your head. Your body ached from the chaos of the night before, and your head felt foggy from the alcohol. You had no idea what time it was, but the silence in the apartment told you one thing—everyone else was already gone.

Your door creaked open, and you heard Ava’s voice, light and teasing. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

You peeked out from under the blanket, squinting at her. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “Matt, Nick, and Chris left a couple of hours ago. They had some stuff to do today.”

Your stomach twisted slightly at the mention of Chris, but you shoved the thought aside. “And you didn’t wake me up?” you grumbled, sitting up and running a hand through your messy hair.

Ava rolled her eyes. “You looked dead to the world. Plus, I ordered breakfast for us, so you can’t be mad.”

At the mention of food, your stomach growled, and you sighed. “Fine. You’re forgiven.”

She smirked and turned on her heel. “Come on. It should be here any minute.”

You dragged yourself out of bed, pulling on a hoodie and sweats before heading downstairs. The smell of coffee hit you first, followed by the sight of Ava unpacking a delivery bag on the kitchen counter. She’d ordered pancakes, eggs, and bacon, along with a large iced coffee that she handed to you as soon as you walked in.

“Here,” she said, sliding the coffee across the counter. “Figured you’d need this.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking a sip and sighing in relief. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

Ava grinned, sitting down with her plate. “Well, there’s another party tonight at the campus. Same crowd as last time, but it’s supposed to be bigger. Figured we could go and, you know, network.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Network?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow as you sat across from her. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

She laughed, taking a bite of her pancake. “I mean, it’s technically true. We wanna go to that school, right? Think of it as research.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Right. Research.”

“Seriously, though,” Ava said, her tone shifting slightly. “It’s a good chance to check out the vibe, meet people, and maybe get your mind off certain… distractions.”

You didn’t need her to elaborate. The events of the night before—Chris’s hands on your waist, his lips leaving trails of heat along your skin—flashed through your mind, and you quickly shoved the thought away.

“Yeah, maybe,” you said, focusing on your plate. “We’ll see.”

Ava narrowed her eyes at you, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she took another sip of her coffee and started scrolling through her phone. “Party starts around nine. We’ll leave around nine, sound good?”

You nodded, trying to act casual even as your mind raced. The idea of running into Chris again—after everything—left you both nervous and excited, though you’d never admit it out loud. Whatever had happened between you last night felt like the beginning of something… dangerous. But as much as you wanted to avoid it, a part of you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

“Alright,” Ava said, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Finish your coffee, and let’s figure out what the hell we’re wearing tonight.”

You groaned, already dreading the hours of outfit planning ahead. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the anticipation building in your chest. Tonight could either be a fresh start—or the beginning of something you weren’t sure you were ready for.

As you sat across from Ava, finishing your breakfast, she glanced up from her phone, a sly grin tugging at her lips. “Oh, by the way,” she said, her tone casual in a way that immediately made you suspicious, “Matt wants to come to the party tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow, already piecing together where this was going. “Okay, and?”

“And,” she continued, drawing the word out as she took another sip of her coffee, “I already asked Chris if he wanted to come, too.”

You nearly choked on your iced coffee, setting it down with a loud clink. “What the fuck, Ava? Why would you do that?”

She shrugged, entirely unbothered. “Because I know the way your mind works.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snapped, though your cheeks were already burning.

Ava leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand as she fixed you with a knowing look. “It means I can tell he wants you bad, Y/N.”

Your stomach twisted, and you glared at her. “No, he doesn’t. Not like that.” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “I fucked him over. He’s still pissed at me. He literally said it.”

Ava rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “Please. He might be pissed, but trust me—he’ll get over it. You saw the way he was looking at you last night. He was insane when you kissed Matt and had crazy jealous eyes all night!”

You crossed your arms, your irritation growing. “That doesn’t mean anything. Chris looks at everyone like that. He’s become a whore! Was that not already obvious?”

“Sure,” Ava said, her smirk widening. “But he doesn’t pull everyone into his lap and suck on their tits for five minutes straight.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Oh my God, Ava.”

She laughed, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. “What? I’m just stating the obvious. You two have some serious tension, and this party is the perfect opportunity to, I don’t know, work it out.”

You peeked at her through your fingers, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, because a college party is definitely the place to resolve years of awkwardness and bad decisions.”

“Better than nothing,” Ava said with a shrug. “Look, all I’m saying is, he wouldn’t have let things get as far as they did last night if he didn’t want you. And judging by the way you’re acting, I’m guessing you want him, too.”

Your face burned as you stood, grabbing your empty plate and coffee cup. “I’m done having this conversation.”

“Suit yourself,” Ava said, still grinning as you walked to the sink. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when he shows up tonight and makes it very obvious how he feels.”

You didn’t reply, your thoughts too jumbled to form a coherent response.

An hour later, the familiar sound of a car horn echoed outside your apartment. You and Ava were lounging on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through your phones when she suddenly jumped up. “That’s Matt!” she said, grabbing her purse.

“Why is he honking like we’re in a middle school carpool?” you muttered, but you stood up anyway, slipping into your sneakers and grabbing your jacket.

“Because he’s Matt,” Ava said with a shrug, as if that explained everything.

When you stepped outside, Matt was leaning halfway out of the driver’s seat window, grinning like a maniac. “Come on, ladies! We’ve got groceries to buy, and I’m not spending all day waiting for your asses!”

“Matt. Shut the fuck up.” you called, rolling your eyes as you slid into the backseat.

“Yeah fuck you. What are you, someone’s dad?” Ava teased as she got into the passenger seat.

Matt smirked, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head. “No, but I am someone’s boyfriend. And I’ve got a say in what goes into your fridge if I’m spending half my life here.”

“Oh, you’ve got a say now?” Ava asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Damn right I do,” Matt shot back, turning the car out of your driveway. “Last time I opened your fridge, the only thing in there was a bag of shredded cheese and half a bottle of ketchup. That’s a crime.” He faked gagging at the ketchup.

“That’s survival,” Ava corrected, crossing her arms.

“Survival for a raccoon,” you chimed in from the backseat, laughing when Ava flipped you off over her shoulder.

“See? Y/N agrees with me,” Matt said smugly.

The bickering continued all the way to Market Basket, with Ava teasing Matt about his questionable eating habits and Matt firing back about how she always stole his leftovers. By the time you all parked and made your way into the store, the three of you were already laughing like idiots.

Inside the store, the chaos continued. Ava grabbed a cart, but Matt insisted on pushing it, claiming it was “a man’s job.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Ava said, smirking as Matt dramatically flexed his arms.

“Gotta make myself useful,” he said with a wink, steering the cart toward the produce section. “Alright, what’s first on the list?”

“We need veggies,” you said, pulling out your phone to check the list Ava had scribbled down earlier.

“Boring,” Matt said, wrinkling his nose. “Let’s skip that and go straight to frozen pizza.”

“No way,” Ava said, grabbing a head of lettuce and tossing it into the cart. “You eat like a toddler, Matt. We’re getting real food.”

“You say that like frozen pizza isn’t real food,” he argued, but Ava ignored him, reaching for a bag of carrots.

You grabbed a cucumber and held it up, grinning. “Matt, does this count as real food?”

“Depends,” Matt said, smirking. “Are you eating it or using it to fuck yourself?”

“Both,” you replied, making Ava laugh so hard she nearly dropped the carrots.

The three of you weaved through the aisles, picking out snacks, debating over cereal brands, and occasionally tossing random items into the cart just to annoy each other. At one point, Matt grabbed a jumbo box of Pop-Tarts and held it up like it was a trophy.

“Ava,” he said seriously, “this is essential.”

Ava stared at him, deadpan. “Put it back.”

“But it’s essential,” he whined, clutching the box dramatically.

“No,” she said firmly, trying not to smile.

You snatched the box from him and put it in the cart. “She’s no fun, Matt. I got you.”

“You’re my favorite,” he said, grinning as Ava rolled her eyes.

When you got to the candy aisle, Ava and Matt’s playful dynamic was on full display. Ava grabbed a bag of Sour Patch Kids, and Matt immediately grabbed it out of her hand, holding it high above her head.

“Matt!” she shrieked, jumping to grab it.

“Say please,” he said smugly, holding it just out of reach.

“Matt, I swear to God—”

“Say it!”

“Fine!” Ava huffed, crossing her arms and looking up at him with her big eyes that she knew got him every time. “Please.”

Matt handed her the bag with a smirk, and she smacked him on the arm. “You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah but you’re still gonna let me tap that later,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head.

You watched the two of them with a mix of amusement and affection. Their dynamic was chaotic but sweet, and it was impossible not to smile at the way they teased each other.

By the time you reached the checkout line, the cart was overflowing with a mix of essentials, junk food, and impulse buys. Matt grabbed a pack of gum from the rack and tossed it into the cart, smirking when Ava glared at him.

“You don’t even chew gum,” she said.

“Maybe I’m starting a new habit,” he replied, grinning and as the final products crossed the checkout he didn’t hesitate to swipe his card, paying for it all despite Ava’s protest.

As you helped unload the cart, Matt turned to you with a playful grin. “You know, Y/N, you’re like my honorary sister in law at this point.”

“Oh, great,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Another sibling to annoy me.”

“Exactly,” he said, ruffling your hair like you were a kid.

Ava laughed, handing you a bag of groceries. “Does that mean you’re gonna put a ring on it soon?”

“If I told you it would ruin the surprise, sweetheart,” Matt said, wrapping an arm around her waist as the three of you headed back to the car.

The drive back to the apartment was just as chaotic as the rest of the trip, with Matt singing off-key to the radio and Ava threatening to throw him out of the car. By the time you got home and started unloading the groceries, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed so much.

Back at the apartment, the three of you stumbled through the door, arms loaded with grocery bags. Ava dropped hers onto the counter with a dramatic groan. “Why do we always buy so much stuff? My arms are going to fall off.”

“Maybe because someone insisted on five kinds of cereal,” Matt quipped, setting his bags down with ease. “And let’s not forget your ‘essential’ lettuce.”

You smirked, grabbing a bag of chips from one of the bags. “And the Pop-Tarts Matt definitely didn’t need.”

“Hey, those are fuel,” Matt said, pointing at you with mock seriousness. “Athlete’s food.”

“For what sport?” Ava teased, unpacking a carton of eggs. “Competitive snacking?”

Matt tossed a bag of apples at her, which she caught with a laugh. “Keep talking, Ava. I’ll remember this when you’re asking me to touch you later.

“What’s the plan? Who’s driving?” you chimed in, setting a loaf of bread on the counter.

“Not me,” Ava said immediately, grabbing a tub of ice cream and sticking it in the freezer. “I want to drink.”

“Same,” you added, popping open a bag of chips. “So… Matt?”

Matt groaned. “Why do I have to do it? I want to drink too.”

“Because you’re responsible,” Ava said, fluttering her lashes dramatically.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Nah, no way.”

“You’re already unloading,” you pointed out, grinning. “Might as well keep the streak alive.”

“Y/N’s got a point,” Ava added with a smirk. “You’re doing great, babe.”

Matt muttered something under his breath about “ungrateful freeloaders,” but he kept unpacking. When he pulled out his phone and glanced at it, Ava tilted her head. “What’re you doing?”

“Calling Chris,” Matt said, holding the phone to his ear. “I always drive. I wanna have drunk sex tonight so Chris can pick up this one for once.”

You and Ava exchanged a look as Matt walked toward the living room, the phone pressed to his ear. After a moment, you heard him start talking.

“Hey, Chris. If you’re coming to the party tonight, you’re driving.”

You heard the faint sound of Chris groaning through the phone.

“You owe me for the last time you accidentally—- Yeah that’s what I thought.” Matt said.

There was a pause, then a muffled, sarcastic response from Chris.

“Perfect,” Matt said, ignoring the tone. “See you soon. And don’t even think about bailing—Y/N and Ava are counting on you.”

He hung up and turned back to the kitchen, a triumphant smirk on his face. “He’s on his way. Under protest, but he’s coming.”

“Shocking,” you muttered, grabbing a drink from the fridge.

As you finished putting the groceries away, Ava turned to Matt with a grin. “Okay, new plan. Skincare.”

Matt frowned. “What? Why?”

“Because,” Ava said. “Your skin needs help, and you’re not going to this party looking like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Come on, Matt,” you added, smirking. “Don’t you want to look glowy and fresh?”

He groaned. “You two are ridiculous.”

But ten minutes later, Matt was sitting on a stool in the bathroom, a headband pushing his hair back as Ava slathered a cleanser onto his face. You sat on the counter, watching the scene unfold with barely contained laughter.

“You look so cute, Matt,” Ava teased and you took out your phone, snapping a picture with.

“Delete that,” he grumbled, though he didn’t move.

“No way. This is gold.”

Ava finished the cleanser and grabbed a serum, patting it onto Matt’s cheeks with exaggerated care. “You’re going to be the it girl tonight,” she teased.

“Yeah, because nothing screams ‘party animal’ like dewy skin,” he muttered, though a faint smile tugged at his lips.

You grabbed a face mask from the counter and held it up. “Ooh, should we do this next?”

Ava grinned. “Yes. Matt, you’re getting the full treatment.”

As Frank Ocean’s American Wedding started playing from Ava’s phone, you and Ava worked together to apply the mask, laughing at Matt’s exaggerated groans of protest. By the time you moved on to moisturizer, the three of you were laughing so hard your sides hurt.

“This is stupid,” Matt said, though he was grinning now.

“Shut up,” Ava said, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she wiped the excess product off her hands.

You leaned over, pretending to inspect Matt’s face. “Wow. A new man. Chris is going to be jealous.”

Matt groaned, pushing your hand away. “If he gives me any shit, I’m blaming you two.”

“Deal,” Ava said, laughing as she started cleaning up.

As Matt sat in the bathroom mirror after finishing his skincare routine, you and Ava stood nearby, wiping your hands with a towel and grinning at his reflection. His skin was glowing, and he looked genuinely refreshed, even if he pretended otherwise.

“You feel good, don’t you?” Ava teased, crossing her arms as she leaned against the sink.

Matt rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “I mean… yeah, I guess it feels kinda nice,” he admitted.

“Knew it,” you said, laughing. “You’re one serum away from becoming a skincare influencer.”

Matt groaned, standing up and shaking his head. “Alright, that’s enough. I’m going to get dressed before you two come up with more ideas to torture me.”

He headed toward Ava’s closet, where he pulled out a few pieces from his designated section. You watched him grab a black fitted t-shirt and a pair of baggy wide legged jeans.

“Your own section in Ava’s closet?” you teased, following him out of the bathroom.

“Don’t judge,” he said, pulling the shirt over his head. “I spend so much time here, she made me clear a drawer. Then it turned into a whole section.”

Ava laughed as she rummaged through her closet for her own outfit. “You’re here more than your own house. It was either this or let you wear your flannels to parties.”

“Hey, my flannels get you wet, don't lie,” Matt muttered, grabbing a pair of sneakers from the bottom of the closet.

“He’s got a point,” you chimed in, dodging a pillow Ava tossed in your direction.

Once Matt was dressed and heading to the kitchen for a drink, you and Ava turned your attention to your own outfits. Ava pulled out a black lace shirt and paired it with a sleek leather mini-skirt and boots. She looked effortlessly cool, as always, her dark makeup and gold jewelry adding the perfect touch.

You opted for a mini cheetah-print skirt and red boots, pairing it with a cropped fitted black tank top that hugged your curves. Your makeup was bold, with a red lip to match your boots, and you styled your hair into loose waves that framed your face perfectly.

“Okay, we look hot,” Ava declared, spinning in front of the mirror and fluffing her hair.

“We really do,” you agreed, checking your reflection one last time as you finished curling the ends of your hair.

Just as Ava was spritzing perfume, the doorbell rang, followed by the sound of the door opening. “I’m here,” Chris’s voice called out, his tone already laced with annoyance.

Ava groaned. “Could he ever just walk in normally?”

You rolled your eyes as you turned back to the mirror to touch up your lipstick. But when Chris walked into the room, his expression shifted immediately. His eyes landed on you, narrowing as he took in your outfit.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he snapped, his tone sharp and angry.

You turned to him, startled by the hostility in his voice. “What do you mean?”

Chris’s jaw clenched as he gestured toward your outfit. “That. You’re dressed like a—” He stopped himself, his face twisting with frustration before continuing. “You look like a goddamn hooker, Y/N.”

Your stomach dropped as the words hit you, and Ava immediately stepped forward, her face a mix of shock and anger. “Chris, what the fuck?” she snapped.

“You’re asking for it,” Chris continued, ignoring her. “Walking around in that, at some party full of drunk assholes? Do you want something to happen to you?”

Your shock turned to rage as you stepped toward him, your hands balled into fists. “Excuse me?” you said, your voice shaking with fury. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Chris didn’t back down, his eyes blazing. “You heard me. You’re dressed like a slut, Y/N. Don’t act surprised when people treat you like one.”

Without thinking, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face, the sound echoing through the room. Chris stumbled back slightly, his hand going to his cheek as he glared at you, his jaw tightening.

“Fuck you, Chris,” you spat, your voice trembling with anger. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

Before he could say anything else, Matt stormed into the room, his expression dark. “Chris, that’s enough,” he said firmly, stepping between you.

“Matt, stay out of this,” Chris snapped, but Matt grabbed his arm, dragging him toward the door.

“No,” Matt said sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re done. Go cool off, and don’t come back in here until you’re ready to shut the fuck up.”

Chris hesitated, his gaze flicking between you and Matt. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh, wrenching his arm out of Matt’s grip and storming out of the room.

Matt turned to you, his face softening. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your chest was still tight with anger. “Yeah,” you said quietly.

Ava came up beside you, placing a hand on your arm. “Don’t listen to him,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “You look amazing.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in your chest. “Thanks,” you muttered, glancing toward the door where Chris had disappeared.

Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll go check on him in a minute,” he said. “But seriously, don’t let him ruin your night. You’re killing it, Y/N.”

After the tense moment with Chris, you and Ava worked to shake it off, determined not to let his mood ruin the night. You both finished your makeup and touched up your hair, the energy between you lightening as Ava turned the music louder.

“Alright,” Ava said, twirling in front of the mirror. “We look hot as hell. Time for photos before we go.”

You grinned, grabbing your digital camera from your dresser. Ava struck a pose in the mirror, her black lace shirt and leather mini-skirt looking flawless under the warm lighting.

“Okay, okay, one of you now!” Ava grabbed the camera and pointed it at you.

You stood against the wall, popping one hip and adjusting your cheetah-print skirt. With a quick flash, Ava snapped a few shots.

“Alright,” she said, handing the camera back. “These are going on the fridge. Let’s go.”

When you walked outside, Matt was already leaning against his car, scrolling on his phone. He looked up as Ava approached, immediately straightening and jogging around the car to open her door.

“Your chariot awaits, my lady,” he said with a mock bow, making Ava laugh as she climbed in.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as Chris leaned against the passenger door, clearly waiting for you to get in.

“You just gonna stand there?” he muttered, his tone sharp.

You smirked, refusing to move. “Well, Matt got Ava’s door. Where’s my gentlemanly treatment?”

Chris rolled his eyes but pushed off the car and yanked the door open for you. “Get in,” he growled, stepping back.

You gave him a sugary sweet smile, climbing in slowly. He slammed the door shut a little harder than necessary, stalking around to the driver’s seat and muttering something under his breath. When he got in, the car roared to life, and he pulled out of the driveway faster than usual, his jaw tight with frustration.

As the car sped toward the party, you and Ava were already giggling, snapping pictures with your digital camera. Ava struck a few playful poses before grabbing your hands and pulling them over her chest.

“Here, cup my boobs for this one,” she said with a laugh.

“Wait, wait,” you said, adjusting your hands. “Let me make them look good.”

Ava threw her head back in laughter as you snapped a picture, both of you dissolving into fits of giggles.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, handing her the camera as she grabbed your hands again and adjusted them over her chest.

“Do me now,” she said, snapping a few provocative shots of you with your hands on your own chest, pouting at the camera dramatically.

Chris’s sharp voice cut through the laughter. “Can you two stop?”

You looked up, catching his glare through the rearview mirror. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, his jaw tight.

“What’s the matter, Chris?” Ava teased, smirking. “Jealous?”

“Not even close,” he snapped, but his eyes flicked to you for a split second before returning to the road.

You leaned back, smirking to yourself. His irritation only made you push further, holding the camera up to snap another photo of Ava adjusting her top.

Matt groaned, glancing back at the two of you. “You guys are insane,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

By the time you arrived, the tension in the car had reached its peak. Chris parked sharply, and before he could say anything, you and Ava were already out, linking arms as you headed toward the party.

The music was thumping, the bass reverberating through the house as you stepped inside. The place was packed, bodies swaying and people laughing as the party was already in full swing.

“Drinks first,” Ava said, dragging you toward the makeshift bar in the corner.

You grabbed cups of whatever punch was available, clinking them together before downing half in one go. It was sweet and strong, and you felt the warmth hit your chest immediately.

“Let’s dance!” Ava said, pulling you toward the crowded living room where people were already moving to the beat of the music.

The two of you joined the crowd, letting the music take over as you swayed and laughed together. The punch had loosened you up, and it wasn’t long before you were lost in the rhythm, the stress of the day melting away.

A while later, Matt appeared, weaving through the crowd until he reached you and Ava. “Found you!” he said, smiling as he grabbed Ava’s hand and spun her into him.

Ava laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck as they danced. You couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly they moved together, their connection undeniable.

When Ava eventually left to grab another drink, Matt turned to you, holding out his hand. “C’mon, let’s keep dancing.”

You laughed, taking his hand. “Matt, you’re such a softie.”

“Shut up,” he said, grinning as he spun you playfully.

The two of you danced in a goofy, carefree way, your movements more about having fun than keeping rhythm. It felt easy, like dancing with an older brother, and you couldn’t help but laugh when Matt twirled you again, nearly sending you spinning into the crowd.

When Ava returned, she wasted no time stealing Matt back. You stepped aside, watching as they moved together, their bodies pressed close as they kissed and laughed, completely lost in each other.

The sight made you smile, but it also reminded you of the tension lingering between you and Chris. The thought made your chest tighten, and you decided to slip away, weaving through the crowd toward the quieter side of the party.

The party was buzzing, the energy intoxicating as you wandered through the house. With Ava and Matt lost in their own little world on the dance floor, you decided to entertain yourself, leaning into the freedom the night provided. It wasn’t long before the attention started coming your way—guys approaching you left and right, their flirtation dripping with confidence and curiosity.

The first was a tall, broad-shouldered guy who introduced himself as Landon. He had a dimpled smile and a cocky demeanor, leaning against the wall as he asked where you were from. You bantered back easily, his smirk widening with every clever reply you threw his way. But before the conversation could deepen, someone else swooped in—Jordan, a shaggy-haired skater who offered you a drink and made you laugh with his over-the-top party stories.

The attention felt good, and you basked in it, letting the night carry you from one flirtatious exchange to the next. There was Ryan, who complimented your boots and offered to teach you a dance move, and then Alex, who was a little too drunk but charming in his clumsy attempts to keep your attention.

But then, Cam approached.

He was tall with dark eyes and a sharp jawline, his confidence radiating as he leaned against the doorframe and locked eyes with you from across the room. His smile was slow, deliberate, and devastatingly attractive.

“Hey,” he said smoothly, stepping closer. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been lighting up this whole room tonight.”

You laughed, a little taken aback by his boldness but not entirely opposed to it. “Oh yeah? Is that your go-to line?”

“Nope,” he replied, grinning. “You’re the first person I’ve used it on. So, what’s your name?”

You told him, and the two of you fell into easy conversation. Cam was funny, quick-witted, and knew exactly how to keep your attention. His flirtation was bold but not overbearing, and you found yourself matching his energy effortlessly.

At one point, his hand brushed against your arm, and you didn’t pull away. His touch was light, almost teasing, as he leaned in closer. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low.

“You have no idea,” you shot back, your lips curving into a sly smile.

Before you knew it, Cam’s hand was on your waist, pulling you closer as his lips found yours. The kiss was hot and electric, his hands roaming as he pressed you against the wall. You didn’t care who was watching or what anyone thought—you were lost in the moment, letting the buzz of the party and the heat of his touch take over.

But just as his hand slid down to grip your ass, he was yanked backward, nearly stumbling as someone shoved him hard.

“What the fuck?” Cam snapped, glaring at whoever had interrupted.

Chris.

His eyes were blazing, his jaw tight as he stepped between you and Cam, his body practically vibrating with anger. “Back off,” Chris growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Who the hell are you?” Cam asked, straightening up and stepping closer to Chris, his tone challenging.

Chris didn’t flinch, his gaze unwavering. “Doesn’t matter. You’re done here.”

Cam scoffed, looking between you and Chris like he couldn’t believe what was happening. “Dude, she’s into it. Why don’t you mind your own business?”

Chris didn’t say anything. Instead, he shoved Cam again, harder this time, sending him stumbling back into the crowd. The music seemed to fade as people started to notice the commotion, a circle forming around the two of them.

“Chris, stop!” you yelled, grabbing his arm, but he shook you off without even glancing your way.

“You need to leave,” Chris said to Cam, his voice cold and firm.

Cam raised his hands in mock surrender, his expression twisted with frustration and amusement. “Alright, man. Fuck you. She’s not worth the trouble.” He shot you a glare before disappearing into the crowd.

The tension hung in the air as Chris turned to you, his expression unreadable. “What the fuck was that?” you demanded, your voice shaking with anger and embarrassment.

Chris didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed your arm, his grip firm but not painful, and started dragging you toward the front door.

“Chris, let me go!” you yelled, trying to pull free. “What the hell are you doing?”

He didn’t respond, his jaw set as he continued pulling you through the house. Once outside, you tried again to wrench your arm from his grip, but he was too strong.

“Let me go!” you shouted, your voice rising. “You can’t just—”

Before you could finish, Chris bent down and slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. You gasped, your fists pounding against his back as he carried you toward the car.

“Chris, put me down! This is insane!”

But he didn’t listen. His hand pressed firmly over your ass, covering you protectively as he moved through the crowd of lingering partygoers. When he reached the car, he opened the back door and practically threw you inside, his movements controlled but rough enough to make a point.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” you yelled, scrambling upright as he slammed the door shut behind you.

Chris didn’t respond. He climbed into the driver’s seat, locked the doors, and started the engine, his face stony and unreadable.

“Chris, where are you taking me?” you demanded, your voice rising in frustration.

Still, he said nothing. The car sped off into the night, leaving the party behind as you sat in the backseat, fuming and confused. You didn’t know what his problem was, but the intensity in his eyes and the set of his jaw made it clear he wasn’t about to explain himself anytime soon.

The silence in the car was suffocating as Chris drove, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. You glared at the back of his head, the anger boiling inside you making it impossible to stay quiet.

“Chris, what the fuck is your problem?” you demanded, leaning forward in your seat. “You can’t just manhandle me like that and drag me out of a party!”

He didn’t respond. His jaw was tight, his eyes locked on the road ahead like he was trying to block out your voice.

“Seriously?” you snapped, leaning even closer. “You’re just not going to say anything? After all of that?”

Nothing.

Your frustration hit a breaking point. Without thinking, you climbed up onto your knees and leaned into the front seat, reaching for his arm. “Chris—”

“Sit down,” he growled, his voice low and commanding.

When you didn’t listen, he shot his arm out and pushed you back into your seat, his grip firm but not rough. “I said sit down.”

You stared at him, stunned for a moment, before letting out an exasperated huff. “You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, crossing your arms and slumping back into your seat.

The rest of the drive passed in tense silence, your mind racing as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. When Chris finally pulled up to your apartment, he got out without a word, walking around to your side of the car.

As he opened your door, you jumped out before he could touch you. “Don’t,” you snapped, holding up a hand. “I can walk myself.”

He said nothing, just stepped back and waited as you stormed toward the stairs. You could feel his presence behind you as you climbed, his silence heavy and imposing. When you reached your apartment, you fumbled with your keys, the anger and adrenaline making your hands shake.

As soon as you stepped inside, Chris followed, closing the door behind him.

“What the hell is your problem?” you yelled, spinning around to face him.

Chris leaned against the door, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. “My problem?” he said finally, his voice sharp. “What the fuck were you doing with that guy?”

“Oh, here we go,” you snapped, throwing your hands in the air. “I was having fun, Chris. You know, something you clearly wouldn’t understand.”

“Having fun?” he repeated, stepping closer. “Letting some random asshole put his hands all over you is your idea of fun?”

“What the fuck does it matter to you?” you shot back, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to police what I do or who I do it with.”

Chris’s eyes darkened as he stepped closer, towering over you. “It matters because you’re too fucking stupid to see when someone’s taking advantage of you.”

“Stupid?” you hissed, shoving him hard against his chest. “You’re the one who started a fucking fight like a goddamn caveman.”

Chris didn’t budge, his body solid as you shoved him again. “You’re out of control,” you said, your voice trembling with rage. “You don’t get to act like you care all of a sudden. Not after everything.”

“I don’t care,” he snapped, though his voice wavered slightly. “I just don’t want to watch you throw yourself at someone who doesn’t give a shit about you.”

“Like you care about me?” you countered, shoving him harder this time, your hands slamming against his chest. “Fuck you, Chris.”

“Enough,” he growled, grabbing your wrists before you could push him again. His grip was strong, his hands practically burning against your skin as he forced you back against the wall.

You gasped, your back hitting the cold surface as Chris loomed over you, his face inches from yours. His breath was heavy, his eyes blazing with something between anger and… something else.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “You never fucking get it.”

The words hung in the air, the tension between you crackling like electricity. For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room, your ragged breathing.

Then, as if something inside you snapped, you surged forward, your lips crashing against his. Chris didn’t hesitate, his hands releasing your wrists to grab your waist, pulling you flush against him. The kiss was frantic, messy, and fueled by all the anger and frustration that had been simmering between you.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as his lips moved against yours with an intensity that left you breathless. His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he pressed you harder against the wall.

Chris’s teeth grazed your bottom lip, and you gasped, giving him the opening he needed to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid against yours, the heat between you growing impossibly hotter as the tension that had been building for so long finally exploded.

It was intense, and overwhelming—and you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to. All the anger, the hurt, the unresolved feelings—it was all spilling out in this moment, in the way his hands gripped your body like he couldn’t get enough, in the way your lips collided like they were meant to.

Chris’s lips moved against yours with an intensity that made your head spin. His hands were everywhere—on your waist, your back, sliding up your sides like he couldn’t decide where to touch you first. The aggression in his movements only added to the heat building between you, and you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.

He pressed you harder against the wall, his body flush against yours. One hand gripped your hip tightly, while the other slid up to tangle in your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth. The sound seemed to spur him on, his kisses growing rougher, deeper, as if he was trying to devour every inch of you.

“Chris,” you murmured against his lips, though it came out more like a plea than anything else.

“What?” he growled, his voice low and rough as he broke the kiss just enough to look at you. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “What do you want, Y/N?”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you pulled him back down to you, your lips crashing against his with renewed fervor. His hand slid down from your hip to your thigh, gripping it firmly as he hitched your leg up around his waist. The movement pressed him closer, and you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped you when you felt just how hard he was against you.

Chris smirked against your lips, his voice a low rasp. “You like that, huh?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, but the way your nails raked down his back gave you away.

His lips moved to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your throat. He bit down gently at a particularly sensitive spot, and you arched against him, your hands threading into his hair as a soft whimper escaped you. His name slipped from your lips like a prayer, and it only seemed to fuel him further.

His hand slid up your thigh, squeezing as his lips continued their assault on your neck. When his hand skimmed under the hem of your skirt, you shivered, the roughness of his touch sending sparks through your entire body.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he muttered against your skin, his voice rough and breathless.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, though your voice wavered as his hand inched higher.

Chris pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with something primal. His lips were red and swollen, and the sight of him looking so wrecked only made you want him more.

His lips moved against yours, bruising and demanding, leaving you breathless and desperate. His fingers trailed higher under your skirt, gripping your thigh like he owned you, and your body arched into him, craving more.

But then, suddenly, he stopped.

His hands left your body entirely, and the cold air against your skin made you shiver. You let out an involuntary whine, reaching for him instinctively, but he stepped back, his jaw tight and his eyes blazing with fury.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice sharp and laced with venom. “Not getting enough attention now?”

You blinked up at him, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. “Chris, don’t stop,” you murmured, the words tumbling out before you could think.

He let out a dark, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, now you want me to keep going?” He stepped closer, his presence suffocating as he stared you down. “Should’ve thought about that before you started acting like a slut at the party.”

His words hit you like a slap, and your cheeks burned with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his voice cold and cutting. He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “You were all over him, weren’t you? Letting him put his hands on you like it was nothing.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. “Because it sure as hell looked like it.”

You reached for him again, desperate to close the distance, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the wall beside your head. His grip was firm, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to make you squirm.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get how fucking infuriating you are.”

Your breath hitched. “Chris, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Please what?” he growled, his grip on your wrists tightening. “What do you want from me, Y/N? You think I’m just going to forget everything you’ve done? Forget the way you’ve been acting all night?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I just—”

“Stop,” he snapped, cutting you off. He released your wrists abruptly, stepping back as if the distance would somehow extinguish the fire burning between you. His chest was heaving, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might snap.

You stayed pressed against the wall, your hands still hovering where he’d pinned them, your body aching from the absence of his touch.

Chris stepped back more, breaking the heated tension in the air. His sharp eyes bore into yours, his expression unreadable yet burning with intensity. The absence of his touch left your body humming with frustration, and you clenched your fists to keep yourself grounded.

He reached out, his fingers brushing under your chin before patting your cheek twice, condescendingly light. The motion made your cheeks flush with a mixture of humiliation and anger, but the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

Chris’s gaze raked over you slowly, his eyes traveling from your disheveled hair to your bare legs, still trembling slightly. “Go upstairs,” he said, his voice calm but commanding, leaving no room for argument. “Fix yourself.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. His tone was infuriating, like he was dismissing you as nothing more than a problem to be solved.

When you didn’t move immediately, his smirk deepened, and he raised an eyebrow. “Now,” he added, his voice dropping lower.

The weight of his stare pushed you into action, and you turned, storming toward the stairs. You could feel his eyes on your back, that same patronizing smirk practically burning into your skin as you climbed, your frustration boiling over.

Upstairs, your body still buzzed with the aftermath of everything that had just happened. The tension, the way he’d touched you, the way he’d looked at you—it was maddening. You couldn’t stop replaying it in your head, every detail etched into your mind like a taunt.

Frustrated and desperate, you found yourself slipping under the covers, your hands wandering as your mind stayed locked on him. The anger you felt toward him was tangled with something else, something you didn’t want to admit. The way he commanded you, the way he took control—it left you aching, needing relief he hadn’t given you.

You spent the next hour trying to satisfy yourself, your mind unable to think of anything but his touch, his voice, the way he’d looked at you like he owned you. But no matter what you did, it wasn’t enough. The tension refused to leave your body, settling into your chest like a heavy weight.

Eventually, you gave up and took off your makeup, changed your clothes, and made your way downstairs, your body still buzzing with frustration. You found Chris sitting on the couch, his posture relaxed as if nothing had happened. He looked up when he heard your footsteps, his eyes softening slightly as they met yours.

“You look better,” he said, his voice unexpectedly kind. It threw you off, the sharp contrast to his earlier aggression making you hesitate.

You crossed your arms, wary of his tone. “What are you still doing here?”

Chris stood, moving toward you slowly. His hand found your waist, his touch light but deliberate. He looked down at you, his gaze softer now, almost tender, though something darker still lingered beneath the surface.

“You don’t need all that makeup,” he said, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re beautiful without it. And it’s better you’re here—safe. Not out there with people who don’t care about you.”

His words felt like a trap, laced with something you couldn’t quite place. You stepped back slightly, your eyes narrowing. “Chris, stop. You can’t keep acting like this.”

“Like what?” he asked, his voice calm, though his grip on your waist tightened slightly.

“Like you get to decide where I go or who I’m with,” you said firmly. “It’s not your job to control me.”

His jaw tightened, the softness in his eyes replaced by something harder. “I’m not controlling you,” he said, though his tone carried an edge. “I’m keeping you from making stupid decisions.”

You pulled away from his touch, your frustration bubbling to the surface again. “I’m not a child, Chris. If I want to go back and get Ava and Matt, I will.”

His expression darkened at your words, and he stepped closer, towering over you. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said firmly, his voice low and dangerous.

“Chris—”

“Stay here,” he snapped, his tone brooking no argument.

You glared up at him, your hands trembling at your sides. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

His eyes locked onto yours, his jaw tightening as he leaned down, his voice dropping even lower. “You’re not leaving, Y/N. End of discussion.”.

Your frustration boiled over as you squared up to Chris, shoving against his chest as hard as you could. “You don’t get to tell me what to do!” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger. “I’m going to get them whether you like it or not.”

Chris didn’t budge, his body solid and unmoving, his jaw tightening as he glared down at you. “No, you’re not,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

“Yes, I am!” you yelled, shoving him again.

In a split second, Chris grabbed your wrists, pulling you close until his face was mere inches from yours. His eyes blazed with something fierce and unrelenting, his voice steady but laced with a threatening edge. “No,” he growled. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to turn your beautiful ass around, sit your stubborn self back on that couch, and stay there. Do you understand me?”

The words hit you like a punch, the force behind them leaving you speechless. The way he looked at you—intense, commanding, and so sure of himself—made your knees weak despite your anger. He released your wrists, his hand brushing lightly against your cheek, and you hated how it made your chest tighten, how it made you want to obey him.

“And when I get back,” he added, his voice softening just enough to make it even more infuriating, “I better find you exactly where I left you. Don’t make me regret trusting you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the way his eyes bore into yours made the words catch in your throat. Your resolve crumbled as he stepped back, grabbing his keys off the counter. Without another word, he left, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the silence.

You stood there, your heart racing and your fists clenched at your sides. Against every instinct screaming at you to follow him, you turned back toward the couch, sinking into the cushions with a huff.

About twenty minutes later, the door swung open, and Chris stepped inside, his arm steadying Matt, who was grinning like an idiot. Ava stumbled in behind them, laughing loudly as she clung to Chris’s other arm.

“We’re back!” Matt declared, his voice loud and slurred. “And we are feeling amazing!”

“Clearly,” Chris muttered, his tone dry as he guided them into the apartment.

Ava giggled, her cheeks flushed as she looked up at Matt. “We should go upstairs,” she said. “You know, for… reasons.”

Matt grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Drunk sex! Best idea you’ve had all night.”

They started toward the stairs, stumbling slightly, but Ava paused and turned to you, her brow furrowing slightly despite her drunken state. “Wait, Y/N—what happened? You okay?”

Before you could respond, Chris stepped in, his hand lightly gripping Ava’s shoulder. “She’ll explain when you’re in a better space,” he said smoothly, his voice calm and reassuring. “Right now, you need to get to bed.”

Ava blinked up at him, clearly too drunk to argue. “Okay,” she mumbled, letting Matt pull her up the stairs. The two of them disappeared into her room, their muffled laughter followed by the sound of the door closing.

Chris turned back to you, his expression unreadable as he stepped closer. His presence filled the room, the tension from earlier creeping back in like an unwelcome guest.

“You stayed,” he said, his voice low and almost… pleased.

You glared at him, crossing your arms. “Because you told me to.”

His lips twitched into a faint smirk, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and leaned against the counter, his eyes never leaving yours. The room felt too quiet, too charged, and you couldn’t tell if it was the aftermath of your earlier fight or the fact that Chris was still looking at you like he had all the control in the world.

And the worst part? You hated how much of it you were willing to give him.

tags: @mattsobvimyfav @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt

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xuchiya · 11 months ago

Text

streets [c.san]

₊˚.༄ || filth valentines m.list || hongjoong || seonghwa || yunho || yeosang || san || mingi || wooyoung || jongho || ₊˚.༄

₊˚.༄ We real life made for each other And it's hard to keep my cool ₊˚.༄

"it's getting late, do you have someone to pick you up?" your head turn towards san, still in his uniform. his face mask were pulled down just below his bottom lip, emphasizing his cheeks; it made you want to squish his cheeks from being so innocent.

san was one of your fellow nurses. The crisp navy-blue scrubs fit him perfectly, the name tag reading "San Choi, RN" gleaming under the fluorescent lights. you cleared your throat; your heart was beating too loud for you that it hurts to taint this uncorrupted soul. you have hint after hint of crush on this man, this huge ass man that his face does not match his enormous body that you totally found yourself completely hidden.

proved when you stood behind him once and when you say, disappeared.

abracadabra, bitch not even a strand of hair can be seen.

"ah well i actually have somewhere to be ... what about you?" san looks at his watch, sighing, brushing his hair off his eyes, "my friend said he'll pick me up but he had an emergency call from his dad's company so now I have to wait for a bus..."

you frown looking at your watch too, its 10pm. Usually buses don't take this route anymore, "buses aren't available in this hour, san."

his heart fell on his stomach, double checking his watch, "damn it!" your eyes widen at his sudden burst of profanity. his eyes widen too and apologizing to you, "i'm sorry didn't mean to."

your lips curled up in a teasing smile, "your patient would not like it if she heard that one." San shakes his head laughing lightly. the small silence engulfs you both before you had an idea which will be a torture for you.

probably a torture for him too.

San was already an intern at a prestigious hospital near his family's home; owned by his grandfather though he is expecting him that he will continue his service even after his internship.

but when San came by a hospital that one of his friends were admitted after being confined. He found himself stuck on the reception area as his eyes were glued to your figure, up on hospital trolley, shouting dose of pharmaceutical. Your determine look and perseverance on your career what intrigued him to know you more.

so he left his family hospital.

San is pediatrician and so do you, the amount of love he gives on these children what also intrigued you in getting to know the man that suddenly left the hospital that you were trying to apply.

"hey i can give you a ride?" you mention, his ear perk up and reddens. his heart thumps inside his chest all of a sudden, "i-i .."

upon realizing what you said, your eyes once again widen and stutter out excuses, "oh my gosh! i - this is embarrassing, God take me!" you groan, covering your face.

for a while San chuckles at your reaction, composing himself, "I know you don't mean any harm but if you're going to drop me off then i hope i'm not delaying any of your plans."

When San agrees about you giving him a ride, he meant to be able to relax on the passenger seat.

He stares at the glaring matte black with gold flames on the Kawasaki Ninja 400R. That is one of the motorbikes he wishes to own and drive but because of his independence, San is still saving up.

"Holy .." You look at San as you place the glove tightly on your hand, "hmm?" Clueless on his reaction, you swing your leg over the bike, reviving the engine on and tune in the smoky sound of the engine of your bike.

San stares in awe as you hand him (set of embarrassment hue on your cheeks) a customized helmet. It has kitty ear with soft peach color as parallel of the inside of the ear.

"this is so cute." when he puts in the helmet, it dawned on him. You, arch back, hunch forward and him behind you, holding on tightly. His ears were once again red, frozen in place; his mind racing the same speed as your bike with filthy thoughts.

Like how could he not? Your ass is probably close to his (now) stiffening cock in his scrubs when he jumps in. the way it would keep brushing on his cock would probably have him cumming there.

"San? you okay?" You haven't feel the pressure or the weight on your back, so you turn your attention on San; standing with an incredible thickening boner in his scrubs, if it weren't for the eye shield of your helmet, he would seen you checking him out.

Or worse, staring at his firm boner.

San snap out of his thoughts and hurriedly swing his legs over the other side of the bike, after settling down on the leather seat. "You okay? Do you need-"

"Let's just go." San spoke clearing his throat and immediatly feels bad for brushing your concerns off, you understood why.

Without speaking much, you note that San would not hold on to you because of his hard situation so you did the initiative to grab his hands, in which he was taken back, and wrap them around your waist; patting his hand, "Mind you that it's night and I'll be taking advantage of the road."

You look over at San, "don't worry, I'll slow down if its too much." So without delaying much of your guys time, you kick off the stand and off both of you on the streets. San calling whatever can answer them make this ride, a comfortable one.

to say the least, no one grant his calls.

"u-Ugh f-ufuck chakaman!" San gasp, holding on to the mop of hair on the level of his hips while gripping his scrub up on his chest in his other hand—exposing his toned stomach, his scrub pants pooled on the floor. Your tousled hair, lips wrapped around his aching cock left him gripping the leather seat of your motorbike as you continued swirling your tongue on his red tip. San cried, bucking his hips when you took all of him; fitting him in your mouth up til’ his tip hitting the back of your throat.

You hum to accumulate more of his climax, which in your satisfaction made San whimper thrusting his hips in your mouth, “f-fuck …” Shamelessly, he started fucking your throat as his climax were nearing and sooner, his cum spurted on your tongue and down your throat. You pull away from him, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out to let him see that you have collected some of his cum before swallowing them.

You gave him a smile before licking your salty lips, standing up proceeding to remove your leather pants; letting them rest on your knees along with your undies. You turn your head over to look at him with a smirk on your lips, bending moderately for him to see your puckered glistening hole with a small help of one of your hands to spread your cheek.

“I know you want to get your dick wet, come on baby.” San’s eye twitch the moment you provoke him and have to look around the cleared parking spot you parked on and had him spitting his fingers and run them up and down your puffy cunt before grabbing his semi-hard dick and tap his tip on your hole; wiggling your asscheeks for him to provoke him more which he took the cue and slam his hips on yours.

You were quite taken back, his hips pace was something you were wondering if he has his dick wet a few times or he has this speed that you were looking for; nevertheless it had you moaning his name as his tip kept nudging. You rolled your hips each time he pulls away, leaving the tip then slamming back inside, “Fu-fuck Sannie— that’s so good! Right there!”

San’s hand crept down towards your clit, circling them rapidly and increasing the pleasure and the coil on your stomach, “You like that? You dirty dirty girl.” San stops circling his fingers around your clit and let you bend over your motorcycle as his hips snaps swiftly, placing the hem of his scrubs between his teeth as his hands knead the flesh of your hips then to your plump ass, spreading them as he watch his dick disappear inside your hole; a ring of your slick making him moan in his scrubs.

“Shit shit!” You cursed, lewd noises echoing the silent parking lot increase the arousal on your stomach, the fire of desire as San rapidly ram himself until you feel your thighs shake, “I’m g-gonna cum!” San drops the cloth and bent over to your ear, “Then make yourself a mess on my dick baby.”

That it all took before you had a long string of ‘fuck’ leaving your lips as your orgasm washed over you, eyes fluterring close hips moving to chase your high. You felt San’s hand clasp around your hips and his broken moans reach your ears, “I don’t care if you’re on the pill or not but me? Get you knocked up? It’s been a fantasy of mine.”

His seeds spurted your walls, bucking a deeper part of your pussy. His hips halted as he let every drop of his cum stay inside you before pulling out, a whine left your lips but soon replaced by a yelp as San smacked your ass in his palm before placing your panties and your pants back on, “It’s cold and besides …” You turn around, he brushes hair away from your sweaty face, “I don’t want you wasting what we work hard on.”

Your cheeks flared, “You must have thought of this ‘fantasy of yours for a while now eh?” San shakes his head, a smile on his lips; securing his boxers and scrub pants back on before leaning on your motorcycle, shrugging, “Maybe but I should have taken you on a date first before I knock you up.”

You whine, smacking his arms, “Stop using that term.” San’s head threw back as he laughed at your reddened face, you groaned turning your head to the side. He stops laughing little by little before sighing, grabbing your hand; pulling you between his legs, “But it’s true. I had it all planned and there’s a step by step to it … but it looks like I skipped a step.”

You look at him, pouty lips, “a lot you mean.” He chuckles heartedly, grabbing your cheeks in his large palms, caressing them, “Okay a lot but it doesn’t mean I ain’t gonna take care of you. Let me praise you, love you, worship you and let me do those things because it is my duty to make you feel special and I want you to feel you are the only girl in this damn world. You’re my girl.”

You were left speechless and San saw in your eyes the appreciation, pulling you in his arms, “I’ll kiss you after our fourth date.”

“Why not now? You already got me knocked up and we are not even on our first date.” He chuckles and this is one of the reasons why he likes you; nonchalant or straightforward. He nodded, “Okay.” He pulls you in near his warmth, his lips landing gently on yours. He took the lead to make you feel special, make you feel the most important person to him.

#ateez #ateez choi san #choi san #choi san imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #choi san smut #choi san x reader #san ateez #ateez fanfic #kpop smut

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leilakisakabiri · 1 year ago

Note

Can I request something with Gavi being barely even home resulting to reader feeling lonely and empty? A fluffy ending please! Gracias a todos!

You're Losing Me (Gavi)

Summary: You and Gavi's relationship is slowly falling apart - and neither of you know how to save it.

Warnings: Angst. Toxic behavior.

A/N: This request literally revived me so thank you. I’m so excited to write angst hopefully you like it! Also thank you guys for 1k notes on Surprise, here’s my gift to you. Please send requests!

Word count: 6.8k+

Masterlist

It was the fourth Tuesday in a row that you ate alone in your apartment. The fourth time Gavi had skipped out on your plans last minute, sending a quick half-hearted text about one event or the other.

The first time it was because Coach had asked Gavi to stay after practice, keen on teaching him the perfect one-touch shot. Then it was a missed dinner because Jordi Alba had invited him out with some other players, and he just couldn’t say no, because he was finally starting to feel like a part of the family - like the older players had finally started to respect him.

Of course you hadn’t minded the first few times, he had been apologetic enough, promising you that he would be there next time, but each next time took on the next week, and soon the prospect of next time didn’t hold as much meaning anymore. You were accustomed to reading those words by now, and you rarely took time to read over the dwindling text messages anymore, eyes only scanning for those two words, the ones that had become a staple in your relationship.

Next time.

Next time you would cook dinner for him and he would be there to eat it. Next time he would tell you he loved you in person, rather than getting an impassive ‘sorry cariño’. The thought of next time, which once seemed like a lifeline to you, had become a dull reminder of the boy who was just on the other side of the city, only a measly train ride separating you both. Yet the distance seemed much greater.

But now the football season was drawing to a close, and instead of being excited at the notion of having more time to spend together, you felt uneasy and on edge, almost as if you were waiting for the other shoe to drop, something to come up, making the distance between the two of you that much more tangible.

You felt your phone buzz next to you and your eyes unintentionally went to the clock.

9:45 pm.

The texts were getting later and later each time.

You already knew what awaited you, but you couldn’t help but scan the message regardless.

“Can’t come tonight, only have a few days till the season ends and the guys wanna make the most of it. Be there next time. Noche.”

There it was again, that unexplainable feeling in your chest, like your heart was always one step ahead of your brain, preparing for the loss of something that hadn’t yet left. Your mind was an incomprehensible mess, a jumble of contrasting thoughts and memories, forcing you to overthink situations and undervalue your emotions.

You lifted your head watching your roommate land with a thump on the couch beside you, “He canceled again, didn’t he?”

You opened your mouth, an excuse on the tip of your tongue.

She held up her hand, “Don’t try to defend him. He knows it isn’t fair.”

You avoided her gaze, “You don’t get it. He’s really in demand and-”

“It doesn’t matter that he’s famous or a professional athlete, that doesn’t discredit his actions, or put the blame on anyone but him.”

She continued, “Look Gavi’s a good guy, I like him,” you stared at her, “I do! But he’s stupid if he doesn’t realize that he’s losing you. I know you, and while you might make excuses for him now, I know that sooner or later you’re going to notice that he hasn’t been treating you like you deserve, and you’ll be smart enough to leave.”

You felt the impact of her words full force, like a sledgehammer beating into your body. All the signs were there, right in front of your face, and you had been turning a blind eye, not wanting to admit what your heart already knew.

You knew it. The distance you had felt hadn’t been in vain – every day you could feel the connection between the two of you chip away, so small, you wouldn’t think to notice it till you stood back and looked at the bigger picture.

As a result of both your busy schedules, you both had come up with the idea of having Tuesday night, the most boring day of the week as agreed on, reserved for just the two of you. On Tuesday you didn’t have classes that ran well past dinner time or have to pick up late-night shifts at the restaurant, and he didn’t have evening practice. It was perfect. Tuesday was yours.

Except it had been four weeks since you’d had a proper conversation with Gavi, and you couldn’t help but see the difference in your relationship when you first got together, both eager and determined to spend as much time together as possible, to now, where even if you attended his games, you two still managed to get away without speaking.

You shook your head, “I-I need to take a walk.”

She reached over placing a hand on your shoulder, “Y/n. I’m sorry-”

You shook it off, standing up, “No it’s ok, it’s not your fault. I just need to clear my head.”

You felt the cool night breeze hit you as you walked the streets of Barcelona. It was unusually quiet in this part of town, the lights from the main strip didn’t reach this far out, and for a moment the quiet reminded you of your hometown.

If you closed your eyes, it was almost like you were fifteen again, back in your childhood bedroom, before the ideas of pretty boys with big brown eyes and the weight of managing both university and a job plagued all your thoughts.

You reached a lookout point, the top of the hill dropping to show you the expansive city below. You stared out, the buildings looked so small up here, barely more than a glowing dot in the dark, the cars a blur of soft yellow. You wondered which tiny dot Gavi was in. You wondered if he had checked his phone, seeing that you hadn’t texted him back like you usually did. You wondered if he even cared.

You shook your head trying to get rid of the unwanted thoughts.

Your relationship with Gavi was good. He made you laugh like nobody else, whispering secrets in each other’s ears like schoolchildren, making forts out of old sheets in his childhood bedroom when you met his family for the first time. You remembered his sweet smile, the way his eyes would crinkle unintentionally when he couldn’t hold back his excitement or happiness. You remembered confiding in him about school, how you were so stressed because you couldn’t manage eighteen credits while simultaneously holding a job that required you to be on your feet for hours at a time. You could still feel the soft caress of his hand, as he squeezed yours, providing you comfort, cracking a badly executed joke here and there just to get you to smile while listing a hundred reasons why if anyone could do it, it would be you.

So, if he made you feel all those things, why did his absence make you feel so tiny, so insignificant?

Your finger hovered over the call button, and you hit it hesitantly.

You just wanted to hear his voice.

That would be enough.

It rang seven times before the line went dead.

It took you a moment to realize you hadn’t put your phone up to your ear, waiting with bated breath for the timer on the screen to start, indicating he had picked up, but it never did.

You stuffed your phone back into your pocket, the same unsteady feeling in your heart strumming.

Once.

Twice.

Then it was gone.

You came home to a quiet apartment and your roommate already asleep.

You shuffled into your room silently, you would give it one more week you decided. Next time would be the last.

The next week came, and while it was the first week Gavi had off from training, he had already planned to go to Ibiza to attend a music festival with his hometown friends. He had invited you, but it was more of an afterthought, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to go because of rushed ‘you can come if you want’ and a barely there apology so you left it.

You got an ‘I’ll miss you’ text from him and for a moment it made you smile, filling you with warmth. However, an ‘I miss you’ only did so much, and other than his sweet messages, there was really no intent behind his words.

Now it had been two days since Gavi had gotten back from his Ibiza trip, and you couldn’t hide the surprise on your face when you glanced over and saw a Facetime call from Gavi.

When was the last time the two of you had Facetimed? Maybe two months ago? It was much easier to send a text, the times both of you were free were few and far between.

You answered the call, pushing your textbook to the side. The dark grey interior of Gavi’s car greeted you.

“Hello?” You asked.

“Hey, Y/n long time no talk.” Gavi joked, but you felt your stomach flip at the truth behind his words.

“I can’t see you.” You said.

“Oh shit, did I accidentally Facetime? My bad I told Siri to call and she must have Facetimed instead. Let me call you.”

You went to speak but heard the three beeps indicating the call had been cut.

You heard the phone ring again and bit back a sigh. You just wanted to see his face.

You answered on the second ring.

“Hey sorry about that. I wanted to call and tell you that I’m back from Ibiza.”

“Yeah, I know.” You admitted, “I remembered.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Well, anyways I wanted to ask you to come with me to the Spanish football gala tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

You heard some shuffling and suddenly Gavi’s voice was much clearer and closer to the phone. You assumed he took it off speaker.

“Can you not come?”

You hesitated, “Uhm I’m not sure. It’s so last minute and I’m already scheduled at the restaurant tomorrow.”

“Can’t you just take off?” He persisted.

You felt your brow furrow, “I’m already on the schedule, I can’t just decide to take off the day before, I need to find someone to replace me.”

“Ok, tell whoever that I’ll sign a jersey for them if they do.”

You suddenly felt angry. Why did he think that you could only get a day off work if he helped you out? Were you not capable of handling your own situations? You hated feeling like this, like you weren’t even your own person, just a shadow of who you were with.

“No that’s fine. I’ll just take off like you said, simple.” You couldn’t help but let the bitterness seep into your voice.

He went to say something, probably sensing the shift in your mood, but you cut him off, “I have to go. Bye Gavi.”

You hung up before he could respond.

Finding someone to replace your shift was easier said than done, but after some back and forth, and a promise to Marcus to cover his next two shifts, you were free.

Free to prance around in a hall filled with people you barely knew, with a boy who you thought about more in your memories than you saw in real life.

The night of the gala arrived, and you were decked out, wearing the earrings Gavi had gifted you for your one-year anniversary paired with a necklace you had received after graduating high school.

Gavi had originally said he would pick you up but had sent a quick text earlier in the morning explaining that the team was getting ready together at a hotel, and to just meet him at the venue.

Your roommate had agreed to drive you and you gave her a grateful smile as you got in the car.

“Ana thank you for taking me.”

She brushed the comment off playfully, “No problem. Gotta step up when Gavi steps down.”

You let out a short laugh, “My hero.”

You got to the venue a couple of minutes before you had planned to meet Gavi and nervously walked around, staying out of the path of cameras.

You found someone to take you to a tent where some Barca staff were waiting for the players to start the program.

You walked in, a surprised look taking over your face once you noticed Pedri and a few other players in the corner.

You weren’t aware that some of the players from the hotel had arrived yet.

Pedri noticed your entrance and came over to say hello.

You gave him a quick hug, making casual small talk.

Just ask him, a voice in the back of your head urged.

Finally, you bit the bullet, attempting to sound as casual as possible, “How did you guys get here so early? I thought everyone was leaving the hotel at 6.”

“Ehh, it wasn’t that important, so I skipped it. Half the guys didn’t go anyway, and the other half just went to play FIFA. Besides I beat them every time, so it gets a little boring after a while.”

You tried to laugh at his joke, but could only manage a watery smile, mind running a mile a minute.

So Gavi hadn’t actually needed to go but chose to.

Leaving you alone.

Again.

It wasn’t a big deal by itself. But it was the fact that this was just another item you could add to your ever-growing list of things Gavi cared about more than you. You wondered briefly if you had been wrong, and if he had missed some other event to be there with you, only to remind yourself that you hadn’t seen him in a month, so no, he hadn’t.

You were still grappling with your emotions when Gavi arrived, unsure whether to confront him or just let this be another thing you swept under the rug.

Your reunion, if you could even call it that, was lackluster at best. He had walked in with some of his teammates, immediately going to greet the rest of his team, completely ignoring you standing on the right side of the room with Pedri.

It was only once he asked where Pedri was that someone pointed the two of you out.

You felt your body deflate; he hadn’t even asked for you.

Were you overthinking things again? Maybe he had just forgotten in the excitement of seeing his whole team for the first time after the season ended?

Gavi made his way over to the two of you, reaching out to Pedri first. You watched as they exchanged a hug before Gavi’s eyes floated over to yours.

“Hey.” His voice was casual, like he was greeting a mailman, or thanking the cashier.

“Hi.”

You closed the space, attempting to hug him, but he grabbed your shoulders stopping you, looking down.

You followed his gaze.

“I don’t want to wrinkle the dress.”

You felt your heart thud against your chest, and while you knew he only had good intentions, the rejection still stung.

You stepped out of his embrace, watching his hands drop to his sides, “Okay.”

The carpet went by in a blur, you posed with Gavi for a few photos before moving to the side and letting him enjoy the spotlight, he had worked hard for it. You took a couple of photos with some of the other teammate's girlfriends and wives before you headed inside.

Once inside, there was still some time left before the actual dinner portion of the gala started. The gala was held for all Spanish football clubs as a celebration of their hard work during the season. It was also a great event to network, giving players the ability to talk with different coaches and directors they otherwise might not have gotten the chance to, allowing for discussions of thinly veiled preseason transfers to commence without the fear of unwanted ears listening in.

You found Gavi in the crowd quickly, linking your arm with his. He looked over at you, a smile taking over his features once he noticed you.

“Glad you found me.”

You noticed with great relief that his eyes still crinkled in the corners when he looked at you,

“I always do.”

The next however many minutes spent till dinner service started comprised of Gavi talking with various different players and directors as you stood like a shiny accessory off his arm, too insignificant to be acknowledged in conversation.

The call for dinner provided you solace from the repetitive conversations and mundane questions. You took a seat next to Gavi and were confused to find both Joao Felix and Antoine Griezmann seated at your table.

You leaned into Gavi, “I thought the clubs sat together?”

“Me too. I think they’re doing alphabetical tonight though.” He whispered.

“Which one’s your least favorite?” You looked up shocked at Gavi’s question, watching a boyish grin take over his features as he tried to hide his laugh, interlacing your fingers on your lap.

You shoved into him lightly, “They’re sitting right there!”

He leaned in closer, nose softly grazing your ear as he spoke, “Yeah but between me and you, I think Joao could have had a better season in Chelsea.”

You shook your head in disbelief, fighting back the smile that was threatening to spill out. Your eyes caught his and for a second it seemed like you had been transported back in time, back to when these types of moments were the standard not the exception, back when it felt like you were on each other sides, back when laughter was the antidote instead of tense silences filled with awkward hello’s.

His eyebrow lifted ask if to ask if you agreed with him, and a small murmur of agreement from you was all he needed before he opened his mouth, ready to hammer his point home, but his attention switched last second.

It was like you could visibly see the shift in his demeanor. First, it was his eyes glancing past yours, seeing the midfielder approaching. Then it was the subtle grip on your hand loosening, his fingers slipping through the gaps. Next, it was the complete shift in body, his posture straightening as he leaned his body away from yours, position shifting to face Pedri who had sat in the spot next to him.

To his credit, Pedri acknowledged the both of you but it was clear Gavi paid no mind to you, not evening sparing you a glance as he became immersed in a conversation with Pedri.

You tried to pretend it didn’t affect you and while you could lie to everyone else, you couldn’t lie to yourself. You had built up this evening up so much in your head, telling yourself that tonight would be the shifting point in your relationship and that everything would go back to the way it once was, but it was shaping up to be another Tuesday you had become all too familiar with.

Why did it feel like you were always competing for his attention?

Your mind was reeling, all the small actions Gavi did that you kept pushing aside, were floating back to the surface, each little remark or dismissal a little tug on your heartstrings till you were sure that if you stayed at the table a for a moment longer you wouldn’t be able to stop the onslaught of tears quickly approaching.

You stood from the table abruptly, catching a few people’s attention, but you gave them a polite smile, or at least you hoped it had been polite, you couldn’t focus on anything but the stinging in your eyes and the sinking feeling in your stomach.

You swiftly walked towards the restroom, glancing over your shoulder to see if anyone had noticed but your eyes fell on Gavi’s form. He hadn’t even bothered turning around.

Of course, he hadn’t.

Somehow that hurt more than anything else.

You were immensely grateful for the single-use restroom as you locked yourself in, shaky hands coming to steady yourself on the sink.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

You were internally screaming at yourself, begging yourself to keep yourself together but the feeling was too overwhelming and before you could stop you felt the first tears slip down. Your shoulders shook as you forced yourself to be silent, embarrassed about someone walking by and overhearing you pitying yourself.

One hand covered your mouth as you muffled your sobs, while the other dug into the stupid marble sink until the skin was pink and indented. The pain acted as a distraction from the unbearable pressure in your chest, and you instinctively pushed your hand harder into the sink.

Your fingers felt numb as you slowly removed them, closing your eyes to steady yourself. It was obvious that you weren’t in the best mental state, but you couldn’t exactly sit in the bathroom for the next hour to sort it out. You had to clean yourself up and go back to pretending.

Yes, pretending, you realized, was exactly what you had been doing. This whole night you had been pretending, pretending everything was okay, pretending that your relationship was fine when in truth you couldn’t even remember what Gavi’s laugh sounded like.

When had it become all pretend?

Was there anything left here? Were your best years behind you both?

These unanswered questions haunted you as you calmed yourself down, wrapping around you like a blanket, one that provided you no comfort but rather a feeling of suffocation.

Finally, your eyes had dried, and the redness had faded significantly. You had gotten your breathing under control, and you felt a little lighter having stopped denying what had been plaguing your mind for weeks now.

You took one final glance in the mirror, smoothing out your dress as you exited the restroom.

You walked slowly back to the table. You had decided that if you could just get through tonight, go home, and cry and think some more, then by tomorrow morning you would be able to talk to Gavi and decide what to do.

But that plan had flown out the window when you arrived back at the table to a confused Gavi.

It seemed he had finally noticed your absence.

“Where did you go? They served dinner 15 minutes ago.”

“I had to use the restroom.”

“For 15 minutes?”

“There was a queue.” You lied.

He seemed to accept your answer and you chose to focus on your food rather than him.

You were halfway through your meal when you noticed Gavi giving you a double take from the corner of your eye.

“Your eyes are red.” He spoke in a hushed voice.

“I don’t know why.”

“Are you sure?” His attention was beginning to slip again, eyes darting back between you and Pedri.

“Yes, I’m fine.” You heard your voice waver on the last syllable, a tick you had when you were lying, and Gavi immediately picked up on it, facing you fully.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head not wanting to get into everything here.

“I’m ok.”

“You’re not.”

“Gavi.” You warned.

“What happened? Did someone say something?”

“No. Just drop it please.” Your voice had gone soft, tired of defending yourself.

“Y/n just tell me, I’ll help.” He urged.

You stayed quiet.

“What’s wrong?” He asked again, adamant to get an answer.

You felt yourself grow annoyed, why couldn’t he just let it go? Why was he suddenly interested in how you felt? You were just trying to protect what little left the two of you had and he seemed intent on destroying it.

“It’s you.”

He looked taken aback, eyes pooling with hurt and confusion, his body slightly deflating, “W-what?”

The moment was interrupted when the announcer took over the stage, beginning the presentation for the night, highlighting a few key players and matches.

You looked away first, turning to face the stage, clapping along, acting as though you couldn’t feel Gavi’s gaze burning into your back as he desperately tried to get your attention.

Once the presentation was over you were quick to excuse yourself, using the pretense of going to get a drink as a getaway.

You held your breath as you walked, praying Gavi wouldn’t follow you, and while he got up immediately once he noticed, he was quickly interrupted by another player coming to congratulate him, allowing you to slip away while he watched helplessly.

You let out a huff, leaning against the bar trying to slow your heartbeat.

“Long day?”

You looked over to see Joao standing next to you, watching as the bartender poured his drink.

“Something like that.”

He nodded, “Me too. Been a long couple of days actually.”

You smiled, “Actually, it’s been a long couple of weeks.”

He turned his head to look at you, “I take it back. It’s actually been a long couple of months.”

You raised your hand in mock surrender, “Ok I can’t beat that.”

He grinned, “Yeah not many people can.”

Your expression matched his own, and you gave your order to the bartender before turning to face him again, “So how’s the season been?”

“Shit. Honestly, I’m not even sure why I’m here I played for Chelsea this season not Athletico.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his abruptness.

“Yeah, I saw your first game. A red card first match is pretty brutal.”

His grin only widened, “Oh keeping tabs are we?”

You gave him a playful glare, “Of course gotta know how Barca’s competition is doing.”

“Oh, so you’re a Barca girl?”

“Since the day I was born.” You revealed proudly.

And it was true, even before you had met Gavi, you had loved Barcelona. Growing up in a family of football lovers, your family had declared FC Barcelona as their home club, and you had witnessed so many legends play for Barcelona and so many underdogs find their true passion at the club.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, and you gave him a nod of encouragement, pretending to zip your lips shut making him smile, “Ok well it’s always been my dream to play for Barcelona. Messi was always an idol to me.” He confessed.

Your mouth dropped open in shock before you abruptly shut it, your eyes almost widening comically as you spoke excitedly, “What oh my gosh. I’m in shock. Messi? But you play with Ronaldo!” You gasped.

He laughed at your facial expression, as he whispered, “I know! That’s why it’s a secret.”

You nodded along with his words, sending him a duh expression, “Of course, I won’t say anything I promise.”

“Promise what?”

Gavi had appeared by your side, a firm hand set on your waist, as he gently tugged you back into his body.

You peeked up at Gavi to see he was already looking down at you, jaw set. You gulped.

“Nothing much, just talking about the season.” You replied.

You saw Gavi’s eyes flicker between the two of you before he brought you closer, “Can we please talk?”

You bit your lip unsure but nodded.

He slipped his hand into yours as he led you to a quieter area. You waved goodbye to Joao as Gavi pulled you through the crowd, and he held his drink up in response.

He was a nice guy. You hoped next season would be better for him than the last.

He guided you to a standing table and propped your hands on the table as he played with the ring on your index finger.

“This a really pretty ring, is it new?” He asked eyes focused on your fingers.

“No, I got it last month.”

“I haven’t seen you wear it.”

“I’ve worn it every day since I got it.”

“Oh.”

You gently removed your hand from his, knowing that talking circles about something so small was going to get you nowhere.

“What do you want Gavi?” You asked quietly.

His voice came out gravelly, “I want to know how I let it get to the point where you feel more comfortable calling me Gavi rather than Pablo.”

His words when straight to your heart, and you could feel his pain almost as much as you could feel your own.

“I-I don’t know.”

You heard his breath falter, “I miss you calling me Pablo. Hell – I even miss you calling me Pablito. I’d take anything over whatever this is.” He gestured pointing between the two of you.

“Ok then let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about where it went wrong.”

His eyes lifted at your words, “Why are you speaking in the past tense?”

You remained silent.

“Amor please, why are you speaking in past tense?” You could hear the panic building in his voice.

“I think we don’t spend enough time together.”

“Ok we can fix that. No problem.” He agreed, desperate to save what was slowly unraveling.

“But do you want to? Fix it I mean?”

“Of course, I do. Please just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” His voice was almost near begging, and you knew without a doubt that you were in a similar state.

You couldn’t believe that this was happening here, in front of all these people, but it wasn’t fair to either of you to hold it any longer. You had to have this conversation sooner or later and it seemed like tonight was the time for it.

“Sometimes I feel like you don’t have time for me.” You finally admitted what you had been feeling for the last month.

He shook his head rapidly, “I do! But I mean we both have such busy schedules, you have even less time than I do with school.” he argued, “You also have work so that cuts down on the time we have too, but I’m not complaining.”

You were trembling with anger as you spoke, but you kept your voice low, “Yes, because I have to work a job to be able to afford college. I hate the hours probably more than you do, but I do it because I have to. I don’t have an option. I want to go to school? I have to fund it. But you? You didn’t have to go out with the guys after practice or stay around Ansu’s to play FIFA, but you did. That was a choice you made.”

He opened his mouth to retaliate but you weren’t done, “And I’m not even mad about that. I’m mad that for the last month, you’ve put me below every other person in your life, treated me like I’m dispensable, someone who you only consider when you need something. I feel cheap. Like something you only want when it’s convenient to you.”

“That’s not true. You’re my girlfriend!” His voice shook as he spoke, and you realized he was probably just as scared as you were.

“Then why do I feel like I’m not?” Your voice came out soft, barely above a whisper, but it felt like delivering the final blow to an already sinking battleship.

You felt his eyes on you, eyes glazing over as hundreds of unushered words filled the space between you, but the moment was cut short, and you had to remind yourself that you were in public as Xavi approached the two of you.

You gave Xavi a quick hug before he congratulated Gavi on a great season.

Gavi only nodded, murmuring short responses, eyes glancing at you every few seconds like he was scared you would disappear from his life if he wasn’t watching.

He left after a moment, and then the two of you were alone again.

“I’m sorry Y/n, I had no idea that’s why you were working. I would’ve given you the money if you just said something-“

“I don’t want your money Gavi! It’s yours, not mine.” You said exasperated.

“C’mon Y/n you know I have enough to provide for the both of us. You don’t have to work-“

“I don’t want that! In fact, right now I don’t even want to be in this relationship!”

The boy physically shrunk back at your words, your admission sending him into silence as he processed your words.

Finally, he spoke, head shaking in denial, not wanting to admit what was right in front of him, “I-I don’t understand.”

You wanted to yell at him to notice all the signs you’d been sending him, beg him to understand the things you couldn’t say but had always been lurking in the shadows, easy enough to make out if you just paid attention. You wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair that Gavi got to pursue his passion while you were being told to give up yours. Your head was filled with millions of things you wanted to say to him, thousands of little moments you wanted to share with him, you wanted to confide in him about how scared you were, how you had never felt like this in your life, how the thought of him slowly falling out of love with you was ripping your insides apart, making you sick to your stomach. There were so many things but not one left your mouth.

“I know you don’t.” Your voice sounded tired, even to your own ears, and you wondered if this was it. If this is where the two of you parted ways.

“I-I’m just going to go home.”

“I’ll grab our coats.”

You placed your hand gently on his, giving him a sad smile, “It’s ok. I think I’ll go alone.”

Neither of you could deny what it meant.

He ducked his head so you couldn’t see his red eyes. There was a moment of silence, and you could tell he was fighting with himself, trying to figure out what to do to stop the inevitable, until he slowly nodded,

“Ok.”

He had just sealed your relationship closed, something you were grateful for because you knew you couldn’t have done it yourself.

He didn’t lift his head as you walked away, and you didn’t blame him.

You grabbed your coat quickly, bidding goodbye to a few people as you made your way out of the hall.

As you walked down the hallway towards the main doors you realized you didn’t have a ride back. Your roommate had dropped you off and you assumed Gavi would drop you back. Well, that wasn’t happening now. Train it was. One glance out the window told you it was raining, downpouring to be exact.

How fitting. At least the weather matched your mood.

You stepped outside, immediately becoming drenched, but somehow you found comfort in it, at least this way no one could see you cry.

You were about halfway down the steps when you heard the door slam open, yelling coming from behind you.

You spun around, surprised to see Gavi stepping into the rain, “Please stay. Please.”

You stood frozen, unsure of what to say.

You were sure he wouldn’t follow you. But he had.

He kept taking steps closer to you, closing the distance, till you were only two steps apart, “Stay.”

His eyes searched your own, looking for something, maybe a sign that there was hope, something you weren’t sure you could provide.

“Just let me go. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

He shook his head, breath unsteady, “No I can’t. I can’t. I feel like if I let you go now, I’ll never see you again.”

You bit your cheek looking away, he was right. After tonight you had no intention of talking to him again.

His shoulders drooped at your silence, and he sat down on the steps of the building, harsh rain pounding down on him, matting his hair and drenching his extremely expensive suit, but he didn’t seem to care, “I hate fighting with you.”

You glanced down at his figure, watching him sit in the rain with his head in his hands, utterly defenseless.

“But I hate even more that it’s my fault, and that I couldn’t see what I was doing until I felt what you did, just for a second, and it hurt like hell.”

“I should have been there for you. I should have made time for you. I knew what I was doing wasn’t right but then I kept thinking it’s fine I’ll make it up to her next time, but next time never happened because I never showed up. I guess I was just so focused on making sure my teammates all liked me, and they had just stopped treating me like a kid, finally inviting me places - and I’m not using that as an excuse because I know it’s a shit one, it’s on me. Nobody forced me to do anything, I just wanted to feel included, and I put everyone else’s feelings above yours when yours was the one that was the most important to me.”

He finally lifted his head, and he was close enough that you could see the tears streaming down his face as he looked intently at you, almost like he was trying to memorize you, “If you want to walk away you can, you should - I’ll understand. I just wanted to apologize, really apologize, and own up to everything I did. I love you, and I promise you I won’t take anyone for granted the way I did with you.”

Your expression mirrored his own, and the tears were falling freely at his confession now that it was just the two of you. All the things you had wanted him to realize he had. All the things you wished he had said, he finally did.

But was it too late?

“Thank you, Pablo.”

He let out a short laugh through his tears, “No, thank you.”

You gave him a soft smile before you put distance between the two of you, letting the rain mask the sound of you leaving.

The lights from the venue grew dimmer as you continued walking, and you spared one last glance over your shoulder before it disappeared from view, seeing Gavi’s tiny figure rooted in place, watching you leave.

Your steps faltered.

How could you leave this relationship, this boy, when every single warning sign was going off in your brain, telling you to turn around and fight, to not give up? He had understood, he had understood exactly what you had felt, and had owned up to his mistakes, what else could he have done? He couldn’t go back and make it better, but he could change the way he treated you, but how would you acknowledge the change if you didn’t stick around?

It didn’t feel right walking away.

You thought you would feel content, feel like the pressure was lifting from your shoulders, but the dropping feeling in your stomach was multiplying, and your heart was constricting painfully at the thought of never seeing him, never laughing with him, never kissing him again, at the idea of falling in love with someone that wasn’t him.

You never ran faster in your life.

Let him be there. Please let him be there.

You didn’t know how you could explain yourself if you had to walk back into the event sopping wet, eyes puffy, and nose runny.

You couldn’t stop the wide smile that stretched across your face as he realized he was right where you left him.

You sat next to him and he didn’t notice until you spoke.

“Pablo.”

His head shot upon hearing your voice, and his face lifted for a second before falling again, “Di-Did you forget something?”

You nodded.

“Ok I can get it for you, what is it?” He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice clear.

You shifted closer to him, bodies pressed against each other, “I forgot that I love you. I love you and I want to work this out. I’m happy that you took responsibility and I believe you. I believe that you won’t do it again. But I should apologize too – I also wasn’t fair to you, and I did things that I shouldn’t have just to get back at you for making me feel so small.”

“I’m sorr-”

You cut him off, “Let’s stop apologizing.”

He nodded, eyes looking at you with nothing but love and admiration,

“Ok but we’ll have to work on our communication.” He said, and you hummed in agreement.

You touched your forehead with his, staring at each other with baited breaths until he finally closed the distance and kissed you. After a month of not seeing each other, you were finally kissing, pouring all your emotions, all your love, all your pain into the kiss, making a promise to be there for each other, and it felt like coming home.

alternate ending

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hughjackmansbicep · 4 months ago

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The Seamstress

Contains: Logan Howlett X F!Reader

Summary: Youre a seamstress and he seems to have an endless supply of holey clothes....

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: None :D

a/n: haiiiiii ive always loved this trope in fics !!! tehe!! srry for not writing much recently i got fired from my job LOL anywayssss... i was listening to the smiths writing this unrelated but related.

Most days bled together, the same mundane routine playing out in front of you each day. Wake up, go to work, go home, eat takeout, and pass out to some soap opera. Currently, the highlight of your life was finding out what was going to happen next on The Days of Our Lives. You were a seamstress in the middle of Manhattan; you owned a small shop off 64th, and although you were living out your dream, nothing excited you anymore. Every task felt exhausting; you couldn't even find passion in sewing anymore. That was until he stumbled into your shop.

“Hi, yeah, I was wondering if you'd be able to sew this up for me.” He grumbled, holding up what appeared to be some yellow and blue jumpsuit. You'd almost forgotten to respond, completely captivated by his sheer beauty. His gorgeous face, chiseled body, kitty-like hair, and you can't forget the unusual yet totally working for him mutton chops. “U-um, ahem, yeah, I totally could.” You manage to choke out, reaching for the clothing item. “How long do you reckon it'll take?” You examine the clothing carefully; it's decorated with rips and holes everywhere. He's lucky if I can get this finished by the end of the week, “Tomorrow.” Your mouth moves quicker than your brain can. “Cool, I'll come by at 10? Is that alright?” He asks, slowly backing out of the shop, his eyes never leaving you. ‘10am? I can't begin to do that either; I mean, I wouldn't get to sleep tonight’. “Yep! See you at 10!” Cure that mouth of yours; you give him a smile and an awkward wave as he makes his way out the door.

You blow your breath out as if you'd been holding it the entire time, sinking down into your chair. You silently cursed at yourself for agreeing to such a stupid timeframe, but this meant you could binge Days of Our Lives tonight, so maybe it wasn't half bad.

The rest of the day went just as you expected. A couple hems, a few cinches—nothing out of the ordinary apart from the comic book cosplay you agreed to revive back to life. It was currently 3 o’clock in the morning; you'd been sitting there sewing the garment for 7 hours. Honestly, you'd been making great time; you were so close to finishing, maybe 20 stitches left total. Somewhere between the last stitch and a doctor getting slapped, you'd passed out on your living room floor.

You'd awoken to the feeling of your feline licking your cheek, causing you to immediately shoot up off the floor. Your eyes frantically searching for a clock, the power Must’ve gone out sometime around 5 in the morning because that's all you saw flashing back at you on the stove. In a frenzy, you started throwing random clothes on, praying they'd match, shoving the costume in a garment bag, and running out the door. Thats when you finally looked down at your phone, seeing the time read 10:03, “God damnit.” You whined under your breath. Your shop was only a couple blocks away, but that was still a 15-minute walk, so you sprinted. You probably looked like a complete lunatic, but you couldn't care less right now. The incredibly hot customer probably waiting outside your doors was the utmost important thing on your mind.

Dripping in sweat and hyperventilating as you turned the corner to where your shop was, you saw him just as you thought you would. Leaning up against the door, one arm crossed over his torso as he took a drag from his cigar with his other. God, he looked heavenly, and you... Well, maybe not your best day, but definitely not your worst. “Hey, sorry I'm late.” You breathed out, hands resting on your knees as you caught your breath. “But I've got your thingy.” You hold the garment bag up; he just furrows his eyebrows at you, cocking his head to the side. His silence makes you feel more embarrassed than you already do. You get up to unlock your doors, ushering him to follow you inside.

You check him out at the register; the only words being exchanged were the cost of the repairs and where he can tap his card. He walked out with a smile and a nod, a soft ‘Thanks’ escaping his lips before the door shut. You throw your head in your hands, feeling shame wash over you. You were hoping and praying he was going to leave his number on the receipt, but obviously he did not. I mean, why would you have had him waiting and showed up looking like a complete mess? Not very good looks. You simply had to chop it up as a loss and return back to the mundaneness of your life.

The very next morning, though, he was here again, this time holding an old brown jacket. He'd said there was a small hole in the pocket he wanted fixed. This time it only took you all 20 minutes. You asked him to wait upfront as you brought the jacket to the back to repair it. When you returned, you checked him out the same as before, and he left exactly the same as before. This became an everyday routine for the two of you. Every day he'd walk in with some worn-out article of clothing asking you to stitch it up; you always obliged, even if the clothes looked and smelled like they came from 1987. You always did wonder how this guy had so many ripped-up clothes just lying around, and why wouldn't he just bring them in all at once?

This charade had been going on for 2 weeks now when you finally decided to break from your usual script of ‘thank you, come again’. “Why is everything you own torn apart? Is everything okay back home?” You asked as he slipped his card into the machine. You could see the heat rising to his cheeks as he tried to hide a smirk creeping its way on his face. “You want me to be honest with you?” He looked up at you, pursing his lips together in a thin line. You nodded your head, waiting for him to continue, “I honestly thought you were gorgeous when I first walked into your shop.” Now your cheeks started burning red as your eyes went wide. “So every day since then I head into Goodwill and find anything I can with a hole in it so I can find an excuse to come see you.” This was the first time you'd ever seen this man avoid eye contact with you. You couldn't find your words as your throat had gone dry. He was into you??? And here you were this whole time thinking you ruined your shot (and that he was homeless, but you weren't going to tell him that).

"Well, say something.” He exasperated, snapping you out of your daze. “I honestly don't know what to say; I’m shocked. I get off at 6 if y’know... You wanted to grab something to eat?” You offer awkwardly, smiling through the pain of how anxious you sounded. He looks up to you finally meeting your gaze, a soft smile painted on his lips. “Ill be here to pick you up at 6 doll.” He grabs your hand, planting a gentle kiss on your knuckle. He walked out the door, leaving you in utter shock and denial for the rest of your shift.

hi ps u can always request me shtuff to write! :3

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stars4roryy · 27 days ago

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this is probably too niche but oomf marsh notionslime pointed out the parallels between viktor arcane and tr!aimsey and i Need more people to see the vision. They are both stuck in a never-ending cycle of dying and getting revived- their bodies are literally 'on the line'. tr!aimsey fights SO hard to regain their lives and take back control through their potions just as Viktor does through hextech. Both take it too far- overstepping the boundaries of nature and god by pushing necromancy/hextech further than it was ever meant to and facing irreversible consequences. tr!aimsey uses necromancy to try and help the world and leave an impact on the people that never even cared for them. viktor can't see a meaning to life if hextech doesn't succeed he sacrifices his entire being for his work because in his eyes it is the only thing making him 'worthy'. ALSO them physically becoming less and less like themselves each time they get revived: the entire left side of tr!aimsey's face bleeding and viktor's body being overtaken by the hexcore. this is SICK AND TWISTED. i eat up themes of humanity every Time, put a plate of a character losing themselves due to their own actions in front of me and i will lick it clean

#aimsey #tr!aimsey #the realm #arcane #viktor arcane #aimsey look #im so sorry if im mischaracterising either of them #but AAGHHJEHJD #roryy yaps

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dunmeshichilchuck · 7 months ago

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For That One Guy On Tumblr

Chilchuck x !fem ! halffoot Reader

So this starts off during the sauna episode. I'm changing it a bit to where that floor has been that cold since the dungeon was created. There will probably be more installments but right now it's just setting things up. Anyway, enjoy.

The last thing you remembered was cold, leeching into your bones. Cold, and the certainty that this would be the last thing you'd ever feel. Your party had left you to die rather than try to heal your wounds, and this floor was too deep for someone else to come along and take pity on you before your body rotted. You were going to become a ghost, haunting this dungeon without ever being able to leave.

And then you opened your eyes again, and you were all too warm.

You took a few shuddering breaths, coughing and gasping. Your lungs burned like they were on fire and your whole body ached. You curled up into yourself, shivering. And then you became aware of what was going on around you. And also that for some reason everyone was wrapped in towels instead of normal clothing.

"YOU MEAN YOU HAD NORMAL RESURRECTION MAGIC THAT COULD DO SHIT LIKE THIS THIS WHOLE TIME???!!! ARE YOU STUPID? WE COULD HAVE AVOIDED THIS WHOLE THING!"

Another....halffoot? Shouted.

"I already EXPLAINED why I couldn't have used normal magic!!" A blond elf woman shouted back in an exasperated high pitched squeal. "It wouldn't have worked! The thread between body and soul was too tenuous! And we'd never have been able to get enough regular meat down there! Anyway I don't understand why you're so against it, I didn't see you arguing against it at the time!"

A blond tall man, blindfolded? For some reason? Interjected. "Marcille is right! Even though the body was in a not so great condition the ice kept it from rotting so all the component parts were still there! We just got lucky that we were able to gather them all together! Once the body thawed resurrecting it was a simple matter! There was no need for special magic like with Falin."

They continued to argue violently while your recently unfrozen brain attempted to make sense of the situation.

Had the half foot somehow had enough pull in the party he'd been able to convince them that they should revive you? You weren't much use on this floor and presumably deeper ones where small traps gave way to larger monsters, so you couldn't work out any reason they had for reviving you. You looked around the small, actually extremely hot room you were in. It was...a sauna? Was it really a sauna? What the fuck?

You smelled something delicious and you looked around to see a dwarf with long black hair and a massive bushy black beard peacefully tending to meat cooking over what looked very much like a wok. What the fuck? They were a high enough level party to have fresh meat down here? That would explain why they'd been able to spare the revival for you.

There was also what looked like a beast girl crouched next to him, watching the squabbling party members with a bored expression on her face. Well. That was just another one of the things to file away and deal with later.

Almost instinctively you staggered to your feet and crouched down by the dwarf to watch him cook. Your stomach grumbled insistently. Even in normal circumstances getting revived made you ravenous. Now you felt dizzy with hunger.

"Ah, hello there!" The dwarf looked up at you and beamed. "Always nice to have new folk eat with us! You must be hungry after getting revived, food should be ready in just a few minutes."

He continued cooking, humming softly to himself.

"Would you...like some help?" You managed to rasp out. Throat hoarse with disuse.

At this point it seemed like the other people there remembered your existence.

"Ah! So sorry, you're awake!" The elf said. "You were out for a long time, I didn't know if the magic would fully take with how long you'd been in the ice."

"How...how long?" You said, almost dreading the answer.

"At least a couple of years, based on the state of your organs and bones" the blindfolded tall man said enthusiastically. "You were lucky! The extreme cold preserved you extremely well and there aren't any monsters down here that would go to the trouble of digging you out of the ice."

You blinked at him.

"How did you get all the way down here?" The elf asked. "Was your party wiped out? We looked but we couldn't find anyone else."

"I'll bet they left her behind." The halffoot interjected dourly. "She probably got injured and they didn't want to waste time resurrecting her or bringing her along."

"what!" The elf gasped. "that's terrible, no one would do that! Why would you even think of that Chilchuck??"

"Like I keep telling you guys, halffoots are treated as expendable! It'd be totally within the realm of possibility! Especially since she didn't sign on with the union or we woulda recorded when her party came back without her or she just never came back at all!" He frowned. "That's why I started the damn thing in the first place but if not everyone uses it it's not fucking good to anyone."

he (chilchuck?) turned abruptly to you. "Anyway, why didn't you use the union? We would have been able to look out for you so this didn't happen."

You stared at him in utter confusion. "....union?"

#dunmeshi #chilchuck #chilchuk tims #chilchuk dungeon meshi #chilchuck x reader

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towriteloveontheirarms · 1 year ago

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Can you write a Percy de Rolo one shot where the gender neutral reader has to be revived after taking an arrow for Percy and the aftermath

Thank you so much for sending something for Percy in. I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you like it as well, anon.<3

On the romantic side

pairing: Percival de Rolo x gn!Reader

synopsis: “Come on, stay with me. Open your eyes. Fuck, Pike!” You recognize Percy´s voice calling out for help and hold onto his arm with all the strength that is left in you.

warnings: lethal injury, mentions of blood and fighting, angst, hurt/comfort

word count: 1.5k

“Noooo!” His voice echoes through the hall and rings in your ears. Followed by the piercing pain of something sharp puncturing your neck.

The breath get knocked out of you instantly. You barely even feel the pain of crashing to the floor, dragged down by the sheer force with which the arrow was shot. You try to call out to someone. Percy, Pike, Keyleth, just anyone, but the only sounds that come out are some gurgling ones as blood enters your mouth. It spills over and runs down your chin, further sullying your clothes. You feel your strength fading fast, yet even if it weren´t your mind wouldn´t be clear enough to heal yourself. You feel someone carrying you away, but through closed eyes you can´t see who it is. A deep, frustrated grunt comes from above.

“Come on, stay with me. Open your eyes. Fuck, Pike!” You recognize Percy´s voice calling out for help and hold onto his arm with all the strength that is left in you. “Please, I…”

Something wet falls onto your cheek, but you can´t hear the rest of what he says as your body begins to shut down. Everything that once weighed you down is lifted from you, by some divine power. It´s peaceful and warm and safe. The glowing figure of your sister takes you by the hand, leading you towards a comforting light. When you try to ask her what all this means and how she could be here when she had died already, no sound leaves your lips.

Yet just as you are about to give in and follow the woman that had raised you so selflessly for most of your life, an indescribable force pulls you back from her. All the way back into a cold world full of pain. Your eyes open once more and you try to sit up with a gasp but a gentle hand pushes you back down.

“Whoa. Take it easy.” You recognize Vax as the source of the softly spoken words. Pike sits on the other side of your bed. Giving you a tight lipped but glad smile.

“What happened?” You ask them. Coughing up a storm as your throat scratches with every word.

“Well, um, you kinda got hit by an arrow back there.” Pike bashfully scratches her cheek.

“Wh-What?” This time Vax can´t keep you from sitting up. You look around with heavy bursts of breath escaping your lungs.

As you look around your room you remember everything. The battle, seeing Percy about to get shot and jumping in front of him to save him as the only solution you saw.

“Where is Percy, is he…?”

“He´s been in his workshop all day.” Vax grumbles.

“Was he here ever since we came back?” You are unsure why you even ask that question, but something tells you, that you need to know.

The lack of answer that you get in return is all the answer you need.

“Can I go see him?” You turn again to Pike. Looking for her go ahead. Which doesn´t come.

“I may have been able to bring you back, but it was a close call. You need to rest now.”

Wordlessly you let yourself fall back onto the pillow and huff a breath. “Okay.”

The two of them leave you alone after that. Telling you to sleep and that they would look after you again tomorrow.

But no matter how much you toss and turn, sleep won´t find you anymore. So, despite the warning you stand up and make your way down the hall. Sneaking past several rooms until you stand in front of his workshop. Underneath the door you can see the flickering light of candles and hear the muffled sounds of tinkering. For a moment your hand hovers inches away from the wooden portal. Debating with yourself if it would be smart to interrupt him. If he was avoiding you, there must be a reason and who are you to just burst in on him like this. Then again something deep inside you tells you, that you need to see him and you need to talk to him.

Before you can stop yourself to think again, you have already knocked at the door. It takes a moment to open, but once it does, Percy stands in front of you with an unreadable look on his face.

“You´re awake again. Good.” Is all the acknowledgement you get from him.

“May I come in?” You scratch the back of your neck at a loss for any more words.

The door opens the slightest bit further and he takes a step back, making barely enough space for you to pass through.

“What have you been working on?” You murmur as you sit on one of the stools, but Percy only stands there. His back turned towards you, shoulders tense.

“Pike said I shouldn´t come here tonight…” You continue in a soft voice. As loud as your aching throat will allow you.

“Then why are you here?” He grips the workbench so hard his knuckles must be turning even paler than usual under the leather gloves.

“I´m sorry… I just… I needed to see you…” You are taken aback by his reaction.

“Well, you saw me now.” His tone is clipped and so icy you almost think it drew all the warmth from the room.

“Percy, I don´t understand. I was just trying to protect you…”

“No, of course you don´t understand.” His shoulders tense even further and from the looks of it he pinches the bridge of his nose. Not that you could really tell from your place behind him.

You stand up and reach a hand out, desperate to touch him, to have him believe you and stop being so cold.

In the same moment he turns around and gives you a glare, prompting you to retract your hand and sit back down. “So why don´t you just explain it to me? We are both reasonable adults. You can talk to me.”

“Would you leave it if I said I can´t do that yet…” His voice and face turn surprisingly soft all of a sudden.

“Not if you plan on continuing to be like this.” You meet his eyes again.

“Like what?” He asks, clearly becoming frustrated with god knows what or who.

“Cold and irritable, when all I did was trying to help.”

He sighs and sits down beside you, before he speaks in an apologetic tone. “You may just wanted to help, but I almost lost you. I already lost one of my families. I can´t lose another.”

“Oh…” You are unsure what to say. Your heart aches. For his loss and for the fact that he did not see you the way you saw him. “I´m sorry. It´s late and I interrupted your work. I should go back to bed.”

“Okay.”

The conversation doesn´t help you sleep that night at all. Or the ones to come, as a result you pull away from him. Until you find yourself in front of his workshop again. Wandering up and down the hall in uncertainty. Right when you want to walk away again.

“I can see your feet under the door. Come in.” He says with a blank face.

You follow his instructions and sit down in the same spot you sat in a few days back.

“Can I… Can I ask you a question?” You murmur hesitantly.

“What is it?” He answers.

“Do you really see me as your family?” You look at your hands, fingers playing with each other uneasily.

“Well, all of you, as much as you may steal my last nerves sometimes. Why?” He questioned.

“Hm?”

“Why are you asking that? There surely must be a reason for this trouble late at night. I know you.” He inquires further.

“I… I just…” You pause. Weighing the cleverness of speaking the following words. “I found that the nature of my feelings towards you to be a little less on the familiar side.”

“What side are they on instead?”

“The romantic side… But now that I see you do not feel the same I am starting to think it may have been a mistake to confess that. So, please ignore my foolishness.”

“No.”

“No?” Once again you are taken aback by his persistence.

“No. I will not ignore you and you are not foolish. In fact, I… I feel the same for you.” He takes a step towards you.

“Then why did you…” It´s becoming harder to come up with words.

“Because I was afraid and you were just brought back from the dead. I did not know how to behave towards you or what to say. It was my fault you did what you did. I could never apologize enough for that. I…” You interrupt his rambling by pressing your lips to his for a moment.

“It was not your fault. It was my choice and I would do it again any day over having to live with the knowledge that I could have done something to prevent your death and I didn´t.”

#percy de rolo #percival de rolo #percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo iii #percy de rolo x reader #percival de rolo x reader #the legend of vox machina #vox machina #vox machina x reader #tlovm #tlovm x reader

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mistystepmoonbeam · 11 months ago

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Reborn in Baldur's Gate 3: Chapter 1

Plot: You’ve been reincarnated. It’s the realization you come to when the tiefling offering you a health potion introduces himself as Tav. You died and your soul revived in Baldur's Gate 3, at the beginning of the game no less. But you only have the memories of your past life on Earth, and none of your current one.

Tav invites you to join him on his journey, despite your lack of abilities or maybe because of it. You might as well go along with it; where else would you go with no memory of who you currently are, or knowledge of anything that lies outside of the narrative?

There is much to discover about your life in Baldur's Gate, and what transpires relies on the tiefling leading your group as Tav.

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: This is very self-indulgent so there will by a lot of Gale and Astarion.

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

“I’m Tav.”

He’s a tiefling, you recall. Tall and bulky with curled horns. The dark gray skin tells you he’s descended from Mephistopheles, and his simple leather gear tells you he’s a barbarian. Huh. Yeah, that makes sense, he’s Tav, the hero of the game! Or…the villain? Your head pounds as memories flood back to you—tieflings, bards, goblins, vampires—you, sitting at a computer debating which choice would garner you the most favour with your companions in…

“Baldur’s Gate,” you mumble. You slap a hand over your mouth, staying on your knees as you blink at the tiefling. At Tav. He arches his brows and kneels beside you, offering you a small vial of red liquid.

“You’re from Baldur’s Gate, too?” he asks. “Drink this, it’ll make you feel better.”

Without much thought you take the already opened vial from him and swallow it down in one small gulp. With a deep breath the pounding in your head subsides and you can think a little clearer. Maybe not clear enough to fully comprehend that you’re currently in a video game, or that there’s a small wriggling behind your left eye which means…

More images come to you, a mind flayer holding a worm with too many teeth to your eye, a githyanki—Lae’zel—pointing a sword at you, and then falling from the ship. The nautiloid. Tav’s memories of the ship.

Tav winces as the visions fade. “Guess you got one of those, too.”

A chill runs down your spine, through each and every bone of your body until the squirming thing behind your eye stops movement all together.

“I uh…” You look around at the crash area, taking in the rocks and splotches of fire dotting the land on one side and water on your left, until you meet the gaze of a raven-haired half-elf.

“This one doesn’t seem to be all there,” she says. Her voice is as smooth and condescending as you remember, and you find it endearing despite the insult.

“Give them a moment,” Tav responds over his shoulder. “It’s a lot to take in.”

Yes, especially because this is most definitely a dream. A very vivid, painful, exciting, insane dream.

“What’s your name?”

You fear all you can do is blink. You tell them your name, voice as shaky as your body. There’s a tremble in your hands that you can’t control, even with a hard grip on the now empty vial. “And thank you…for the potion.”

Tav lifts, holding a large sharp-nailed hand out to you. “Can you stand?”

You nod, taking his hand and letting him lift you to your feet. You let your hand drop to dust off your clothes, nothing that you remember wearing. The last thing you recall was going to bed in a tank top and shorts but you’re now wearing a dark blue overcoat atop loose fitting pants and a fitted shirt. The borders of the coat are stitched with gold swirls, and based on the softness of everything you wear it has to be expensive. Somehow, after everything (whatever the Hells that involved) you are quite clean. Not to mention the bag that hangs at your hip beneath your coat is quite heavy, and another bag that wraps around your waist and sits at your back has the contents clinking together when you move.

You look like a caster of some kind, but you can’t tell which. You can’t feel anything that would indicate your abilities, but some cold sensation at the back of your mind tells you you can do something. Like another limb sits in your mind, waiting to be moved.

“We don’t have time for stragglers,” Shadowheart says.

“Yet I helped you,” Tav counters. There’s a playfulness to his tone that doesn’t match his furrowed brow.

Shadowheart concedes. “Fair enough. You’re welcome to join us in our search for a healer.”

You nod. Yes, a healer! They’ll be able to—pain strikes your temples as another memory clouds your mind.

A truck careening at you, horn blaring—a sharp hit of adrenaline and then…here.

“Oh my God I’ve been isekaied.” Your revelation earns you quizzical looks from Tav and Shadowheart. Reincarnated. Just like those cheesy but addicting books about a girl being reincarnated as a villainess in some cheesy addicting romance novel. You press your hands to your face, feeling familiar features but still wary. “Quick, what do I look like?”

“A lunatic,” Shadowheart answers.

Tav hesitates, but describes you. You. Not some other face, not a character you recall from the game but you. Regular human you. You sigh, relief flooding over you.

“As…interesting as this conversation is, we should get moving,” Tav says.

“Agreed.” Shadowheart doesn’t move until Tav heads to the only direction you can go, near part of the crashed ship.

“We need to find Lae’zel,” Tav adds.

“Less agreeable,” Shadowheart says. “She’s probably long gone by now, if not dead.”

“Well we should still keep an eye out.”

You follow the two into the still burning wreckage where they suddenly stop and draw their weapons—Tav a large axe, and Shadowheart her mace and shield.

“Intellect devourers,” you conclude. Three sit at the far end of the ship, scurrying towards you at a frightening speed. With one slash of his axe Tav takes out two of them before they can get close to you, and Shadowheart smacks the other one down. All defeated in what? Three seconds?

The three brains bleed out and flop to their sides, clawed limbs twitching.

“Vile creatures,” Tav says, holstering his axe. You expect the two to keep moving and check the nearby bodies for gold and supplies, just as you do in the game, but they don’t. They walk right past the dead man without rifling through his pockets and as you step by you feel your stomach lurch. To see a bloody disfigured body in reality felt very different from the game. The vacant eyes staring upward, pieces of flesh torn from his stomach…It isn’t until a hand covers your eyes and directs you forward do you realize you’d stopped.

“Just keep moving,” Tav says, keeping his hand by the side of your head so you can’t see the body. When his hand falls you keep your eyes on his swinging tail, and follow after him as he turns and moves into the sun.

Barrels and a broken down cart let you know what’s coming next—who’s coming next.

Your excitement strikes you then, still shaky and confused but awake. You’re in Baldur’s Gate 3, with Tav and Shadowheart, and hopefully all the others.

Your eyes scan the water nearby, debris scattered everywhere until you spot a dagger on the dock. Tav and Shadowheart watch you dart over and pick it up.

“I thought you would be one to attack with words, not knives,” Shadowheart says coolly.

You stash the dagger in a boot, smiling at Shadowheart. Gods. She was pretty as pixels but seeing her in the flesh, she was something else. “Well, words aren’t always the best weapons.”

“Can I get some help?”

You recognize the voice without needing to see the speaker. Astarion is just up the hill waiting to ambush Tav and…kill him depending on how he answers.

Based on how Tav darted ahead at the sound of someone in trouble (albeit fake trouble) you figured it wouldn’t turn out too terribly. So they had skipped over robbing the dead, and didn’t explore every corner of the map looking for treasure chests…that didn’t mean things would be different with each companion intro, right? There’s a plot here, and it has to be followed to a certain degree…right? There were no screen pop ups to decide dialogue and you all appeared to have free will, which was good.

Right?

Your thoughts did little to comfort you as you climbed the hill to find Astarion already pointing his blade at Tav who was apparently perceptive enough to dodge rolling around in the ground with the vampire. You stopped next to Shadowheart, at ease just watching the situation unfold.

Both men twitch and writhe as their parasites connect. When their visions fade Astarion questions it, and Tav answers honestly about being in the mind flayer ship and what the worms can do.

You study Astarion’s face as he realizes that he’s somewhat free, but there’s a time limit to the incubation period. Tav offers for him to join your trio, and just like you remember, he agrees.

“Splendid,” Astarion says. “Lead on.”

At that the vampire meets your eyes. Icicles dance up your spine until they pierce the back of your head, making you wince and hold a hand against the spot.

You grunt at the sudden pain, the sound quiet but drawing attention all the same. You wave the eyes away from you with your free hand. “Sorry. Head still hurts a bit from…having a tadpole put inside it.”

Nobody questions that, though you know it was something else. Every time your eyes even flit in Astarion’s direction you can feel a push at the back of your head, that phantom limb clenching as if trying to stretch and release itself. You wish you could say it was the tadpole, but it feels nothing like when you connected with Tav.

“Well let’s just try to keep our worms separate,” Astarion says, seemingly at you. “I don’t need to see what’s in your head anymore than you do mine.”

His eyes linger a moment on Tav. You nod your agreement though he isn’t looking at you now.

“I saw some footprints along another path,” Tav announces. “There could be other survivors.”

There doesn’t seem to be any question as to who is in charge. Shadowheart insists on searching for a healer but with a quick convincing from Tav you’re all headed towards a strange looking purple sigil.

“Looks unstable,” Shadowheart says.

“Best left alone,” Tav agrees. It was just like a friend's first play through that thought the sigil would kill them, so they never had Gale join their party. It wasn’t a totally unfounded theory—swirling, sparking voids did seem like something that shouldn’t be touched but everything in this world had a purpose. Anything out of place or, well, glowing, was important to the story.

But then the group is walking toward the bodies of three goblins discussing supplies.

They’ll steal from goblins but not humans? Seems odd but maybe you’re the weird one being so willing to pillage the dead, no matter their race. You frown, looking back at the sigil and knowing who is inside. “You sure you don’t want to see why it’s like that?”

Astarion is observing his nails while Tav loots the goblin bodies. Shadowheart kicks one of the bodies out of her way once fully plundered and looks back at you. “Be my guest. But if you get sucked in don’t expect me to come looking for you.”

“I’ll come look for you,” Tav states with a cheeky grin, hands inside a dead goblins pockets. It makes you smile back, so…kind and disarming. You recall barbarians didn’t have high charisma, but Tav seemed to have it in spades. Or perhaps your recent head injury was clouding your judgement—after all your reaction to being reincarnated, to being dead, was quite tame.

“Ah, a true hero.” Astarion looks between you and Tav, eyes narrowing as if trying to solve a puzzle.

You turn your attention back to the sigil, taking a small step towards it when an arm pops out.

“A hand?” a voice calls. “Anybody?”

You slap the waxing hand immediately without a thought.

“Perhaps I should have been more specific,” Gale says. “A helping hand please?”

“Oh, right!” You quickly take his hand in yours and tug to no avail.

“Keep trying!”

You pull harder, wondering if you were going to end up holding a severed arm in your hand as the sigil sparks brighter and buzzes with energy. You choose to ignore those thoughts and keep trying to free the wizard.

With one final pull the person connected to the arm comes tumbling out of the sigil. If it had been Tav to pull Gale free you’re certain it would have been a smooth experience, and he would have stepped back and dodged getting shoved to the ground by the sudden lack of resistance. But it wasn’t Tav, it was you, and instead of dodging the wizard your feet tangled with each other and you both went down.

The wind is knocked from your lungs with Gale atop you, his forehead connecting with your sternum and leaving you gasping for air. Strands of his hair fall onto your lips, soft and smelling of something spicy while his left arm is wrapped around your middle, the other braced against the ground. You realize he’d been trying to protect you on the way down, but wasn’t quick enough to cover the back of your head, which now throbs from the fresh battering.

“Ouch,” you croak, voice barely making it out of your throat. Footsteps approach until Tav, Shadowheart, and Astarion are hovering over you, each with a small smile. Well…Astarion’s is more of a smirk…

Gale pushes himself off of you and before he can say anything Tav has his hands beneath your underarms and is pulling you up. His hands slide to your back until you’re steady enough to stand on your own and thank him, rubbing at the back of your head again.

Throbbing is better than stabbing, you suppose.

“Apologies,” Gale says as he smooths his hair back, “I’m usually much better at this.”

You continue to rub the back of your head as he and Tav exchange dialogue, much of it going in one ear and out the other as you focus on the pain radiating in your skull. You squeeze your eyes shut and let your hands fall to your sides, giving in to the fact you can’t rub away whatever sensation is there.

“And you my friend.” Gale is in front of you, drawing your gaze to meet his. “I am truly sorry for landing on you, but extremely grateful for the help.”

You can’t stop your smile at him anymore than you could with Tav. “Happy to help.”

His eyes stay on you a moment longer than appropriate, but when they drape down your body you think he’s almost sizing you up. For a fight, or romance, or maybe to steal your coat you aren’t sure.

You look to Tav for direction, waiting for the leader to…well, lead. Lae’zel should be next, but that’s when you notice you have an extra member. With you there it makes five travellers, but nobody has been sent to camp yet. Wherever that is. While you’d like a moment to sit and organize your thoughts, the idea of heading somewhere on your own was terrifying.

“I hear voices over that ridge,” Astarion announces. Everyone turns towards where he’s looking, just a few feet ahead where the path winds up and you know you’ll find two tieflings looking at Lae’zel. But you can’t hear them yet.

“Let’s check it out.” Tav is already moving before anyone can object. And like ducklings you follow him with Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart.

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope

#reborn in baldur's gate 3 with no memory and plenty of gold #x reader #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #gale dekarios x reader #astarion x reader

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bamsara · 1 year ago

Text

Narilamb fic idea thought of, in progress, general gist:

Something goes wrong. The crown is split during Narinder's defeat, splitting the power between God of Death and the Lamb.

Narinder keeps a portion of his godhood, and the Lamb finds that rituals and powers they had access to before are no longer possible, Healing is cut short. Powers are halved. And there is a very real chance of perma-death, as the ability to resurrect oneself or anyone at all is not possible without full power, and the God of Death is not cooperative.

Afterlife and Purgatory are not options either. Dying means dying for real. Gone, no trace of you left.

Discovering that the will of dead gods are still in effect even when they are dethroned and in purgatory, even if not intentional, Lamb realizes there will come a time when Narinder will return to his full power, crown or no crown, and they must rehabilitate the God of Death before that happens, or at least give him a reason not to strike the Lamb down the moment their back is turned, and wipe out sentient life as the pissed off cat proclaims he'll do.

Narinder, The One Who Waits, now confined to a weaker, albeit free body, adapts to his release from imprisonment and place in the living world. Still retaining some power, he gains strength with every passing day, vowing vengeance on the lamb for usurping him. After a few unsuccessful murder attempts, it appears that he's in for the long haul. It is only a matter of time before the Lamb's guard is down before he can strike, and The One Who Waits is very patient.

All this and there's some god weirdo with mismatched eyes watching them, an offering of journies they can take to revive Narinder's siblings, and returning the power of resurrection so the Lamb can work on their original goal: reviving the family they lost before all of this began.

Something something something enemies to freniemies to wary friends to deeply caring friends to a very self-conflicted moment of 'oh'.

Notes: Narinder is a LOT more pissed off in the AU because I imagine having your power stolen like that right out of being imprisoned for 1000 years is something that would piss someone off a lot longer than how upset he was in the game. Lamb also is an idiot but in a good way, and has goals that no one else knows about.

I think I'm gonna name the fic 'The Rehabilitation of Death'

#sara shush #ramble #narilamb #cult of the lamb

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 10 months ago

Note

Remember the Pokémon trainer ask with having pokepastas in their team? Could I maybe request something angsty?~ basically can I get headcanons of Arven and Kieran’s reaction to finding out Trainer got in a accident and was suffering from VERY lethal injuries and in panic missingno..basically messed them up into a pokepasta trainer,kinda corpse looking and now in never ending pain because of the raw wounds that never fully Heal but ofc take medication to numb the pain down and look out now for they’re friends so they don’t suffer the same fate? :))

Oh btw have a nice day or night!!! Remember to drink water!

Arven

From the moment he, Penny, and Nemona discovered your team enjoying a picnic...he always wondered how you got something like Missingno on your side.

But since it nearly corrupted his damn pokedex trying to just get information on it AND you were reluctant to share your past, he figured you'd just say "don't ask questions you don't want answers to" and end the convo right there.

He definitely wouldn't let Mabosstiff near it.

Last time he went near a Pokémon nobody should've known about...he almost lost his companion.

From time to time, he catches glimpses of your wounds (not during picnics ofc), bandages, and the medication Nurse Miriam prescribed to you, and suggests you save some of the herbs for yourself.

And they do help with your pain management when incorporated into tea or sandwiches (especially the salty herba mystica, which relieves your aches for a little while).

They're not miracle cures, but it's something.

Eventually, there comes a point where you know Arven wants to understand how you acquired Missingno, why you have so many ghastly Pokémon by your side, and why you were determined to defend him and the others down in Area Zero.

So you sit down and explain how you found it by accident in Kanto, caught it, and realized it was simply a lonely creature who wanted a trainer it could love and protect. Like any other Pokémon.

Yet you didn't realize the extreme lengths it would go to achieve that goal....until you nearly suffered a lethal wild Pokémon attack (it was in the dead of night, and you were ambushed while chasing after what you thought was a shiny).

You were bleeding out, bones broken and gaping wounds all over your body, and unconsciously begged for help-

And Missingno somehow heeded your call, escaping its pokeball and reviving you.

But in doing so, you were brought back as a zombie..one who still remembers the pain of that night and often cursed the glitch for not letting you die.

In time though you've made peace with it, knowing you were stuck this way now and it wouldn't let you go...

To the point where it erased its own pokeball from existence and became a constant presence around you, invisible aside from a few occasional glitch particles.

Yet you knew Missingno didn't mean any ill intent--all it wanted to do was save you.

Now you vowed to save others so they didn't suffer the same fate as you, whether that be haunted Pokémon left abandoned in some town or atop a mountain or your human friends in Area Zero.

Your pains aren't as severe now thanks to the meds, and you're grateful for Arven introducing you to herba mystica.

You were afraid he was gonna be freaked out by your story (or not believe you), but..while he finds it horrific and sad at first, he understands you better and is simply glad you're here now.

He's also happy to help his buddy manage their pain better, even if the remedies are only temporary.

Kieran

You had to bandage and conceal a great deal of your wounds so nobody at BB Academy got concerned, with DISABLED giving you a consistent best Heal Pulse to ensure your chronic pain wasn't debilitating).

Even so, Kieran assumes you got better over the past year and is desperate to battle you and win Missingno..something he vowed to acquire after realizing he'll never get Ogerpon.

You try explaining that it's literally impossible for you to surrender it, and it's too dangerous to bring it into a battle anyway, but he thinks you're just lying to him again and bragging.

In the back of his mind, though...he kept wondering why you had so many injuries..

Ofc..he's too focused on being stronger than you to ask you.

But after seeing Missingno come out (in its Fossil Aerodactyl form) and literally glitch Terapagos' beam out of existence and use Cut on multiple falling rocks---he was amazed.

You finally invite him to your dorm to talk after the mochi mayhem events, knowing he deserved some answers.

He sees the pain meds littered all over your countertop, and you finally reveal to him why you need those, why you look the way you do, and why you keep Missingno around:

Basically, after catching and befriending it, you got attacked by some wild Pokémon, and they would've left you for dead had it not intervened.

You made it feel loved, cherished, never using it as a weapon or an infinite item dispenser...and it couldn't watch you bleed to death.

So it saved your life, but it came with a great cost: neverending physical pain with your wounds never fully healing.

You used to curse Missingno for not letting you go, trying to release it several times to no avail, and just being miserable in general.

Yet once you realized it attracted more misunderstood, tortured, and damaged Pokémon to your side..you came to forgive it, knowing it was just like them despite its uncanny appearance: a creature who just wanted to protect its trainer.

Now you take medication (and a few leaves of herba mystica) to numb the pain down, so it didn't hurt as much as it did before.

You wouldn't want anybody to have a brush with death like you did. Not even your worst enemy.

That's why you went so far to protect your friends in Area Zero, especially Kieran.

After hearing your story, he felt so torn up and guilty--and convinced he was being "overdramatic".

You were still suffering all along, for years..and he had no idea, only thinking about himself and his selfish ways and how his pain couldn't possibly compare to-

But you stop your friend from spiraling, holding him and letting him cry out all of his renewed guilt, telling him that his own suffering was valid, too.

He was starting to look like a corpse with the dark circles and paler complexion....and it scared you.

Seems like he took "I wanna be like you" a bit too literally.

But you're glad Missingno saved you--otherwise you never would've gotten the chance to meet him and help him become more confident in himself (ofc you wish things were different before and didn't require you shattering his confidence first).

Since that conversation, Kieran starts taking better care of himself and makes a promise to protect you.

Not from physical threats per se as you're basically immortal, but from rude stares and whispers of how "creepy" you are.

He tends to hug you a lot and lend you his jacket for warmth if you ever get cold in class or in the polar biome.

It does help with the chills you get so often, and makes you feel grateful that you two were still friends despite everything.

#we are baaaaack with pokepastas #clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon violet x reader #pokemon arven #pokemon kieran #pokepasta x reader #missingno #tw death #tw body horror #headcanons #platonic

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to-the-stars8 · 4 months ago

Text

Reviving Love

Jason Todd x Reader Chapters AO3

Chapter 12

The kiss was short and sweet, but Jason felt every bit of it. He felt the softness and warmth of your lips, took in how your breath smelled like fresh mint, and heard your soft sigh once you parted. It had been the first time Jason had been kissed since he returned and he hadn’t realized how badly he needed the physical contact. His body had an immediate reaction, feeling hotter while desiring to kiss you more. You had turned away though, getting ready to eat the food that he had made.

“Wait,” Jason said, but when you turned toward him all that he was going to say had left his mind. You didn’t need any words, as you leaned forward again, placing a hand on his cheek as you did, to kiss him. Jason whimpered, leaning forward to make it more intimate, but you pulled away.

You kept your lips close, though, and every time he tried to connect the two of you again, you teasingly pulled away. “Slow down,” You whispered. “I don’t want you to do something you’ll be unsure of later.”

He hated that you were right. Turning, Jason looked down at his plate. The food suddenly didn’t seem good to him, the only thing he felt like having on his tongue now was you. Instead, he altered between taking small bites and watching you take delight in his cooking.

“Where’d you learn how to cook?” You asked. “Your grandpa?”

Jason nodded. “Yup. Whenever I got mad or anxious, he’d take me into the kitchen and tell me to cook. It kept my hands busy, and I’ve been doing it ever since.”

“Maybe we could teach each other a thing or two? I mean with cooking, of course,” You said, putting your hand on his thigh.

Jason glanced down at your hand, his thoughts going straight to the gutter for a split second, before looking up to meet your eyes. “About cooking. Sure.”

When you started to take your hand away, Jason quickly took it back, giving it a light squeeze as he did. “I have something to ask you.”

You seemed surprised, but willing to listen. For that, Jason was thankful. He tried to remember Dick’s words, “Just ask her, what’s the worst she could say?” You could say no, but Jason tried not to think about that. You kissed him, went on dates with him, and even respected his boundaries—that had to count toward something.

Yet, there was one tiny hitch in his little plan that he was trying with all his might to ignore: you didn’t know who he really was. You didn’t know that he was Jason Todd, your boyfriend from high school came back from the dead. Fuck, he momentarily thought, how the hell was he going to play this off?

Breathing in, Jason made him forget everything but one single question, “Do you wanna be…I don’t know how to say this because it sounds so fucking juvenile, but…ah, shit.”

Jason sat back in his chair, pissed at himself for not finding the words, and let go of your hand. Giggling, you took his hand again, and said, “Yes, I would like to be your girlfriend, Jason.”

He looked back up at you, surprised, and blurted out, “You messin’ with me?”

“Not unless you’re messin’ with me,” you said, grinning.

Jason shook his head squeezing your hand. “No. Never.”

“I’m glad to hear it, but there is something I would like to do now that we’re officially exclusive.”

“Yeah, and what’s that,” Jason asked, amused.

You smiled, scooting your chair closer to your plate, and picked up your fork. “To eat some of the food that’s getting cold.”

“Only because you’re my girlfriend.”

It felt good to say that out loud. You were his girlfriend again.

———

Jason held your hand as he walked you home, feeling as though he was walking on air. All felt right with the world; he hadn’t remembered the last time he felt this sensation. It was a mixture of relaxation and goodness.

He hoped the feeling would never end.

When the two of you approached your apartment door, you pulled Jason closer in hopes he would kiss you again. He did, and it was sweet and chaste.

“I’ll see you soon?” You asked shyly.

Jason nodded. “Of course.”

“Good, one more kiss for the road.” You pressed your lips against his.

Jason found kissing you getting easier every time your lips made contact. It was a much simpler act than he thought it to be, though private. And, when you went inside, he watched until your retreating figure was gone.

Taking out his phone, Jason started to dial his brother’s number to tell him all that had happened that evening.

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saltofmercury · 4 months ago

Text

"A cycle"

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

A/N: Originally was going to make it back to spring but I lost the energy. Also excuse the indent I lost my page break and could NOT insert it due to lack of patience!!!

Words: 2k

Summary: You meet Jason again... but he's a little off. Brief mention of AK! Jason.

It’s been roughly 10 years.

—Almost 11 since you lost him. You remember his last words spoken,

“I’ll see you… unless death comes first.”

Gloom had surrounded the city, it was supposed to be another normal day. But you started to get worried when he never called. Days trailed on and you assumed he stood you up.

Your life is at a standstill, you missing your other half, your best friend. It isn’t until you get the news and the invitation to a funeral.

Death came first.

Days turn into months, years.

The numbness never goes away, it just settles into your stomach, carefully simmering until it boils throughout your body, releasing—erupting emotion of him on the anniversary of his death.

Some days are harder than others and when you finally think you can go a day without thinking of

“Unless death comes first—“

the universe throws you another curveball.

He arrives on a spring day, almost re-birthed and renewed.

He stands at his gravesite. Taller and broader. Your stomach twists and bile rises up your throat. But you tell your brain it's not real, you manage to count the petals on the daisies you’re leaving.

You stare up at him again, the wind knocked out of you. He’s breathless and pale, staring back at you. He’s got scars all over his face—including the shape of a J under his eye. His t-shirt hangs low on his collarbones and you can see scarring there too. His hair is longer, almost touching his eyebrows.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” He says stone faced. His eyebrows are knit together. Hoping you remembered what he promised.

You’re frozen, almost sick to your stomach. Bile is prominent on your tongue and this hallucination has taken over.

He can tell you don't believe him and he grabs your hand and places it on his face.

“It’s me, I'm here. I’m still here.”

He’s so much taller than you remember.

His face aged and his eyes have turned green. There’s a new white streak in his hair that is so prominent.

And he scowls now. It's like his lips have permanently stayed down.

You never know what to say to him. Where to pick up where you left off. He follows you home, like a stray dog. Loyal to his core. Loyal to you at least.

He never tells you what he’s up to these days.

You do have a clue.

It’s not rocket science to place him and the Arkham knight together. It’s almost impossible to walk at night without becoming a victim outside. You’ve caught a glimpse of the man that strikes fear all over the city.

It’s not Robin in that suit.

You never bring it up. Assumptions linger.

He tries to fall back into routine with you. He still sleeps on his side of the bed. He still makes your coffee in the morning. Rubs your back at night, and settles into the crook of your neck. But it never turns into anything more.

When you bring up what you guys are, he shrugs it off, plays dumb.

Did he come back worse? Or are you just sensitive?

There’s a time you remember when all he wanted was to be called your boyfriend. Say it loud, hold hands in public. But even then there were rules. It was kept a secret just between you two.

Now there’s a protectiveness to him, he’s sealed off from you. Tells you —

“We’re good at this. We’re good friends.” But even he doesn’t mean it.

Jason doesn’t want you to know what happened to him. He despises pity. He should’ve told you where he was going that night. He should’ve left a tracker with you.

It’s been years and the minute he was revived from the pit his brain told him Bruce but his heart told him to come back to you.

The pit also intensified his anger. He’s angry at the world. Angry that he’s been placed in this piece of shit city where the same criminals and sociopaths linger around every corner. Shit, he died a couple years, came back, and these same criminals are still here.

Nothing changes in this city. So maybe it’s time he changes it himself.

There's broken walls and broken dishes every time you come home. You think about leaving but he switches up. It's a sick game of hot and cold.

The days are longer and warmer now. There’s a humidity that surrounds the city and sunsets take your breath away. You come home exhausted from work. Your phone pings nonstop, your head pounding, cars and people outside your window are blaring.

He can sense your anxiousness. Your body language is limp. He can watch you chew your lip until it’s bright pink. He walks towards you grabbing your body with both arms towering over you.

“How about we sneak off, just you and me?”

He says with such intensity in his eyes that you feel the heat boil thick inside your stomach.

He cowards you in until your back hits the wall. The coolness of it gives you goosebumps. He grabs your chin and then runs his hand down your hair, twisting at the ends.

“What do you say?” He says again, a little more agitated that he needs to convince you. 11 years ago you would’ve just said yes.

And maybe this time you’ll say yes…

“Where would we go?”

“Anywhere that’s not here.”

He’s so certain you’ll say yes. He’s already thinking of setting this entire city on fire and restarting a life with you. A life where you don’t beat around the bush and you come home with a smile for him.

But you don’t. It’s not enough for you. There’s so much tension in the room. You say you need a bath and a nap.

He lets you go instantly, walking towards the balcony and slamming the sliding door.

You don’t even know him anymore. You dance around each other.

On the balcony he takes 3 deep breaths, then another 2, then another 4 until he realizes he’s on the verge of tears and he wishes he could just tell you the shit that’s in his head.

He sees how you eye him, nervous and on edge. He barely takes his shirt off around you because the thought of his autopsy scar disgusts him and he can’t have you be disgusted with him.

There’s so much hate in his heart. There’s so much violence that he beats the shit out of his henchmen and resorts to putting bullets on anyone he can’t trust.

He hears the water running when he enters the living room again. There are sobs coming from the bathroom and now he feels even worse.

He came back a monster.

Splashes of orange and red surround the skyline. Temperatures drop and the leaves crunch beneath you. You’re both home tonight. You’re so happy. The luxury of being in his presence at this hour. He tells you he can take a day off for his girl.

His girl.

The nickname raises goosebumps on your arm to your shoulders. He’s changed a bit. He stays home more. Doesn’t leave you hanging as much.

After some take-out, you sit on the couch deciding to pick a movie. One of his hands curls up your spine to the nape of your neck, as the other scrolls down the movie list. His fingers play with the loose hair that won’t fit into your bun.

He knows you hate it. Especially when he starts to call it a little rat tail.

You peer over at him, slightly nervous. He knows what you’re going to say, but before you even open your mouth he cuts you off—

"What? I like it."

His head inches closer to your neck, placing small kisses down your earlobe to your collarbone. The prickles of your skin now rise over your chest.

“And I know you like it too.” He taunts into your ear. He’s pushing you back towards the couch, peeling your legs open with one of his. Both arms are above you, enclosing you.

His lips graze yours, you can smell the sweetness of the strawberry drink he had.

You inch closer, closing your eyes, but before you know what his lips taste like— he's up again, pulling a jacket and mask over himself and slamming the front door shut.

Tears cloud your vision. It’s always one step forward, two steps back.

The tv plays an interview with some citizens gushing over the new Robin.

You know who’s under the Arkham knight. Telling him to either come clean or leave you alone.

The replacement hurts more than he thought. He was abandoned, forgotten, then replaced. There was no mourning. Jason thought he would at least be mourned.

It rains one night and your car won’t start. The tow truck service won’t be here for another two hours and there’s a flash flood warning for your side of the city. You stare at your phone, your finger hovering over his name.

“This is only strictly for emergencies” his voice clouds your memory.

You dial.

“Sweetheart?” He picks up, tense on the other side.

“I-I.. hi. I know you said this was only for emergencies but my car won’t start and there’s a lot of downpour. Can you come get me?” You feel yourself flushed, embarrassed, and tired. Maybe you shouldn’t have called him.

“I'll give you a ride, don't worry. I’ll be there in 10.”

You don’t even question how he knows your location but sure enough in 8 minutes there’s a motorcycle revving down the street from where you are. It stops in front of your car.

He gets off the bike, knocking on the passenger side of your car. You unlock it and he climbs in. His side of the car bounces and sends waves throughout your car.

He pulls the red hoodie down. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are a new shade of green.

“You ready?” He asks gleefully

“I’m not getting on that thing Jason.” Your head nods towards the bike in front of you.

He laughs. It’s one of the best sounds you’ll ever hear. The crinkles set around his eyes and how wide and toothy his grin gets.

“Why not?” He asks, the smile lingering on his lips.

“You know why.” You respond curtly.

“You want to get home don’t you?” He leans in toward you, eyebrow raised.

He gets so close to you that you can feel the warmth he radiates. He’s nicer these days, less moody. He’s a lot more rested too.

“Come on, there’s nowhere safer than the back of my bike.”

And you know it’s true.

The safest place would be with Jason.

It still doesn’t comfort you knowing it’s pouring and he zooms in and out of traffic with no care.

“No, it’s raining outside and that thing only has two wheels!”

He laughs a little harder now. He shakes his head.

“Fine. We’ll stay until the tow truck shows up.” His hand finds yours as he reclines in your passenger seat. You recline too, watching the sunroof get hit with water droplets. His fingers rub circles around your wrist.

These days you’re not as tense around him. You shuffle in your seat to get a better look at him.

His eyes are closed. The scar under his eye is fading, and the white streak in his hair is more prominent.

“You’re staring” he says, opening one eye to look.

“I can’t help it.” You shrug.

He turns towards you. Wrist still his hand, he pulls you over on top of him. You settle yourself, nestling your nose in the crook of his neck. He finds your neck and places kisses down your collarbone.

He stops. Pulls your face close to him. Hands encasing your face and he stares deeply into your eyes. It’s almost so unsettling you try to count the eyebrow hairs on his right brow.

“I’m sorry for...” He says quietly, trying to find an answer in your eyes.

“Hey, look at me.” He pulls your chin in between his fingers and kisses it softly.

“I’m trying to be better, and I know I can be… difficult. But I’m going to try harder.”

It’s the most he’s said to you all these months. He sounds like he means it. You peer down at his lip, caught underneath his top lip.

“Okay?”

You nod.

A light halos above you. Jason gets out to talk to the man. He turns back to you — the helmet is snug on your head. Your stomach does somersaults as the rain and wind blow past you.

You hope that these changes come soon.

#jason todd #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd headcanon #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd angst

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